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Gentleman s Magazine 

Volume CCXLV. 


Edited by SYLVANUS URBAN, Gentleman 



, _, \ 

[7~4r rtfif t>/ ' trans f, if ien is frstrvfj} 


• ' • 



io the Sun. By RiciiAiin A. Proctor . ... 699 

Amenta, The Pistol in. Hy Albany DB FoNBLANQUE , . . 321 

American Storm- warning*. By C. Halford Thompson" . . 597 

Australian Capitals, Some. By RSDSFIH .... 47 

But-day Memories : a Soliloquy. By Redspin.ser ... 589 
Boroughs, Pocket. By The Member for the Chiltern 


Carol of the Swallow, The. From the Greek. By William M. 

II.' 630 

■■'■antes. The Drama of. By James Mew 446 

Comcdic Franeaisc, The, and Monsieur Zola. Uy FRtDtktCK 

Wistn 60 

Concerning Protoplasm. By Andrew Wilson, Ph.D. . . 4>7 

Day at Loma Loma, A. By G. DE Robeck 363 

■ma of Cer vanii By James Mew 446 

Etna. By Ri . PROCTOR 73 

French Poets, Recent. By CATVLtl MEMOES : 

Pw 4/8 

- . . 563 

tonbury, A Pilgrimage to. Hy EOWASD WalfoRD, M.A. . 6t6 
Gray's "Ban 1 . light on. By GRANT ALLEN . . .721 
Her Majesty's Next Ministers. Hy Til I MEMBER FOR THE CHILI BRM 

Hundreds 548 

Horace, Odes, t. 1 5 : a Translation 378 

Ireland, The Wants of. By ARTHUR . . .683 

« Edward 111., Note on the Historical Play < -EltNON 

Part 1 170 

• • 33" 

Low .... 363 

1 he, and its Work. By SYDNEY C. BUXTON 199 
ofLettet Bant, By The Member for the Chiltern 

.drew 34 



Meteor Dost By Richard A. Proctor 182 

Minister*, Her Majesty's Next. By The Member M« TBI 


og links. By Andrew WlLMM, PM>, . . . .298 
Napoleon, Prince. By JivriN HuNTLY McCarthy . .138 

Nelson, A Pilgrimage to the Birthplace of. By F.dward 

WAI.FORD, M.A 471 

Note on the Historical Play of King Edward III. By Algernon- 
Charles Sw: 170,330 

Old Tavern Life, The. By II inky Barton Baker . 741 
liament, Men of Letters in. BjrTatBMEHBSB forthp.Chii.temn 

vdreds 34 

Pilgrimage, A, to the Birthplace of Nelson. By EDWARD 

Walkord, M.A 471 

Pilgrimage. A, to Glastonbury. By F.DWARD Walford, M.A. . 616 

Pistol, The, in America. By Albany df. Fonblanque . . 3:1 

Pocket Boroughs. By The Member for the Chilt> rn Hundreds 73s 

Prince Napoleon. By Justin Huntiv MCCARTHY . . . 338 

Protoplasm, Concerning. By Andrew Wilson, Ph.D. . . 417 

Recent French Poels. By Catdlle Mendf.s . . . 478, 563 

School-Board, The London, and its Work. By Sydney C. Buxton 199 

Senovn and Shipka revisited. By W. Kinnaird ROSR . . 87 
Side-light, A, on Gray's " Bard." By Grant Ai i.en . . .7:1 

Storm-warning*. American. By C. Halford Thompson . . 507 

Strawberries. By W. Collett-Sandars 109 

Sun, the, Vtad Air in. By Richard A. PROCTOR .... 699 

.Sutherlandshirc, Trout-fishing in. By the Kcv. M. G. Watkins . 436 
Swallow, The Carol of the. From the Greek. By William II. 

Hakdimoc 630 

Tavern Life, The Old. By Hi nry Barton Baker . . .741 

Tobacco-smoking. By Frederick H. Daly, M.I). . . . 350 

Trout -fishing in Sulhcrlandihire. By the Kcv. If, G. WATKINS . 436 
Under which Lord ? By K. Lynn Linton : 

Chap. XIX. Foot to Foot I 

XX. Almost ! 13 

xxi. Plucked from the Burning ao 

xxii. The New Departure 129 

xxiii. The Burning Flax 143 

xxrv. And the Smoke thereof 158 

xxv. The last Appeal 357 

xxvi. To its logical Conclusion 27s 

xxvii. Backsliding 287 

xxviii. Her Guide and Friend 385 

XXIX. The Terrors of Judgment . . . . jO* 

XXX. Twixt Hammer and Anvil 4c 



nch Lord? By K. LYNM LiNrosw«//iJi«i/: 

Chap. XXXI. The Die cast 5:3 

XXXII. The Conquered and the Conqueror . . . 524 

xxxiil. The Day of Triumph 534 

xxxrv. Quenched 641 

xxxv. Ebb and Flow 654 

xxxvi. Ring down the Curtain 667 

Table Talk. By Svlvanus Urban, Gentleman : 
Mr. Dunphie's ■ Sweet Sleep "—The Order of St. Katharine— 
Gardeners and their vagaries— Saint Monday— A new method 
of murder — Australian wines— The sister of John Keats . .124 
Mr. Winter and the English people — A French interpretation of a 
letter of Hogarth— " The quality of mercy is not strained"— 
The meaning of "Tirneo Danaos"— Some "spiritual com- 
munications" — A new motive-power— A London want— A sham 
doctor— French bibliographical mistakes— Pierre Charron — 

Generalisation* concerning peoples 348 

The persistence of vulgar errors— George Eliot and the extent of 
human vanity — "1 always carry my own pea" — A railway 
across the Andes — Extraordinary translations — Professor 

on some English derivations 379 

My attempt to get to Boulogne — Mr. Swinburne and the New 
doperc Society — Rabelais and his remains — The Ks^uand 
the Xorth-East Passage— The Tschutschcrs — The Chinese 
and their revived national life — Intoxicated French children — 
The horror* of steerage passages— Beer-drinking in Cincinnati 
—Blushing and blanching, and their causes . . • j'-'S 

A book of "Small-talk"— The phylloxera in Modoc— The nam 
of wines— An automatic til-tai-to player— Nelson and LaTouche 
Trevilie— A new imposture — Unnecessary street noises — The 
Isthmus of Corinth and M. dc Lesscps— The Church and Stage 

Cuihl 631 

The proposed " restoration " of St. Mark's Venice— The destruc- 
tion of singing birds- -The carrying of deadly weapons — Dr. 
Richardson's " Salutland " — Man a fruj,-ivorous creature — Public 

statues v. private busts 75G 

ileal Air in the Sun. By Richard A. Proctor .... 699 
Wants of Ireland, The. By ARTHUR ARNOLD .... 683 
War and its attendant Maladies. By F. R. Grahamb . . .220 
Zfiia, Monsieur, and the Comcdic Franchise. By Frederick 

ioxe &> 

Drawn by Arthur Hopkins. 
"Let us understand each other, Mr. Lascelles" Frontispiece 


"They were seated side by side on the couch 
at the foot of the bed" .... 

"you do not know what you are saying" 

"We'll have no words among ourselves to- 

"Her hands outstretched to her child" 










July 1879. 



r o t 1 

Tsind blew keen and die mow fell Gut, but Ril hard, uncon- 
scious of all thing* outward and without the sense of personal 
discomfort, knew nothing of either as he walked hun-icdly onward. 
The pain at his ha 1 all othi . and what the 

day was like was as much a matter of indifference to him, writhing 
under his intolerable anguish, as it is a matter of indifference W the 
tortured wretch at the stake whether it H in the gloom of the night, 
or under the glory of the noonday sun, that his limbs are racked and 
his flesh burned— as it is to the dying whether it is in the morning or 
the evening when the eternal farewell is given. He knew only these 
two tii Ii in fact were one : — that his life as it had been -that 

e and love and honour — had come suddenly to an end ; 
and that his wife and child had withdn nelvcs from bin) al 

the instance of a KntBget in whom they believed more than 
believed in him. He confessed bitterly that hi] uiemy had 
Stronger Uun he, and had carried the citadel of that dear wife's 
that 1 ' ::e, which until now he had held as his own, 

gnabfe against U>e whole world. 

d now, what could 1 1 do? — poorcrownless king whom 

love had once anon whose dominion fas ad false 

hood had taken from him ' Wlut could he do ? — how recover wh 
had lost f — keep what he still held ? Not knowing where he wei 
how he walked, he ploughed his way mechanically onward; tttiniag 
over scheme after scheme of action in his mind, and never sinking 
vouecx' 1783. v 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 


•: • 



on reasonable possibilities, never coming to satisfaction in 
Certainly he could leave the place ; break away from his work ; dele- 
gate to an agent his duties ; and make a new life for himself and his 
family elsewhere ; but what good would come from that ? Those fatal 
ccclcsixMi. .:l nets were spread on all sides ; and wherever he turned 
he saw the same deadly infliienc es besetting those who were dearest 
to him. l'.ast or west, there stood the priest between him and his 
honour, him and his happiness — there rose up the Church, the grim 
shadow of which hung like a cloud over his home and shut out the 
light of the sky. It was not to be supposed that all this change in 
Ilermione and Virginia depended on Mr. Lascelles and Sister Agnes 
only ; though they had undoubtedly been the prime movers in the 
" conversion " of which they made so much account, and were still 
the central points round which the rest revolved. Vet Richard could 
not hope that, even if he took them away from Crossholme, these 
dear blinded enthusiasts of his would unchristianizc themselves and 
go back to their old attitude of toler.-iiinu tnd indifference — tolerant 
to his atheism because indifferent to Christianity. To go abroad, say, 
and break the chain of continuity here, might be of use so far as 
interrupting the special influence of one man went ; but h would BOt 
destroy their belief in the creed, nor loosen the grip of the accredited 
professors of that creed. Therefore it would not restore the old 
order of life. 

And again, if he decided to go, and they refused? Influenced by 
Mr. I.ascelles, who held her conscience in the hollow of his hand, 
Ilermione well might so refuse, both for herself and her daughter; 
and how could he compel them !>y main force ? If they resisted quietly, 
passively — said they would not — made no arrangements— opposed 
simply the resistance of inertia — could he have them carried by 
arms to this carriage, that hotel, and treat them as refractor)- prisoners 
arc treated by their gaolers? 

What indeed could he do ? Should he speak to Mr. tasccMes ? 
—defy him ? — forbid him ? — argue with him dispassionately on the 
inexpediency, the personal indelicacy of thus interfering in 
a man's house ? Should he forget his own pride and dignity, and 
stoop to a pitiful pica for compassion ? — a whining prayer, as of a con- 
quered slave, suing the strong master for mercy and forbearance ? 
Should he place the matter on the ground of elemental right and 
wrong ?— -on the sacredness of the marriage tie, the inalienable rights 
of the father, the iniquity of filial disobedience, and the danger of 
conjugal estrangement? Let him lay out the ground as he would, he 
saw no chance of good or profit. The vicar would join his long whit 

Jcr "which Lord? 3 

bands to y the finger tip; read, lower his thin eyeluh. 

pal then in ins smooth, artificial voice 

would say. with the corrccti ition, that . painful duty 

auic the unfaithful sorrow ; as 3 testifying minister of the Word 
he must draw 1 which his Divine Master, the Prim e of 1'eace, 

had brought into the world, and use it against those ungodly ones for 

ise chastisement it had been sent end sharpened It was his 

pastoral obligation, jxsrt of his or ivc from perdition 

; ; soul* which agnosticism and modern si iencc were doing 

r best to destroy. He was in his right as a priest and within 
the law as a citucn ; and remonstrance would be as vain as prayer, 
as i Ic would look up at him, his thin lips curled 

meant a sneer ; he would say that he pitied a man 
who SUM h a disagreeable position, and would gladly help him 

out of it if he could— as he could; hut by one way only. Tailing 
that one way he could do nothing : 1 'hard, had not an inch 

uf ground whereon to stand against him. In his right as a priest 
and within the law as a citizen, where was the place, and where the 

ard knew . and all this made his ai lion one 

of supreme di odd was so narrow, bis hand so weakened, 

1 securely entrenched! But thing* could not 

go 1 make I l" Stop 

mined — if submit he most H<- fell the 
shame.' osition in thus contending with any 

nun what* t, for whal constituted the vital 

session of the women uf his house. He, the husband and lather, 
to contend, if by no means more tangible than argument, discus 
anger, opposition of will -Mill to contend for the preservation of Ins 
wife's |i nt of his daughter's obedience ! It was 

sh.' Philosophy was swept away in the 

great flow of his despairing wrath, as an Alpine storm might sweep 
away a sum 1 . utiful to the eye and pleasant to inhabit 

when no tempestuous whirlwinds were about to show of what B 
material it was n lesofindivi tits — 

of the lil according to his or her 

desires — of the sacrcdness of the conscience — of the equality of won 
—all went lo the ground before the hidcousness of this preset i< 
budimc: :ition, fanaticism, denial 

erf rut ;i ncution of natural affections. If absolute and 

brutal force coul< . k those dear ones into the way of 

truth and reason, as he held both, he would liave used it: as he'would 


4 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

have prevented a madman from committing suicide by binding his 
arms with cords ; or have stopped — if need be, harshly — a chQd 
running heedlessly on the edge of a precipice. Good as lie knew 
thera to be, but credulous and weak as they had proved them 
according to his estimate of things, his authority would have seemed 
to himself only the rightful exercise of his natural function, and what 
his place of guardian demanded. 

But he could do nothing. While he was sleeping in security, 
trusting to the loyalty of the beloved as they might have trusted to 
his, they had suffered themselves to be led away, and had delivered 
him bound into the hands of his enemy. He was not angry with 
them, nor had his heart revolted against them for anything they had 
done. It was this Stxanger, this priest, who had invaded his home 
and brought him to shame as well as to sorrow, with whom he was 
offended and by whom he had been outraged. If he could litre 
killed him, as any other reptile may lawfully be killed, he would : 
but he was powerless. His hands were tied, and the iniquity which 
he could neither punish nor prevent must go on as it would. The 
world still consecrates some forms of tyranny and injustice — still 
demands that his victims shall salute the imperial Caesar ; and this 
clerical executioner, this Christian Cain and worse than murderer, must 
live on to wreck more homes destroy more lives, break the hearts of 
men and sap the essential virtue of women ; and no law could touch 
him. no hand must strike him I 

Walking on, deaf and blind to all externa] life, following the road 
by instinct rather than dear knowledge of where he was, his eyes 6xcd 
on the white way before him hut not seeing where it led, he was 
brought up half -daxed by the door of tin Vii.'irage — the door fronting 
the little narrow path off the main street of the village, which he 
had unconsciously taken. It was U if I " Spirit in his feet" had led 
him there unawares ; if not against his will, petn ithout his knowledge, 
his concurrence. Void Of superstition as he was, he ret accepted this 
act of unconscious c : ii had been intentional and [>artof 

h:. [ Ian; and, without hesitating or staying to reflect, he rang the 
door-l>.il 1 I erhaps, after all, this was the best thing to do! 

Humiliating as it was to him — perhaps, all the same, it was the best! 

" I have come to see you, under protest," said Richard, as he was 
ushered into the study, where he found Mr. I .ascetics sitting before 
the fire reading the day's OOWCpapeE 

If plain and simply furnished, according to the law of elegant 
asceticism under which the vicar lived, the room wa - tfaim, home-like, 
sufficing ; and the handsome priest himself, comfortably seated before 

Under which Lord? 5 

the bbxing fire, was as well-ordered, as serene, and as elegantly M< 
as his room. How unlike tlut pale and haggard man, miserable, 
Kali ho staggered in from -• wind 

snow, like MOM lone wreck drifted upon placid shot- 

I rose as Ik- came ii irprise with an 

1 much as a kind of catcbinj 
: the triumph which, for some time foreseen, had now 

:m glad i' I with perfect breeding and com- 

posure , ' I QUI his hand. Ha 1 lie done so, Ki< hard 


"i Is to you," then said Richard slowly. 

itoth men were standing — Mr. Lasccllcs near the fire, Mr. 
FulJerton near the table. 

Mih pleasure," ^>d the ::dly. "'lake a chair." Richard shortly. " I prel 

ease" returned Mr- Laseelles, seating himself; while 

before his gratified ey* ■ of n rmione's (air, 

. upturned face. k bad looked 

. .iv in the school-room this morning; and bad eon* 

bet husband as she used. And now 

tha: . come ; and whethi o or 

remonstrate, to oppose or to rebuke, it was equally a triumph and 


Bit interfering in my house, Mr. I ISO Lli <-, in a manner 

which no man of honour or Bclf-respecl could bear," began Rii hard, 

with a slow heavy emphasis. 

im doing what I can," returned Mr, Lascellet vith a certain 
W-ii • • as one deprecating prai yd he la 

be deserved. 
" 1 tou-.g what you can todctach my wife an r from me? — 

1. their love and to destroy my authority ? " 

ie merit, such as it is, of frankness that is 

ii 1 am like yourself," returned the vicar with his 1 ourtly 

" I-ct us understand each other, Mr. lasccllcs." 

The vicar ctovsed his lc:s, joined his bands together by their 
finger ti| iut on a gravely attentive look. Objectionable— a 

Mrongrr wot> ' truer epithet according to Mr. Lascelles — 

devilish, abominable, say— on all accounts as this agno ami 

6 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

hopeless as was his errand let the substance of it be what it might, 
he should yet learn for himself the inexhaustible riches of Christian 
courtesy, and how the saved can afford to be gracious even to castaways. 

'• i have only just now leant the vrhich you have 

induced my wife and daughter to adopt," Richard went on to say; 
"the daily public services, the weekly communion taken fa 
the degrading offices which you have imposed 00 them Or at least 
on my child — and the dishonouring, shameful, destructive h.iint ■! 
confession. These are things which I am in no mood to tolerate. They 
must be stopped ; and I forbid all further tampering with those for 
whose conduct I am responsible and wh touch my 

character and honour as much as their own." 

" You cannot forbid my using my official influence over Mrs. and 
Miss Fullerton; nor can you prevent their yielding to it," said Mr. 
-lies suavely. 

■ 1 m mutei in mj own house," said Richard. 

I tu vicar smiled. He looked first at his white, well-washed 
hands ; examined his nails, and rubbed back the band of his fourth 
finger ; then he railed his eyes suddenly and fixed them on Mr. 
Fullerton's fare — 

".\,i," he (aid d< f, "you are not matter in your own 

house, Mr. Fullerton, for the simple reason that you have no house in 
which to be master."' 

■• Arc you mad ! " cried Richard, making a step forward, 

" Not that I am aware of ; I am simply within the limits of the 
case," returned the vicar in a quiet but half-mocking voice. " Is it 
necessary for me to remind you, Mr. Fullerton. that you have no legal 
status here in Crossholmc? — not an inch of ground that you can call 
your own? — and no legal authority over your wife and daughter? 
Try it I " he continued, raising his voice and hand to cheek 
Richard as he was about to speak. " Try it ! and so prove my case 
and ruin your own. If you attempt to interfere with your daughter 
in the exercise of her religious duties, her mother — guided by my 
advice— will carry ha complaint into court, and you will be deprived 
of all authority whatever. The Shelley judgment stands unrescinded ; 
and on that you will be Ity the law you, an atheist, who can 
be convicted of open blasphemy, and who would not— and so far 
I honour you— deny in public what you hold in private, or profess 
ru do not believe even to gain possession of your child yon. 
mi and infidel, have no voice in the moral on of your 

daughter ; as you have no claim on your wife's property beyond 
such bare maintenance as should prevent your becoming chargeable 

Um ch Lor 7 

lothc parish. It may be painful to you to hear these truth- : bul they 
arc truths; nnc! the deeper you take them to heart the less lil. 

« to fall into difficulty on your own account, or to cause us embar- 
rassment action in self-defence. Turn which 
way no foothold, no case. You have placed yon 
self out of the pa ! of the Christian communion, but out of 
the broader protection a Your wife has the reins, if A 
lus so far all-: to hold them; even your daughte: Ived 
from her natural duty of obedience; and no one i to bfaune fol Either 
dilemma but yourself And now let me end with one word of counsel 
— on your own behalf more than on ours." — It pleased Mr. Lascelles, 
:rong as ! n of this ostenta- 
' at ion of himself with Hcrmionc and Virginia, 
he face of the tortured man before him. "Yield without i 
to the new order ol you will begen ted 
and suffered to efface yourself wil -lit. and you will 
be worsted. Wc have not only Divii Ikinent 
and the ' I warn you that the power whii b 

wc possess wc will use if >-i it necessary. Fairness demands 

that I should tell you ids no more than this." 

ntroUed, i , philosophic — these were un- 

doubtedly Richard Fiillerton's prominent characteristics. He had 
educated himself in the exercise of all these qualities) and love and 
tranquillity had been his teachers. Hut those who could have read 
his heart al that moment would not have found much mildness 

patience in it now. Nothing but the long-rooted 

trol, and the self-respect of a gentleman, kept bin 
from t> lolent, smooth-voiced priest by the throat and 

is he *at there, rolling out the terms of 

il defeat like a delicate morsel d csscd — a 

catalogue of insult pronouns notes — a litany of 

r damnation striking at all hope, and set to a grandly framed harmo- 
nious chan' ood there, struggling with h a and his 
. half wondering why he might not kill that man as he would 
ig, or a lurking savage fitting 
his arrow to the bow. In looking back over this moment, it was ever 
* myit' n th3t be had con<;\: natural instinct so far as 
10 let that lh nt live. Silent, his broad chest heaving, 
ds clenched, his mouth compressed till the full, kind lips were 
icd into a bloodless line, his eyes on the ground, the lids 
uscular contraction by which he restrained him- 
self ha. I ! even them, he stood there, the moral athlete wtcsxfonfc 



The Genlkmaris Magazine. 

will* the wild I rage and despair — with:!. natural sense 

of dishonour and instinctive desire of revenge. Mr. I.ascelles, his 
100 hilt i losed, Batched him in this conflict, halfwnndering how 
it would end. Ril hud was a powerful man physically, and might 
easily lie dangerous ; and anguish has an ugly trick of making gentle- 
men forget their breeding, and letting loose the passion:; which it is 

their duty to control. 

At last Richard conquered himself sufficiently to be able to speak. 

•' \ OUT platform is well defined," he said in a ronstraincd voice. 
" You do not hesitate in your terms." 

" I knew that you would prefer candour," returned the vicar with 
:t half-complimentary air. " Between men of the world the truth is 
always the best, and the shortest way the wisest. 

'• Perh&pf you have left out one factor m tin- Mini,'' said Richard, 
•till in the urns constrained manner, as if forcing himself by an effort 
to be calm. 

•• Yes :- W hicfa r " 

" The affection of a loving woman, which will recoil from aiding 
in her husband's discomfiture. 

Mr I smiled. Again the image of that flushed, half-tearful 

"penitent" of his, confessing to her own shame and his triumph, 
came vividly before him ; and he shook his head with undisguised 
satisfaction, it ilao with affected pity for the man whom he had 

" In the days of her darkness, and before she had been called, yes, 
you might hai ed in her acquiescence in your manner of life 

and in her refusal to join in any scheme of action which should dis- 
c i meat you ; but now she is converted and gives her highest duty to 
Cod.'' He said this with clean and clear precision. He knew so 
much al>out Hcrmione Fulkrtcni'r. mil, lie could enlighten even her 

and who had once known all and now understood nothing. 

"God ! To your demon, you mean— to Moloch I "said Richard 
with a hitter laugh. 

will not help you,'" said Mr. Lascelles quietly. "Call 
Him by what name urn -..ill, He is now her M iStt r whose will she 
. . , expressed by the Voice of the Church." 

" The Voice which teaches falsehood and superstition, enmity and 

jKion, which is more cniel and no truer thin that of I >elphi and 
Cumac ! " said Richard. 

"Which teaches truth and righteousness," returned the vicar; 
" and which, I am grateful to be able to say, your wife and daughter 
have heard— and obeyed." 

Under Lord .' 9 

"And this is the work in which you rejoice ! The ruin of one of 
the purest I [land, jroni boast ; the destruction of one of 

the happiest ho DOW!" 

" So speaks the unrcgi 1 that] 

mse for great than;. 1 1 ht\ D made the 

chosen means ', ■ lor all 

:y until my adveffl IPOkc With the air of a 

man mode- • :uc "And for the p 1. 

he continued — and his man n it ma . ntd fironhil words — " I 

can ki' iat your wile, my precious penitent, had Dot 1 virtue 

in the past i have not fostered by the dUdplin, ,,1 ,|„. 

Church ani 1 by confession — not a grace which is not 

(enfold by religion. She has put on the beauty of holi- 
and by so doing every n ihina with 

redoubled brig: Between my Creadon and yours there is not 

more admirable." 
Mr. lasccllcs said this he got up and rang the bell. A certain 
sudden glare in Richard's eyes .1 certain sudden movement — a 
litUe daunted him ; and the presence of a third person, if only a 
111 be valuable. 
•' Wine," he said, as the girl entered suddenly. 
The coming of Mr. Kullcrton had excited the Vicarage household ; 
and ii :.l ears that wish to be 

med, of what use art they? 

'• You will take a gla« of wine, Mr. Fullerton 'It I lay," 

he added with the nicest accent of sympathetic hospitality. 

■•1 away and stood for a Ii w moni tits iptul ; then 
fact" ace more. 

,;ood in vulgar raving," he said slowl) l under- 

without need of more words. You have played your game 

clever: 1 far you have won. Craft and deceit generally do 

win against blind trust ; and my trust was blind. For the rest I may 

ac of those points on which you have c . and strengthen 

my hat 1st you by the aid of the law where I 1 

11 'heertull;, . "and you will find that 

true. You have no law on your side. You arc 

an at:; lish conscience repudiates you. You have 

I, like a felon — and you are a spiritual 

11c has deprived you of your natural rights. Ah ! 

the sherry. Let me offer you some. It is dry, and the day 

*1 I is such a man possible?" said Richard, half to lunudt. 

The Gentleniaiis Magazine. 

. inrtn is :i mi stcr of Christ— this man who almost 

makes me believe the devil possible!" 

Mr !..,, 'i: : an 

" I should have fulfilled my duty had 
he said. "It ,ou a rou; 

mity. To liken him to the <l< 
was by unblessed hands, that hurt i 

than those mi 

they fell. It was part of that hy^ .'•martyrdom" whkl 

popular dominators of souls, ".'.ed inquisitors of 

are so fond of tey undergo ; glorii 

tn thai they arc accounted worthy to suflcr I a oil the 

time it is they who burn and they who rack, they v. 
and consign to eternal perdition hereafter. 

" Better hell irith tl and good with whom I have cast 

lot, than I yoo I" said Richard with a | 

of repulsion. 

•' All right," said Mr. I-ascelles; " u is well to be content with th 
bed which one makes for oneself. Really, you had better let me 
give you a gkas of wine ! It will kcq> out the I 

Richard did not speak, but turned .om ; 

and in the same state red -blind and 

daze::. iily knowing where he was noi he was going — 

he passed through the hall, and once more set out into the erne 
and driving snow of this bitter biting wmtei 

The interview had advanced not 
thought, as he walk'. utbs had 

some bitter words been spoken, but i rooted as 

before:— lb lighter had been 

taken from if he could not recover th inld no* 

n e their obedient .ade, in the one case 

the wife, in the other the Chu husband and father. 

Should Hcrmione so choose. -is powerless in his de 

with her, through the terms of the will re her the sole 

pos.v. natural autliorily o\er Virginia was 

Vets of 1'. and decrees of judges which 

demand that evi i >me fonn of rel 

uns, or In 
— Acts of Parliament and deuces of 
. thought Richard bitterly, which declare that I 
good': all count for d 

over !'*n of 

Under which Lord? 

a book ihc universe about six thousand years old, 

places the earth in th.- 1 entre of the system. V :>, Mr. Loocdli 
■1'inger in this struggle for m. two dea: 

He rccog: now, sorrowfully enough, but clearly. The law 

wa» 00 so was that large majority — those weak 

souls which must cling to something tangible and external i 

i stand upright at all ;—'* While I," he said Joud, 'have only 

■ n strength and the goodness of i in the fight that I 

against superstition and credulity — in my endeavour to 

iind faith in legends which no man can prove and no 

ingen r ionise with known conditions, the BMdy of facts and 

reverence for law." 

But again — what could he do? Were he even disposed to 

command, he had no power to en «i futmm only 

makes a man i And of what use b argument 

1 blind faith in favour of rca dd to 

be a unarc spread by the DfH One, same blind 

accepted a* safe guidance 

b to old afla : the Instinctive love, the holy 

harm- e family— these too would go to the mil before the 

f sorrowful assertion that mar ic glory of I 

and th <r to serve the Saviour. ■• 10 bring sal* 

i the world by father and the 

gainst the husband, than to attend even to the Tea Command- 

represented the Word of God without appeal or 

comri met, baffled, defeated; and he felt 

like one round whom the iron cage is fast drawing in, leaving him 

ipe nor means 

It l ears had passed over him since this morning, when 

he came home just as the short twilight was darkening into evening. 

He never knew where he had been, nor hou liked. Had 

he Ik i he would have said that he had stood still Ibi all these 

hours, »c. 'f means of escape from a grievous spiritual 

none. But he knew that he must have v. 
E»r an by the wind and snow in some 

ien he reached his home, 
and M>aki' ;h to the ikin. So Ear physical exhaustion had 

befriended him in) back to the consciousness of mi 


s long absence on this fearful day liad frightened both 
Hem , so that the ice of their late Cfltrangi 

broke up under the pressure of their anxiety, and they WW otvVj 

12 The Gentleman s Magazine. 

;cr to welcome back to his home the husband and the father 
vhom their fanaticism had driven abroad. As time passed on and 
their fears deepened, they forgot all causes of displeasure which they 
had 3gainst this sinner, once so dear to both, to remember only that 
they loved him, that he was worthy of their love— mercy being 
infinite and the natural man a lineal descendant of Adam ! — and 
that perhaps he was in danger, with no one to help him : — and they 
the cause of his peril. 

i a an n EC 


Mm in it .mil daughter had stood by the drawing-room window 
watching drearily, anxiously, Cot more than an hour before the small side 

gate Opened, and the weary master who was not owner passed through 
like one walking in a dream, and instinctively look the short wood- 
wnlk across the upper end of the park. Hermione's dark blue eyes 
Were full of tears which every now and then fell silently on her 
hands, which she had clasped together against the framework cf 
the window, as a rest for her pretty golden, self-accusing head. 
And Virginia's eyes too were full of tears ; but she had com- 
forted herself by snatches of fervent, silent prayer; and Hermione 
had not. 

It had been a day of checkered emotions for the pretty woman 
whom nature had made for love and submission, and whom the 
Chimh was ft i transforming out of all likeness to her original self — 

I or rath r, was fatal rrmg to another direction. At first she bad 

crowfuDy proud, mournfully elate, at the constancy with v. 
she ha . her testimony, and tin. fidelity of her ObedteOCe to 

Mr. Laaodlea. It had been hard at the moment, but when done it 
was well done ; and when she Di dear Superior she would have 

a clean page to offer, which he would sign, smiling, with his 
approval. She was a little disturbed when she saw Richard dash out 
so heedlessly into the snow and wind ; and the thought that he was 
probably bound for the Vicarage, where he would see Mr. I 
and cither insult him by his unblushing athei-un, or quarrel with him 
in some yet more terrible and ungodly fashion. This thought tor 
mented her for a long while, now inclining her to anger for her 
husband and corresponding sympathy for the vicar ; now softening 
her to the former for fear of the hard things which the latter might say, 



Under which Lord? 


tod the telling blows that he might give. Hut ax the day wore on and 
Rkhard did not return— when the luncheon had been OnBMI 
kept back, eaten, and finally dismissed, and yet he did not appear — 
then her thought* became concentrated in one great sentiment of 
fear, and her imagination ran riot over all the po of tragedy 

that it could crate. Time pasted ;. and she grew sorry. setf-censuring, 
penitent, humble. If only he would return Dttld be so glad 

to see him— so gbd ! SO relieved ! As ea< ive hour struck, 

her load of guilt grew heavier, her apprehensions more unendurable. 
I she could bear it DO longer. She had become restless and 
h, pacing from room to room and wandc: about 

the house ; but this fere* of unrest passed into the stony watching 
of extreme d by the window, her eyes strained 

on the gravel in Up Whii h he must come, should he 

ever come back at all. 

:nc, rounding that clump of l.uirel* in the centre of 
the di farthest point that could be seen in the 

through the dri w. I tow di * 

and how weary he looked ! His head bent And his step uncertain, 
.rough the veil of the dusk and under the dimming 
shower of drivu 1 as ii be bad 1 ghost of himself 

tl, Yet it was he, trurj : and 

ran from the window through the room and into 
the lu ib 

"Richard: At "—trying out hurriedly to her 

daughter — "Quick. . meet deal 

ipenedtht under theporti 

•.ow blowing over her and Decking her < dress with 
momentary flakes of silver, while the wind eddied round the hall and 

^ht drifts that soon made featherji heaps In .ill the B 
She ni lot cared how things went. She thought only of 

d of her youth, the friend of her maturity — was con- 
scious only of Her joy in his ret he sweet, lond. self-forgetting 
wife had < ft oi b spiritual seducer, 
masked a;. . cared, 

:chard, n ' how wet and tired you look I how cold 

and miserable I You look lull' dead I I lading, come in and rest. Why, 

II this dreadful day ?— and I so wretched, 

spoke with the incoherence of fear and tenderness combined, 
going impulsively to as he came wearily up the steps of the 

portico. She laid her hand on his ami, and seemed to lead him into 

14 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

the hall, where slur took lx>th In | n hers and chafed them 


" My poor half-frozen darling I " she said, looking up 
face with her big blue eyes, soft and dark and humid ; while Vu 
said— she too with all her old sweetness : — 

" Let me help you with your coat, dearest papa. It is wet 
through— do let me take it o<: 

Ward stood and looked from one lo the other like a man 
rudely awakened from an opium dream — not seeing, not undcrstand- 

■norant which was the truth — the dream or this. Was be 
now, or had he been mad ? Was all thai offered the self- n 

anxiety of a disordered brain ? — 01 wai this hallucination and the 
feverish fancy of a despair so si' k that ii had taken on itself the very 
i ry of hope ami happiness? — as men dying of hunger in the 
desert see themselves set in gardens ami fair places where they re 
happiness and delight He passed his hand in ■ bewildered ••• \ 
his forehead, looked round ..ucly, and turned to them wil 

much . then he sighed heavily and •■ 

; and these and daugl 

— the creatures whom he ig — whose 

soft touch he felt, into whose sweet eyes lie looked, whose caressing 
voices he heard. Had bj < en with that f i man who 

had boasted of his victory over these dear one*, and dl iforts 

to bring them back to their duty of love— i tin to 

his influence? Had they really spoken to him to-d.iv iught 

he remembered that they had ? Had his daughter pronounced him 
accursed? Had Hcrmione taken herself from him? end were 
lives to be henceforth based on a different plan and principle from 
what had been formerly ? 

Uncertain, and shocked at his own entanglement of thoi 
whose perceptions were always so clear and whose mind was co firm 
— he stood there for a while silent, hut trembling visibly, and almost 
breathless as the dumb trouble of his suspense passed into the slurp 
pain of reaction — the pleasure which makes pain. 

" Wife ! my little Lad\ in a broken voice, 

lg each to him lovingly, and kissing each as he widen 


Virginia's tears fell on his pale cold face as she met his will 

t almost as pale, aim I; but rlenni vith 

her old swi aim once more her beloved— an- 

Suddenly : " He is your destroyer— his love for you is your soul's 

Under which Lord 15 

OOUr — yours for hint a crime against God," rang in her cars, as 
I had been there and was repeating this morning's 
denunciations, as well as command ; and " I promise to obey you " 
was the echo of her own voice sent by her wavering soul through her 
memory. Yes; this morning she had promised to withdraw hi 
body and soul, heart am! I -.o let the Church divorce what the 

law had joined and love had hallowed ; and now, not twelve hours 
after '-he was standing with her arms round the husband 

whose expulsion had been decreed, her lips giving back the tender 
touch of his. For an instant she shrank within herself and recoiled ; 
then she drew him closer to her heart, saying to hezaeJf: " He is 
id I am his wife, and none shall come between us." 
Still trembling — for indeed the reaction had been almost too strong 
he was afraid to speak lest some new discord 
should break in upon this dis bust harmony — bewildered, but con- 
• of rest and sweetest peace, '.vent slow];- up the stain 

— h; ith him. With hei own hands she drew the easy chair 

before the fire in his dressi 111, and performed all sorts of plea- 

sant caressing li'.tlc offices about him before his man was summoned. 
He smiled and let her do what she would To have her thus about 
him rested and refreshed iiim more than sleep 'or food «i mid have 
dooc. When she left him finally, promi 1 in halt 'an hour, 

be was calm, peaceful, soothed, and she herself was happier than she 
had been 1 that fatal dinner. After all, he was her husband] 

fine and noble, tender, just and true ; and it was good to love him ! 

A 11. -a: m |»ut intohei hand as site went into her own mom. It 
was from Mr. Lascelles, and contained His photograph taken in the 
"saci orne part was Iter own work, accom- 

panied by a beautifully bound nuu aaodwrifc 

ace to the will of th< priest representing 
God — and the awful authority given to him by confession and sbso 

Whether he had foreseen any strain of this present kind 00 the 
return ol whose passage back through the village had been 

noti' . and so took the 1 1 within bis 

powc pity and .1 

wife's only hah an tell? He had a faculty 

of prevision wl tl have 

been one of those occasion? knowledge of men and women 

made him prophetic With the photograph to remind and the 
manuscript to recall, he thought that he had <>n the 

rudder, and Uut he need not fear the result of what he knew would 



TIu Gentleman 's Afngazine. 

be close sailing for the moment. Richard was the old, with the ami- 
mulatcd force of habit to back him; but he was the new. with flu- 
keys of heaven and hell in his hand. As Jove held the thunderbolts, 
so had he the power of excommunication from the Church, and 
consequent banishment from God ; and should the pretty woman 
who was born to obey seek to rebel, she would have to lean 
lovers can become executioners at need, and that a gentleman May 
court but a priest must compel. 

If these pits were potent as reminders, so was the letter that 
accompanied them, going straight as it did to the heart of the situa- 
tion. It recalled to Hcrmione the exact terms of the sacred promise 
which she had made to him the writer, her priest, her director, only 
so long ago as this morning ; and bound it on her conscience to fulfil 
to the letter all the conditions which he had imposed. Those ran- 
ditionr. were hard, and the words in which they were set forth were 
Strong and rasping, but he clamped all together by the divine authority 
of which he was the interpreter — the executant— and defied a child 
of Holy Mother Church to disobey the supreme command. He 
seemed to have had magical insight into her pour, weak, troubled 
SOul; and he Came on the scene of this probability of reconciliation 
like the spectre which stands by the altar and with its fleshiest hand 
forbids the marriage. He had foreseen all this In -.nation, this 

traveling, this tuning back like Lot's wife to the home that she had 

abandoned, to the life which habit and love had endeared. But the 
hand which held knew also how to keep ; and Mr. Loscelles WkS D01 
the man to be discouraged by the feeble struggles of the victim 
i he had captured, and now was binding fast to the homj <t the 
altar. He knew that until finally stilled the pendulum must beat, but 
its swing is ever shorter ; as the ebbing tide has waves which appeal 
to advance, but the tide ever ebbs and the . ! iore is left dry, 

strewn with dead things and the wrack of what was once man's finest 
work. On pain of her eternal perdition, Hermione was commanded 
to continue Steadfastly in holy opposition to this man of sin whom 
God had forsaken, and to withdraw herself finally from his hateful 
influence. Her love for him, she was told, was a sin against Ik 
and to be in friendship with her husband was to be at enmity with God. 

It was as if a voice from the Ark had spoken, calling back one 
wandering from the worship of Jehovah to the idolatrous temples of 
the groves — a voice which she dared not refuse to hear, a comma 
which she dared not refuse to obey ! 

When she went back to her husband, she went back change 
She was gentle and sorrowful enough, but as if she had shrunk again 




Under which Lord? ty 

herself ; and if nol cold nor repelling, yet she MS no longer 
or expansive. Again, the moral blight which already 
had destroyed so much had fallen on ha ; as subtle and as 
irresaiiWe as the b'.i ihe corn- 

aein*. In her fear for his safety, and net unregt an II -reproach 

for the pain . had given him, she had forgotten .hat Richard 

was an athel*!. and had remembered only that he was her husband 
whom she had once adored and still loved, and — despite herself — 
respected. Now she had to remember rather that be was excommu- 
nicate; and that the only tie between them was his name which she 
bare, and the past which she could nut undo if she did her best to 

Ijtd held out his hand to her as she came in. He was sitting 

drown bock in the easy chair as she had placed it, weary in body but 

with the patient calmness of mind, the nreet trustfulness, the happy 

acntkizing love which were essentially his. He had accepted all 

dot had come lo him in this last hour as a full and complete rccon- 

rifiation. He had his wife again, and their new life would date from 

today. They would talk together, heart open, as in olden limes, and 

consult one with the other how best to live in harmony and affection, 

trm if it should still be that their spheres of thought were different 

and their objects of belief opposed. But at least they had come 

again, and no man stood between then.. 

He smiled and turned his head towards her as she came through 

doorway— not that of communication with her room, but that 

gave on to the corridor. 
'Wife ! dear wife '. How good it is to sec you !" he said in a low 

The colour had gone out of her face, and she looked as pale 
nrler the lamplight as if she had been Virginia herself. 

.»ni glad you arc safe at home. I was frightened about you," 
the «;d in a constrained manner. 

"I do not like to have frightened you, sweet wife, but I love to 
bear that you were anxious, 11 he answered, still smiling. 

"I hope that you have not made yourself ill ; you looked so tired 
when yoa came in, and were so cold and wet," she said in an odd 
jetty way; not looking at him; pretending to arrange the ami- 
■aassar with her disengaged hand. He held the other in both 
of bis. 

" It is all right now. I have your dear hand in mine," he said, 

the soft pink fingi 
She turned away in desperate trouble. It seemed so cruel to 
nucctir. mo. 17*3- c 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

hurt him afresh. But her vow — Superior's letter— that manuscript of 
holy counsel — the divine guidance under which she lived — the com- 
mands which must be obeyed, let what human considerations there 
would oppose : — she dared not take her husband back to her heart, 
nor give herself to his as in the past. She dared not disobey the 
priest whom she had chosen u her spiritual guide in preference to 
this atheist, if once her I cloved. It tore her own heart to part from 
him as mud) in this moment as it would tear his to lose her ; but 
the command was greater than the pain; and though that pain 
should even kill, that command must still be carried out. The thing 
which somewhat comforted her at this moment was the knowledge 
th.i :.!i ..- hem If MilTcrcd as much as she made her husband snfi 
Hitherto she had yielded to the new law without much difficulty. It 
had even given her more than she lost, and she had often been more 
revolted by the atheist's infidelity than sympathetic with the hus- 
band's pain. Now she joined hands with him in sorrow, and re- 
gretted — how sincerely ! — that she could not be at one and the same 
time a faithful daughter of the Church and a loyal and devoted wife. 

After a time she turned her face to him again, and looked at him 
softly, but not caressingly as she had done. 

" 1 love you as much as t ever did," she said in a low voice, 
bettering her own word*, while her tears began to flow; " but nothing 
has changed since this morning. You are an atheist, I am a Christian; 
and until you have made your peace with God I can be nothing to 
you. Our thought-, .md ways are separate, and so must be our 

He raised himself in hit I Bad looked at her fixedly, then 
c'-osed his eyes while his head sank forward on hi. breast -She 

;;ht he had fainted, and bent over him, bre 
twitching of his mouth, the quiver i look of 

anguish that was more sorrowful than tears, more grievous than a 
cry, showed her that here was no relief of insensibility. He 

was suffering as few men could have suffered without failing ur. 
the strain ; but he had been made strong enough by that short 

lie from torture to bear the rack again without giving way. Yet 
it .us hard to have the hope, the assurance, only to be dashed 
in to the earth at the very moment when he thought himself most 
secure. Still, there it was; and his hope had been i faliacy. Her 
will i motion by that other stronger, more determined, still 

always her will — decreed that they should be divided, and he cotdd not 
help himself. And then, beside his inability, there came to his aid 
the man's self-respecting dignity which is even greater than the K 

Under whUh Lord? 

love, and which forbade him to continue what was essentially a (rail 
less rivalry with anotbei ievotion. 

"Things dull be as you will, wife," he said at kit 
voice, when; were no suppressed tears, but only the very stillness of 
submission to the inevitable, the very pathos of patience. " Some day 
you will come back to me of y I will. Until then I will 

respect yours— an. : 

The extreme mciatjon touched Hermione more 

than || I broken out into passionate despair. It was so like 

death! She seemed to realise in that moment all that she had 
voluntarily lost— all that she had killed with her own hands ; sad 

ng on her knees by his side, she buried her face in the I 
the chair and wept in 3 forlorn and helpless way that, more (has 
anything else could have done, expressed all the weakness of her 

He laid his hand tenderly on her head. No longer soft and 
feathery with its multitudinous curls, but smooth and plainly braided, 
it was to him like the head of some one else — not his wife, his 
beloved. He missed the elastic touch of light rings and fringes 
which he had so often caressed, and in which he took so 11'w.ii 
pleasure of admiration ; and he thought, as 01 mi unimportant 

in grave moments : " Even I changed with the rest.'' 

could say nothing to comfort her — nothing to persuade her. 
All this misery was self-made, and as unnecessary as it was absolute. 
She alone could break the magic of the barrier that had been raised 
bctwi 11 -._ ntcd to and half assisted 

in the weaving of the spell. He stooped ovct her and drew her face 
gently up g her forehead as one bidding an atonal 

. poor wife .' What wretched - 
bat purpose? " 
be will of < .11 Hermione sobbi then 

Uowly rai»ing bi side, half lin 

.. —as both felt for ever. 

ised himself slightly and held out 
bo f. '-d tuwan .1 her hand on 

rod j "my life I my love ' 
he would have clasped ho 
with a sudden spasm of fear and anguish -she turned abruptly 
and wont back as if a blast of her face. 

! you are an al .he said. " It is a sin to 



The Cattleman's Afagasnu. 

"So be it ! " he answered, and covered his face in bil ham Is. 

Sobbing, not daring to trust herself at this moment, loving 
with all her old fervour, but afraid of God and bound by her pron 
to the priest, Hermione rushed from the room— again passing hy the 
corridor, not through the door of communication — and kneeling at 
her faldstool before her crucifix, said some prayers which she tried 
hard to believe comforted her, and which she knew did not. Her 
heart *U full of the dear husband whom she had put away from her 
for ever; and in her sorrow she found herself wishing that she had 
been left still unconverted, and not afraid to love one who had every 
virtue but that of Faith. But Richard passed through this Gethxemanc 
without even the comfort of prayer — with nothing but his own strong 
heart to support him, and his love for her who had left him, to so 
his despair at his bereavement. 

C II a iter XXI. 


1 1 v,.ts not all subtle spiritual courtship, the better to make idle 
women of means into devoted daughters of the Church, that employed 
the tine and thoughts of Mr. Laseelle*. He had the more mascu- 
line part of Ins parish-Work to attend to, and the sturdy men of the 
people to convince, with their soft hearted wives to win, as well as 
those idle women of means to interest. And, to do him justice, 
he was indefatigable in his activities of conversion on all sides 

He really did give himself without stint to the good work, a$ he 
euphemistically called his endeavour to break down mental inde- 
pendence and manly self-respect, and to render habits of thrift and 
•hi unnecessary. For the Church has doles for her obedient 
children :'.. . the place of lapsed wages; and she makes it 

part of hi • doty to prove to the faithful that the time given to the 
service of the Lord il not time taken from the maintenance of the 
family, and that the cupboard need not go bare because the choir has 
its servitors and the nave its worshippers. The vicar set great store 
by this charitable bribery which to him represented righteousness : 
and put out his strength to effect the personal and economic de- 
moralization of men l>y means of this lavish almsgiving which is 
powerful an agent in the hands of a proselytizing priest 

By this time he and Sister Agnes had cut out for themselves I 


Under which Lord ' 21 

thin they could do without help, The Com i Ionic was 

so* in full working order, with Sister Barbara as 1 ;n-chargc, 

Sitter Agnes as the Lady Superintendent, the vicar as Superior and 
Chaplain, and thi who had districts as Visitors. Affiliated to the 

Home was a Cottage Hospital which the ladies also visited on set days. 
Having to find a raiton d'etre for its existci' they did their 

bat te fill it with "cases," whether of the right kind or no. If a man 
bad a twinge of rheumatism or a woman an aching back, the district 
lisitor would coax both the one and the other into the hospital, where 
ritaalisB and beef-tea, confession and t Soft bed, (he intercession of 
the Holy Virgin when entreated and human kindness without as 
for it, prayers to the saint* and presents to the children, went hand iii 
and the Church proved herself the mother whose service was 
endowment as well as salvation, and whose loving arms not only 
protected her faithful worshippers from the fiery darts Of the 
Ooc, but sheltered them in the dark days of materia] trouble. 

Then there were daily ■ mattins " and " evensong ; " full choral 
services on Wednesday and Friday; "early celebration" and 
three to follow on Sunday; the saint-.' days rigid!) 

strted, and the vigils of the more important to boot; there were pro 
cessions to arrange and methods of worship to teach ; the Sttl 
school to superintend; the choir to train: doctrine to develope ; 
confessions to r, 1 crctly, but none the less actively ; Bible- 

classes for men and those for women, separately, taken twi e .1 week; 
weekly lectures to men to be given, and the lending library to look 
after ; there .others' meetings, women's te;i-drinkin^-. 

leasts on the one hand and catechizing on the other ; ihc erMf, 
the infant-school, the clothing-club, the penny savings-bank, the 
coal rlub, the blanket fund, the shoe fund — what not ! — to keep going. 
Tbedayswcrc indeed full for both ; and both nine and strength wen 
IgtoraU this machinery for the subjugation ol the parish by self- 
interest here and superstitious fear there- Hem e 11 was absolutely 
necessary that there should be parochial assistance, and that too of 
a liberal kind. 

There was no money in the living itself to pay for curates Of 
but the Molyneuxs contributed a large sum, and laid 
down one carriage, two horses and a man; and riennione gave 
saoner large sum. and laid down nothing, but got into debt instead ; 
sad devoted friends at a distance lent a helping hand in this war of 
QrisDan, in the person of the Honourable and Reverend I.auncclot 
lasnrflet, with Apollyon as Richard Fullcrton, now carried on at 
r, though Crossholmc was only a quiet country 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

parish, of apparently no account in the world, yet the fight was excit- 
ing the most ardent interest among the sect at large; and poor 
Apollyon was destined to have a hud time of it 

At first Mr. Lascelles had got on l>y himself, with part local and 
steady, part foreign and spasmodic, helji. Cuthbert Molyneux had 
made himself his lay assistant almost from the first, and was now 
reading for Orders, when he would receive his title as Curate of 
Crossholme, and devote himself also as consecrated economic de- 
moralizer of the parish ; and stray Priests and Brothers, with an occa- 
sional Father— specially Father Truscutt, who was making hjj own 
little path down heir, as yet cleverly concealed — had come from their 

parishes and •■missions" to see how thingswere going and lo 
help in the services. But now the regular staff had been got together, 
chiefly by the help of the Molyneuxs and Hermionc ; so that, with 
the vicar and his sister, they had in all — counting nursing sisters and 
Cuthbert Molyneux — eight people specially devoted to the manipu- 
lation of about fifteen hundred souls, all told. With the staff of 
visiting ladies, and well-disposed young men and maidens of the 
superior half of the operatives and little shopkeepers, it made a for- 
midable body of workers for ritualism and against freedom. 

There was one thing which perhaps expressed more than all else 
the tit -mendous power that the vicar and his sister had already | 
Over the women of the place — their dress. 

:n Hermionc downward — Hermionc, who had been DOtOTJ 
for her superb millinery, against which the only thing that could be 
said was that it was too beautiful for the country, and who had now 
gone into the groove of simplicity with the rest— from her downward, 
the ladies and young women who had devoted themselves to the 
work of the Church were all noticeable for studied plainness of attire. 
So far Sister Agnes had been a public benefactress. She allowed no 
gay colours among those who came to the Vicarage to embroider 
chasubles and stoics— no frills, nor furbelows, nor fettering tying 
back of skirts, nor sweeping trains eddying round the feet in em- 
barrassing curves of graceful entanglement ; she forbad all jewelry, 
and cried out against fluffy heads and fringed foreheads ; she suffered 
nothing but dark dresses plainly made, smooth braided hair, lin 
instead of la<x-; and for gold and silver ornaments, such as arc worn 
the unregencrate, she substituted a big black cross or a small sit 
crucifix which hnd been duly blessed by — the one who had the 
power. A mcmlwr "I the Sister 1 * •' Band of Church Workers " could 
be told at a glance ; and, as wax said, nothing proved the power 
her influence and her brothers more than this ability to dominate the 


Under -which Lord? 

passion of womanhood, by reducing the luxury of fashion to 
the simplicity of a uniform. Having done this, they had fulfilled die- 
hardest task of all 

It was strange how pauperism began to increase under this rule ol 
Fa»h»nd< '.rations. Up to now Crossholmc had been 

noted tor its manly indcj>cndcncc US well at for its cleanliness of 
Hroj. Dead to ill forms of religion- . what had been 

waning in spiritual aspiration had been made up in civic action, and 
aurals were pure where belief was cloudy. Belief indeed had been 
eien more than cloudy. Under Mr. Aston the parish church had been 
acreiythe symbol of parochial rights and national unity, where 
certain ceremonies were performed of common usage and legal obli- 
gation but of no vital benefit ; and no dissenting missionary had 
succeeded in establishing a Little- Betas! of any denomination. 
Methodist, YYcsIcyan, Baptist— all had been tried and each had 
tailed. The seed had been cast on ground so stony, that not even 
duckweed or groundsel would grow there ! For the last fourteen 
or fifteen years a body! of men, inspired and directed by Richard 
Fallerton, had been gradually gathering together who had abjured the 
pablk-house and die church alike, and had lived the lives of honest, 
sober, self-respecting heathens. Little mat done iri the way of charity ; 
lets in the way of misdemeanour ; nothing in the way of crime. 
To be on the parish rates was held licre as next door to being in the 
county gaol ; and the working men were content to be let alone by 
lie rich, provided always they were not hindered. Ground game 
was free, and no one sought to poach the pheasants ; compensation 
was made when the field went over the growing crops ; and on all 
kinds there was a friendly kind of feeling abroad, because the poor 
respected themselves and by so doing made the rich respect them too. 
To be sure, in the hard winter times there was a little relaxing of 
tic high standard which else was so well maintained j and pannikins 
of good stout savoury soup were to be had in the Abbey kitchen by 
say who chose to come for them. But this was always given, as 
•ell as asked for, under a slight veil of pretence that appealed to 
soman kindness and saved pride -to warm tin- little children 

siea thejreame home wet and half frozen from school ; or to comfort 
Ah sick body or that aged person who could not eat meal and yet 
d nourishment. And the independence of the men was main 
rased also by a kind of fiction, whi on required:— 4a work 

ixzsg made for them which was not necessary to be done, but the 
g at which earned money and prevented almsgiving. So that 
like drunkenness, was almost rooted out of the place, 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

and Crossholme cost the ratepayers less in relief than any 
parish in the union, and was nowhere in the criminal statistics of the 
county; but also it was of no value to the revenue. 

Now things were changing, and the place was becoming church- 
going and pauperized at a hand gallop. The women, won over by 
gift'- and kindly talk, influenced the men as they always have done. 
Between a bare cupboard, with hungry children crying round the door, 
and a full table and the gaping mouths well fed, what mother would 
hesitate? — more espe< i.illy when all the price to be paid was going daily 
to a well-lighted, well-warmed churrh, where were bonny things to 
sec and pleasant things to hear, with .1 hcaitSOBM chftt with the 
neighbours coming home and a good word from the gentry ! If Mr. 
Fullcrton was a fine man and a good master, so mi Mr. I-ascclks; 
and better every way than the other, Mr. I'ullerton exacted his 
pound of flesh in labour; but the vicar, he gave freely, and asked for 
nothing in return but what was good for their own souls. Fur 
surely no one could deny that it was right to go to church week-days 
as well as Sundays ; for if it was God's House on the Sabbath bo it 
was on the week-day. So the vicar said ; and he ought to know if 
any one did — it came into his business. And then surely, again, it 
was ever SO nun h Utter lur the children to have stout shoes for 

;:.;, ami themselves a mum blanket or a good gown 
that Jack or Bill should maunder away his evenings listening to * 

gentleman who, the rieai and fail nater said, taught a lot o: things 

M were mere He* — as could be proved by the Bible any day. And 
vou come to talk of independence — well, it is all very well for 
folks who have enough to be so high, but the Bible itself says the 
rich ought to give to the poor ; and that would never have 
said if it was a shame for the poof (0 take what was given. 

So the women argued; and the constant dropping wore away the 
granite of self-respect, and by degrees made the nun as little averse 
from pan perflation as themselves. 

Coincident with this DION direct appeal to their personal interests, 
carried on by means of the women, the virar did his best to sap 
Richard's mflaeace over the minds of the men by the way of the 
intellect. He thuya spOkc of him with a high-bred, archangelic 
kind of pity, as St Mi tui-i nrighl speak of Lucifer, if also with the 
satirical contempt ot i for a quack. He was careful never to 

treat him as an intellectual equal, when discussing him with those 
who were well affected to agnosticism ; only as a spei ious charlatan 
who could be turned inside out by any thoroughly well-read di 
For instance, Father Truscott, who preached to them last Sunday on 

Under which Lord? 


the divine character of Authority— or Brother Swinfcn, who proved 
to them the personal existence of Satan and the everlasting and 
material pains of hell, and besought tlicm as reasonable men to 
conquer the one and escape Eton the oilier by the means held out to 
them by the Church and her ordinances either could blow Mr. 
Fullcrton out of the water in ten no ind prow ban few what he 

was — an impudent, mendacious, pm umptuous infidel 

lie said with Si ile magnanimity end toleration 

for the innocently misled it grieved him to sec how, for want Of MBM 
one toexposc! they, the honest men of Crossholmc, not able 

to devote diem this poor charlatan's favourite sal 

l>ecn led to believe in errors at which any really scientific man would 
laugh. ill, announced to-day as ima I and inullil.h. would be 

overthrown to- morrow by a new theory and a further discover)-- He 
did not promise more llian he could perform, he said at the Bible 
class when shot these bolts which were to trail 1 * 

—he would lay the two schemes of thought candidly 
before then :o judge between Divine Truth and Mr. 

Fullcrton '» falsehood. 

In accordan* it h promise he gave lectures on Richard's 

1 night of Monday, and on his own ground of science. He 

down from London to do the hard work for him . but 

whoever lectur proofs always went the opposite way of 

and showed that all the con hat infidel 

had come were full in the teeth of evidence and in defiance of <r 

(act. And then he fell back on the possibility of mystery anil the 

impossibility of disproof, and challenged them to show where Ins 

nation of thing edible than Mr. 1'ullcrton's. Both 

postu same thin. led God and the other Force — 

he a d rtt, and all-wise l'rovidcncc, the other 

And now, granting his view to be the truth 

1 was— there was nothing in the Bible that should disturb or 

lex them. Miracles were as much an order of the Divine rule as 

was absurd to supp which bad 

could not control, and that the creature might not be regained 


u was the back-bone of all meats: Who shall limit? 

lied by the exhortation to believe Christianity and the 

Bible at all events. '• If nut true, no harm is done ; but if true, and 

you reject it, where will you be then? Consigned to eternal perdi- 

and the never-ending torments of hell 

These lectures were always accoinjanied by tea and bur 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

music and tinging, and enlivened by pretty pictures hung against 
walls and often changed. The women were encouraged to come 
and bring their knitting or sewing with them ; and all that remained 
over of the tea and cake was slipped into maternal pockets for 

BB left at home. Then was nothing to pay for all thisas at the 
Institution, which, respecting their independence, R» bud wonted his 
Dai to feel man their own property than his gift. But Mr. I -ascellcs 
gave everything and demanded only obedience in return. One 
clause of this charter of obedience touched on the matter of litera- 
ture, which was to be limited to such books as were approved of by 
him. Nothing whatever was to be taken out of the infidel library of 
the Institution, and only such works read as were supplied by the 
lending library presided OVBJ by the vicar. Then, his demands 
growing as he felt his w;iy onwanl and made his footing more secure, 
the men were required to absent themselves altogether from the 

Institution ; and the member* sensibly diminished, as did that of the 
agnostic's Monday hearers. All but those thoroughly committed and 
in e '.in to drop in only shyly and at rare intervals, instead 

of constantly tad boldly; some looking half afraid of being seen 
there, with the sentiment of breaking the law and being trounced 
for it, if caught: and others with a false courage which betrayed 
them as much as the franker discomfort of the more timid. Then 
the vicar got up village sports, such as cricket and football, 
but only for his own party — thereby breaking up the teams which 
hitherto had played together. For he allowed no one in hi-. E 
who was not a regular churchgoer and communicant; whereby he 
won over not a few from among Mr. Fullcrton's men, when the play 
had become stinted for want of players. He gave large donations, 
too, for every conceivable purpose, ecclesiastical or secular, social or 
intellectual— In. t only fbl < ommunicants — rigidly excluding all who 
went to that infidel shop over there by the Abbey Park gates. 

All of v.liii li re* ruited so many for the army of the Church 
Militant that brother and sister, when they reckoned Up their gains 
as they often did at the Vicarage, were justified in saying between 
themselves that the infidel stronghold was thoroughly invested by 
now, and that Aiwllyon would soon be brought low. 

It may be remembered that John Gr George Pcarcc, I 

son-in-law, were tenants on the Molyneux estate ; that Tom Mc 
head's shop and forge belonged to the Abbey ; and that Adam Be 
shop was on part of the glebe. The vicar had soon made short 
of the little chandler, or rather he himself had made short work of 1 
own coquetting with infidelity ; for, as we know, long before prcssur 

Under xohick Lord? 


hid been put on any from without, Adam Hell hail executed hi* 
rainceuvre of retreat, and had faced round with his back to Mr. 
FuBerton and his eyes on Mr. l.ascellcs. II re was safe in 

ka holding ; but John Grave*. ' -eorge Pearce, Dick 

Stooc and others in the lini JQed <•' r, were in 

dager; and Tom Moori ■ .. would hi 

if he did not reform Iwfore it was too I. d bad 

fencd in tfa ing was preparing now to b liahed 

act, and if these men would nol «r, then should they be driven 

ITicrc were oil ■• these who were as clearly commuted 

10 Richard and agnosticism ; but they need not be brought 01 
tone, which they would encumber not illustrate- 
Though Mr. Lasccllcs was, by the very necessities of his posii 
tewted by the presumptuous independence of these rccal 
Members of the Christian commumt;. , be s a all the same determined 
Mttolose a chance of bringing them into the (bid ; .mil from the first 
fated the three chief misdemeanant* with special considocation. He 
finesed with stately courtesy to thtii arguments, hah m:; and broken 
a they were — arguments which b of the result than the 

method, and which she. ith all the ;ded, 0*1 iIk '>' 

d because they had been told, not because they had found 
od prove* beat to destroy their confident e in 

themselves and their instructor by sudden, sharp, anil Marching 
Boos which they were by no means ready 1 r; such as tflOK 

oooal tesb. of all anti-evoluii I low about the missing link? 

«ad the bridge between two divi 9, whereof no man 

h» )et found the exact moment aw ise form; while — 

tuynot Life be the work 01 ligence, as well as be the 

">•«« rolviog itself into con- 

•wmness? Even Mr. Fullerton was obi know- 

■Ms: t 1 >nc form of mystery which was comforting rather 

tian another \ ry ? 

i.;h the men could : turn with scholarly arg 

«nd though the)- were neither to be bribed by favour nor bent by fear, 
J«t some among thet ivered and confessed that ■ 

did a hem everything. George i'earcc was the one Stho 

doctrine of Law and the sclf-conscioi 
of mm .our of spiritual if I Divine influence, while 

Moorhcad was only the more strengthened in boll h 
opposition by ti arguments against him. 

And now, having exhausted his slock of forbearance, Mr. Lascellcs 
drew on that other fund— his righteous indignation, and resolved tliat 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

the Church should no longer be vexed by the continued presence -it 
her gates of these her enemies. John Graves and his son-in-law were 
tcnants-at-will whom a month's notice would dispossess at any time, but 
Tom Moorhead had a lease terminable at three months' notice. The 
vicar, of couse, had Cuth ben's consent in his pocket ; and he was going 
to make the blacksmith's holding a test of his power over Hcrmionc. 
George's sickly wife was scarcely well over her trouble, when the 
vicar called one day at the house. She was silting over the fire 
nursing her baby whose poor little flickering life, after having almost 
cost hei own, was evidently not destined to remain long in a world 
which is intolerant of weakness and where the poor have to work. It 
had been a bad time all through fur Nanny, but the vicar and his 
sister had been " dutiful, she said with tears in he* eyes, .is she 
could never foreei , ami SUM B&rblia from the Home had been like 
a mother to her. If it had not been for all of them, indeed, she- 
would never have held on : but they had wrought for her 
grandly, and she and her child had been spared. 

When George, mindiul of his independence, had wished to n 
their help :md -.end them back with their pannikins unemptied and 
their j, Hies untouched, they had put aside his scrapie* with such true 

I human feeling— they had been so Christian, so communistic il 
vim will, so earnest only to be of service to a sick creature nc 
care, and to preserve a new-born life for the world — there had been 
such a marked absence of all proselytizing — when he was by — that 
his pride and his fears alike had been set at rest ; and he was tain Kl 
be thankful tor help which saved his wife and child, and asked DOthi 
in return but the leave to serve. 

Even the vicar had not bothered him with religion ; though 
had, unknown to him, prayed with Nanny lying there between life 

■ —and touched her heart once and for ever, as he knew he 
should. He had left George to event? which, he calculated rightly, 
would do i work for him through his affections ; and r: 

Came to drive in tin ii i how much he could hang on it. 

U lun be went into the cottage Nanny rose with a great deal of 
unconscious grace and intentional reverence. The vicar's hand* 
some person, courtly manners, and high-priestly assumptions had 
taken possession of her imagination, as much as his condesce i 
and the human kindness of the whole body of High Church workers, 

So ft ene d her heart and aroused her gratitude. She smiled all 

ha |>oor wan face when he stooped his fine head and came in 
with that grand mingling of the gentleman and the priest which was 
so essentially his characteristic. And she smiled still more 




Under which Lord? 



blushed, when he shook hands with her so paternally, and looked 
toby and patted its face with his fore finger, and told her to be 
cated, and ly how things went with her and her 

-"as if hr had been an old wife him 

;nd he such a grand gentleman!" 
And tl-.i .: down by her, he opened fire 1 . ami 

told her what had to be done. 

He was very sorry, he said ; no ouc more so ; and he bad 
twang Mr. Molyneux quiet until now, always hoping, like Moses, thai 
God would soften the stubborn hearts of those who were now His 
enemies, and turn them to grace and truth ; but now he could keep 
their landlord back no longer. He was determined, said Mr 

with an air half pitying half approving, not to give longer 
tenancy to a set of men who d< I run! denied His Holy Word, 

in<! despised all that be and every otha Churchman h< Id n otl dai 
and sacred- And Nanny could see for herself, he said, thai it was 
scarce 1 ■ for a man like Mr Molyneux to harboux those 

who were on the road which her father and hu-liand, and some 

in the Row, had taken. Would she like to give shelter to a 

nun who slandered her mother, and did all the harm thai he could 

her husband, and would kill her child if he had the chat 

buld she not rather bid him begone and shut the door hard and 

,tlun keep with him on terms of friendship, and even 

e near to her own ? And this was just what they who 

were < felt for those who crucified Christ afresh by their 

•y. So that she could scarcely be surprised if Mr. Molyneux 

want to keep that lot as tenants, and pre ferred, on the con- 

roold, at the least, not hinder nor blaspheme the 

k of the Church in the parish. 

oor Nanny assented sorrowfully, not able in justice to 

II then, what was to be done ? tht it on to say. Her 

rati too much set in his own way for any hope of his giving 
hut George— might he not be influenced? II. would not be the 
t unl l*ad been saved by a believing wife. 

She was delicate an to beat the 

nd tear of a Sitting, and the Child was tOO weakly to be taken 
into a new cold house, with all the draughts about and nothing 
warmed. Could she not prevail on George to give up going to Mr. 
Fullcrton's lectures ami to tal of members of 

—that hot-bed of d no good here 

and would ruin him for everlasting ! It was not much to ask ; and 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

nuu , 

then he would keep his home and not expose her and their little one 
to certain danger and probable death. 

I he vicar pleaded with Nanny long and eloquently, and when he 
left he had got her promise to influence her husband — if she could ; 
BBd if she could win over her father ild her crown of 

be complete ! 

however, was not likely. John found in llie darkness 
agnosticism more comfort, because less contradiction, than there was 
for him in the light of revelation — which leaves things in the same state 
as the other, he used to say, but entangled by the admission of ■ 
which could set them all straight if it would ; stn, misery and igno- 
■II to be done away with ' i— Satan pardoned— hell 

-bed— and the reign of I I happiness begun to-moirow, if 

only it would 1 He was a strong-headed, noble-minded k 
man, who could suffer without need of comfort ; but George 
was of a slighter menial make, younger, and not hal> 
to pain; and sorrow broke bin up as it breaks up women, and 
made him yearn for external support. Nanny'* near skirting by 
death had stirred him deeply. It had sent him to his knees for 
ome one to whom to cry aloud in the dark- 
ness— for a Father to lay hold of— -a Saviuur to redeem him. 
Man's philosophy was all very well as a quiet mental speculation, 
id dry on his soul when in pain ; and when the 
told Nanny, and Nanny repeated it to him as of her own 
notion, that God was leading him through sorrow — chastening him 
as a sinner before receiving him as n son— i ale into 

his heart; good seed, said the vicar, which would germinate and bring 
forth fruit in abumdance. 

Yet i ma misery untold to him to f. 
right to say he was a turncoat 
ng the ship for 
before had there been a breath against his char id though 

should go into the more powcrl- 
yet he dreaded that men should say how he had I 

Mid that i Old, *' If it be true? " that ll 

night and 

At Nan 
an' 1 

i-ack. Ai 

Under which Lord? 


she had influence over him — such as good, tender, modest women have 
over good and some "u'ne-natured men. So indeed, for the 

. had his father-in-law influence ; and so had Richard 
on. But all the same, in spite of the arguments of thi 
' U it be true ? " stuck hkc a leech, and disposed him to listen— and 
more than listen— when Nanny pleaded recantation of his errors 
rod the abandonment of Richard FidlotOO for the Church 

She got so much of her 1 that he consented to b( r 

ptblicchu; ; Sunday ; and also to 1 

rhild. The vicar had told her plainly that, should it die anbaptittd, 
ke would not allow it to be buried in the churchyard nor run 
hncral service read over it. And he had added with companionate 
rmplusis : "Poor little frail lamb I II to live 

through to-day; and that it should be d of eternal hie by 

nan's cruel blindness 1" 

This was the argument that finally rnovi '1 (fanny .and through 

ier secured George. He consented to her prayer, pal use ii 

m her jwayer and put! ng in 

of x something " might boreal after all I and h 

be would go with her and face the neighbours like a man. It 

wi too, only what he owed the vicar for his kindness— he confessed 

d Mr. Fullerton was not the gentleman t in an 

at things all round. 

Wherefore next Su ■■-■ who knew how had been 

n law wi or scandalized 

accor! . and wh nt, to sec 

George Pcarce and his wife at chin , their 

dakl i publicly ■■■ <odt of Ihe An 

Cirrch. 1 day John and a few more had notice 

1; and Nanny, while crj rly for her 

I .ord had interposed to save her and 
ha own house from destruction. 

But if only John would have flown out at him ! thought George, 
at ihr >buut the younger man's fireside. It 

le would have turned against him and 

ict, but by the look 

-icss was the poor young 

• was nol mui li in John's way, and he 

sake and < 

because he was aces. 

raid moment John felt that as 
;» George did bad look, and looks £0 as tax 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

as things somctim. •- , and people must be less given to evil-thinking 
than most are, if they can accept such a coincidence U tb 
dental, and not see in it the best way of escaping a forfeit 
having played on the chanee of winning. Tom Moorhead was not 
of that liberal kind, nor was Untie Bco, nor Dick Stern, nor 
Rose, nor any one else who had received his notice to quit. Each 
had his word to fling at George when the papers came in, and he 
it undisturbed; and when, for the first time for ten years or 
more, John went off to the lecture alone, he felt as if he had left a 
death behind him, :iml had lust for ever the son who had been dear 
to him. Poor George tilt badly too, when he saw his friend and 
father go without him ; but he WU acting according to his cons, 
and giving his new thoughts a chance ; and though the direction had 
been in every way different, he had been trained by Richard I-'ullcnon 
f Kfiance and courage towards his own convictions. 

How different indeed it all was ! Instead of the Great Stone 
liook of Geology from which Mr. Fullerton was wont to recite his 
lessons for the day, Nanny made her husband raad aloud some parts 
of the New Testament which Mr. Lascelles had indicated ; and she 
herself kneeled down and prayed for faith and forgiveness out of a 
little Manual of Devotion which also he had given her, at the very 
:it when that defiant lecturer was proving to his hearers noi 
only the inutility but also the presumption and rcbelliousneM <f 
r, on either hypothesis of, in the one ease absolute law, in the 
other an omnipotent and beneficent Power as the ruler of the universe. 

"Where is George?" asked Richard, who knew nothing of 
yesterday's testimony in the church. 

John Graves looked away, embarrassed and distressed. 

" Not ill. I hope?" he asked again. 

" Not in body, sir," said John. 

" In trouble ? What is amiss, John ? " 

" He has been got hold of, sir. Nanny'-, illness troubled him, 
you sec, and made him feel lonesome and like in the dark. He said 
to me the day when she was at the worst, ' Oh, father ! if I could but 
pray and believe that I should be heard ! " and now you see, sir. it lux 
come. He had the child baptized yesterday in church, and be was 
there himself to sec it done. 1 doubt if hc'il come here a 
I'm sorry; but a man's convictions must be respected, however Eu 
adrift they may be." 

•• I am sorry, too," said Richard gravely. " I can see it all. Mr. 
Lascelles hit the right moment. They are all clever in that " 

"Yes," said John, with a slight sigh; "what between coaxing 



sad buByin;- s nnd their affections, their 

wot ..i more than 

nrjlil ever go over got hold Ol 

daxgsu-r through George, a 
tf all others in the yi 
Hcstopiwd, and 

'V\hy now?" asked R den lush. 

• ir ? 

jrou sec. sii id John ; — " all ol 

Row as belong to tl George is me only one 

lunmolesU'l l Icnov 

lie of thi doubt 

ugly— there's no doubt of lli. 
'lim sorry t" heai ihal youx ho 

" Where are you thinking of going?" 
The tailor shook 

"There"* ne'<; wit me i i onVhe ! 

"avi Mr Molynetix knows ihi tat 

own hand, an 

kx u many yean b id ; but new men and 

otw oteuur- bout the size of it m 


" If you arc harassed and want a place, I will build one for you 
•ad for yow broth ire difpOSSecSi ' 

: " I should like to have the lot of von as my 
Joe looked up led. 

"'Hunk you, sir," he answered bear) id not a man among 

oba would rather have yiin for his landlord than any other ' Then, 

tt rather an anxious tone, he added, " I hope you do not led )our- 

ng, sir? Vou are k> i all a 

of sorts." 

Richard aj 1 am all right, thank you, Jo] 

Kr. [> well , for you arc our main prop, you 

no the other's face 

ipathy and undisguised I on the 

hook hands and partci! id went back to his 

is did John < had taken 

( To be tmlimuJ. ) 
rot. ccxlv. mo. 17*.?. 


Tke Gentleman's Magazine. 




Ii : of many iUustratio 

Addison downwards, th:it the man of tetters is not a 
Parliament. Ii appears reasonable to budj he should be, 

that he brings to the consideration of public business those 
qualities of cultivated intellect and power of expression which are 

illjr needed Of course politics arc a thing apart, ■ i 
ability intelligently to discuss and usefully to express an 0] 
ot given to every nun, though there i 
found at any time unready to settle off-hand the afihi lUy of 

nation but of a Continent Still, the more a man knows of one 

he unfeigncdly to ml nil- of others; 

successful novelist, for ight be ex 

returned to the House of Commons, he deprecated expectation that 
he should strai bine in his new 

there ore cases in 
books a remarkable aptitude ding and advising 

public affairs, and yet, when rncnt on the s 

of the reputation thus | has proved a lamentable failu: 

We need not go farther back than the time of Jolin Stur.: 
an illustration. Mr. Mill has, perhaps more than any single m 
any generation, contributed to the formation of poll b ion 

land. So louse of Co 

John Stuart Mill without knowing it, as M. Jc 

in sniiil.u ignorance. They 
first or second ! 

them, ho i they arc setting fb 

and conferring on mankind their own wiml 

lute failure- He tot speak well in th- 

menury sense of the term, but what he said wa 
g. In lat is, the pr- 

ied was not sufficient to still sign: 
'lis being regarded - 

Men of LelUrs in Parliament. 35 

We have in the House at the present time an instance in some 
«iy ikin to that of Mr. John Stuart Mill. Mr. Fawcett does not hold 
as high a place in literature as did Mr. Mill, nor is he so distinctly a 
Parliamentary failure as was the great political economist Yet, 
none would claim for Mr. Fawcett that his success in the House of 
Commons is commensurate with his acknowledged ability. The 
meu'jre of attention which he commands is largely due to the convic- 
tion co the part of the House generally inn, like the compulsory 
companion of the AncicDt Mariner, they have no choice but to hear. 
la oilier days there have been many pitched kittle; between the 
member for Hackney and the House of Commons, the one essaying 
to coatinue a speech and the other endeavouring to bring the 
harangue to a termination. In these contests Mr. Fawcett has 
ahnys come off victorious. I do not remember a single instance in 
•Sick he has not asserted the supremacy of his lungs when opposed 
to (he united chorus of the House of Commons. Members accord- 
ing tacitly acknowledge themselves beaten, asserting only the free- 
dom of individual choice about remaining within sound of the 
taidest voice. The House as a body cannot prevent Mr. Fawcett 
addressing it at lengths averaging between forty minutes and two 
noon. But honourable members are at liberty to leave their places, 
tolwnge in the library, to loiter in the lobby, or to trifle with time 
00 the terrace ; andofthi they avail themselves with remark- 

iMe snanimity. 

Thus it comes to pass that Mr. Fawcett makes the most tre- 
mendous harangues to audiences averaging from five to fifteen. His 
speech on Indian finance, delivered just before the Whitsun recess, 
had for its most important passages an audience of five members, 
lioitted that there. arc few men in the House who are more 
thoroughly acquainted with Indian afiairs than he, or whose opinion 
b worthy of more candid consideration. Moreover, the occasion 
particular speech was 11 il one. The oration had 
*ea long announced, and was 1 with great care 

d trouble. And yet there were found only live men to listen to 
oe nas the Sj>eaker ; the second was Mr. Stanhope, 

aog-Sccr cU ry for India, who was in his place perforce; the 
tied ' lour, who liting to make a sp 

* ha own; h wan ti. tin in the 

Hone if t! of the chair ; 

fciAhwas Mr. Kavanagh. 

s a reason ready at hand for this paradoxical 
oxdincn of affairs. The House would be very much obliged for 


Tlie Gentleman s Magazine. 

Mr. Fawcctt's opinion, and would give it all the attention wr 
justly eoi But it cannot do with his speech. Mr. Fawcet 

has many advantages which, reasonably used, should make him 
Parliamentary He has a xonom he has cultur 

and he issages which reach il 

level of orator)-. But these last arc hut oases in an infinite 
of arid words. Hit hopeless disease is fluency He 
any li bis ability to the uttermi 

There is do bristiM use of order about his speeches. Be 

repeats himself, do) id what I 

hammered out so long 

than conviction. If he could only be compelled t- a son 

of his tremendous harangues into the space of two. 
he would be a power in the House, for every om 
honesty of his purpose, the disinteresiedn i 

and the soundnew of his information. however 

shown even ( 

ional, example of th 
into which a B elf "hen he 

gain fresh fame in the new field of politici and There 

is, or was, another professor, whose manner of life is worth Ins 
careful study. Professor Newcomh was as chary of speech ■ 
Fawcctt is pro iog one day tat 

a wedding by his wife, he followed the example of the rest i 
guests, and, advancing to the I arried pur, shook hand 

them. Ha perl lb great g- 

a word. "Why didn't something to them ?" his wife re- 

proachfully asked him. "I doa'l know, my dear," replied the pro- 
fessor ; " I ihink I had any new facts to impart.'' If Mr. 

etl would approach the discharge of In n in the I 

of Commons in this frai to the 

country, and an advantage to 1 ension of 

cc of pov 
on bk speak. I' 

In an asset) 

arc voluminous appeal 

thesis that am it one 

need not desire an 
Gladstone. As an rablc an 

Men of Letters in Parliament. 37 

approachable. As a writer, he would be, save for his name and 
personal reputation, unreadable. Some one asked 1 Old Beaconsfieid 

be I- id read a parucutai art! 

engaging a goud i: ntion. 

■• I looked Ihro " but 1 cannot 

say I read it 1 can 1 Mr. Glad) 

me, read what he writes." 
il or personal t of a 

;t won li! 


long, invob I why, and 

able to listen to. 
from the general argument, thai be carries 
labit that wouJ 
awback, Whenheaddn House of Commons 

filters Ins thoughts through long 
sentences. II il of himself and of his the 

-tands before an audience prevents any ambiguity or ob- 

y of meaning. He always knows exactly n°' n Bi 

hut be pa tD know. I J) •• 

parcnl ruciion of his sentences, ni 

ilangcrous length, is due to the abnormal activity of his mind and 

If he has a Guilt as a 
sjieaker, he sees too much all round the question he Ifl disco 

ingencics and 
•h»* h ;irc li .1. As his mind ■ ■ 

lAjnis a tas, which it must needa 

apion.-. h tent that others might not 

sad ild not, sec. but Mr. Gladstone perceives them, and, 

1 iK with hi • 
; laborim step . 

on, detracts from tl 
ncy of his forward 1 An Ellu 

v may be found by talcing 1 of hi» 

tone of rcspoi 1 i be found thai 1 ■ • 

parcnthctka), a 

.«ncM, as lent is reached. Hi 

carries this oratorical ti emu that makes his 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

speech wholly incomprehensible I have heard him speak for twenty 
minutes on a nutter of great delicacy, in which he interposed as a 
sort of amicus curia between a section of the Opposition and the 
Government] tad when he sat down not a soul in the bewildered 
House hod iIk- slightest idea on which side he had cast his opinion. 

A modification of this habit of expression is not unadmisnble in 
the case of a man addressing an audience. We are less exacting in 
respect of syntax, and even of grammar, when ■ man is speaking 
than when he is writing. It is obvious that in listening to a speech 
there is less opportunity for narrow criticism ; and, indeed, what pleases 
in the one case would be distasteful in the other. Pascal, discussing this 
question why orators arc often not good writers, attempts to account for 
it by the suggestion that the faces of the audience, and a certain subtle 
magnetism interchanged by living beings, kindle the oratorical faculty 
and draw more out of a man than may be found in him in his study. 

I venture to think tlut it is not a question of drawing more or less 
out of a man. Addison went nearer the mark when, asked how 
it was that he. so brilliant and facile an essayist, was awkward and 
well-nigh dumb when expected to speak, he replied, " Madame, I 
have only nineptnee in my pocket, but I Call draw for ,£l,000." 
The essential difference b ood writing and good speaking 

lies deep in natural tendency of expression. Some men, having a 
message to deliver, instinctively write it well or ill ; oth k it 

well or ill. But when a good style is acquired either as a writer 
or a speaker, it proves fatal to carry that style into the mode 
of expression- — whether it he by pen tir tongue — oilier than that 
in which faiilily was acquired. The best of Addison's essays, 

delivered as a spee bio die House of Commons, would be voted bald, 

tame, and wearisome. Mr. Gladstone's speeches, published in the 
Nineteenth Century under the thin disguise of magazine articles, lose 
mOK than half their strength by the mappropri..!. mess of their position. 
We have in these latter the parentheses, the involution, and thccloudy 
length of the sentence-- ivhii b mark the orator's style. Hut we miss 
the sonorous voice, the animated gesture, the eloquent by-play, and 
the subtle magnetism of a crowded and watchful audience. Mr. 
Gladstone, more perhaps than any otha conspicuous writer, carries 
into his study the mental habits and forms of expression <>f an 

orator. His articles I Speeches Still DOm, skeletons of 

orations from which the :. dried off. and in which the lifc- 

blood is stagnant. 

It cannot be denied that the Prime Minister is an instance of a 
man whose literary fame vies with his oratorical triumphs. This 

1 JUS is 

of Letters in Parliament . 


an exception which I admit the more cheerfully, because u ii mi 
i find a parallel. Moron',. to the 

extent works .ire oratorical, 

even i A supreme geni m from (he 

asssges from i. at I".- qaol 

the oratorical passion i m much nearer bathos, than it 

would be safe for an ordinary man to go. At his best, the luxurianre 
of the or;i l tangled web of many of Lord BeaconsfieM's 

page- rttte, top-heavy. The sharp 

and polish which characterise the sciv 
are absent from the pages of his many novels. His style is loose, 
florid, and occasionally weak-kneed. Wt often hear m n 

of hi- no one would pro] 

model of literary St] 

In cases where li u thing) I man has 

mode a of a good literary style, it follows with 

few e> "ii], <-.rtuiiity for investiga- 

• at he isafaili D B, 1 1 1: i- the rase of Mr. Courtney 

as an example of what Mr. Courtney was known, long 

before he entered Parliament, as a distinguished contributor to the 

cal literature of the day. lie was specially reverenced in the 
Hou*e as a Parliamentary leader-writer on the staff of the Times. 
Hit articles, as far as they were recognisable, were marked by 
angularly clear perception of the situation. He said the right thing 
in the clearest possible manner, his articles abounding in good sense 
•s of wide experience and sound Ju d gmen t. If ever 
there wasa man who should.h.i a position for himself in Parlia- 

oent, surely here was one. Yet Mr. ComtB ma in the House 

of Commons has been less calamitous than John Stuart Mill's only 
m degree as he is a lesser man and had created minor expectations, 
not infrequent participation in Parliamentary debates he has 
manifested just thus.- that he would bin Bgtbtmin 

others, lied with merciless vigour. It has teemed th:it in the 

mere action of riling to address the House, he magically dispossessed 
him*: %e of wlut is the right thing to do and say 

with which, hsring pen in hand, he had shown himself pre-eminently 
gifted. He recites long essays, not lacking in profundity, but fatally 
inappropriate to time ai They arc ire bolts, 

eminently useful and sometimes invaluable En square hole 
hopelessly undesirable in round ones. The lightness, grace, and 
strength which mark his literary productions are altogether al 
nxjm his spoken addresses. It may be true that this criticism is 

.to The C \tCs Magaaine. 

liable t'.> !"-• shattered by the disclosure of th-. 

iclent.ii n clave in the House ol I 

■My prepared essays that 
night -liin ■■ merit in I a quarterly t. 

But I would urge that this th< i ivcase,as tending to nhow 

Iter of 
platform, :irc fatal t<> 
: and unaccustomed atmosphere of the other, 
must be admitted, loose 

Of Cot uli journalistic ability of a high order. The right 

bon gentleman, with characteristic modesty, docs not make any boast 
or publish an j record of us therary efforts. But it is well known 
that hi ■■ <■ the leading columns 

• Times, ami hi* hand is * magazine litera- 

He writes, as he S] 'larly style 

Mouse of Commons 
the only man of eminence of whom o aid thai I 

od manner of Parliamentary 
lively hail manner— one that would kill any 

,:)y good. Ph; 
id 00 a 1 :<-h talked 

■iIhiii,. foe up an attempt to deliver a speech 

for the simple reason list notes had become intermixed, and 

be could in seque. 

on a peculiarly sei iturc, 

iduced in bim a certain awkward, distrait manner wl 

He has many nood things to say; but he 
it it frequently ha| 

i have to take 

words It:: i 
■-■ the end 
the sting usually lies) he and. speaking with 

ied rapidity and * ■ lency on i 

lhr Heard of Mr. Lowe's short speeches— and he at 

I long one ; >cccli of .1 

ofor<; who bs 

others. He • 
case in a few be that of an 1. you 

may b 

1 straight from the sbt 

Men of Letters in Parliament. 


which shall, if not completely shatter the position, make it exceedingly 
diflioilt to retain. Whilst Mr. Disraeli was yet with US, Mr. lowc 
took a keen delight in esq fallacies into which that illustrious 

pcrsoaajje wa* accustomed with easy grace to 1 .ill. In the course 
cf his life he has taken infinite pains to put Mr. Disraeli straight. It 
a the only t*jk in pretence Of which he was ever known to show the 
tightest tinge of enthusiasm. He seemed to delight in finding BUM l> -> 
rtfljukaule development ofwhftl he once called the "slatternly mind." 
Hcrerelled over it with quite a concentrated zest of a kind akin to 
tastcitli which a conchologist pursues the discovery of a new -hell. 
waaologist dilates upon an raid orded development Of the en- 
lotDOStomata with which he has had the good fortune to meet. Since 
Mr. Disraeli has been whelmed in the effulgence of Lord Beaconslield. 
Mr. Lowe has distinctly saddened in manner. He rarely Speaks 
w», the only inducement sufficiently powerful to arouse him being 
an opportunity of declaring himself totally at issue with the 
tothich he belongs, as in the debate on the Agricultural FreiX 
Resolutions, or in tluttenng the Front Bench by suddenly dccL.nn:; 
nbnoarof the Irish University Bill. 

Another member who fills a large place in the estimation of the 
H.ute of Commons, whilst he still tanks as a gentleman of the press, 
Joseph Cowcn. Like Mr. Lowe, the member for Newcastle- 
on-Tjnc writes anonymously. But the anonymity which veils the 
sackonhip of the letters on " Polities and Parliament," which appear 
ddy through the session in the Newtttst/e Chronicle, is but of thin 
■stare. !•■ • broad views on political questions, lot rapid and 
irapkic characterisation of pen and fur information on home 

«d foreign politics, oftsn far in advance of the London papers, this 
modest contribution tn the North Country journal lias no equal in 
English journalism. As a speaker few men, either above or below 
taepagwa;. x the same influence on a debate as does Mr. 

Cowen. Ha style of address is modelled rather upon traditions of 
rarhajnentary eloquence than upon ; known in the modern 

■KtnWy. He is a man who, on fitting occasions, dares to use mi 
■essioocd language, and to clothe his thoughts in rhythmic sentence-. 
He U an omnivorous reader, and is dowered with the great gift ol ft 
•nacioos memo; id with the lessons of history, 

*ae leaching* of philosophy, and the grace 01 poetry, he poui 
nth Northumbrian accent through the House of Commons a flood 
of gtnuinc eloquence. I 1 times, certainly no 

9wchbdow the level of -Mr. Gladstone's, have created such a pro- 
toon! sensation in the House of Commons as did that with w! 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

during the debate on the Royal Title Bill in March 1876, Mr. Cowcn 
electrified a crowded House. 

Still another, and in thil case an erewhile professional journalist, 
has achieved genuine success in the House of Commons. Mi. A. M. 
Sullivan entered Parliament in circumstances of considerable personal 
disadvantage. He was a member of the Home Rule party, and Home 
Rulers cannot complain if it be said that they arc not, regarded as a 
section of B party, supreme favourites in the House of Commons. 
Moreover, Mr. Sullivan brought into the House a style of address to 
which it was not accustomed. Curran said of Grattan that he was 
wont to scrape the ground with his knuckles as he bent forward in the 
passion of declamation, and "thank God he had no peculiarities of 
gesture." With no small measure of the eloquence of his great coun- 
tryman Mr Sullivan has, oddly enough, reproduced in the House 
of Commons the very grolcsqucncss of gesture wh.i h marked 
Grattan'* more passionate passages. The assembly which smiled at 
Grattan is inclined to laugh at Mr. Sullivan. As a matter of history 
it may be said that it did laugh a good deal at Mr. Sullivan upon his 
first appearance. Some hon. gentlemen opposite, in the boisterous 
good spirits induced by the triumph of Conservative principles, amused 
themselves, and others capable of seeing the joke, by mimicking 
the cadences of the orator's voice. Mr. Sullivan possibly noted 
these things. However it be, he quickly mended them. It must have 
been no slight task to a man of liis temperament to curb his voice and 
subdue the almost frantic gestures which had grown upon him during 
a life-long habit of addressing emotional audiences. Mannerisms of 
this kind are always worth getting rid of. They prove instantly and 
finally fatal to the chances of a man who has no substantial merit 
behind them, lint Mr. Sullivan proved that he had such merit, and 
the House of Commons, the quickest and most infallible judge of 
character in the world, speedily and frankly acknowledged it. Mr. 
Sullivan is one of the few men who rank as orators in the House, 
and Mr. Gladstone's rare tribute to " the eloquent member for I .outh ■ 
gracefully expresses the general opinion of members Mr. Sullivan, 
it should be said, has ceased to be a journalist. But, by his brilliant 
account of " New Ireland," he has permanently established a claim 
to be regarded as a man of letters. 

Within the last few months Ireland has sent another distinguished 
man of letters to Parliament, and one who bids fair to make a fresh 
success in a new field. Mr. Justin McCarthy has only within the 
bst few years made his name familiar in English households. 
the United States he long ago established a reputation, partly 
lecturer, and partly as author and journalist Having written 

in the 

, i„ 

Ely a. 

ten a 

Men of Letters in Parliament. 


succession of nov«U remarkable for their pure tone, for their high 

literary finis :hcirgcwal satire of social folly, Mr. McCarthy 

suddenly surprised mon intimate and therefore most 

expectant I v producing a •' History of Oui Owj> Tfc- 

»hkh hot • success that for rapidity and extent it would be 

difficult to parallel in the same class of literature. The tnetsbi 

Longford is too recent an acquisition to the House (■ usivc 

verdict to be passed upon his chances. He has spoken twice or 

thrice, always briefly and to the point, i a grace of diction 

and case of manner which sonic members who have grown 

frey in the service of the State still lack. He has one faculty 

upon any populoi ad is peculiarly 

acceptable with audience like thai whicJb meets at West- 

Bmttr. H inch as Mr. Coven, remembers even more, 

ind it lingularly qukk ai teeing 4 congmity betwei a entrant 

tCfics and things whii d Or clone or fauna 1 in times 

pa. Nothing wins applause in the House of Common lily 

thtt an apt illustration or a i nation. Mr. McCarthy has 

y in these directions, and may be safely 

coated upon some day to win a sudden and permanent success. 

These gentlemen have in one form or another seriously worked 
in the field of journalism and literature. But to a singularly 
l«|c number of n of the House of Commons have 

fcetn too narrow for their philanthropic or patriotic impulse to make 
to world better by tb ion of their thought*. In reviewing 

the present House the distinction rather lies with the man who has 
W published than with the man who has. The - % of the 

l«i| autumn recess suggest s to . tmberol legislators, wearied 

•eh the labour of the session, tm recreative delights of travel. What 
htt strongly moved them they regard as likely t m equal 

"prcwion on i 1 fence they write books, and there tie 

H noting • t" publish them. Thus Mr, Kavanagh hal 

*l the story of t.V !Evt>; H SirJ.H.Kenn the 

SlSfca t war, and writes a book '" t >n Sherman's 

Tbkck;" and Mr. I'.. J. Reed, jusi to Japan, is 

sb» engaged upon a work describing his experiences. Mr. Rem 

■est claims to be considered individually as a man of lei 
kvgan to make as a public man while editor of a sci< !l 

ougazinc, and is still editor of a quarterly review dealing specially 
• lie has written various works 

raJ matters, and hi cms to the corresponds 

umn» uf tlie Timet are voluminous and interesting. Captain 
,n lias drawn a glowing /picture of " The Gate of v\\c 

The GentUmari s Magazine. 

to the United 

I'acifu: ; " So Inward Watkin h.v i ] ■ to i 

States and Can.; i 1 1. aiy Wolfi, long before he went out a* 

British Cumini.. Buiern Roun 

■■ The Ri 
ie>, lias travelled much) and baa given hia impressions oi 
': i a succession of books ; Si I leoi ge Campbell has just 

published a work, the result of an autumn visit to the utcs ; 

also written a good deal on the Eastern Question. Mr i 
Cochrane has described " '1 rles Dilkfl has 

mitten a rtandsidwoxkon "Great Mr. Elba E 

the late member for the Mint district, disc< mote island 

of Man, detailed his < th as much mil 

as much freshness as Sir George Nares managed to put into his 
account of the \ 
There were hi 
: McCsrtii 
< • li: th has pro. 

in additi H I rial bj | I Lionel 

Jervis has written a "History <>i" Corfu and the Ionian Is! 
Long ago Mr. Roebuck s "History of the Whig N 

of 1830." Mr fame as 

tion Walk established it on a firmer 

basis by ; i| in-, ancle, I I Mi Masse] 

written a •• Ristorj nd ondei III." 

Poets an- not nn ibers I. 

hewed poetry, thou 
n couplet own:; thorship which is likely to l 

those inti 
In n time we have Mr. II. It. 

faintly owns & tittle I "Sl Lm 

latum of lyrics of l md Mr. \ 

guished the year of his mayoralty I omi 


y and th Mr. 

lowthiau Bell has discussed, with 
mena of i 
that ,' 

the production 
-cd " P01 
Charli Recorder nf London, has prodi 

ation as his ip 'ar questions. 

Men of in Parliament. 


Gcocge Eliot has spec '. On the Duration of our Coal Supply.'' 

proved his versatility by writing on the diverse 
ns of the " Repeal of the Malt Tax" and "Union of Chi 

Mr. Goechei icory of Foreign 

Mr. John Holms is a well-known critic of araiy ad- 
ministration. Mr. I. G. Hubbard has endeavoured to preserve for all 
tmt the gist of many speeches delivered to not va on 

irae tax and the currency questions. Sir U. Kay-Shuttlewortb 
i Principles of Modern < 

mart." Mr. John Locke has produced a "Treatise on the Game 
Lord Robert Montague, before I moved to write on 

Question, points connected i 

ami architecture ; and Mr O'Donnell has exhibited some " I 

ifr. Adam I to thoughts 

oa "Tat Pol ave nothing to do with the 

prwpcct of paying the Conservatives off in the next ele I 

ion of trade policy. Mr. Hourkc has discoursed on 
Parfume ntary Preeei tag those of worrying an 

.'tder Foreign Secretary with inconvenient and incessant qn 

ten a " Memoir of Joseph Sturgc " before 
loci- eminent of the world had en- 

grosied Mr. ! duced two little works, one on "The 

and the other on "The Mission of the 
Torrens has on several o<< >wn 

that if he had not i ble though some- 

it lugubrious Parliamentary orator he would have been a great 
tine, generally at intervals of twelve months, 
there appear notices in the to the effect that " Mr. McCulhgb 

Torren I upon" a book of memoirs— usually Lord 

Mdboume'v In the mean time he lias actually written the life of 
Shid and that <>i sir James Graham, and 1 En the pn 

toople of volume* ot ketches of Wellesley and O'Conncll, 

the taking title " Pro-Consul and 

mis reasons th rative success or non-success of 

: the general que ition I" n 
to whether men who have distinguished them 

:o have subsequently ol in the House, 

based on I :ion. 

ipportunity of studying the 
as Dickn My. They, judging for them. 

I, and doubtless wisely, always turned a deaf ear to pro. 
should enter Psrlisment Lord MacauUy perYia\» 



p ■-■: 


4 6 

The GetUleman's Magazine. 

maintained his personal position when he took his seat in the House. 
At least, his speeches excited a gratifying amount'of attention, and they 
were in the main successful. But it is straining the use of language 
to call them speeches. They were really carefully prepared es 
and Macaular, having :i magnificent memory, was able to 
them without a hitch. Macau , I believe, that 

the House of Commons is no place for a man of letters. 
dentally he supplies some i I ©I Mhil .ne of 

his letters, when that peculiar quality <>( the Hon 

of Commons — its way of picking out a pan nan and • 

"we will listen tu him" — which ran only be felt and may not be 
fully :li ' v.ln 1. •• It is ;> " in which I would not 

any man. I have great d 
Jeffrey. It is the n I 

s.iy tii Ts being a good writer, a good orator :u the Bar, a 

good mob orat. orator in debating dttl •her 

reason foi g him to I. il than for expecting him to sue- 1 

the House of Common;. A place where Walpolc succeeded 
Addison failed — wh< las succeeded and Burke failed— whe 

Peel now succeeds and where Mackintosh fails— where Erskine and 
Scarlett were dinne) where Lawrence and JekyD, t he two 

wittiest men, or nearly so, of their time, were thought boo 
surely a very strange place." 

What the House was in Macaulay . this respect, 

remains still. Its judgment of a mai n is based on un- 

written and often ii laws, 'i it rejects over- 

tures for its favour supplies no proof ti .-son snubbed is not 

learned or loveable, wise Ot • i! U t that a man she 

accep' 'inmons i> on. ighast 

hoDOi.: bestowal is absoJu: 

wealth, nor rank, i 

I ; and a mar 

■d his speech po'.i 

man who somctin 
worked in a mine, who 

school, who t. igue unknown i groomx, 


fell i. i to 

<; of Commons by 



ASTRALIANS complain, good-naturedlycnough without doubt, 
but with unimpeachable reason, that their country is little under- 
stood i! day I receive, in Queensland, letters and 
rvnr>|Ki|>tTs addressed " Brisbane, South Australia; "and if the officials 
General Pea* Offices is the nan Colonies published 

their hands in l ■<■■ of any 

mail delivery during the year, both amazing and amusing 

them f geographical ignot Iriend* 

A wealthy Australian, in the awn is mind, 

be a man who has roughed it at some gold-diggings. The 

notions exist as to what is a squatter. That he has had 

to do with squatting pursuits is pretty clear on the face of 

tats, how he squats, what he squ.u-. are iiiMii- 

mwmt.i lenu. 

'.stralians are looking forward to their 
tag-deferred hopes of a beta ng bearing fruit, though, 

lie »h .1 sly laugh -hould be 

"te more to * successful sculler, and victorious cricketing team, 
fcn to the thousands of works which I i written to pn 

and that Ballaxat and 
Mtors i with each other, or with 

New 2 I from •■■■ 

ome. The Paris Exl of 1878 had something 

live Colonii - there 
*"ttn: I, as well as Contin. 

inserted in 
idmission: — •• I 
' and his friends smiled, and told 
o»li nan. 

has extended to the antipodes. 
each decided upon 
niaoRal thnw. atonceind ree of independence 

toe, '• '.' I icen better if these Colonies, separated otvei\ 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

from each other by nothing but an imaginary boundary, ha< 
centated tli< :ir united energies into one supreme effort ? To the 
thinking of many, it would have been better, decidedly better; but 
the da] il yi t to dawn when the federation of sympathy which 
common interests arc strengthening every day will dcvclopc into 
federation that shall be practical. That day must come sooner or 
later, and il may come more suddenly than just now seems possible. 
The fact, nevertheless, remains, that the Australian Colonics maintain 
their stand-offish attitudes towards each other, hedge themselves 
apart by vexatious tariffs, and, in a manner they will by-ai 
wonder at, emulate the state of things once thought worthy of remark 
■.vith respect to the Jews and the Samaritans. Under thi K I ircum- 
stances, separate Exhibitions must be accepted as a matter of court*. 

First in the field, as seniority, if nothing else demanded, comes 
Sydney, the metropolis of the mother Colony of New South Wales. 
Its Exhibition will be open in September, and it will no doubt Ik-, 
mill the Colonial standpoint, a brilliant success. All the indication* 

such a result are already apparent ; to wit, promise of a good 
■how, and, what is more to the purpose, of crowds of sight-seers from 
all parts of the world. It is in the latter consideration I have con- 
ceived the hope that a few pages devoted to I desi ription (necessarily, 
rii.i; •-, superficial) of the Australian capitals, will not be space wasted. 

To Australians Sydney has the flavour of a certain antiquity. It 
is the pares) city Of all Australian towns, and would probably be the 
ii looting by a foreign invader. Its streets and their 
affic ; the rOOtty comfortable carriages and demure liveries to be 
seen at the shop-doors; the advertisement columns of the newspapers, 
all speak of substantial wealth, gradually made and securely held. 
There is an old-fashioned air about the place not to be looser-, 
other Colonics ; and this suggests hesitation in making changes, 
though changes, in the direction of improvement, arc being made. 
Yel, strange as it may seem for the capital of the wealthiest Colo 

ilia, the corporation 01 in the first quarter of 1879, 

had to acknowledge itself bankrupt. 

Coming to Sydney from Ix>ndon or the larger provincial cities of 
the British Empire, the visitor must not expect too much ; mast not 
forget that onlj runet;, years ago the spindle-shanked savages of the 
country gathered on the beach and defied Captain Philip and his 
fleet of convict and stone ships, and that even so recently as the last 
ih Reform agitation a" Botaiiy Bay vien ofaffi enxd 

an applicable description to introduce into a House of Commons de- 
bate. Sydney, at least, must not be measured by a home standard, if the 

So/tie Australian Capitals. 49 

measurement is to be a fair one This may seem k of 

apology ; in truth, it docs. The streets of Sydney are all too narrow, 
and ihc fashion in which its founders began their work will be a 
perpetual reason why it cannot be made a beautiful city. There are 
mujrfine buildings, the houses of business and factories arc thriving; 
moreover, Sydney has the advantage of being the one great seaport of 
the Colony. But, as a city, its boast must be of solid comfortable 
pwsperhy rather than of exterior magnificence. 

icy Harbour, however, is unique. The people will grant you 
mfined thoroughfares, and a good deal else into the bargain, 
» that you give them their harbour. It is unquestionably of sur- 
passing beauty. The inhabitants are in it blessed with a most 
precious gift. The price of wool may decline, as it has an ugly 
habit of doing now and then ; drought or flood may come, as it does 
»h;n least wanted or expected ; but nothing, not even the irre- 
presblc Chinese question, can rob them of this inestimable privilege, 
They hive the clear fresh sea at their very doors. In half-an-hour 
they may be sailing in K harbour of a thousand bays, each complete 
a itself, and exquisite in its surroundings of hill, rock, wood, and 
picturesque residence. Yellow sands ever invite them forth for 
treninj strolls and moonlight rambles. On my first visit to Sydney, 
anumber of young gentlemen kindly made me one of their party 
no board a fieet bttlc steam launch, and took me to a water -picnic 
We steamed out of the harbour proper, up an arm known as Middle 
Harbour, and it was a trip of prolonged delight. We steamed 
aWad several miles, until the hills blocked our course, and the craft 
topped perforce in a few inches of water. It was a reproduction of 
good Scottish loch scenery, only in place of purple heather on the 
awonuins there stood densely-growing eucalypti ; each land-locked 
expanse of water had its own rocky headland, cove, and beach, in 
armature. The day «a$ a public holiday, and the harbeui was 
MeraHy ab\e with ex oats — from the ocean-going steamship 

to small spitfires, like our own of", say, ten-dog- power. 

The September of Australia, it must be borne in mind, will not 
he tie September of England. Its ork of supererogation to 

mke the statement. Does not every schoolboy know that in 
frlHlllia the world is upside down ? Nevertheless, the surprise 
coates, h takes years to get over the incongruity of a midsummer 
Qristnm In the September spring-time, the nights and mornings 
*"e cool, but the sun towards the middle of the day becomes very 
hot,a&d in October a fair sample of Australian heat may, under 
•deary circumstances, be experienced. The stranger will, in 

m. ccxtv. ho. 1783. £ 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

November and December, and, if he have common fortune, even in 
October, make the acquaintance of the mosquito, and find his 
patience most unmistakably tried. Hot winds and thunderstorms, 
too, may be expo ted, though only occasionally, and not to the 
extent which marks the autumn months of February and U 
The new-comer may, however, afford to smile at these novelties, and 
will probably consider the skies of Italian blue and the absolute 
sunshine more than a set-off against the heat. 

Each Colony has its peculiarity of climate in non-essential matters ; 
but it may be said of the Australian climate, as a whole, that it is 
right pleasant. In Melbourne and Sydney the hot winds and sudden 
changes are vexatious while they last ; and in Brisbane, where there 
are no hot winds, you may, at the worst, complain loudly of the 
great heat ; but these drawbacks do not last for ever, and they leave 
a preponderating pet . ..ntage of days in the year when you may 
calculate with certainty upon unclouded weather, dry elastic atmo- 
sphere, and some period of the day, at any rate, when it feeU good 
to be alive. Vet perhaps it is, after all, a question of taste, I'or 
:. I would not exchange the sweet mellow autumn mornings of 
in- old country — the ripening September sun, and the grave October 
tO0Cbes Of COlOQI — fur anything the world can offer in exchange, Hut 
I can understand that thousands of my fellow i ouutrymen would 
deem escape from chilling rains, November fogs, easterly winter 
and a "green " Christmas, as not the least of the excuses they 
seek for vi dting the Australian Exhibitions. They will have read the 
customary comparisons between the Colonies and Madeira, Naples, 
Nice, and Southern Prance ; they will find that it is a resemblance 
only in theory, and that the Australian climate is Australian, and 
nothing else ; and that it is so enjoyable that it need not pretend to 
be other than it is. 

The public gardens Of Sydney may almost be classed with the 
harbour, for beauty and utility. The inhabitants spend a great deal 
of their leisure time in the Domain and Botanic < lardcns. The latter 
are rich in tropical and subtropical trees and shrubs ; but dearer than 
scientific ra th< English flowers, reminding the transplanted 

hman of the old home ; and growing, many of them, with a 
luxuriance never attained there. The gardens arc highly favoured by 
situation, and the configuration of the ground ; the waves of tlw 
harbour break upon its boundary walls ; while the natural undulations 
Of the ground and presence of rock and grotto have been avail 
to form many a shady nook. The suburbs of Sydney arc grow i 
beauty, and, like the city itself, give evidence of substantial s. 

lial wcaJih, 

Some Australian Capitals. 


iod 1 certain soberness of living, not unplcasing to English eyes. 
Grot pride is being taken in the cultivation of English flowers, 
sbntfx, and umbrageous trees ; and attempts have been made, 
•rita partial success, to acclimatise larks and other English singing 
Wi Up the Paramatta River the finest orangeries in the Colonies 
flourish. There arc many excursions to interesting spots on the 
rout which may be compassed in the course of a day ; and if the 
«wor care* for gorgeous mountain scenery, he can obtain it by 
Baking a trip up the famous zigzag railway into the Blue Mountains. 
Sydney, as if conscious of the narrowness of its Streets and imperfect 
ttqgn, makes amends wherever possible by surrounding its public 
Wdinp with open grounds and shrubberies. It may be added, that 
the tendency to live out of town limits the accommodation for mere 
sojourners to such an extent that arrangements have been made for 
cenvtrting large steamers into floating hotels during the Inhibition. 

Melbourne oIodc, of Australian capitals, may be measured by an 
oH-coontry standard without suffering in comparison. As it stands, 
* it a grand city ; witnessed in the light of its history, it is wonderful. 
More than any other town, the capital of Victoria may be termed the 
Colony itself. New South Wales has its Liverpool Plains, Rivcrina, 
1 id ; Queensland its tropical north land, and its rich 
back country, vast as a large European kingdom ; Victoria has 
Melbourne. Trollope, in his book upon the Colonies— for which 
••ay colonials will never forgive him, but which, take it all in all, 
ike visitor may accept at the best guide at his disposal — advises the 
Australian!* not to " blow." As a rule, the advice is wholesome any- 
•here ; yet a Victorian has a right to " blow " about Melbourne, just 
it the New South Welshman has a right to "blow" about Sydney 
Harbour; the Quccnslander about the magnificent resources of his 
Colony; and the South Australian about his wheat, and in a minor 
r, bis wine; Bet, foremost, let the Victorian have his "blow" 

Melbourne is gay. The Melbourne native prides himself upon the 
' English character of his city, but in truth there is just a 
of Americanism perceptible. The sober Englishman, sur> 
«}iog the scene from the grand stand on a Melbourne Derby 
oty, or promenading Collins Street or Bourkc Street in the after 
aooas, when the representatives of the leisure classes are, as it is 
holly termed, " doing the block," would probably imagine that Mel- 
■Bame»asavery"<ast"cit>. The dresses of some of the ladies who 
"had the fashions " may be apt to run to extrerm after 

Ik manner of a New York girl hot from a Continental scamper ; but 

52 The Gentleman's Ma 

there is .1 brightness in the place and sky will admit of plenty cm 
dressing, and invites it, and the fastness, as yet at any rate, is only 
upon the surface. The wonder is, that in a Colony whose aristocracy 
is one of wealth pure and simple, the ostentation should not be 
greater. What there is of literature, art, drama, and music in Aus- 
tralia has its head-quarters at Melbourne. It has the finest Free 
Library, the best theatres and concert lulls. Its people are pleasure- 
loving, and provide themselves with the highest amusement* within 
their reach ; in work, a.s in play, they believe in briskness. A b*»A 
jidt Melbourne m.m would consider residence in any other Australian 
capital banish men i. 

The fathers of Melbourne <t in their generation than 

those of Sydney and Brisbane. Like the founders of Adelaide, they 

planned their city well, insisting upon broad thoroughfares and plenty 

paces, and jealously guarding them even when building 

icnts in the principal streets fetched ^300 per foot. The city 
was built on the square, with magnificent main thoroughfares, and 

1 trccts running parallel, doing good duty as reliefs. Large 
tea being established as a principle, a liberal supply of lungs was 

Jded, so that you may walk six miles diagonally through Mel- 
bourne and at no time be more than a couple of hundred yards from 
some sort of public garden, shrubbery, or reserve. Many of the 
public edii:. illy handsome; others within and without are 

garish ; but the beauty of Melbourne city Springs from a uniformity 

tehness in architecture and the fine fresh distances. \ 
1853 it was a community of weather-boards and canvas. In all parts 
01 the Australias you meet with men who enthusiastically recall the 

lit tunes when they dwelt in tents and made fortunes in the 
cm the Iwmks of the little roiling Yarra Yamu The mis- 
cellaneous man who could turn his hand to anything was here in 
clover. Then, as always in the Colonics, an industrious Jack-of-all- 
trades found himself in his right place. One of the most prosperous 
of modern Australian ironmongers landed in Victoria in those times. 
At home he had been a wholesale warehouseman ; in Melbourne he 
looked about him, and went into the buiincss of a plumber, of which 
he knew next to DOtl hilc he was picking up the 

rudiments, brought him a pound a day wages. 

In Melbourne King People rules, and the visitor who is a poli- 
tician may ty points whit! 

a statement will raise. Apart fro: ical aspect, howcv 

may profitably investigate the condition ol the working dosses of 
Melbourne. They arc the owners of some of the suburbs. An 

Some Australian Capitals. 53 

acowjiatancc of mine, wishing to rent .1 pretty suburban residence the 
other day, sought the landlord, and Grand him working 
m a timber yard. I could mention one building society out of many 
which his lent over a million of money, chiefly to working men. 
U* thickly populated suburbs of East Collingwood, Prahnua, 
Hottuoi, Emerald Mill, and Carlton arc largely owned by working 
men They are the Victorian democracy of whom so much has of 
hie been heard; not, however, to be classed with the " unwashed " of 
Otfttrtwds, nor even to be called " the residuum ; " they arc wcll-to- 
domdiuduals. who have organised themselves into a formidable con- 
gg power. In the heat of political strife hard words are natural; 
hot to apply the term "'mob" or "rabble" to such working men as 
I fare seen in Melbourne would be libel. They have comfortable 
hunts; they may be seen quietly reading in the magniftfwnl Free 
limy, in the acclimatisation grounds in the Royal Park, under the 
das, poplars, and pines of Carlton ( Jardcns, in the cricket grounds 
« Richmond or Albert Parks, in the trains running down to the 
Siadridgc shipping, and enjoying the practice of some of the 
•ntntccn rowing clubs, whose boats make a brave muster at the 
apttts. I doubt whether there is any city in the world where the 
•using classes arc so prosperous as in Melbourne. Tint there is a 
Knout question beneath, the recent visit of the Victorian embassy to 
utwiuag Street shows. I pass it by, merely observing that a gentlc- 
a» to whom I was expressing admiration of the apparent comfort 
rf the working classes in Melbourne, said : " Ay ; protection makes 
•haa prosperous ; prosperity makes them bumptious ; and there 
*>Mbr a smash by -and -by ! " I am no logician ; but I know that 
^* represents a very widespread opinion amongst the Melbourne 

The landscape surroundings of Melbourne are poor. At Saint 

JvJlda and Brighton by the seaside, and Hawthorn, Kew, and Terac 

°»i the Yarra — all suburbs inhabited by the wealthier people — there 

*»tlne residences and prettily cultivated grounds, and for a summer 

**SQT»tng ride the dairy farms of Heidelberg and the market gardens 

^Cheltenham arc an agreeable contrast to pretentious villa and 

^w»ded city centre. Farther afield, five-and-twenty miles from 

*«n, into genuine Victorian bush, there is Fem Tree Gully, with its 

Vad tree ferns ; up the railway line will be found the Australian 

•Alone scenery of Heaksvulc, Fcrnshaw, and Wood's Point, the 

h«w with its mountain gold-field which was fabulously wealthy for a 

*«, and which in its dream of permanent gold erected stone 

hidings which are now well-nigh deserted. I know a miner from 

54 The Gentleman 's Afagasint. 

this field who went 40 Melbourne for a M spell," and, atB 
the Bank one morning, was accosted by the manager with— 

" Ah ! good morning. I don't know « lu-ther you I 
but there i ten thousand pa g here for you 

than .1 

knocked the ash from bis cigar, and said, "No. I heard 
nothing about it. I ■'pose it's all right. Chalk it up." 

His mates. workk im up in the mountain, had forwarded 

him the amour the proceed! durin 

That was in the goM (Ban is likely enough ipbiting 

or driving B milk cut ROW. 

The Vara Yaria below the city is an offensive flow of imps 
bo! Sir John Coodc has given the Victorian a scheme of recta: 
Which will improve the river and the low marshy land b- 
The upper reaches of die river arc pirn elks to the willows, 

whose parent tree grew from a cut: an Ameri m ship 

from Napoleon's tomb at St. Hel 

To see the most of Australia, the return voyage should be by the 
Tom Mail from Sydney ine, up the Queea 

. .md through the islands of the tropical seas to Singapore. 
Coasting in Australia is admirably performed. No two Colonics are 
yet connected by railways ; but ovcrlanding may be achieved, at 
the cost of considerable time, money, and physical endurance, 
combination of railway train and coaclu The open ocean, howe 

It highway of Australian traffic, and it is navigated by splendid 
steamships, regularly and ig comfort :nd safety. 

The Australian Steam Navigation Company i< the Peninsular and 
Oriental of the eastern coast, and A have reason I 

proud <'i its Beet south with the Melbourne " 

Company, and i ealand with the Uni 

long the 
eastern coast of An id thence to China 

portion of the animation i ;, you rarely hear of accidents. I lie 
Easter i istralian Company's boats perform the Torres Strait* 

t who decides upon returning from Sydney 
by that Ton ingapore, will ban bo reason to complain of the 

accommodation provided for him. islands and 

coast of tTOp ie finest ipe York 

and A valuta se.v. 
seldom more than thirty fa of sight of so 


banc, the \ustralian capitals, has not yet 

Some Australian Capitals. 55 

attained its major!' : will take longer to mature than did 

Sydney or Melbourne The first was formed under tin 
mgof the Knglish Government, and began with whatever advan- 
tage* belong to a garrison town. Thcsccond sprang out oftbe 

is and weatherboard era had collected as many inhabit- 
ants as Brisbane possessed when it was fifteen years old. 
too, has four rivals along the Queensland coast, namely, Rockhampton, 
Townsvillc, Bo wen, and Maryborough, and other ports are f< » 
rther north. The original promoters of separation 

led to make the Clarence River the southern Inn: 
uarcation; and had th. I ma. Hti-.Um.- 

would have ItOOd UpOO a centra! ; he coast- It was d< i 

of die new Colony was * 

reuse lower end of a coast-line of from two to three thousand 
j, rendering the establishment of ports, oountxy 

became occupied, an unquestioned necessity. 

In its present condition of development Brisbane is a fair 
example of what Sydney and Melbourne were in their transition 
between the chrysalis and butterlly State : ude by side with the thrcc- 
1, ornate, stone-carved, beporticoed insurance office or bank, 
may still be seen the shed of galvanised iron or humble wooden 
atonr. In any but the main street, the footpaths are, to say the tea 1, 
diversified in character ; the suburbs are as yet innocent of gas ; 
everywhere the architecture is composite, and extremely simple 
Vet the city, like the Colony of whit h it is die capital, is making 
enormous strides every year, and, as the development goes on, the 
rough ■ nd the crooked straight When it 

ercd that Brisbane has had no gold rush to give il 

• lbournc, and that its geographical position forbade 

:.eonc unrivalled outlet for the Colony, like Sydney ; when 

ibercd that middle-aged inhabitants have shot snipe, and 

keen bullock drays bogged where the heart of the city now lies, it 

goes without saying that Brisbane is a remarkably lusty yOUthwidi 

a magnificent manhood l>efore it. 

The ich is about ten miles away from the mouth of the 

fine river from a reads from the wharfages 

lie high ground, and upon the hills, whit h arrest the sea brce.-cs 
at tiie earliest moment and afford at all times a maximum of coolness. 
The Brisbane b I stream, serpentine in its course, and its 

apparently landlocked expanse* improve in appearance as the ascent 
it made ; the land becomes highi 1 nountain ranges appear in 

the distance, and the uncleared and half-cleared bush gives plft 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

clean cultivation, patches cf maize, groves of banana?, and 
mental gardens. 

The situation of Brisbane is its chief charm, and prospective 
advantage. If it had been laid out upon some definite plan, like 
Melbourne and Adelaide, and had not been allowed to grow pro- 
mise ii'msly, it would have been a place of rare beauty, as no doubt 
it will he in a few years. It is strange that cities no near the tropks 
U Sydney and Brisbane should not have introduced shade trees into 
their thoroughfares. It is strange, of course, that there should be any 
city or town in Australia without its Boulevards, if only for orna- 
mental purposes, seeing that land is abundant, and the climate 
peculiarly favourable for the growth of suitable and even uncommon 
trees. But that the semi-tropical and tropical towns should be 
without their leafy street avenues, from reasons of utility as well as 
ornament, is strangest of alL Yet so it is, 

From the higher points of Brisbane there arc superb views of 
country, bounded by picturesque mountains ; from a friend's verandah 
upon such a point I have often looked with speechless admiration 
over a panorama of city, river, forest, and mountain, changing under 
the lovely sunset tints of blue and violet that always appeal when 
the weather i.% westerly and fine, until it faded, dreamlike, into the 
purple base that is seen 10 such perfection in Australia, I torn 
other bills glimpses of lake-like reaches of the rive: ippear, and 
elsewhere charming bird's-eye views of the city are obtainable. The 
river, therefore, enters largely into a consideration of Brisbane, which, 
as a fact. ;. Pleasant bush drives may be had in any did 

tion, and wkbina fiffl miles of the General Post Office there arc 
sugar mills and arrowroot factories in OpCttl 

e of the finest prospects I have ever seen was from ;in en 
nence on the spur of a range within four miles of Brisbane. It was 
a bright summer afternoon, and grateful was it to leave the high 
road and ride up the steep bridle path in the bush. Complete 
silence reigned in the wooded solitude of the ridge, from . 
through openings in the gum-trees, the lower world would occasion- 
alls present itself, simmering under a sweltering heat The goal was 
a clearing on the scarp of a mountain spur, to be reached only on foot 
or horseback, and from it the town of Ipswich, twenty miles distant, 
could lie descried, a white shining mass. All the intervening country 
lay open to view. In another direction the blue sea glittered, and 
Moreton Island lay upon it Uke a cloud. For once the gum-trees, 
looked upon from above, and seen therefore with imperfections 
hidden, added to the beauty of the scene. For leagues and leagues 

Sonic Australian Capitals. 57 

the fiill-bosonied hills were crowned with wood. The broad river, 
■inch gladdens the city and invites it on to greatness, wound round 
a badred tongues of land ; lost to sight for a while, it would reappear 
lit a cord of silver entangled amongst the trees. Cultivated belts 
atonjitt margin were level tad smiling i:i their bright green, 1-ar 
ibt, still progressing to the sea, you might follow the wimlin. 
tie river, and in the wonderfully clear .atmosphere they ttW tabled ■ 
mcenon of white terraces set it unequal di the one above 

the other. It was a noble picture, and I have seen many such in 

The case with which building allotments can be obtained in the 
outskirts of Brisbane has had the effect of imparting to it B very 
•Higgling character. A working man can buy a small square of 
ground for twenty pounds, and less j it is too small for sanitary fair- 
pby, but it will be his own. So, he becomes a landowner, and puts 
>.b shanty or a tent at first, and lives there until he can replace 
it »hfc a wooden cottage. The styles of the architecture arc amusing 
•onetimes, and as widely differing as the poles. The warm climate 
sables people to live out of doors the major part of the year, and 
the buildings arc therefore of the flimsiest. I have seen a suburban 
residence constructed of beaten-out kevmine tins; another like a 
•entry's box. Upon hills great and small, on the slopes of gullies, 
or in the bush, more resembling a temporary encampment than a 
femxnent suburb, these humble freeholds attract the attention of 
tie passer-by, and, as the reader will perceive, do not improve the 
general appearance of the place. Brisbane, in consequence of this 
FecuGarky, extends over a wide area, and seldom obtains the credit 
it deserves. 

Above its sister capitals Brisbane probably best meets the 
•anger's idea of a Colonial town. In its steady, practical progress 
it ha* not yet had time to put on airs, or be pretentious. The 
erects, buildings, and people, in their respective ways, inform you 
that hitherto they have been content to walk before they run. 
There is no public market-place, and no theatre worthy of the name. 
Bw there are three large public buildings now in course of erection 
-J Museum, Telegraph-office, and Supreme Court. Hitherto the 
Brafe: .eerfully put up with makeshifts. The day of 

anke-shifu, however, has Net. and public works and private enter- 
prises arc being vigorously undertaken. Still Brisbane looks what it 
•-Colonial — which cannot be said of either Melbourne or Sydney. 
The wooden houses, with their inevitable verandahs, the hilching 
Josti at the shop-doors, the prevalence of broad-brimmed hats, 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

moleskin brocks, and riding boots in the streets, the passing 
farmer, with wife and children perched a-top of the prodiu r, Bald 
you feel that you are undoubtedly in Australia. 

In one thing Brisbane excels. It bu the most sensible Parlia- 
ment buildings of all the Colonies— handsome and elegant, without 
the overdone omateness of the Melbourne Chambers, and unpre- 
tentious, without the poverty-stricken appearance of the Sydney 
Houses of legislature. Its Acclimatisation grounds and Botanic 
Hardens — the first maintained with praiseworthy perseverance by a 
private society, and the second a Government reserve — have the 
advantage of being able to grow many tropical rarities that have no 
chance of life farther south. On the whole, Brisbane always seem* 
to agreeably disappoint the stranger, and well it might. It is a 
homely city, none the worse because it is in fashionable pretensions 
behind Sydney, in the same ratio .is Sydney is behind Melbourne. 
U lien the summer is showery, as thi I of 1S78-9 has been, 

no 01 use to say that Brisbane is not a pleasant place, and of 

its healthiness at all times there is no question. 

Of Adelaide I am unable to say anything from personal know- 
ledge ; but those who hive visited it, especially in the spring and 
autumn, are entranced with the beauty of its parks, wide, straight 
streets, and the distant mountains, which bound the horizon some 
eight or ten miles from the city. It is no uncommon thing to hear 
gentlemen who arc well acquainted with all the Australian towns 
give Adelaide in many tespet '- priority of preference. 

Although T.iMnania is divided from Australia by Bass'* Strait*, 
it may still, for the purposes of this article, be considered part and 
parcel of the great island-continent. The visitor to Australia 

mid go to Tasmania, and, if possible. New Zealand. With New 
Zealand I do not propose at the present time to meddle ; but a 
glance at Hohaxt Town may well tome within the compass of a 
description of some of the Australian capitals. There is a regular 
and comfortable steam service from Sydney to Mohan Town direct ; 
and there is another service from Melbourne to I.-tunccston, which 
affords the traveller an opportunity of journeying by rail from north to 
south of Tasmania. 

Hobart Town is a delightful little metropolis. Its harbour 
almost as beautiful as that of Sydney, save that the hills and pr 
montorici arc not so freely studded with picturesque resideiu 
navy could safely ride in the estuary of the Derwent, and nothin 
can exceed the harmonious conjunction of its promontories 
bays, and stately background of wooded hill.; and mountain 
Hohut Town itself is a clean, quiet city, with good streets, substa 


Some Australian Capitals. 59 

tial houses, and English-looking In lower gardens \ and il is 

magniln entry situated, Dot only because it is built on the edge of a 
deligh! mid it rises, keeping 

unceasing watch and nrd, the pant of these puts, Mount Welling- 

od in perl. enos absolutely 

big fellow mixes himself up in all the public 
and private concerns of the place. The inhabitants cannot shake 
him off. 1 in what direction they choose, somehow 

that is the eye of Mount Wellington upon them. Indeed, you 
might almost imagine that the mood of Hobait Town depends not a 
little upon the mood of the mountain. When the summit is swathed 
in folds of cloud, it seems hushed; vbl leifl holding all 

the sunshine it cam , and flashing it back again, il it glad ; when 
I on an extra mande of snow, it is felt to be winter. Hobart 
Town, and indeed the whole of Tasmania, maybe said to be the 
garden of Australia. All English fruits grow luxuriantly, and the 
English trees an may well make the 

Englishm hat he is at boo 

The club is necesaarilv an institution greatly favoured in the 
Colonic*. The squatter coming down from the station prefers the 
club to the hotel, which is too often a place of cnteit.iiunient ad- 
mitting of enormous improvement. He knows that m its dining 
and smoking rooms, and in the lounging chairs of its verandahs, he 
will meet his brother pastoralist and the merchants and bankers 
residing in the town, or, like himself, birds of passage It, to a great 
:es die place of the or exchange. It 1-. the 

haunt of merchants and politicians, and, generally speaking, of n» ll 

Esrho know what ng in the world. In \l ehib life 

late* to t:i fleas mud a En Sydney, the 

ir club, and the younger generation theirs. 
qua tiers' club, and a club chiefly managed 
by the heads of departments in the civil service and DTDtessioatJ 
he only two clubs sacTcd to the wants of literary men, 
journalists, and Bohemians proper, are the Yorick club in Mel- 
bourne, which has acquired a handsome property of its own ; and 
the Johnsonian club in Brisbane, which has been recently established 
hi the ence, and the drama. The news- 

papers of the Colonics are admirably conducted ; -ind some of the 
; nals, such as the Australasian in Melbourne, the .!/..•■■ 
'■ten and Country Journal in Sydney, the QuttntkauUr and 
Wtck in Brisbane, are as much magazine as newspaper, and deserve 
large circulation they obtain. 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 


AS far .is Eoglnh authorship is concerned, the theatrical season, 
now coming to a close, has been distinguished by failure. It 
is tnic that Mr. Godfrey, the author of Mai, has written a piece not 
unworthy of his promise ; and written it in the crisp tone which was 
pleasant in that earlier comedy. Mr. Valentine Prinsep, too— by 
way of exercising his skill in an art other than his own — by way of 
holding his rank in that new Renaissance of ours ; one of whose 
"notes" it is to demand diversity, quite as much as excelli (l 
Dt — has brought out a comedietta fairly fitted for the 
actors of charades, to whose care he committed it Thi D agon, Mr. 
Byron, at the Vaudeville, is probably on the road to ncces with 
The Girls : he has filled the piece with what are about the smartest 
sayings now to be heard in London. But, on the whole, the season 
has been failure for authorship. Mr. Wills is a poet, and he has often 
had some difficulty in being a playwright. Mr. Gilbert is a play- 
wright, who has had some difficulty in being a poet. 

We have turned then, and had need to turn, more than ever to 

France at a time which has given us on the English stage only one 

thing completely worthy of remembering — the enlightened control of 

St I-ondon theatre by our most considerable actor. We one 

i h to Mr. Irving, and his management of the Lyceum is as full of 

promise a* it is of performance. For the moment, lie has not offered 
us much that is new, though much that is excellent. Most of what 
has been hitherto unfamiliar to the London theatre-goer has come, 
:!;r. year, from Pari*. The Come'die Franeaise in still in our 
midst, giving us the piece that is old, and the piece that is new, and 
the piece that is old .fashioned, because it is of yesterday instead of 
to-day. And we have also— at the Princess's— our first taste of M. 
Kmile Zola— the strong wine of M. Zola duly watered for the 
beginner — the sensationalism that we do not refuse adroitly sub- 
stituted for the crude truths we arc too squeamish to bear. And 
with the advent of these things from France, and the welcome 

The Comtdu FraupUu and Monsieur Zola. 6 1 

them, we have been told that the entire superiority of the French 
stage is loo granted — too foolish). .tely 


:o tlie Comedic Franchise, there is no doubt at all that London 
Society lias erred on the side of exaggeration. Hut since when did 
not society exaggerate the virtues of the thing it approved of? What 
might have been a reasonable t.i come a mania, i 

unlearned and the unpractised have always snatched at the celebrity 
of a name : the many have followed with a too stupid unanimity 
where the few have led. Moliere— unread yesterday — shares to . 
the popularity of Hawley Smart and Miss Broughton. M Ldernoiselle 
Sarah Bernhardt rouses the < Dt which, two or 

three years . ilrj never have been felt It was reserved for 

Rossi and Salvini in those day*: yet in thost .idt 

was precisely as great a genius and precisely u accompuahed an 

arti- Then there has been a difficult) 

seating the latent converts toba talent— « discreet ■■election of the 
means to insure a populai success lias had its reward ; and tin 
would-be amateur, who lud often hurried through Paris to the 
Engadine, without seeing Sarah Bernhardt for six-and-sixpence in the 
Rue Richelieu, has clamoured to offer a couple Ol Set the 

top of her bonnet, and nothing of her art, in the Strand. I n 
doubtedly the rush of the moment tl MtOBS Ol B 

folly. As you cannot see the art of Sarah Bcmhardl from the lasl 
seat of the pit, or the hottest nook of the gallery, it is better not to 
go into the theatre to force an cmo; b you lun tpw 

tunity to feel. So much for the exaggerated effort to see, under 
hoi jnditions, a delightful artist. It ts not the l> 1 way to 

enjoy the excellence of the stage of France, nor to know wherein its 
superior .1 A much more crushing evidence of the general 

fineness of the art in France— its comparative poverty in Fngland — 
b afforded by a e to L 'Auommoir at the Ambigu, and a 

visit to Drink at the Princess's. 

To begin wit essary to say of the work of M. Zola that 

even in Paris, by transfer, to the stage. 

the labour of a serious, though often a mistaken anist 111 literature, 

■st great! Messrs. Busnach and (Jaslincau. As 

tar as these gentlemen thought fit t<> alter it, it lost its balance, its 

reasonableness, its Datura! sequence, and it became a big melodrama. 

Tosecthat this was so. it is necessary to know the outline of its story, 

or at all events the motive of the story — the gradual degradation of 

the Parisian labouier and his family through drink. One Gervaise, 

62 The Gentleman s Afagazitu. 

a peasant girl of Aries, is utterly enamoured of tome gay scoun 
Lanticr, a hat-maker, and comes with him to Paris, where she stay* 
devoted to him wholly — of busy and frugal life and modest ambition. 
He seeks other women, and especially a rival, "la grandc Virginie;" 
comes back from her one morning, hardly to be upbraided by Ger-, but on a trumpery pretext packs his trunk and leaves the 
quiltwork girl who is faithful to him ; sends the key of their lodging to 
her when she has gone to her work and he has emptied the room of 
h» belongings and called a cab to tike him to Virginie for a more 
lengthened sojourn. There follows in the novel the great scene of 
the latvir, where the rivals meet : one crushed and maddened ; the 
other hard and triumphant. They fall to upon each other with water 
pails, brushes, and hands, and the "grandc Virginie," beating a retreat 
at last, is made a permanent enemy. Gervaise recovers her head, 
summons moral courage, and, quite alone, goes on her difficult way 
of steady work and simple life in the town. Presently she accepts 
one Coupeau. an honest mason ; lives with him in some fifth floor of 
obscure Paris an almost idyllic life. A child is born to them ; they 
work and plan for the child's future, heartily— steadfastly, in the light 
French people's way. At last, however, a bad accident happens to 
the man : he falls from a scaffolding, and is disabled for weeks. Then 
the passion for drink, which he had hitherto never felt, comes to 
bred of enforced idleness, the complete change in his life : then 
confirmed by a half-voluntary idleness. He, too, drinks brandy, like 
his fellows, at the sign of L' Assomtnoir. He is only very gradually, 
\cry slowly degraded ; but the steps, though tardy, are entirely sure. 
Gervaise struggles — bears up — earns money for both— keeps the child 
decent. Hut the natural end will come. At last, her husband per- 
fectly besotted, she too, in poverty, and after many privations, finds 
the comfort of the bottle. For her, too, the brandy bottle is a " brave 
god," and the vicious drink of /.'Assommoir "celestial liquor." 
Coupeau dies of dtlirium tremens. Nana, the daughter, is in fair 
training for the streets. Gervaise, weary and debauched, dies one 
bitter night on the outer Boulevard. 

They have changed this a good deal too much in the play — 
even in the French play at the Ambigu. What happened naturally, 
happened ttuly, in the novel, happens in the drama through the 
Ions agency of the " grandc Virginie" It is she who encourages 
or suffers the honest mason to mount the insecure scaffolding ; she 
who pursues Coupeau and Gervaise with her evil acts, glories in their 
degradation, and sends in Coupeau : s last hour— when there seemed 
one chance left — a bottle of brandy in wilful secret substitution for 

The Contddu Francaise and Monsieur Zola. 63 

1 bottle of Bordeaux. So ii is that what was in the book a true 
and elaborate though often painful and repulsive study — in which 
the art of fiction preached a lesson with a power denied to the mere 
■iridcr of statistics or platform furtherer of philanthropy — so it is 
tint this good study becomes in part .1 vulgar melodrama, such as 
nqght almost have been written without the aid of M. Zola's pene- 
tration and his unfaltering plainness. In some respects— if of so 
generally clever a roan and sagacious a writer as Mr. Charles Rcadc 
it may be said without unseemliness — there arc yet stupider mistake-. 
is the English version. To begin with, Ccrvaisc is actually married 
to Ltntier when in the first scene she waits for his return in the 
Darning. The change may make the play more visible to children — 
or, to adopt a bitter jest Uic modern daughter may take her mother 
to it with rather less apprehension — but the whole value of the study 
rf animate Parisian lower-class life and promiscuous love is gone, or 
■ danger to go. Then again, Coupeau, in Mr. Charles Reade's 
wsian, drinks a little from the first — is half drunk on his wedding 
day. And this removes all justification from the scene of the fall 
km the scaffold— a scene admirable in Zola ; still reasonable though 
wh far less of significance in the drama in France ; and now in 
London reduced wholly to a sensation scene — the drink having begun 
to do for Coupeau. already, wh it in the novel the accident v.. n to 
he the natural means of initiating. Of Monsieur Zola's art, of his 
pacing ret calm study of these pitiful fortune, you .see next to 
nothing at the Prince ore. The play there owes its success 

•o four things, of which not one, I think, is particularly worthy : the 
backets full of water lunged and launched at each other by the 
nrifcid young women in the laivir, the realism of the tumbling 
sraflbld. the horrors of dtlirium Ira At. Warner depicts them, 

and the rery competent, though still somewhat mild, translation of 
the obscene slang of Belleville into the gutter language of Whkechapel 
ad the Dials. 

The acting, too, at the Princess's, point •■•, ith l'aris— aeon- 

•ostTerjrmnch more marked than any you could find by starting a dis- 
placing comparison between the ensemble at die Lyceum and the 
nsemblcat the Gaiety in this favoured month, when the art <>l Mdllc. 
Beafcanlt, the elegance of Dclaunay, the laugh of Mdlle. Jeanne 
usurp the place generally consecrated to the pleasant 
of Edward Terry and the graces and the "go" of Ik 
Jchrist It has been written of Mis* Amy Roselle that she ex- 
Wikd u unexpected dramatic power " as Gemise ; but why " unex- 
ptctcd* it seems difficult to know, since Miss Roselle is an actress 

64 TJu GaitUmatCs Magazin*. 

who has never before had a chance afforded her which she has 
not fully used. These things, of course, are in some measure 
matters of opinion : it would be idle to expect us all to agree as to 
the merits of a particular artist. But to some it will seem that Miss 
kosellc, instead of showing, as Gervaise, any power we have a right 
to call " unexpected," fails, for the first time, fully to satisfy those 
who had some reason to expect satisfaction. Of course, as against 
lene Petit — the Gervaise of the Ambigu— she is at a 
tremendous disadvantage: the English actress has to create from her 

filiation a type of which she can have no personal experience; 
Madame He'lene Petit— one of the most sympathetic artists on the 
French stage — has to depict a fellow-countrywoman, an otn-riire of 
Paris, with whose life, gestures, tones, and daily wajs thi ivc 

made herself familiar. Thus, perhaps, it is that, though the art of 
Madame He'lene Petit is essentially poetical, while the art of Miss 
Roscllc is essentially dramatic, Madame Hclcne Petit alone 
presents the portrait of the French , and, even when site 

begins to idealise, is still strangely near to facts— brings you bac*. 
facts wholly by some rough or sharp and ready gesture of vulgar 1 i 
which follows close on touches that reveal ]>octical nature and 
poetical reverie. The comparison of course is one that, especi 
when we remember the inevitable disadvantage at which the English 
actress is placed, is made unwillingly by those who arc wont to 
admire the vigour and the brightness of the acting of Miss Roscllc 
— who know that when they count our inventive actresses they can 

int her. and only three or four along with her, in tl: ate 

days— but at a moment when the Theatre Erancais alon 
high praise, and the gi CcUence of French art is overlooked 

or il plainly that such a performance as that 

of Madame Hcline Petit, in what is after all i re than a 

sensation drama at the Ambigu, is one of a virtue hardlv to lie 
imagined, either by Kt play at tl 

or by crowding into tl uu 

of Pari:. In her own way, the 1 1 it— 

in her slow transit ivc gra< d a* 

poetical as such a pai - be. 

But it is by 
alone that we should prop' if the object were to j i 

exo the superiority, of I iretalion n of 

classic drama or high-class comedy, but of rough or homely m 

laracter of Goujet, the advoc. 
and ilie friend of virtue: played at the Ambigu by an actor n 

The Come'dit Fraiifaisc and Monsieur Zola. 65 

i a type, at tbc Princess's it is played very heartily by Mr. William 
Resold, whose volume of voice and outburst of convincing rhetoric 
rettrthekss cannot succeed in placing before us a man, instead 
of a mere creation of the sensation dramatist. Lantier, too — 
Gausses first lover at the Ambigu, first husband at the Princess's 
—it but a dim shadow of villany on the stage of London, in com- 
panion »ith that substantial incarnation of thoroughly heartless vice 
ngfauy presented at the Parisian theatre. Then afterwards there is 
the C'oupeau, afterwards the friendly Mis Unties — other important 
persoenges of the potent though repulsive story. We blame the 
Fitnch continually for on big no character, no life, but their 

on. Yet we have teen the dxtkson od M. Febrre in the Etrangtrt. 
And *e have seen at the Princess's how hardly one person of the 
cast of the Atsommoir presents to us any resemblance of the life 
aid character of Paris. The interest of a rude excitement having 
been substituted for that of a development of character through cir- 
QisBtance, why — except for the chance of retaining the novel stage 
effect of the lavoir and the water pails — invite us to suppose that 
the scene passes in France in»tead of in But Ixindon ? A play by 
Mr Reade can scarcely be without Stage ;irt. It will undoubtedly draw. 
Beade*,it has the advantage of revolting death : and draws always, 
■bether presented by a Serious artist like Mr. Irving in the Bells, or 
by Mdlle. Croirctte in the Sphinx, or now by Mr. W.irner. So 
Dn*k will draw. lint to us it seems a pity that the process of adapt- 
ation was "not carried farther, and greater veracity thereby attained. 

Instead of criticising in great detail any one of the performances 
of the Comedic Francaisc at a time when so many pieces have already 
been produced — at a time, too, when what is really striking the public 
» no longer the splendour of a single representation, but the excel- 
lence of various ones — we do best to offer chiefly jottings on the 
characteristics of actor or play. But first, there should be renum- 
bered what has not yet been amply insisted upon — the several 
encamxtances which make exceptional the performances now given at 
8* Gaiety. There arc three or four points which mark these present 
performances as somewhat different from those to be seen last month 
■ Puis, or to be seen in Parir. next month again. First, the Comedic 
Jnncatse has brought us all its good actors— with some of us indif- 
fatst actor*— but has left several of its lud at home. Enroll' 
the Theatre Francois are a good many names not honoured at all by 
the pubficof France. The Theatre Francais has, so to speak, its 
ssedmp academicians — its academicians who nevertheless decline to 
nose. Of these hardly one has appeared in London. We have 
tou ecu. ;$j. y 


The Gentleman 's Magazine. 

no player* 

here players whose talent is on the wane, but there is no player i 
the Gaiety whose talent has entirely decayed. Then again, as it has 
been the aim to produce, during these limited weeks, the greatest 
effect attainable, actors who arc rarely offered any but the best parts 
in Paris, have here willingly played minor characters. Yet, again, it 
is the custom in Paris that debutants, or almost debutants, shall essay 
their strength in great parts, — in those test parts by which a trained 
public like to judge a trained young artist. The result of course is 
doubtful, and, at best, the attraction of a great name is wholly 
absent ; but the thing is rightly in the traditions of the theatre. 
Here we have seen scarcely anything of this. Again, official criticism 
i had to exercise in London its inevitable task. A licence allowed 
to certain pieces has had to be withheld from others. Moreover, 
certain plays at the Francais had so little chance of favour in 
England, that to submit them to the censorship was known before- 
hand to be quite a fruitless formality. And this restriction of choice 
has had a consequence not yet, I think, recogiiise<l the presentation 
of pieces now out of date in France, of which the much admired senti- 
mental play of Madame ile Girardia, La Joit fait Peur, is a fair ex- 
ample. Of course much older pieces than f.aJoiefaitPeurxK performed 
to-day in Paris without sign of fatigue. But Molierc and Manvaux 
do not age — Madame tie Girardin docs. Got is excellent in La/cit 
fait P(ur ■. it is difficult to see how Regnicr can have been better. 
But not even the excellence of Got can make of very vivid interest, 
to the Parisians of to-day, the long-drawn sentiment of a drams 
wholly innocent, indeed, but also almost wholly lachrymose. Whether 
this grieving mother will survive the shock of discovering that her 
grief was premature, is a question which — especially in the somewhat 
laborious fashion in which Madame Favart presents it — does not 
engage attention very absorbingly during nearly half an hour. The 
interest of the piece rests in the presentation of the aged servant. 
He is like a genre picture by Viberl. But we are asked to look at 
him too long. 

With regard to the actors, it is curious to note where there are 
differences between the opinion held in France and that just formed 
in Kngland. Certain artists are of indubitable rank : the >mootlily 
finished art of Got, and the genius of Sarah Bernhardt, arc matters 
of which it is now superfluous to dispute, though I remember the 
moment when I was myself rather taken to task by the ordered 
omniscience of conventional criticism, for claiming for Sank 
Bernhardt, while she was still at the Odcon, honours which k was 
not to be supposed could possibly be merited by an artist who 

The Comedic Francaise and Monsieur Zola. 67 

ax it the Francis. Of Sarah Bernhardt, however, there is now no 
morcany question. And Got, having long been at the Franeai.s, ha-: 
long been perceived to be perfect. Bat it is not of literary criticism, 
bat other of conversational, that we think when reference is made to 
tie differences between the opinions held in Paris and those that 
tort been formed this month in London. In England, M.ui, 
towelle Croiiettc has had but scanty success, while in Fram.e tin 1, 
i» a Mtruction in her talent and person not due alone to her exc.q> 
nccal performance in the S/Ainx : a performance vigorous and 
JitMtk in the beginning, and vigorous and scientific at the end 
Cnxette upon the stage is an artist of robust rather than delicate 
•eSgence. Her physique as a woman seems to reveal her temper- 
meat at an artist. Whether in the smoother passages or in the 
cbCcalt moments, the true CtisiS of a drama, her intelligence is to be 
cooMed on ; but you cannot count so surely on her sympathetic 
ptaer; not sorely on her aptitude to win laughter ; still less surely 

• a rapacity to provoke tears. But she can plant her dialogue 
WEintly. She can be always audacious or good-natured, if not 
often refined, nor often distinguished. Her art and individuality arc 
W wholly French. 

Of French graciousness and French immediate charm — strangely 
■d entirely independent of formal beauty — it has been recognised in 
&|Und that Madame ESmQk Broisal is a singular and perfect type. 
l&e drama of Mademoiselle <le Belle Isle has shown us that with 
ungraciousness and charm— with the attraction of a personality in 
•iote presence people of taste and sensitiveness know themselves to 
be more than ordinarily serene — there exists in Madame Brois&t a 
pate cap a ci ty for purely dramatic performance than we might have 
ieeo inclined to expect. A Parisian expert of the theatre spoke to 

• of Madame Btoisat as of a "tali tamdaire ;" but his 
jtlpneat— though reflecting that of others — was a shade too 
tetakaL He meant that, notwithstanding some dramatic capacity, 
Xidatne Broisat was not unlikely to partialis fail in a great theatrical 
■taboo. -is comedy and vehement emotion find her 
msed to express them. But to all quieter scenes she gives— by the 
taay expressions of her face of profound, and humorous, and genial 
tarligencc — a gentle, irresistible reality. She is not a very great 
*5t, nor a very great lady's daughter. She is of the cultivated 
terpwcisV: as fine and del 1 exponent as I desire to see of a 
das of society that has sweetened the world of France. We have not 

:31 in England to give one of our warmest welcomes to Madame 

68 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

It belongs to the individuality of M. Mound-Sully to be 
v attractive. He has a splendid and wild presence ; looks 
thrice a man, and something of an untamed animal. He has a great 
voice, with sounds of mellow aiusii . large rolling eyes, the shon' 
of Hercules, the arm of an Oxford "strokr." And these things tell 
immediately- told within the first da] 

Hippolyte in Phhir?! U the berO of Htrmuu. IK- h is his uses 
in tragedy and in florid or violent dnmia. He is more an actor 
of passion than of intelligence : it is CIO secret, wc suppose, that 
his "study" is laborious and difficult, and at the best uncertain. Ha 
bib in details— shines in great effects. Somehow, the things in 
which lii- presence and passion were seen to great advanl 

itely for him, very soon before the public oi , and 

people, valuing thankfully the somewhat rare he had to 

• e hardly reminded themselves how much more such an 
actor might accomplish if he united with his physical means only 
some moderate share of the penetrating and comprehensive inMli- 
gence bestowed so richly on Mdlle. Sarah Bernhardt, and which she 
has so unceasingly cultivated and enlarged Not for M. Mo 
Sully, however, his illustrious comrade's unerring intellect and colossal 
perseverance. Affair of temperament, after all ! there is the faculty 
that sleeps and the faculty that is alert. Sarah Bernhardt owes more 
than many know to the pa itching — to the loins at all 

moments girt and the lamp trimmed. 

There are those who think that Sarah Bernhardt is seen at her 
best in that Hofta Sol of Hernatti; others who hold that compositions 
less flowery and rhetorical than I of the romantic poet 

exhibit h« it she is at her strongest in th injj tragedy 

of Racine— in the scenes in which she humanises Phedre. The 
characters of classic drama arc generally simple. Each important 
one is less an individual with dual's mh . than 

;i type or embodiment of passion, 01 nf the conflict of passions, or of 
some dominating sentiment. in classic 

I kind ; years ago, 

tared in the part — the arti 
inter; -,• is one who v- 

one han<i nor on the " variety and 

l<-xily, but jus: 
Sarah Ben 

it of all a character of conflk 
be so very simple tha rprctcr no choke of sides to 

lean to, and in Phedre the choice is between the more prominent 

The CotnMie Francaist and Monsieur Zola. 69 

illustration of the evil love or that of the remorse and self-loathing 
attend it. Millie. Rachel showed morbid passion much 
Bernhardt lurdly shows it at all. She concentrate! her 

art somewhat indeed on tin- expression of uncertainty and hesita- 
tion, and a halting between silence and avowal, but more on the 
ition of an overwhelming rem I now by passionate 

iid now in bitter self ■communing. 'I lu- note of her Phedre 

• m.-mity. 1 Ier performance speaks to us not 

odiment ot mielcss horror for which, since 

Literature have had no place— and which 

- reserved for the curious — but as the fullest and 

profbondest expression of regret for irremediable things. 

!!, it was vmm- to show us Sarah Bernhardt in PhMrt. It was 

a pity also not to show us this great artist of her generation in a 

' c which she has nevertheless been able to vivify— the 

Rome vaintut of M. Parodi. sin- plays in that, at the Francais, the 

part of a Vestal Virgin's grandmother— l'osthumia, the grandmother 

. who has broken her vow. who must be pnni ihed Ibx it by 

I, and must die of hunger, and alone. This is what i* learnt 

'.d blind woman heroic even in her fondness and the 

cruse of od and the one loaf of bread are provided, to be taken at will 

in the ison of the ro< k. and to be taken with the knowledge 

that there is nothing more. Thai b the fate that Posthumia knows 

tore for her grandchild. She comes upon the scene with grey 

blanched cheeks, and gropes blindly to find whom to plead 

to, and whom to embrace. The rhythm of the verses is all gone. 

Her words— as Sarah Bernhardt speaks them — as she throws them 

here and there— are so delivered th it they seem but the uncontrol- 

Uhle ■* of an immense agitation. At last, when efforts to 

me have been vain, old Posthumia offers the girl a dagger, and the 

ndcrstands. But bet hands are fettered, and it is the blind old 

woman who fingers nervously the place— "la place de ton cceur" — 

tod strikes in kir.drusv. i i|,i ad, and Posthumia herself un- 

[he girl's body to the rock, and the old woman 
now feebly wandering, now daxed and half forgetful of the last 
rience — totters to the tomb with uplifted hand : 

< 1 .imia, ma fille. ouvre ! c'ol Ion ateala 

I say i not seen this, because there can be nothing 

that i tot even the entirely exquisite ending of M. Thcurict's 

J an Alien Sarah Bernhardt, first with the 

Hang of her speech, and then with her reticent gesture and posture of 


The Gcntlemaiis Magazine. 

grave quietude, gave expression to such sad and right resignation 
endl a poem founded on " Auld Robin Gray. " 

1 iming Sarah Bernhardt since the Conufdic Franchise, or the pail of it, was last in England, the theatre has gained an 
artist whose merits now need no assertion, though it is profitable to 
try to define them. 3ut the Francis has had also losses. It 
has lost in M. Brcssant and Madame Arnould.Plessy the two 
most perfect representatives of "the great world:" M. Bressant 
was the finest of fine gentlemen; Madame Arnouldl'lcssy the 
noblest of fine ladies. They have divided Bressant's parts chiefly 
between M. Worms— who was at St. Petersburg with Delaporte— 
and M. 1 'cl.iiuiiiy, who, at fifty-three, bethinks aim to abandon the 
part of fOBUfrtmitr lor thai of grand premier, more befitting his age. 
Hut the public will BO! allow him to do so. M. Delaunay, in spit': 
of Somewhat Obvioul OOWt* feet, and somewhat obvious paint — has 
the fire of youth and the grace. They have found at the Con 

no genuine youth with so much of grace and fire. And so he 
M some of his earlier parts, Liking, too, with distinction, hut 
without Kill • ni ' ' ■■•■•■ .'inrofM. Bressant's. As for Madame Arnoallt 
Plessy, she has no successor. A wry noble dame is never now so 
noble at the Francais as when Madame Plessu was there. Besides, 
she hail followed Millie. Mars in making Marivaux possible, and 
in making him They have now to shelve Marivaux: 

aU events, for a while, 

The grand manner having become rarer and less marked at tl 
1 liL.itre Franqais, existing still chiefly with Maubant, the fere noble, 
and Mdlle. Madeleine Brohan, it is satisfactory to know that much 
of the best elocution remains. Few can speak a long speech, with 
the right breaks and variational as well as Delaunay. Madame 
irtcan deliver her lints with the old skill, though the artifice of 
her stage methods is often much too apparent. Vesu 

lit her nearer to nature, but have removed her from it. She 
keeps, however, a stately presence and a haughtiness and 
sometimes effective. Madame Emilie Broisat speaks excellently 
prose of daily life. Sarah Bernhardt would seem to have been 
to the delivery of verse, but those who have seen her in the brigh 
comedy of Chet I'Avocat — nay, as Mrs. Clarkson of the 
Slrmgin — know the instinct and the delicate art she brings to 
expressive speaking of everyday matter. 

Th> .till rich in its purely comic actors — actors 

whom plainness or eccentricity of visage is a boon instead of a b: 
Two or three faces there are which would be well placed at the P, 




Tin Com&iie Frattfaise and Monsieur Zola. 71 

Royal, where a face like Hyadnthe's has been a fortune. I 
Coqaclins arc serious jesters in visage and air, the younger brother 
being rightly content to be chiefly comic ; the elder, with the ambi- 
tion of jesters who have thoroughly succeeded, now essaying — as in 
the Lxtfiier dt < to touch men with pathos as well ,is 

laughter. But Coquclin the elder — .1 bom actor of comic drama — 
in which exaggeration is permissible — brings some exaggeration, 
along of course with the stage art of many years' practice, into 
the N) of sentiment. In the Ijithitr de Crimont — a 

delightful poem whose meaning it is not needful to ovcr-acccn- 
tuatc — he croons too effusively over the instrument which is 
his consolation in unrequited love, l'or us at least the display of 
sentiment here suggests sentimentality : it is not quite the true ex- 
pression of emotion — even of the emotion of the highly strung, the 
sensitive, the artistic — the man in whose nature there must needs be 
something of a woman s, Butil people, or particularly English people, 
traditionally reserved in expression, do not weep very willingly over the 
pathos of Coquclin, he commands, at will, the merriment of all the 
world. The mouth, the nose, the quaint eyes, the lithe action of the 
body, and the skill with which all these are controlled and displayed, 
ke Coquclin a figure to remember. Thiron is the type of a bon 
Good cheer and genial wine are written on his visage. He 
the old man who has seen life, or the bourgeois father— the ex« 
Ut of animal DM rude affection, and limited mind of 

lurrow yet quick intelligence. 

Among comi ..nils in the first rank one of the 

youngest and newest— Jeanne Samary. She i| something of what Marie 
Wilton was considered a do/en years ago— shu sound sharpest 

■hen spoken by her. She comes of a family which has given the stage 
«ieor two eminent act r es s es of othi . and brings to the theatre 

1 robust intelligence and a yet more robust physique. Other actresses 
1* at the Fmncais may have wit, afrit, (ipugiciic, in greater propor- 
than this new representative of a race apart — the plain-spoken 
re, whose honesty and confidential service give them 
irl •••■ ■' sensible chorus, to set foolish masters 
might, and to preach common-sense in matter-of-faet talk. But Mdlle. 
Samary has freshness and i 1 habic spirit. You have to laugh at 

the wit of others : with Mdllc. Samary her own laughter suffices — the 
prest and fullest in the world : nothing so invincible has been heard 
of us in our theatres — we have to go back to traditions of 
bitt and Mrs. Jordan. Or rather, i: is as spontaneous and as 
s was Jefferson's in Rip Van Winklt. What a healthy animalism 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

to see in opposition to the secret vices of Tartufc, and ho 
her defiant independence of the Malade im.n -mains! Mdllc. Samary 
will never he, and will never make the mistake of attempting to be 
<■(, no actress of sentiment. She has found her place, and many 
ire probahly before her in which, with the increasing authority 
of experience, she will play the influential soubrrtte of Molierc to 
whom no one cm say nay. Hut it is a marked advantage to her to 
be able to do justice to the touches of naive sentiment that poetkal 
mitsn are fond of adding even to the comic or entertaining characters 
of modern comedy. And Mdlle. Samary cm deliver delicately deli- 
cate things. It was the proof of this, as well as the freshness of her 
liveliness, that made the quite recent performance of LElhutllt in 
the Rue Richelieu so hearty a success. And M, I'aillcron conceived 
the piece vigorously and wrote it brilliantly. Its well-earned triumph, 
as the amusement of an hour, came after the arrangements for Knglish 
performances seemed finally made. But they have since been changed 
r./uimlmull withdrawn, then performed; the Dtmi Mcndt 
permitted— this and that alteration made. II changes are still to be 
made, then by acceptability of subject, brilliance of style, and bright- 
ness of interpretation, L'Etin.-e/fe\\:ix a claim to be hi 




'HERE is a marked contrast lxtwccn the circumstances of the 
present <ruplion of Etna and those of the last. For many 
yean the great South Bui ic system lias shown but few 

signs In. Vesuvius has oci.' 

in outbreak. The crater of that mountain has filled 

:. and hi « twice overflowed ; but 

there has been no p luvhifc Etna has been almost 

nt for the last ten years, 1 he other less important 

outlets of the Sontl ID volcanic system have been equally 

free from disturbance. 

It was otherwise when in November t868 Etna bunt into erup- 
tion. During thirteen months the volcanic system of Southern 
pe hod been disturbed by subterranean movement* Scan < lv I 
sngle portion of the wide area included under that name had been 
free from occasional shocks of earthquake. There had been shocks 
■ ■barest, at Malta, ami at Gibraltar. Mount 
Vcsniut, the most active though not in all respects the most in- 
P«tMt of the outlets by which that system funis relief, had been in a 
lute of activity during the whole of the preceding year, and i 
>wer»l limes in actual eruption. But it had seemed as though 
Venmui — owing perhaps to changes which had taken place in its 
"ctemncan ducts and conduits— had been unable to give complete 
&fcf to the forces then at work beneath the southern parts of 
Iwcpr. Whenever Vesuvius had been quiescent for a while during 
'&$, earthquakes occurring at far distiUI not only showed the 

Wocetion which exists between the anion of Vesuvius and the 
edition of regions far remote from \ but that the great 

Napolitan outlet was not able to relieve as usual the remote parts 
II wide volcanic region. Even in England and Ireland there 
■err earthquakes, at times corresponding significantly with the tcm- 
penry quiescence of Vesuvius. In fact, scarcely ten days had passed 
react of an earthquake which alarmed the inhabitants 
stern Europe, before a great eruption of Vesuvius began. A 
■ne was thrown up, from which the imprisoned fires burst forth 


Tlu Gentleman 's Magazine. 

(1 BCD 

in rivers of molten lava ; and round the base of this cone other 
smaller ones formed themselves which added their efforts to that of 
the central crater and wrought more mischief than in any crujrtion of 
Vesn 'hat of i ; 

But, enormous as was the quantity of lava which thou- cone* 
poured forth, it would seem Vesuvius was still unable to give 
perfect relief to the imprisoned gases and fluids which had long dis- 
turbed the South of Europe All that Vesuvius could do had been 
done ; the smaller cones had discharged the lava which com: 
catcd directly with them, and had then sunk to rest ; •.! 
alone continued— but with diminished energy— to pour forth maws 
of burning rock and streams of liquid lava. That the imprisoned 
subterranean fires had not fully found relief was shown by the occur- 
rence of an earthquake at Buchat ;i tha evening of Novem- 
ber 27, which was only a day after the partial cessation of the 
lion of Vesuvius. Probably the masses of liquid tire which ha 
(lowing towards Vesuvius had collected beneath the whole of that 
wide district which underlies Etn . and the Nea] 
vents. Ik- this as it may, it is certain that but a few hours after the 
occurrence of the earthquake in Wallachia Mount Etna be, 
show signs of activity, and by the evenin-; ■! Not 1 
was in violent eruption. 

Whcn wc consider these circumstances in connection with 
recognised fact that Etna is an outlet of the same volcanic system, 
wc can hardly be suqmscd that the ineffectual effn 
should have been followed by an eruption of the great Sicilian 
volcano. Wc can imagine that the lakes v( lire which underlie the 
Neapolitan vent should hare been inundated, so to speak, by the 
continual inrush of fresh matter, and that thu' How should 

have taken place into the vast c. oath the dome of Etna 

which had been partially cleared when the was in 

ion in 1865. During a whole year some such process had 
probably been goin 1 at length the forces which had been 

y gather.;. !ves were able to overcome tl 

the matter which stopped up the outlets of Etna, and the mountain 
was forced into violent and remarkably sudden action. 

Unlike Vesuvius, Etna has always, within historic times, been 
recognised as an i< ano. Diodorus Siculns speaks of an 

I'rojan war, and was so terrible 
mi who had peopled a n 
We i i ram Thucydn 

year of tl lava-stream destroyed the 




ofCatai e historian, was the third which 

bad taken |> ! been COtaUttd bj th..- Greeks. 

Classical readers will stand) be reminded of Pindar's 

graphic description of the eruption v> hii h tool I f years before 

one referred to l>y Thucydides. Although tin- poet only alludes 
he mountain 1 .he has yet succeed* id in pBMCBtlm "ith a 

few skilful strokes the solemn grandeur of ancient Etna, the scene of 
the struggles of the buried giant Tvphceus. He portrays the snowy 
(M "'tiie pillar of the heavens, the nurse of eternal snows, 

ivcrns the fountains of BID ppRKKhabk 6lt ; 
by day a column of eddying smoke, by night a blight and rn 
lame ; while masses of burning rock roll ever with loud HDCM1 

I he 'one of Etna rises • the height of Mc 

-uvius. Of old, indeed, the Sicilians assigned H in a 

■eight Dot falling very far || | die grandest ol tin Alpine 

aaountains. Hut in 1815, Captain (the late Admir.d) Smyth ascer- 
tained by a careful series of trigonometrical observations that the true 
height of the mountain is 10,874 feet. The Cuanians were indignant 
that a young, and a: that time undistinguished, I D should 

have ventured to deprive tneii rnoun leaiif *,ooo feet of the 

btv had been assigned to it b) their own observer Recupcro, 

aid they refused to accept the m an Liter, 

however. >' Herschel from bai ins estimated 

the mountain > height at 10,87 »| &**■ The clo Btent between 

the tw %poken of by I U M Dl 1 — 1. yell tells us- 

M haji|iy accident; ' but, .- oUaston remarked, "itVMoneof 

lot have ha]>pened to two fool 

The figure of Ktna is a somewhat flatti . whit h would be 

my symmetrical were it not that on the eastern side it is broken by 

p valley called the Val del Hove, which runs nearly to the 

wasnit of the mountain, and descending half way down its hanks is 

connected with a second and narrower valley, called the Val di 

Cblonna. I rided into three regions called the dcaart»the 

*ody, and the fertile regions. The first of these is a waste of lava 

*ad«corisc, from the centre of which uprises the great tone. The 

■oody region en the desert land to a width of six or seven 

units. Over this region oaks, pines, and chestnut-trees grow 

faxnnantly ; while here and there are to I pores of cork and 

grounding the woody region is a delightful and trail- 

.1 hvaied country lying upon the outskirts of the mountain and 

ng the fertile region. This part of Etna is well inhabited and 

7 6 

The Gentleman's Magaziiu. 


thickly covered with olives, vines, and fruit-trees. One of 
lingular peculiarities of the mountain is the prevalence over its flanks 
of a multitude of minor cones, nearly a hundred of which are to be 
seen in various parts of the woody and fertile regions. Of these, Sir 
Charles I .yell remarks, that "although they appear but trifling 
irregularities when viewed from a distance as subordinate parts of so 
imposing and colossal a mountain, they would, nevertheless, be 
deemed hills of considerable magnitude in almost any other 

It has been calculated that the circumference of the cone is fully 
eighty.scven English miles : but that the whole district over which 
the lava extends has nearly twice that circuit. 

Of the earlier eruptions of Mount Etna wc have not received 
full or satisfactory records. It is related thai in 1537 the princi 
tone, uhich had been 330 feet high, was swallowed up within 
hollow depths of the mountain. And again, in 1693, during the course 
of an earthquake which shook the whole of Sicily and destroyed no 
fewer than 60,000 persons, the mountain lost a large portion of its 
height, insomuch that, according to Boccone, it could not be seen 
from several parts of the Valdemone whence it had before been 
clearly visible. Minor cones upon the Hanks of the mountain were 
diminished in height during other outbursts in a different manner. 
Thus in the great eruption of 1444, Monte l'eluso was reduced to two- 
thirds of its former height, by a vast lava-Stream which encircled it 
on every side. Yet, though another current has recently taken the 
MM course, the height of this minor mountain is still three or four 
hundred feet. There is also, says Sir Charles Lycll, " a cone called 
Monte Nucilla, near Nicolosi, round the base of which successive 
currents have flowed, and showers of ashes have fallen, since the 
•inu of history, till at last, during an eruption in 1536, the surrounding 
plain was so raised, that the top of the cone alone was left proj 
above the general level." 

But the first eruption of which wc have complete and authi 
records is the one which occurred in the year 1669. An eaithq 
had taken place by which Nicolosi, a town situated about twenty mi 
from the summit of Etna, was levelled to the ground. Near the 
of the destroyed town two gulfs opened soon after, and from t!> 
gulfs such cnormoux quantities of sand and scoriae were thrown 
that a mountain having a double peak mi formed in less than fi 
months. But, remarkable as the evidence thus afforded of 
energy of the volcanic action which was at work beneath the 
of the mountain, a yet more striking event presently attracted 



attention of the alarmed inhabitants of the neighbouring country. 
On a sudden, and will. .1 1 null which resounded for miles around, a 
bare, tufht mitet in Utgth, opened along die flanks of the disturbed 
mountain. The fissure extended nearly to the summit ut Etna. It 
was very deep — how deep is unknown — but only six feet in width. 
Along its whole length there emitted I most vivid light. Then, 
after a brief interval, five similar fissures opened one after another, 
ing enormous volumes of smoke, and giving vent to bellowing 
sounds which could be heard at a distance of more than forty miles, 
tion commenced The volume of 

baa which was poured forth was greater than any that baa ami bl I D 
known to flow from the mountain during historical times. According 
unite estimate o( Fcrrara, no less than 140 millions of cubic yards of 
TCn poured down the sides of the mountain. The current, 
after melting down the foundations of a hill called Mnmpiliin, over- 
flowed no fewer than fourteen towns ami villages, some of whirl 

Simmy as three thousand and four thousand Inhabitants; Alarmed 
utht pro,i.': the sea of ned to overwhelm 

their ians uprt ired a rampart of eoonnotu uength 

■dtuty feet in he 1 stonily was this bulwark established 

tail the lav3 was unable to break it or to bum it down. The molten 
>e» gradually accumulated, until at length it rose above tha summit 
"'the rampart, from which it poured in a fiery cascade, and destroyed 
mt nearer patt of the city. "The wall was nut thrown down, how. 
l-11. '• but ■ 1 ,vered long afterwards by 

tiorations made in the rock by the l'rince of Bift ari ; H that the 
;r may now see the solid lava curling over the top of the 
runtu iiw. the very act of falling. The current had per- 

formed a course of fifteen mile it entered the sea, where it ma 

■ill tix hundred yards broad and forty feet deep. It covered some tcr- 
ntorio in the environs of Catania, which had never before been visited 
lijrd.. Etna. While moving on, its surface was in general a 

auu of solid rock ; and its mode of advancing, as is usual with lava- 
fteuns, was by the occasional fissuring of the solid walls. A gentle- 
aua of Catania, named Pappalardo. desiring to secure the city from the 
ajyroach of the threatening torrent, went out with a party of fifty 
mm whom he had dressed in skins to protect them from the heal 
armed with iron crows and hooks. I hey broke open one of tin 
vnlh which flanked the current near Uclpasso, and immediately forth 
itsued a rivulet of melted matter which took the direction of 
inhabitants of that town, being alarmed for their 
safety, took up armi and [wt a stop to further operations. " 

8 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

In the eruption of 1755 a singular circumstance occurred, 
the Val del Bove, usually dry and arid, there flowed a tremendous 
volume of water forming a stream two miles broad, and in some 
places 34 feet deep. It flowed in the first part of its course at the 
rate of two miles in three minutes. It is said to have been salt, and 
many supposed it had been in some way drawn from the sea, since 
its volume exceeded that of all the snow on the mountain. It has, 
however, since been found that vast reservoirs of snow and ice arc 
accumulated in different parts of the mountain beneath the lava. The 
snow was melted by the heat of the rising lava, and was made salt 
by vaporous exhalations. 

Of the singular solidity of the walls of an advancing lava-stream, 
Recupero has related ■ remarkable instance. During the eruption of 
1766, he and his guide had ascended one of those minor cones which 
lie, as we have said, on the flanks of the mountain, and from 
the summit of this hill they watched with feelings of awe the slow 
advance of a fiery river two miles and a half in breadth. Suddenly 
they saw a fissure opening in the solid walls which encircled the 
front of the current of lava ; and then, from out I ;re, 

streams of lava leapt forth and ran rapidly towards the hill on whic 
the observers were standing. They had just time to make tli 
escape, when, turning round, they saw the hill surrounded by the 
burning lava. Fifteen minutes later the foundations of the hill had 
been melted down, and the whole mass floated away upon the lava. 
with which it presently became completely incorporat 

It would be a mistake, however, to suppose that such an 00 
renccas the one we have just related is often observed. On the con- 
trary, it semis that when burning lava comes into contact with rocky 
matter, the biter is usually very little affected. It is only when fresh 
portions of in lit kva arc successively brought into contact 

with fusible rocks ihal these can be completely melted. Sir Cha 
I.)cll qvOtCl a remarkable story in illustration of the small effe 
which are produced by bva when there is not a continual sn | 
fresh material ia HI IBC .tale. *' On the site of Mompilie 

one of the towns overflowed in the great eruption of 1669, an 
cavation was made in 1704 : aim labour the workme 

reached, at the depth of 35 feet, the gate of the principal chu 
where there were three statues held in high veneration. One 
these, together with a bell, son. 

traded in a good state D from beneath a 

formed by the lava." This will teorfl the more extraordinary « 
it is remembered that eight years after the eruption the lava 



Etna, 79 

soTl so hot at Catania, that it wax impossible to hold the hand in 

some of the fissures. 

Among the most remarkable of the eruptions of Etna which have 

taken place in recent times are those of 1S1 1 and 1819. 

In 181 1, according to C.emmellaro, the great crater gave vent, at 
fast, to a series of tremendous detonations, from which it was judged 
that the dome of the mountain had become completely filled with 
molten lava, which was seeking to escape. At length | violent shock 
vas experienced, and from what followed it would seem that by this 
icock the whole intern. il framework of the mountain had been rent 
■pea. For, first a stream of lava began to pour out from a gap in 
ike cone not far from the summit. Then another stream burst out at 
a opening directly under the first, ami at some distance from it, 
Tkea a third ojiening appeared, still lower down ; then a fourth, and 
» on, until no less than seven openings had been formed in succes- 
sion, all lying in the same vertical plane. From the way in which 
these openings appeared, and the pi that each stream of lava 

had ceased to flow before the next lower one burst forth, it is sup- 
posed that the internal framework of the mountain had been tent 
open gradually, from the summit downwards, so as to suffer the 
internal column of lava to subside to a lower and lower level, by 

» Wiping through the successive vents. This, at least, is the opinion 
which -Scropc has expressed on the subject, in his treatise on 

The eruption of 1819 was in some respects even more remarkable. 
1 hare already mentioned the Val del Bovc. whu h breaks in upon 
etc dome of Etna upon the eastern side. In the eruption Of (8x9 
the «hole of this great valley was Covered by B sea of burning lavn. 
Three huge caverns had opened nut far from the fissures, out of 
•aids the lava had flowed in 181 1 ; and from these, flames, smoke, 
xd-hot cinders, and sand were Hung out with singular impetuosity, 
rwsendy another cavern opened lower down, but still no lava Sowed 
sbi the mountain. At length a fifth opening formed, yet lower, and 
haa thb a torrent of lava poured out, which spread over the whole 
sstlhof the Val del Bovc. and flowed no less than four miles in the 
hrsttwo days. This torrent of lava was soon after enlarged by the 
of enormous streams of burning matter II owing from the three 
which had formed in the first instance. The river of lava at 
haftfc reached the head of fheColonna valley, where there is a vs 
abaoH vertical prec: 1 which the lava streamed in a cat 

of fiat. But there was a peculiarity about the falling lava which gave 
to the scene a strange and awful character. As the burning cascade 



The GenlLtitan 's Magazine. 

ects due to 

rushed down, it became hardened through the <:ooling effects i 

its nii]i:ni with the rn::k-y ficc of the precipice. Thus, the nutter 
which had Mowed over the head of the valley like a river of fire fell 
at the foot of the precipice in the form of solid masses of rock 
crash with which the filling crags struck the bottom of the valley is 
described as inconceivably awful. At first, indeed, the Cataniaiw 
feared that a new eruption hid Imrst out in this part of the mountain, 
since the air was filled with clouds of dust, produced by the abrasion 
of the face of the precipice as the hardened masses swept over it. 

The length of time during which the lava of 1819 continued to 
flow down the slopes of the great valleys is well worth noticing, 
Mr. Serope saw the current advancing at the rate of a yard per hoar 
nine months after the occurrence of the eruption. The mode of its 
advance was remarkable. As the mass slowly pushed its way onward, 
the lower portions were arrested by the resistance of the ground, and 
thus the upper part would first protrude itself, and then, being unsup- 
ported, would fall over. The (alien mass would then in its turn tie 
covered by a mass of more liquid lava, which poured over it from 
above. And thus "the current had all the appearance of a huge 
heap of rough and large cinders rolling over and over upon itself by 
the effect of an extremely slow propulsion from behind. The contrac- 
tion of the crust as it solidified, and the friction of the scoriform cakes 
against one another, produced a crackling sound. Within the crevices 
a dull red heat might be seen by night, and sapour issuing in 
considerable quantity was visible by day." 

The circumstance that Ktna uprears its head high above the limit 
of perpetual snow has a remarkable bearing on the characteristics of 
this volcano. The peculiarity is touched on by Pindar in the words 
already quoted, in which he speaks of Etna as " the nurse of everlasting 
frost concealing within deep caverns the fountains of unapproachable 
fire." It will be readily conceived that the action of molten lari 
upon the enormous masses of snow, which lie upon the upper ; 
the mountain, must be calculated to produce — under special circum- 
stances—the most remarkable and, unfortunately, the most disas- 
trous effects. It does not always happen that fire and ice are thus 
brought into dangerous contact. But records are not wanting of 
catastrophes produced in this way. In 1755, for example, a tremen- 
dous flood was occasioned by the flow of the two streams of lava from 
the highest crater. The whole mountain was at the time (March 2nd) 
covered with snow, and the torrent of lava formed by the union of 
the two streams was no less than three miles in width. It will be 
readily conceived that the flow of such a mass of molten fire as 1 

re as U 9 

Etna. 8 ! 

over Ibc accumulated snows of the past winter produced the most 
usastrous effects. "A frightful inundation resulted," says Sir Charles 
which devastated the sides of the mountain for eight miles in 
Wrgth, and afterwards covered the lower flanks of Etna (where they 
woe less steep), together with the plains near the sea, with great 
deposits of sand, scoria;, and blocks of lava." 

la connection with this part of the subject I may mention the 
lingular and apparently paradoxical circumstance that, in 1828, a large 
■us of ice was found, which had been preserved for many years from 
aching by the fact that a current of red-hot lava had flowed over it. 
We might doubt the occurrence of so strange an event, were it not 
tan the fact is vouched for by Sir Charles Lyell. who visited the spot 
whew the ice had been discovered. Me thus relates the circum- 
ttaccs of the discovery :— ** The extraordinary heat experienced 
in the South of Fuiopc, during the summer and autumn of 18*8, 
enwd the supplies of snow and ice which had been preserved in the 
taring of that year for the use of Catania, and the adjoining parts of 
Sicily, wd the island of Malta, to f.iil entirely. Great distress was 
consequently felt for want of a commodity regarded in those countries 
aioee of the necessaries of life rather than an article of luxury, and the 
abundance of which contributes in some of the larger cities to the 
tthibnty of the water and the general health of the community. The 
■afistratcs of Catania applied to Signor Gemmellaro, in the hope 
flat his local knowledge of Etna might enable bin to point out some 
onxc or natural grotto on the mountain where drift snow was still 
preserved. Not were they disappointed ; for he had long mtp< 
last a small mass of perennial ice at the foot of the highest cone 
•is part of a Urge and continuous glacier covered by a lava-current. 
Having procured a large body of workmen, he quarried into this ice, 
ad proved the superposition of the lav.i for several hundred yards, 
» as completely to satisfy himself that nothing but the subsequent 
lowing of the lava over the ice could account for the position of the 
pack- -■ had noi ai 1 undated in a cavern of 

moderate extent accidentally formed beneath overhanging lava 
Bttsses,i. " Unfortunately for the geologist," adds Lyell, " the ii 

tremely hard, and the excavation so expensive, that there is no 
lity of the operations being renewed." 

This strange phenomenon is explained, in all likelihood, by the 

1 that the drift of snow over which the lava flowed had become 
I with a layer of volcanic sand before the descent of the molten 
Batter. The effect of sand in the passage of heat is well 

kaowm, Nasmyth, the inventor of the steam-hammer, illustrated this 

rou cexxr. so. 17S3. a 


The Genilemaris Magazine. 

property in a remarkable manner, by pouring eight tons of 
iron into a cauldron one-fourth of an inch thick, lined with a layer of 
sand and clay somewhat more than half an inch thick. When the fused 
metal had been twenty minutes in the cauldron the outside was still 
so cool that the pilm of the hand could be applied to it without 
inconvenience. And lava consolidates so quickly that there must 
soon have been formed over the snow a solid covering, strong 
enough to resist the effects of the fresh molten matter which was 
continually streaming over it. In this way we may readily conceive, 
as Sir Charles I. yell has remarked, that a glacier feet above 
the sea level would endure a- long as the snows of Mont Blanc, unless 
heated by volcanic heat from below. 

It is worthy of notice that in the Antarctic seas there is an 
island called Deception Island, which is almost entirely composed, 
according to the authority of l.ieut. Kendall, of alternate layers of 
ice and volcanic ubc • 

One of the most perplexing subjects to geologists is the existence 
of so remarkable a valley as the Val del Hove, breaking the contour 
of the dome of Ktna nearly to the summit. It must be remembered 
that there arc few subject-, which have been more carefully exarnfri 
than the question of the formation of valleys and ravines The 
mary agent recognised by geologists is the action of subterranean 
forces in upheaving and depressing the land. In this way, doubtless 
all the principal valleys have been formed. But fluviatile 
have abo lo be considered ; and a valley which exists upon 
Rank of a mountain may, in nearly every instance, be ascribed to 
action of running water. 

!n the case of the Val del Hove, however, we are forced to come 
to a different conclusion. I: tin; vallej had been tornicd I 
aetiun of running water in some long-past era of the mountain's 

ary, the chasm would have deepened as it appro* bed the base. 
On the contrary, the precipices which bound the Val del Bove are 
loftiest at the upper extremity, tad gradually diminish in hci. 
we approach the lower regions of the mouu 

Nnr can XCt imagine that the valley ; formed by a Land 

slip. The dimensions of the depression are altogether too great ft 

' i an explanation to be available. And, ■ irci 

stance, we are met by the consideration that, if the land which on 

valley had "slipped (in the ordinary sense of the 
wc should ste the traces of the movement, and be able to detect 
existence of the removed mass. Not only is there no evidence of 
motion of this sort, but the slightest examination of the valley 


I in- 





: disposes of the supposition that such a motion can at any time 

! taken place, 
t remains only that we suppose the valley to have been caused 

the bodily subsidence of the whole mass which had formerly 
up what is now wanting to the dome-shaped figure of the 
Bontain. And the subsidence must have taken place in a sudden 
Burner,— not necessarily in a single shock, but certainly not by a 
flo* process of sinking. For the mass which has sunk is sharply 
gpmted from the rest, so that the precipitous walls of the valley 
ohibrt the structure of the mountain's frame, to a depth of from 
j»o to 4.000 feet below the summit of the cone. In other words, 
» portion of the crust has been separated from the rest and has then 

t bodily down, leaving the remainder unchanged. 

When we consider the dimensions of the valley, such an event 
very startling. '"The Val del Bove," says Lycll, "is a 
amphitheatre, four or five miles in diameter, surrounded by 
■any vertical ' >nc might almost be prepared to 

doubt that such a valley as this could be formed in the manner 
described, were it not that within recent tinea we have had evidence 
of the occurrence of similar events. During a violent earthquake 
ad vulcanic cniption which took place in Java in 1812, the face of 
■e mountain Galongoon was totally changed, "its summits broken 
doua, and one side, which had been covered with trees, became an 
CMfmons gulf in the form of a semicircle. This cavity was about 
nbdny between the summit and the plain, and surrounded by steep 
rodes." Yet more remarkable was the great subsidence which look 
phoein the year 177J on Papcndnyang, the largest volcano in the 
ahad of Java. On that occasion, "an extent of ground fifteen 
ate in length and six in breadth, covered by no less than forty 
•Sages, was engulfed, and the cone of the mountain lost 4,000 feet 

There is nothing unreasonable, therefore, in supposing that some 
mh event may have resulted in the formation of the strange vaDej 
•fhidi mars the dome-shaped figure of Mount Etna, although no 
»ach events have been witnessed in the neighbourhood in recent 

One singular feature of the valley remains to be mentioned. 
The vertical (ace of the pre Uich bound it are broken by 

«hu,aj a distant view, appear to be dark buttresses, strangely divcr- 
■fad in figure, and of tremendous altitude. On a closer inspection, 
these strange objects arc seen to be composed of lava 
; ota through the face of the clifis. Being composed of harder 


8 4 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

materials than the cliffs, they waste away less rapidly, and thus it is 
that they are seen to stand out like buttresses. Now, wc would 
invite the close attention of the reader to this part of our subject, 
because, as it seems to us, it illustrates in I singularly interesting 
manner the mode in which volcanic cones arc affected during eruption. 

Wc have seen that in the eruption of 1811 there was evidence 
of a perpendicular rent having taken place in the internal framework 
of Etna, and in 1669 a fissure was formed which extended ri^ht 
through the outer crust. In one case lava was forced through the 
rent, and burst out at the side of the mountain. In the other, the 
brilliant light which was emitted indicated the presence of molten 
lava dcqi down in the fissure. Now, when we combine these circum- 
stances, with the ifyka seen in the Val del Bovc, and with the similar 
appearances seen round the .indent crater of Vesuvius, wc can 
come, as it appears to me, to but one conclusion. Before and during 
an eruption, the lava which is seeking for exit must be forced with 
such tremendous energy against the internal framework of the 
mountain's dome, as to fracture and rend the crust, cither in one or 
two enormous fissures, or in a multitude of smaller ones. It does 
not follow that all or any of the fissures would be visible, because 
the outer surface of the crust may not be rent. Into the fissure* thus 
formed the lava is forced by the pressure from below, and, there 
solidifying, the crust of the dome remains as strong, after the liquid 
lava has sunk to its usual level, as it was before the eruption. When 
we see dykes situated as in the Val del Bovc, wc learn that the 
fissures caused by the pressure of the lava extend far down the flanks 
of a volcanic mountain. That they are numerous is evidenced by 
the fact that those seen in the Val del Bovc amount, according 
to Sir Charles Lyell, to " thousands in number." 

And perhaps we may understand from such considerations H 
these the manner in which the Val del Bove itself was formed. For 
a wide strip of country between two great fissures might be so waved 
and shaken by the action of the sea of molten lava beneath as to be 
fractured cross-wise ; and then, on the sub sidence of the lava, the 
whole mass below the fracture would sink down bodily. We gain an 
extended conception of the energy of the forces which are at work 
during volcanic eruptions, when we see that they thus have power to 
rend the whole framework of a mountain. 

Among recent eruptions of Mount Etna, one of the most singular 
was that of the year 1852, which began so suddenly that a party 
of Englishmen, who were ascending 1 the mountain, and had nearly 
reached the foot of the highest cone, were only able to escape 

ipe with 

Etna. 85 

ptu difficulty. The eruption which had commenced so abruptly 
did not cease with corresponding rapidity, liut continued, with but a 
few slight intermissions, for fully nine months. 

The eruption in progress as I write has not yet attained any 
remukablc degree of energy, though possibly before these lines 
appear, another story may have to be told. In the last week of May 
a assort opened on the north side of the mountain, •' and thence 
retimes of smoke and flame were seen to issue from it. From the 
cater itself, a great cloud of black ashes has been poured forth, 
tendering the mountain invisible and obscuring the rays of the sun " 
iby»hkh the writer must surely mean obstructing their passage), "even 
*t 1 distance of many miles. These ashes have been carried far and 
•ide, and have even covered the ground so far away as Reggio, on the 
adjicent coast of Calabria Three newcraters havcopened in thedirec 
tkmof Randa»o, on the :<• of the mountain, and the lava is 

ruaamg rapidly towards the town of Krancavilla, where (^reat alarm 
■ fek, though that town is situated beyond the river Alcantara, and 
eo the very outskirts of the region usually threatened by eruptions. 
On the opposite side of the mountain, Palermo and the adjacent 
rilbof Santa Maria ili Licodia are reported to be greatly alarmed." 
Bat it present the direction of the disturbance is towards the north, 
and the chief danger lies therefore also in direction. The new 
caters, and the nssurc with which the eruption began, lie all on the 
northern side of the mountain. " The stream of lava, which is es'.i 
sated to be 70 metres" (about 75 yards) "in width, is flowing in a 
direction somewhere between Francnvilla and Randazzo, and seems 
to hare reached the high road which encircles the mountain, and 
connects the latter town with the villages Linguaglossa and Piedi- 
ntonte. These villages arc inshrouded in a canopy of ashes, and 
almost total darkness prevails in them. None of the ordinary con- 
comitants of a great eruption seem to be absent. Balls of fire, or 
■hat are taken for such, arc hurled into the air from the new craters 
and fissures, and, having reached a great height, they burst with a 
bud crash Reports like the rolling of artillery arc heard in the 
night, while night and day alike the stream of lava flows stealthily 
and irresistibly on, until by the latest accounts it has reached to 
whin a few miles of Linguaglossa." 

Whether the eruption now in progress will attain the dimensions 
of the more remarkable of those which have preceded it, remains to 
he seen. As the last took place ten yeats ago, and was considerable, 
thaogh following one which liad occurred but three-and-a-half years 
(Bier, it seems not unlikely that the present may be an important 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

eruption. What we know already respecting it, tends to confirm the 
belief of Sir Charles Lyell, that, if the earth's internal fires arc dimi- 
nishing in intensity, the diminution takes place very slowly. A 
process of change may be going on which will result one day in the 
cessation of all subterranean movements. But the rate at which such 
a process is going on is so slow at present as to be imperceptible. 
We cannot point to a lime within the historical era, or even within 
that far wider range of duration which is covered by geological 
records, at which the earth's internal forces were decidedly superior 
in energy to those at present in action. Nor is this to be regarded 
as of evil import, but altogether the reverse. The work achieved by 
subterranean action, destructive though its immediate effects may 
often appear, is absolutely necessary to the welfare and happiness of 
the human race. It is to the reproductive energy of the earth's 
internal forces that we are indebted for the existence of continents 
and islands on which warm-blooded animals can live. " Had the 
primeval world been constructed as it now exists," says Sir John 
Hcrschel, " time enough has elapsed, and force enough directed to 
that end has been in activity, to have long ago destroyed every 
vestige of land." So that, raising our thoughts from present int 
to the future fortunes of the human race, we may agree witi 
Charles I.ycll that the most promising evidence of the permanence 
of the present order of thing* consists in the fact that the energy of 
subterranean movements i> always uniform, '.when 'considered with' 
reference to the whole of the earth's globe. 




\ X 7 ILL y OU accompany mc in an excursion to Scnovo 
VV Shipka?" said General Scobiclcff to mc one clay in the 
second week of May. I was then staying in Philip|>opolis, whcTe the 
General had come from Slivno, the head-quarters of the 4th Army 
Corps, to meet General Obroutchcff, the envoy of the Czar 
of Russia to the Bulgarians of Eastern Roumelia. " We arc about 
to leave the country," continued General Scobieleff, " and I wish 
ooce more to look upon the scenes of our greatest struggles and our 
bloodiest triumphs." The invitation so heartily given was as heartily 
JCorpted, for I too desired to revisit the Tfindza valley, rendered 
familiar by scscral rather dangerous rides during the early weeks of 
t* campaign. On the following morning 1 breakfasted with General 
Scobieleff and Prince THu-rteletY. another old campaigning friend, 
who at the outbreak of the war forsook diplomacy and took up anus 
» tbe capacity of a private Circassian of the Guard. Prince 1 "cherte- 
tef it was who, disguised as a Bulgarian peasant, discovered and 
explored the Hani Kioj Pass, through which General Gourko static 
bis first march across the Balkans arid turned the position of Shipka. 
It was a pleasant meeting, and I am afraid to say how long we 
Sagaed over breakfast. Naturally we "fought our battles o'er 
Jffun," recounted reminiscences of our march across the Balkans, of 
the terrible scenes of Turkish brutality and ferocity which we had 
witnessed in the ruined and desolated villages through which wc 
pasted, of our hairbreadth escapes in the awful retreat which Gourko 
bad 10 make from Eski Zaghra across the Lower and the Greater Balkans 
befcre the overwhelming forces of Suleiman Pasha, of the heroic 
bravery and splendid discipline of the Russian troops at Plevna, 
*nd of ScobicIcfTs popularly supposed charmed life. Touching the 
htter belief, FriOCC Tcherteleff told an anecdote of a visit which 
be nude to a hospital after tin assault on Plevna. He was shown 
b» Ac Sister of Mercy of the Red Cross Society a soldier badly 
■waded on the side, and informed with sincerity which could not 

' Tit }!»<-*•« mentioned in the fottawtafj .pell aj they nppe»r in the 

A »*i«iStarM«p. 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

be gainsaid, and with many crossings on the breast, that th< 
which caused the wound had first passed through General Sc 
without harming him. It is a fact that no man throughout the whole 
campaign was more frequently under fire than General Scobielcff, 
and yet he only twice received a contusion, and on neither occasion 
was the wound serious enough to disable him for an hour. From 
the war and the incidents thereof, the conversation became general ; 
literature, art, national customs, politics, in turn being discussed. 
To one who, like myself, is not a polyglot, ?. discussion in the society 
of educated Russian gentlemen becomes perfectly bewildering. 
Russian, French. German, English, and Italian arc all spoken with 
equal fluency ; authors arc quoted with a precision and felicity which 
makes even a well-read Englishman blush. A characteristic of familiar 
i oiivci-.atioH is good humoured i iiUery,ind, the subject of banter being 
the ambition of a young diplomat, Shakespeare, Goethe, Dante, 
Moliere, Horace, and Byron were cited with charming appositeness. 

It was an hour and a half after midday before a start was effected. 
The mode of travelling was a caleche drawn by four horses harnessed 
abreast, and as we rattled over the strong streets of PhtHppODOUs and 
across the new iron girder bridge which spans the Maritza, and 
which the Russians have limit .is a parting gift to the capital 

tem Koumclia, the General informed me that we should requir 
to go at a very -till pace, as we had to accomplish a hundred vcrst 
ere nightfall. No sooner had we cleared the city and bidden fanw. 
to its ruined suburbs, than the horses were urged into a gallop, an.! 
we went at a rate which in England would certainly have been 
designated furious driving. If anything, a Russian is a good coach- 
man, but for our first stage we were rather unfortunate in the driver. 
With the best intentions in the world, he failed to Steer cleverly- 
round or through the abysses which abound in all Turkish m 
and which certainly were frequent enough in the chaussee along 
which wc were proceeding at railway speed. The General's aidc-c 
camp— Comtc Mashkoff — who accompanied us, thereupon took ti 
reins, and wc spun along with astonishing smoothness, the road con- 
sidered. Wc absolutely seemed to skim over the hollows 
were momentarily encountered, and what to my mind was a 
gallop was only eased a little when we reached the not infrcquc 
spots where the loose macadam had been wholly washed away by i 
brawling spring torrent. There was much that was attractive in 
scenery. Right in front of 01 extended the green and purple sic 
of the I-owcr Balkans ; while rising above their rounded heads 
'be long range o( the Greater Ifcilkans, whose sharp and rugged ] 

ESenovo ana Shipka Revisitea. 89 

1 snow, glistened like jewels in the blue distance. On 
lodope Mountains, alxo still wearing their winter mantle, 
notched their varied outlines as far as the eye could reach. Ex- 
ttading from the granitic crags on which Philippopolis is built to the 
dopes of the Lower Balkans, the great plain over which wc were 
coming is of great beauty and fertility. A rich alluvial black soil 
petti hs increase with the rudest cultivation, trees singly and in 
groups give diversity to the landscape, and the remark ever 
uppermost in the mind is, " What a land this might be made 
m the hands of energetic Englishmen or enterprising Americans ! " 
Dr. Johnson remarked on one occasion that there was no 
{fcauac in the world so great as that of being rapidly driven 
t» aa open carnage through a beautiful country. General Scobiclcff 
>e<aed determined that I should enjoy this pleasure to the luU 
The mull but hardy horses of the Ukraine breed — a cross made 
it Peter the Great"s time between the Knglish horse and the 
Anb— never seemed to tire, and maintained the gallop for two 
ifcura at a stretch. At a village called wc changed 
tents, and in a few minutes wctc continuing our onward way at the 
■Be headlong speed. As wc approached the base of the Lower 
Mans the country assumed a character like that observable in the 
■M picturesque parts of the midland counties of England. Hill 
toi rale were enriched with groves and trees, and sparkling streamlets 
pre life to the scene. At intervals wc passed flocks of brown sheep 
ad small herds of dun -coloured cattle or black buffaloes, which told 
of a certain amount of wealth in this too frequently desolated dis- 
»n ; but not a half of the splendid soil appeared under cultivation, 
■here the peasants had again settled to labour, the fields of whea" 
•we in the ear, or the ground was being prepared for the maize crop 
it the women tended their small flocks on the rolling pasture lands, 
ittf in hand, they spun yam from the wool which their sheep had 
petted Following the lied of the GidpSU river, we cut through the 
tare* Balkans, and entered the valley of Karlovo. Passing the 
•Affe of Cukurli, we observed the gymnastic society at their after- 
W» drill, and while the horses were being changed the General and 
Inked on a short distance. A turn in the road brought us face to 
fccenh the National Guard, as these volunteers now delight to call 
*fjtl«es. They had seen the General, and had marched rapidly 
■ad the village so as to salute him as he passed. A fine body of 
Hon they were, with good-natured expression, intelligent features, 
■d considerable aptitude for drill. Twelve months' experience of 
*Ktae freedom from Turkish oppression, and safety for life, honour, 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 




>n the 


and property have created a wonderful change in the poor 
peasants. Their bearing is totally different from what I remember it two 
years ago. The cringing obsequiousness which was their characteristic 
while the overbearing Turk was still their master has disappeared, 
they carry themselves as men who feel something at any rate of 
dignity of manhood. " Now," said General Scobieleff, " 1 will lb 
you what we have made of these lads in a few months." Thei 
the hero of a score of battles took command of this village liand. 
At the word they formed line admirably, broke into column, 
marched and counter-marched, re-formed line, and fired a volley 

i yards. 9ft < Examined the rille.i of nearly every man to see that 
he nndentood whal he was about, and found without exception 
"sights" property adjusted. The", in obedience to the bugle 
which the General sung out, skirmishers extended and advaic 
front of half the company, which acted as supports. At another 
rat-ta-ta-ta from the General, the latter also extended as skin.i 
and the whole advanced. Ta-ta-ta turn sung out the Gen 
lad down the fellows lay ami commenced firing. So went un 
drill, and the manoeuvres ended in a grand bayonet i huge, 
taking our leave of these interesting young volunteers, whose d< 
mination it is never to permit a Turki ih soldier again to enter 
country. General Scobieleff made them a short void 

complimented alike their intclligi DOS and their new-born patriot! 

When fairly in the Karlovo valley we skirt the northern si 
the Lower Balkans, which, for the most part, arc covered with 
scrub, with lure and there patches of forest. Just before tumi 
our faces eastward, we catch sight of the blue ridge of moun 
running into the head of the Karlovo valley, which forms 
boundary between Macedonia and Eastern Roumelia : while, on 
other side, the valley is hemmed in by the precipitous dift of 
Greater Balkans, in a nook of which is Karlovo — the city of ari 
as it is now called. Here reside 602 women, widowed in one day 
the orders of Achmct Bey, and who were only moi te 

hundreds of their sisters and neighbours, because they escaped 
their lives, whereas the others were sacrificed to the lust and 
of die ruthless soldiery. While our hearts burned v. 
remembrance of these deeds, our compassion for the Bulgarian 
was still further excited by meeting a band of refugees from the 
trict of Adrianople, who, dreading the resumption of Turkish 
already signalised I M and robberies, have forsaken 

and lands, and seek in these safer valleys a new home. Lea' 
benind the broad champaign of Karlovo, we enter a narrow glen, 

Senovo and Shipka Revisited. 


of which arc beautifully cultivated. In the small fields men 
women axe hard at work ploughing, hoeing, and sowing — a pre- 
test scene of blissful peace and toiling industry — a striking contrast 
to the violence, bloodshed, cruelty, and rapine of which these valleys 
were the theatre less than eighteen months ago. By.and-by we 
commence the ascent of a rough path which winds picturesquely 
tomd the shoulders of the encircling hills to the eastward, and when 
tie summit has been attained a glorious landscape is presented at 
out feet, while a few minutes' breathing-space is afforded our horses. 
Overlooking the range of the I.owcr Balkans on our right, our eye is 
tarried, across the great plain which we had traversed in the <-arly 
lfiemoon, to the three crags of PhSIppOpolis, now a luminous purple 
» fte far distance. Beyond and to the right and left arc the liluc 
Rflodopcs; rising in serried peaks at the western end of the valley 
which we had ascended arc the mountains of the Ichtiman Pass, 
to be the scene of dispute between the Commissioners for the 
aoa of the boundary between Bulgaria and Turkey ; while 
towering above these is the cone of the Baba Konak, even now in 
its virgin mantle rivalling the fleecy clouds which fleck the horizon, 
b was over the latter pass that Gourko led his intrepid battalions in 
December 1877, and it was in that same pan that in one snowstorm 
he lost 800 men and 18 officers. More immediately on our left the 
eye dips mto a delicious Alpine valley, watered by a crystal stream, 
abac banks are green with waving corn, the higher reaches animated 
by lowing herds or brown-fleeced sheep Enchanted with the lovely 
{•aspect, wc lift our gaze to the frowning mass of the Kalofcr 
whose bare brown and grey rocks give colour to its 
zone, and to the snow-crowned heights which stand out in 
against the violet sky. Care had now to be observed in picking 
r way along the mountain track, with .it tunes the possibility of a 
banal fall down some precipitous cliff; but in half an hour the way 
kosne better, and we discovered we were making an entry into what 
•» once the thriving town of Kalofcr. What a picture of dcsola- 
Mb> amidst great natural beauty was presented ! Originally built on 
■bet side of a deep glen, with here and there broad fertile terra" 
rf the head stream of the Tundza brawling at the bottom and 
irraj several diminutive mills, Kalofcr must have been two short 
d one of the prettiest Alpine towns in the whole Balkan 
the home of an industrious population, whose gr. 
that their all would not be taken from them by rapacious 
s, or that their daughters would not grow up so pretty as to 
jsJful eye of some satyric Bey. Their occupation was to 

9 2 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

attend the flocks which sought pasture in the gullies of the mountain*; 
to spin their yam and weave it into the stout brown tweed for which 
the Balkan villages arc so famous ; or in the early spring and 
summer to cultivate their rose gardens, from the flowers of which 
the celebrated attar is distilled. Now the heart bleeds to see 
the universal ruin \ houses razed to the ground, or standing half' 
burned amid the fresh greenery of once pleasant, shady gardetu; 
mills whose gentle clatter told of ceaseless industry, wrecks ; churches 
• lil ipidatcd and despoiled, and black with the fire and smoke of 
arsonous and sacrilegious Turks. And the cause of all this ruin, 
eloquent of untold misery and suffering? It could not have ken 
that this town, perched like an eagle's nest in the bosom of the 
Balkans, was besieged by some ruthless invader and so stubbornly 
defended that it was given over on capture to fire and sword by the 
conquerors ; for here no Russians passed, and all thai pertains U 
legitimate warfare took place scores of miles away. Was it, then, thai 
the Bulgarians rose in insurrection, distraught by the cruelty and op- 
pression of their Mussulman rulers ? Thai could not be, because *■ 
the lime to which I refer there was no Turkish garrison in the to** 
What then ? Surely the Bulgarians did not fire iheii own house* and 
immolate themselves on such altars? Nay. verily. Perhaps, Sir 
Henry Layard, the Marquis of Salisbury, Lord Beaconsfield, or lie 
Sublime Porte may have another answer to the pertinent question, 
but the following is the true one. When General Gourko had aco** 
plished his first feat of crossing the Balkans by the Hani Kioj PttS, 
and had taken up his quarters at Kaaanlik, deputations from various 
towns and villages in the Tundza valley waited upon the successful 
general to congratulate him, and in some cases to hail him asthcirde- 
livcrer from a yoke which could hardly be borne. Among other ptacei 
from which such deputations api>cared was Knlofer, and this coming • 
the cars of Sulieman l'ash.i, then commander-in-chief at 1'hilippopoiUi 
he despatched a regiment of Turkish regular soldiers to that tO*fc 
and another to Karlovo, with instructions to make an example <* 
what he called the insurgents. I have already referred briefly to tie 
manner in which Karlovo was dealt with ; we have before our eyes to* 
sad proof of the style in which the monster's instructions were canitd 
out in Kalofer. Immediately on their arrival in the quiet and indus- 
trious town the regular troops commenced first to pillage the houses 
of the Bulgarians, to outrage the women and young girls, to kill alike 
young and old men, and then to burn houses, churches, and schools. 
For three days the fiendish work was pursued, dead and living were 
thrown into the burning houses and consumed — a burnt offering to 

Saitrvo and Shipka Revisited. 93 

ibe hist and fanaticism of the Moslems. At last the work of destine- 
no was complete, every building was in ruins, and every Christian, 
wept tlvc few who at the first onset had hurriedly escaped to the 
Domains, had been sacrificed. Their fiendish work had been ac- 
cwftiihed, and the valiant and chivalrous soldier* of the Sultan took 
tier departure elsewhere, mayhap to renew their arduous labours of 
Weeding the sacred soil of the Forte, in like manner, from the in- 
naiag Muscovite. It is known that in K.ilofcr 6jo women and 
chidren were slaughtered, and nearly that number of men 

The necessity for having a broken spring of the carriage rehired 
pvtmc the opportunity of a closer inspection of the ruins of Kalofer 
nd of conversing with many of the inhabitants who have returned to 
tv« desolated homes. Some of the houses are being rebuilt with 
necicr granted by the Russian admini&tiation.but the work of recon- 
ttraaion progresses slowly. Among the charred remains of the 
teat« looes are still to be found — indestructible testimony 

»* the truth of the tale heard on every side of the cruelty of the 
Torkit During our promenade, melancholy though it was, 

a bright incident occurred. Haifa score of link- children, very 
wntily dad. but with pleasant features and beaming faces, came and 

Ksfaed flowers, testifying alike to th tk qualities of the Bulga- 

asm and their gratitude to thi -ir deliverers. That the Russians arc loved 
hythc • : d leas Uwui by the adults is proof positive that all ike 

alti spread by interested persons of Russian oppression being greater 
Aaa tli , are baseless falsehoods. H ere the Muscovites 

Ac linns some people would have Wester. believe, they 

•odd not 1 and retain the love of old and young which is 

unifested on all hands and in every district. One woman with 
•torn 1 spoke toW me that on the approach of tKi she 

escaped to the mountains by a path which she pointed out, taking 
•it* her two of her own children and another little nirl whose father 
sad mother were afterwards massacred. After wandering in the 
noantain* for many days, die too discovered thai her hmband had 
Men . i was only as; of the stories which we 

baud at every step. One woman with u - eyes said: — 

;nk Cod that thi 1 ins have rcrnembi red that wi . 

' we were suffering, and that they have brought us 

arc 1 . God knows, for our all was stolen free 

ll *c will work and trust in God and help each other." 

dso taken to her home two orphans, and, commenting 

upon the fact, « ; ■ obiclcff told her that it was the duty as well 

as the privilege of the poor to help each other at a time when God 


The Gentlemans Magazine. 

sent misfortunes upon them. "True," replied the woman 
we do what we can for each other. We are happy now that we 
free and shall never see the Turks again." 

Time pressed; and, our carriage having been repaired, we bade 
women be of good cheer, while the General comforted the hearts 
the children by a free distribution of sugar bought from a primi: 
store in ■ half-ruined house, and we took our departure from iil- 
Kalofer. Clearing the mountain retreat, we descended by a 
path to the plain of the Tiindza. Mere wc passed long stretches 
neglected rose gardens maize fields untillcd, and rich farms innoo 
of the plough. Everywhere were signs of a population thinned 
murder and rapine— a sad commentary on the rule of the Turks 
the terrible atrocities which disgraced their last days of OMiipai 
Hi ■ land U beautiful and fertile as the garden of Eden. When 
regards all this, and reflects on the "ower true tales" heard 
mas>acre and outrage, wonder ceases at the firmly and almost fi 
expressed determination of the Bulgarians that they shall 
freedom from the presence of the Turks, or death. As wc adv 
the beauty of tin- valley increases. Trees and streams, and ro! 
downs of rich alluvial soil — ajl that can constitute a magnifi 
country— are here ; while the mountain slopes which hem in 
valley arc clothed with waving forests. On the way wc pass 
several triumphal arches crowned with crosses. These had 
erected during Eastertide for the passage of religious process! 
from one village to another. Prohibited for hundreds of years 
the public display of the symbol of their faith, the Bulgaria, 
that freedom has come to them, have a childish delight in everywfo 
erecting crosses. UkCf fording a stream called the Ak Iterc, 
leave the great chaussee which leads to Kazanlik, and strike ro 
u.iMis and eastwards towards the bate of the Greater Balkans, 
and there wc pass patches of cultivated ground ; and at but, in 
fast-approaching twilight, we reach the village of Beccrli, einbo 
among trees and surrounded by rose gardens. Scnovo was. ho 
our objective point, and onward we pressed. The G< 
stood up in the carriage scanning the country on either side, 
consulting a B is hand. In the waning light ti 

flames was seen at different points, denoting the small encamp! 
of refugees or the watch fires of solitary shepherds. An al 
oppressive Millness reigned, broken now and again by the hoarse 
of countless frogs as wc drove alongside a marsh. At last the Gcnen 
said, " I come to Senovo to pray for the dead, and to take my lam 
look at a battle-field which, if it brought us some glory, cost us 


Senovo and Shipka Revisited. 


much Mood I have not seen it," he continued, " since the eventful 

58th December, 1877— five days before Gourko's battle* at Philip- 

popohV Again he stood up in the carriage, and eagerly scanned 

the contour of the ground. A few minutes afterwards he raised his 

cap, and, looking round and upwards began to recite in his sonorous 

bat musical voice a Russian poem. Simultaneously with this action 

1 lark sprang ap from the meadow land in front and Commenced lii- 

cratang song. Was it a symbolic hymn which rose from that " field 

rf freedom, fame, and blood ? " Turning suddenly to me, the General 

■ Here in this wood I posted nine regiment! of Cossacks to 

rmy right flank ; and theTc is the plain over which my devoted 

, without a single gun. advanced against an enemy which out- 

them, and which moreover had «»o pieces of artillery." 

5 with great emotion," he went on, " that I look again upon 

\ battle-field. Many thousands of lives were lost there upon my 

Jopoosibihty as a general." Again he took off his cap, sighed, and 

Udemn accent* recited a Russian poem about death. Afterwards 

: explained to mc that the poet pictured the entrance to the tomb 

terrible to th< lion at a distance, but that when face to 

with it in a holy cause it lost all its terrors and became the 

to heaven itself. His voice rang with emotion, and his 

I a5 he continued to repeal the lines, were characterised by 

■emulous yet graceful animation, which told of the deep feeling 

stirred I heart " It was," he said, " the bloodiest 

of the war ; 10,700 brave Russian soldicTS met their death on 

(field, and 15,0c*- And, turning with startling emphasis, 

be. ■ Are you afraid to sleep over the graves of 25,000 men ?" 

waiting for a reply, he went on, M There are thousands of 

ren brave men, who would nut do it. and few women in the 

I wocld have the courage. But we have no belief in the old 

I which tell us that the dead rise at twelve o'clock at night and 

1 their untimely fate." With a quick mm of thought, poirj 

1 spot 00 oor !• laid, "There, when reconnoitring the 

ipenkioo before t dt, a shell borsl literally under my 

smoke eoi almost suffocated me. My steed 

■fid I thought for a moment that (lie end had come ; but God 

I work was not -and, strange to say, neither 

t myself was harmed." Onwards we went towards a 

At e*ery step the General pointed oui the dispositions which 

acorn had taken during the progress of the battle ; but of this 

■r Km In the darkening night a Cossack met the carriage, 

■ led the way into the wood, where twinkling lights discovered a 


g6 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

small encampment. Descending from the carriage at the oui 
of the wood, the General, pointing to several mounds, quo 
said, " There Slaughter heap'd on high his weltering ranks," u 
the time throwing aside tlie melancholy gloom which had sat upon 
him during the last hour, he advanced with cheerful stride to 
General .Schnitnikoff and the members of his staff, who had comt to 
the Senovo wood to meet him, and had formed the encampment 
The manner in which General ScobieleiT was surrounded by 

all '.us t.itie-t-rs, \uimx and old, the greetings with which he was 
recmvedi and the earnest mqujriei made as to news, told of tw> 
things— the love and admiration with which the young but brilliant 
soldier is regarded by all. He is only thirty-five- -and was a gen 
at thirty-one, a commander ofa Corps d'Armc'c at ihirn-foui, ind 
ious leader in one- of the greatest and most decline battles 
;in campaigO. , In the second place, it spoke of the eagerness »i 
which ill desired to hear the verdict "peace or war" which 
knew General Scobicleff to bring as the result of the message 
the Czar to the Bulgarian people delivered al l'hilip|>opolis 
General ObroutchcrY. As the General's aide-de-camp handed to 
assembled officers copies of the Czar's pcacefid proclamation, 
could be no questioning the disappointment which it had created. 
Later in the evening one of the officers, condemning in 
language all diplomacy, and especially that of perndiou 
expressed himself to mc : "Cannot you see how this policy should 
stir us so? l-'or two years wc have deluged this land with our blood- 
Our brothers arc slain, our country has made enormous sacrifice, 
widows mourn, children weep, and fathers lament the loss of prom*- 
ing sons. All this wc would have bome with the patience which God 
gives, had the full freedom which wc had won for our brothers ia r*« 
and religion, in language and faith, been accorded to them. But 
accursed diplomacy steps in and says, "no ;' only the smaller half of 
them shall be free and the greater number shall be again handed 
over to the tender mercies of the Turks. You know yourself «*■» 
the Turks have been, and arc and ever will be; and, placing yourself 
in our position, would you not also be consumed with wrath thato* 
sacrifices are to be in vain, and that the men over whose graves at 
arc now treading should have died for nought ? " Amid such impatient 
expi e dinner passed beneath the trees whose massive trunk* 

reflected the glimmering camp lights, and whose giant arms stirred 
eerily in the overhanging gloom. The night wind sighed through the 
fluttering leaves a requiem for the dead whose refrain seemed 
" Woe is me, Bulgaria ! " Soon we all crept to our tents and courted 

Senovo and SAipia Revisited. 


sleep ; and in a few minutes thoughts of home, of war's alarms, of 
those whom "the archangel's trump, not glory's, must awake," of a 
"Congress doing all that's mean " were sunk in oblivion. Heavy 
nins beat and lashed on the canvas, and thunder rolled overhead, 
m<1 the trees moaned and creaked before the blast ; but I slept through 
it ill, and only awoke when the cooing of the ringdove and the 
Wrsttring of the golden oriole told that the storm had tossed. All 
hm experienced the exhilarating freshness of the air after a thunder- 
•eon; and, as I step]>cd out of the tent and inhaled the pure oxygen 
Of the valley, I could not help en burning 

The morn i» tip again, the ilewy morn. 

Iircalh ftll incense, »nrf »ith check all til 
Ltugbini; the cloud* anay null playful 

:iine<l no tomb. 

Perhaps at thin point it may be well to give a ihort sketch of the 
buck- of Senovo, botli because it will illustrate the course of the 
RbKinient narrative, and because the leading details .ire little known 
u Britain. The general pi n of the Russian attack upon the 
Turki-' tray, then under the command of Vend Pasha, was 

thai Prince Mosky was to advance from the neighbourhood of I 
bob! lis Pass, and that General -ScobiclcrT 

"a» to cross the Balk Shtpka bypauei winch he 

hatnself was to discover. Once in the Tundxa valley the two 
Human armies were to march upon .mil endOM Vessel Pasha. Like 
*11 combinations, it was, as General Scobieleff said to me, a beautiful 
ffaa "on paper ; " but though in the end this strategy was successful, 
it most combinations, it failed primarily, and might, but for the 
of Scobiclcff's dispositions and the energy of his attack, 
temlted in 3 great disaster. According to this plan, 
ScobielefT Marled from Tophsh in the neighbourhood of Selvi on 
December 23 with twelve battalions of the ifith division, nine of the 
klprian legion, three of sharpshooters, one of engineers, and twenty 
•qttdrons of cavalry. Pri Icy had about the same Dumber of 

ntntoaci is part of the movement. Through the rep 

off'" and scouts, Scobieleff learned that the l 
*wl<l make the attempi to cross the mountains by the Kosalita 
ran by which there is ■ feasible path, and that they had accordingly 
pasted troops on the heights commanding the pass. He there- 
fere determined to h the sinuosities of a 
Sttccession of glens which penetrate what are known as the 
Ulgarica Dag and the Own Dag. Snow lay deep on the 
pound; and, as there was not even 3 path in these uncxr, 
rot. ccxtv. no. 1783. h 


The GtniUmami 

■icon 01 
the com- 
nt of the 


General Scob kl eff was compelled to abandon hi» 
guns, and push forward with has fnti i iti) and cavalry. Very early 
the cavalry had to rrmwwom , and the nurwi g rnrc and docility of 
Russian horses were cihibucd m the manner in which they traversed 
in single hie the bottoms of the glens, or dung surc-footcdly to the 
sides of overhanging pre cipice s. As they entered into the heart of 
the mountains, advanced posts of sharpshooters occupied the ■ 
manding heights. Slow progress was made both on account 
difficulty of the way and b ec a u s e the defiles were in many ic 
almost blocked with snow. When night fell the devoted 
sank to rest on the soft snow, glad occasionally to seek the si 
some crystal-covered pine-tree, and lulled to sleep by the loud roar of 
torrents. At the watershed of the Oxan Dag a critical point wai 
reached, for if here the Turks had had possession of the mountains 
on either side, it would have been impossible to hare proceeded 
farther. A steep perpendicular cliff was encountered, over which 
cartridge boxes had to be thrown, and down which the men had to 
creep on hands and knees, whDe the horses were mwlc to slide as 
best they might into the yawning abyss below. In this manner the 
24th, 35th, and s6th December were passed, when at last the plain 
of the Tund» » .ed to them through an opening in the 

mountains. The Turkish troops had also discovered their approach, 
and, hurrying eastwards, occupied the heights immediately above the 

:ge of Hcraedli, whence, opening a musketry tire ujion the long 
snake-like line of the Muscovite soldiers, they endeavoured to stop 
their jiassage and prevent them from debouching into the open ground. 
The danger of the situation was great for ScobielcfTs force, and a stub- 
born Ggjbl look place in the deep recesses of the forest, among- the 
scruli v. juntain tops and on the little table-lands 

which were encountered here and there. The Russians fought with 
desperation, and woe and defile, re-echoed 

wiih the r.utlc of raakctrr. Coming round the shoulder of the hill 
which overlooks the village of Hcmcdli, the Russian column was 
also exposed to twins of the 

d their 

advance, and l>cforc nightfall, with a loss < obickff had 

ito the plain the Turkish Bktnnfahei 

ling closer formation, had l»y the evening of the 2;. 
sure footing of the Balkans in and arc- 

vtllago of Hemcdli, wl. d themselves. It was wfc 

rec- the cnci< 

'hell beneath 

Senovo and Skipka Revisited. 


Scobitkfl's horse, previously referred to, took place. Vessel Pasha 
catpied a very strong position. HU left flank, protected by .1 wood, 
tttagtbened by formidable earthwork-, west ; hi* centre 

«a» in front of an open glade crOStcd by B stream ; while his right 
ended in a north-easterly direction towards the village of Shipka, 
*rih redoubts placed at convenient intervals on commanding ground 
il dong the line. As, in order to make his attack with effect, 
Scobiekfl* would have to advance east first duty was to 

dear the plain to the southwards of the enemy so as to H 
tkst be would not be outflanked. Accordingly, the I were 

Ml to the wood to the east of Tkcerli, and the 61st Regiment was 
fajatcbed southwards to drive in the Turkish skirmishers and their 
nppms which threatened his right flank. They had ■.<■ advi 
aocesan open plain whose slope was downwards 
bat with spades— with which every soldier in Scobielefft con 
«nacd— they speedily d themsefa and re on the 

enemy. Tl levenin therm in an hour they 

had deared all the ground in from and he right flank. 

Meantime, the troops on the left had not been idle. They had been 
j&incing briskly in the direction of Senovo under a withering fire 
frwa the redoubts. It has already been explained that the Ru 
■we without artillery, and had the ground been a dead u-.-.i li 1 
possible for them to have covered two or 1 
■fa exposed to a continuous shower of shells, before being able to 
their assault. Fortunately, there were a series of hollows and 
dry w. • running in all direction ovei the plain, and Sco- 

Iwkn* foresaw that with a rush from one to the other the advance 
**• pMsibh . too, the Turkish commander had left in his 

front, **ry foolishly, two large mounds, wl 
they afforded ithing-spacc to the 

rode all 

: .ill thai '■','• ! !' 

— aft 1 I me "D glory I" was the 

or, m huzzas ; ■ ir their loved and devoted and 

•cofy did I noice. The ri 

hero lours flying and bands playing, the 

peat attai : made. Turkish infantry 1 ■ 1 upied en 

tatreri' ood and the hanks of two small 

creams, fa 

fct, ( however, carm 

ifcdter hollow* spoken of, now making a r a the 

open ground into another hollow, again 1 ;ike bees to th. 

front, re 



Tlu Gentleman's Magazine. 

mounds. Up to this time the loss had been great, but with only 
one check the Russians gained ground and persevered. All this 
manoeuvring took hours to accomplish, and it was accompanied by 
the roar of artillery and the unceasing rattle of breech-loading rifles. 
At last the grand assault was ordered, and with loud huzzas the 
intrepid Russians went at the redoubts and entrenchments of the 
Turks, who fought with determined and obstinate bravery. Animated 
by the presence of their General, and knowing that if they gave way an 
inch there was no alternative but death or shame, the Russians per- 
formed all that soldiers dare do. The first redoubt reached was that 
on the Turkish left Sank. It had been made out of an old tumulus 
and against it was directed the assault of the 6>st Regiment (the 
Vladimir Polk), who had behaved so heroically at Plevna under 
Scobicleff in storming and holding for twenty-four hours the Green 
Hill redoubts. This day they nuintaincd their reputation. Colonel 
Savadsky was at their head, and, waving his sword, he cheered on his 
men, showing the way liy actually riding into the redoubt. Strange 
to say, amid the hail of shell and bullets he was unhurt, and, I 
followed by Stream* Of bis splendid fellows, the redoubt was in a fei 
minutes in their hands. A new redoubt in the wood, hidden 
the trees, was unmasked, and it was ordered to be assaulted, 
ensued a terrible struggle ; too close quarters had been reac 
for musketry fire, and the battle became a bayonet fight of 
bloodiest character. In the centre and on the left of the Rus 
line success was no less certain. The key to the centre of 
Turkish position was a small redoubt perched on a peninsula forme 

in of no great depth, but running in a broad bed. 
redoubt was likewise the scene of a terrific struggle, in 
both sides lost heavily. Within a radius of thirty yards aoo Turk 
were found slain, while the Russian dead were scarcely less numer 
( inward* the Russians pressed, and, following up with stern dete 
nation their advantage, one after another of the redoubts fell 
thea hasd& The Turks retreated to the wood, and, sheltered byi 

andtht Mb, kept up their fire. The Russians | 

them thither, and as on the right (lank, so everywhere, the lui 
developed itself into a bayonet charge. It may be asked what I 
become all this time of Prince Mirsky's force. It had succeeded 
overcoming the difficulties of the Maglis Pass, and had advanced 
the 27th to the attack on n ; hut the latter had met Mi 

with a Stubborn Doe, and, Scobicleff being as yet uo 

join in the Bttai k, the combination (ailed. As wc have seen, Scobiel 
came on the scene on the *Sth, and engaging Vessel Pasha, 

Senow and Shipka Ransiled. 


{meal had to withdraw from the pursuit of Musky, who had 
been compelled to retire. Now Mirsky, informed of the result of 
SoobielcrT's attack, readvanced, and joining hands with SCObideff by 
nests of the cavalry along the Kazanlik road, the Muscovite com- 
tuodcrs completely enclosed the Turkish troops and compelled 
then to surrender. Forty-nine thousand prisoners were taken, tao 
:U standards, and 13 pastas. The victory was complete and 
thanks to the energy and genius of Scobielefl". Hut at what 
»k*i!— a fifth of the total men engaged; which make* It, 1 I 
the Woodiest battle of the century— certainly of the last forty years. 

To return to toy former narrative. Our littl. nu early 

wir, and a universal demand was made for coffee, which was ipi 

■Mfht by sonn While the refreshing was being 

dacaaed by the staff, I tuoUed to the outskirts of the wood to ta 

wrtcy at leisure of the position of which I hail heard so much. 

Wait was my astonishment to find that this WIS the very same wood 

in •bich, one night in |S 77, a companion and myself, 

ih an oui picket oi dragoons, had been lost for many 

Ikws: We had been flying from the pursuit o| the Im:'.:. allfll 

Gourko's retreat from his first raid Across the Balkans, In trying to 

•»ke a short cut down the Lower Balkans into the valley Of the 

Ttodn from the Pass ofDalboka, we had boCOBM sepamtcd from 

th« retreating army, and wandered about (Of the bt 1 OJ two days 

•aim, >nstant danger of being cut off by ISashi-Ha/ouks. 

At bat »c found our way to Kazanlik only to discover, instead of a 

hnta of safety, that the town was in possession of brigands, who 

flfeaptcd to shoot us. Portunatel) escaping this new danger, wc 

pllopcd out of the town and fell in with a vedette ol OBC 

of whose number had been shot a few minutes before. Joining their 

co *f | *ny. we galloped as hard as our tired horses would permit to 

the edge of the wood, where we were received by the uiiu . r in com- 

■SBd of the picket, and informed that, if we would ai 1 omp lUy him 

m hi» round of duty, he would thereafter lake US with him to the 

Ionian camp Wc had to enter the wood to see that all was quiet 

'» the villages of SckeTsevo and Scnovo, in which some Turk- 

understood to be harboured ; and in the gloomy recesses of the 

feat we lost our way. When 1 thought of then and now, the 

•orror of the night ride came upon mc with almost all the force of 

• present uditwas [ like the relief 1 ed 

•ben at last we reached the Russian camp, that I shook off the 

Krcric and looked over towards the village of Shipka (now the scene 

of desolation) and up to the hoary head of Mount St. Nicholas, 

102 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

against which Suleiman Paslu in the preceding September bod 
unavailingly hurled his battalions, and which had been so heroically 
and successfully defended by the Russians under Radetsky. Just at 
lhi- 1 1 1 - 1 ■ Scobiclcff came out of his tent, and being joined 

by the whole staff we commenced, under his direction, an inspection 
in detail of the positions. Wc had only gone a few steps when w C 

un a wooden cross erect e. I and I the shadow of a group of 
four aprodSng beeches. The General at once uncovered, an exam 
whiii. all followed, and stood for a few minutes in all Turning 

away, the tiern ml said to me. " Thai is the grave of a hero, and on 
the day of the tally ordered that cross to be planted <•• 

Oil grave so as to mark his last rtsting-pkce 1 1 e was a mere boy 
of between 15 and 16, of good family in Russia. During the war, 
find by military ardour, and the righteousness of the cav 
the armies of Hoi;. caped fit* nd 

home and mad< liis (ttj to the Wftt of war. Turning ; 1 na, 

I accepted bio as a volunteer, and he fought gallantly and 
the great assault an<l sul 1 apture of Osman Pasha 

At Slnuvo he led a company of the 3*nd Regiment, and their di 
it was to make the attat k < m away by 

his enthiiMasm and titt.i ih-r, u.l nf .1 tnger, the brave l>oy • 
left 1 considerable escaped the >l 

built *J only neted as he entered the redoubt. His watt 

brie 1 • ! " 

Chief interest MM felt in the positions in the centre and right 
flank, and accordingly we directed our steps thither with a cursory 
glance at the strength of the line to the left, with its redoubts echeloned 
neatly all the way to Shipka. < 

centre redoubt on the iittle [»niii '?d I 

All KrOnnd the door of the redoubt were scattered broken canisters, 
fragments of shell, rags of uniforms, as if the battle had or I 
pkee a few days ago. But I was hardly prepared 
scene within. Sc had bee) 'juried hei 

rain and had beaten aside the I 

and dogs had done the rest, and all over the Hon 
was I human bones. \ 

leg bones commit est fashin leached 

iark I how their lifeless months grin 
breath. Mark ! how and scorn at all 

wre wlint you are ! " I luive experience 

icdiately aJ 
earth wax covered thick with a —"heap 


Senovo and Shipka Revisited. 


and horse, friend and foe;" but it did not possess half the ghastly 
horror of this scene sixteen months after war had ceased its tumults 
and alarms. General ScobielefT said to me, as we gazed on this 
chamd -house, "And this is gtc I responded, "after 

all, General, — 

The drying up a tingle tear has more 

Of htineil Jimc than ihediiing tc*> of gam." 

•' You are ri I, " and yet I am nothing but a soldi 

Leaving the redoubt, h. Alt two small detachments of soldiers 

re|>rcsenting the infantry and rivalry who h:id taken part in storming 
these p> ad desired them to accompany us. -i Every one of 

these men," he said to 1 wounded in the battle, and they have 

a right, as representing their comrades, to take a last look of the 
held where they shed their blood." As we crossed into a large 
entrenchment, which had offered a stout resistance BO tin Mum 
a intuit, and 1 1 boTe marks 01 being the burial-place of many 

a brave soldier, we encountered I B» U Hock of sheep, the leader's 
bell 'iic morning air, " !•- there not," said C.cneral 

Scobiclcff. " something extremely poetical in the idea of these sheep 
so peacefully browsing on the grass enriched with human blood ? " 
True, and the grass ami wild herbs ova •hii b we train 

•mit a sweeter fragrance than elsewhere. Onwards Wt strolled 
■ position to stopping every few moments, when the 

Oancral. w:tl. faround him, would < strength 

relative to other | the method adopted by him in ar- 

ranging his attack, and on the reasons why lie made Buch and such 
>ns. In fact, the staff throughout the day received on the 
spot practical demonstrations of the science of war and the value of 

!-conccivcd tactics. By-and-by we came out in the open plain, 
when- a monument had been erected commemorative of the battle. 
It ii situate*! on the extreme right of the Russian position, and con- 
sists of a small marble column, surmounted by across and surrounded 
■ rowncd with large cannon-balls. A Russian priest here 
donned his robes, lighted I son to 

a clerk, began a solemn sen-ice for the repose of the souls of tli< . [1 

'icad was uncovered, the party stood in n ipectftol gToups 
around the column with its cross— tl tit ol Che 

iL The 6un shone in unclouded ir, nature 11 emed 

hushed for the moment, and the wl Boated mad 

las. I haw 

of continental Catholic cathedrals, — have taken part in the rich ritual 
..—have listened to the sonorous mass in a Greek 

The Gent Lmau 's Magazine 


cathedral, — have u-or shipped in the simple chapels of Pr< 
.Scotland, — -but have never been present at a more impressive religious 
service than that on the battle-field of Senovo. Creeds and forms 
were forgotten in the solemnity of the act and the earnestness and 
devotion of the worshippers ; and as the trembling accents of the 
priest, with the deep but sweet responses of the dragoon-clerk, were 
borne on the still morning air, one could not but hope that "all was 
well " with the thousands of brave men who had perished in the 
discharge of their duty as soldiers. As the service progressed, th 
General wept like a child, and among the small but deeply move 
congregation there were few dry eyes, albeit these hardy and some 
times rough warriors are seldom used to the melting mood. One 
and all advanced and reverently kissed the cross extended to thci 
by the priest, and thus was brought to a close a service touching in 
its inception and the simple manner in which it was carried out. 
lint with a soldier weeping may only endure for a moment, 
lenenl gave the signal "to horse." All were speedily mounte 
enc of ScobielefTs celebrated white chargers being provided for me 
The brief emotion of the hour appeared to be dissipated in a sr 
gallop to the south-west, where wc came to the great rcdoub 
stormed by the 6ist Regiment Wc rode to the crest of the tumulu 
and sun-eyed the field with astonishment that such a sccmingt; 
impregnable position should be taken by an army inferior in numbe 
and without artillery. Then wc turned into the wood, and inspecte 
the masked redoubts and the theatres of the bayonet fights, wher 
cinpseb had at the end of the day been piled on each other four an 
five deep. In shady glades were long lines of trenches, where 
brave fellows had found hasty burial, and it was without regret 
wc left the deeply interesting but melancholy spot. Once more 
in the open, the General conducted his staff over the plain whic 
separate lleinedli from Senovo, |>ointing out how, even in such 
exposed situation, infantry may find shelter from the searching 
of an enemy, and how important it was for him to have his 
posted pretty safe from fire, and yet at hand. A brief cxami: 
having been made of the trenches, by means of which his 
flank had been secured in the early part of the day, and which Ic 
as fresh a* if only raised a week ago, wc rode up to the village 
Hcmcdli, which commanded a front view of the whole hattle-f 
A halt was called, and the General once more proceeded to deliver] 
discourse on the strategy and tactics he had adopted, and themann 
in which all such position | dtoold be attacked. An ascent was nc 
made into the Pass of Hcmcdli, in order that we might observe 

."vo and Skipka Revisited. 


difficulties which General Scobiclcff and his troops had to mi OUntM 
in ihcir passage of the Balkans in mid-winter. The MOM was, 
even to begin with, pretty steep, and wound round the shoulder of a 
ridge which projected into the plain. For many miles the pat] 
sufficiently broad to admit of two horses going abreast ; but it was 
explained to me that this roadway had been constructed by Russian 
engineers subsequent to the battle for the passage of the guns which 
tad been abandoned in the mountains. At one point, where the 
ridge, so to speak, joins the main range of mountains, the path was 
iJoog the brink of a pro «e bottom could not be seen, and 

it was a iew yards from this spot that tl. >ief of the staff 

bid been wounded. Then the path became a mere track through 
deep glens, and anon along the brow of steep mountains covered 
withoak scrub, and with the wild brier and ro delightful 

perfume filled the air. Three hours of such riding brought us tO I 
deep defile, in the bottom o( which coursed a small stream, which in 
■alanine becomes a raging torrent. Here icrab gave plaot to 
luge forest tree whole mountain sides. At M« 

bead of this defile all farther progress appeared to be stopped by a 
ptdpitous difl at least 150 fen high it WBI because of this 
•ppwently impenetrable barrier that the Turks never dreamt that 
Scobideff would choose the Pass, and hence it was their non-oceu pa- 
nto of the surrounding heights which enabled the Russian Gi 
b> accomplish the passage of the Balkans. Long before this, we had 
beta compelled to go in Indian file, and at many of the turning- 
(Oats it was only the sure-fuotedness of our horses which prevented 
01 being precipitated into an abyss of unknown depth, "But," 
aid I to the General, "how was it possible for infantry, much less 
tofravalry, to overcome that ob pointing to the cliff. " All 

»n*ji arc possible to determined men," replied he. "The men 
on* down round by the sides on hands and knees, as we will do 
fweatly, and I will fthi low we got our cavalry down," 

IWiounting from our hones, we tied ova ihefa ne is, 

bjoke a brandi from a tree at hand, and with many M hei hi 
*»»e them up the j slope. their fore*feet finnly 

o the soil, • their hind progressed 

•ondrrful rate. Sometimes,!! doubled under, 

**i hack they woukl roll down the slope till, mayhap, • tughl 
bysoeflc tree-trunk. It • for himself, Scrambb'ng on 

bads and knee a horse threatened 

'u roil down upon you, ■ Dewing 

tk laborious ascent, at length a dozen ol us gained the summit of 


The Genlletnaris Magazine. 

ss that 1 

the cliff, which we had circumvented ; and I must confess 
bowed before the genius and daring of a Gcncial who could 
fully conduct an expedition through such places, and over such, to 
ordinary human judgment, insurmountable obstacles. Horsc9 and 
men alike were permitted to enjoy half an hour's well-earned rest — 
the horses in cropping the grass, and the men in discussing the 
situation. I have seen the Shiplca Pass, the Hani Kioj Pass, the 
Hani Bogas Pass, and the Hemedli Pass, and am perfectly con- 
vinced, with General Obroutcheff, that the Balkans can never be 
regarded more as a barrier to invasion from the North, and it is 
worse than useless to regard them as of the strategic importance 
whii-h some modern statesmen do. The whole army which Turkey 
could put into the field could not hold them against a determined 
enemy, led by such Generals as Gourko and Scobiclcff. When we 
had been sufficiently rested, a commencement was made with the 
descent. First of all, the horses were collected and one by one 
driven to the side of the cliff, where the ground slopes somewhat. 
Planting their four feet together, the wise brutes allowed themselves 
to slide down, guiding themselves with wonderful instinct, and taking 
advantage of any little shelving places to slop for a minute. Withe 
accident, all reached the bottom of the defile, and began to 
'puctly along the track. "It was thus that twenty squadrons 
cavalry were able to accompany me to Senovo," said General 
bicleff. The descent of the men w:is as precarious as the ascc 
but that, too, was accomplished in safety, and we set out on I 
retUn journey to Hemedli- For the most part that was done 
foot, the horses following in our tracks. It was far on in the 
noon before we retched the plain of the TOndaL "We must 
for Kazanlik at a gallop," said General Scobieleff, "as I h«t 
meet there General Obroutcheff, who comes to read the 
Proclamation to (be people of this district. " Off, then, we set at i 
gallop Itndght across country. To say that the ride was a rot 
one, would be bat B trite description. True, there were no fenc 
but the lack of these obstacles was more than made Up tor 
marshes, streams, drains, dry water-courses, while care had to 
t ik -ii of innumerable fox- and badger-holes. I am a fairly 
horseman, but 1 confess 1 should have been utterly beaten off had it 
not been for two incidents. The first was the starling of a 
when, with a halloo which would have startled a huntsman ol 
shires, nine-tenths of the stall went alter it at full gallop. RevciK 
were drawn and Hying shots taken at the quarry, which, howev 
ran to earth in a tumulus. This hunt, and a later one, in whic 

Senovo and Shipka Revisited. 107 

•, only a few of the more ardent spirits took part, reminded 
me of a very curious incident at the battle of Dzuranli, and con- 
firmed the reputation which Russians enjoy of being a nation of 
sportsmen. At the battle the reserves were placed by Gourko in rear 
of three large mounds, on one of which the General, with his staff, was 
stationed, and from which I also watched the progress of the fight. 
At perhaps the most critical period of the battle, and when the 
Russian attack on the Turks in the wood was being driven back, 
md while the whole field was being ploughed with shells, a hare 
stated from the base of one of the mounds. In a moment, 
regardless of danger, and forgetful of discipline, scores of men gave 
ekast to puss out into the open, with shrieks and shouts, and were 
is no way deterred from the pursuit by the shrapnel which were 
busting round them. They were only stayed in their chase and 
bsssjgbt to their senses by orderlies despatched by General Gourko. 
Intfcesaroc way I was struck with amazement, in the retreat across 
Slipka, that the foot-sore and treaty men should forget their present 
dattwses and griefs in a momentary hunt after a hare which crossed 
4ar path on tli-. :•! Mount -St. Nicholas. Hut, to cease 

0m digression, the other incident which enabled me to keep up with 
lie cavalcade was that, in crossing a stream, half of them floundered 
in a deep morass, and a search had to be made for a ford. It was 
a o'clock before we arrived at Kazanlik, and after a ride through its 
ramed streets, we discovered breakfast i !) set for us in a marquee 
prtched on the I I pretty stream. With appetites sharpened 

br » ten hours' ride, wc made a vigorous attack upon the edibles ; but 
tW pleasant reunion was broken up by a severe thunderstorm, which 
l»oke overhead with all the suddenness characteristic of the Balkan 
Kpon, and, swamping our pretty camp, compelled us to search for 
lodgings in the tow n. 

n one of unclouded splendour, and early in the 
Borning a move was made to the meadows west of the town, where 
» triumphal arch had been erected, around which had congregated 
Ac whole people of the district in their picturesque national costume. 
The niton d'etre of the assembly was the reading of the Pro- 
(fenution of the Csai Ol Russia, counselling peaceful behaviour to 
the Bulgarians. General ObroutcherT, the Imperial Commissioner, 
et arrival at the spot, was literally bespattered with Mowers. And 
sere let me say that the sentiment of the custom, universal in 
fttlgaria. of offering flowers to strangers, is extremely pretty. Alter 
GcBeral Obroutcheff had read the Caar's address, he made a short 
speech on the same lines of peaceful policy ; and then there ensued 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

a mass performed by the Bulgarian clergy. The scene and ihe 
occasion were interesting. In the afternoon General Obroutchetf 
took his departure for Timova, and an excursion was made to the 
Shipka Pass and Mount St. Nicholas. These points arc already « 
familiar, from frequent descriptions, that I need say little regarding 
them. The village of Shipka is yet a mass of ruins, and the road up 
the mountain to St. Nicholas is now in fairly good condition ; the 
celebrated emplacements and batteries on the crest of the pass arc 
still entire, but cannon frown no more from the embrasures. The 
plateau, overlooked on the southern side of St. Nicholas, is one vast 
cemetery, where repose the ashes of the brave defenders of the pas*; 
and lower down are the graves of the no less intrepid assaulting 
Turks who fell. These mounds could not but be regarded wita 
emotion ; and I entirely sympathised with the indignation cxpressel 
against a proposal that the dead must be disturbed, because tnetf 
last resting-place is looked upon by some Turcophilc miliurr 
engineers as of some remote strategic importance. With thoughtful 
and graceful feeling, General ObroutchcfT ordered that the gnu a 
should be preserved and planted with flowers. Adieus were did, 
the General continued his way into the Bulgarian principality, and 
we returned to Kazanlik. 




BOTH history and Story are almost silent on the subject of straw- 
berries. Perhaps all our readers, with the exception of the 
Insistent antiquary, will rejoice at the prospect of freedom from 
Biaay allusions to Greek and Roman customs or banqtl It the 

i»e time fed an indefinite pride in the COnSCtOUSaeSS thai On this 
point tt least, they have an immense advantage over the epicures of 
Rome; for though Hdiogabarui may have feasted on nightingales' 
tongues and peai ins, yet we maintain, in spite of M. Alexis 

Soyer, that the most luxurious of the Emperors never tasted ■ dish 
of itrawberrics and cream. The author of the 1'antropheon, whose 
dfom brought about *o much improvement in out English misiiif, 
ttd from whose generally accurate work so much inhumation is to be 
pfaed, has committed several errors in his account of the Straw- 
kwy as known to the indents. 

The passage in the (hef's work runs as follows : — 

ftath lh« Greeks and the Latins were equally fond of the strawberry, am! 
•WW the hdc care to its cultivation. Virgil appears to place it in the «am* 
"& rti flowers, and Ovid i;i»c» It a lender epithet which delicate palates would 
•stduarw. Neither does this luxurious poet forget the wild strawberry, which 
*"ppurj beneath its modest foliage, but whose presence the scented air reveals. 
Tnajferted to (be tables of the I.uculli. by the side of its more brilliant and more 
fauUW sister, a flattering murmur often bore testimony to its merit, and nature 
**»f«*4 la the midst of ingenious guesta, soliciting of ait wbat they repudiated 
■ u> 

: lately, none 0/ lade in the above p 

•Vaebori bavenoi ' all th.u thestraw- 

berr)"< r theGreeksor the Romans; and in \ H 

•Otictof th> poet in a well-known passage couples it v,nh 

fcwen— not choice flowers of a cultivated garden, but with 

*ikl Mowers which would afford a likely lurking-place to the 


• jitls flora, et humi nascentia fraga, 

l-oeri, fugitc hinc, latet anguis in herba.' 

IfU, Etl. iii. 9»- 



In the fint< 

izr:?z (Km — 

although die epithet ■ mtUm." soft, debate, nay be 
compliment to a stia w buiy, yet the pmfirartno in the 

M born 'neath the syl i an shade " i ^ i n ft rjBatstakably to 
wood strawberry, and not to the " note briBaat and mote 
sister," whose existence in classic times b psxeJy imaginary. 

The other pumfe from Ovid— 

Arbascn fixtM, Tinti—HT (aft legato, 1 
while of coarse le fetnn g to the wud strawberry, ts iatcmti; 
much as it couples together two product* of the vegetable kingd 
which, though they hare nothing botankally in common, yet t 
bear the name of strawberry in modern times, and are also assocal 
together in Pliny — viz. the Artitms, and the Frag a r ia m in i ma 
collina of the poet. The handsome cricaceous shrub, which is 
fortunately becoming quite rare in England, but whose rosi 
beauties visitors to the Lakes of Killarney in the late autumn can 
fail to appreciate, has of course no affinity with the plant from wi 
scarlet berries it has assumed the popular name of strawberry-t 
which, though a misnomer, is to be preferred to the false quail 
committed by the many who talk as persistently of the arbutus 
they do of the gladiolus, much-wronged flower ! Another name 
Latin (or the u-. ii the untJo, to which the fanciful ti> 
has been assigned of " one bite and one bite only," in allusion i 
disappointing flavour of the fruit. 

/■'ruga, the Latin name for the strawberry, as well as Fr\ 
modem botanical equivalent, is most probably derived 
I /rajcre," to emit a smell. Philologists m 

this etymon ; enough for us that it has the authority 
case of its modem derivatives in the graceful Romance Ian 
/raise, fragola,Jresa ; and that nostrils not employed in si 
etymological errors too keenly can still enjo;. 
warrants the deduction. 

thus shown that the so MS unknown 

ancients at a cultivated fruit, we may pass < 
and emerge in the fifteenth century, when horticulture began 

flourished li woods — n food for peasants— . 

time when its leaves should become \vinl 

' OvW, AM. sul. 816. 




daobihty, and its fruit strike the fancy of an unscrupulous prince when 
ndag to a throne through a deep current of blood. Wc, of course, 
lUodeto the well-known episode in the play of •' Richard III. " in 
•rod Gloucester, when intent on murderous designs against Hastings, 
tens to the Bishop of Ely. and says : — 

My I.ord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, 
I taw good strawberries in your garden (here ; 
I do beseech you, send for soma of them.' 
Xow, this incident is taken almost verbatim from Holinthcd, and 
prom that strawberries must hav itcd in gardens as 

odj as 1480. Just | garden of forty acres on the north side 

of Holborn, nearly opposite the spot where Allien the Good now 
tnceasingly bows his com] to the i«sscr-by on the VI* 

TVhst v<. ly House has disappeared ; and, though London 

d)« 001 draw its main supplies of strawberries from localities far 
Iron its centre, yet it has to search rather farther from the General 
Po« Office dun High Holborn. A hundred years later Uian 
Rxhird III.'s days, there was, moreover, a garden in Holborn, then 
*e sou aristocratic part of London, amongst whose products 
fair kinds of strawberries arc mentioned. This garden was the 
property of Gerard(e), the celebrated barber-surgeon and herbalist, 
•to bad charge of Lord Burleigh's gardens in die Strand, and of those 
heobalds. The description and the woodcuts of strawberries in 
« work do not agree very accurately ; and we think, besides, 
mistake has been made in the •' Catalogue of Plants in Gerard's 
recently edited by Mr. B. D. Jackson, in classing the three 
1, which Gerard distinguishes a* rubra, alba, and suhiriiis, all 
•opthtr as Fragaria virpmana : at that date they cannot have been 
VirjjnJan at all. 
Another allusion to strawberries in Shakespeare occurs in 
. ' act L scene 1, when, speaking of the young king, the 
IHibop.. :— 

The ilfiwlicny grow* underneath the nettle ; 

' Ktitont III. ai ' 4. 

■xiy on this passage that ibi inee 

f tie remand collitatot of these strawberries ii also recorded by the audior of 
ipby on tbc same lotted in Ike BritiA Mtueom i 
•• Qtensii amines s*ni»r acnem quia, 
-nem labor dceet; hortum ui 
I>ccora (raja •/ 

jod mens 
■ l<acit : easel tantiut vcllem mini 

no too 



I I 2 

The Gentleman s Magazine. 

where the wild wood strawberry is of course referred to by the 
bishop, who thus likens the good qualities which lie beneath the 
surface of the king's character to the charms of the fruit which m 
overshadowed by noxious weeds. The remaining reference i» in 
" Othello," in which Desdemona's handkerchief plays such a falil 
part in the dlrwuemtnt of the drama : — 

/age. Have you not sometimes seen » handkerchief, 

Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's, hind? 
Othello. I give her such n one, 'twos, my first gift. 
bft. I know not that : but such a handkerchief 
(I am sure it was your wife's) did I to-day 
See CMSo wipe In* bean! with, 

Tin- fetal embroidery of green leaves and scarlet berries all loo 
readily attracted attention to the Moor's first love-gift, and tended to 

n Dcsdemona's doom, whilst by this simple expression, "sp 
with strawberries," the poet created an irrefutable fiitt <it cot 

During the first half of the sixteenth century we find no rdeJJtW 
of the berry of our theme, and very little is known of the ttaKJ 
horticulture in general in England previous to the ' 
Henry VIII. ; even at that time the London market was 
supplied with culinary vegetables from Holland. This mon 
gardener introduced various fruits, salads, and potherbs, and cultivaM 
them in the garden of Nonsuch, in Surrey, together, as it is gene 
■apposed, with the apricot and Kentish cherry. 1 During Elix 
reign large quantities of fruit were imported into England, chie 
from the I/Ow Countries; but no reference is found to strawh 
inasmuch as this fruit is ill-suited for transit from distant count! 
and the Fragaria vrsra flourished equally well here as on the Co 
nent ; and this, and its congeners, were still the only species kno 
to the Old World, in spite of the discovery of the New a I in 
years before. 

Spenser and Sir Philip Sidney both allude to strawberries, i 
the latter is the earliest writer who mentions the inimitable comb 
tion of Strawberries and cream. " But there he found Phalantl 
already wailing for him upon a horse milk-white, but that 
his shoulders and withers he was freckled with red stains, as when a 
few strawberries are scattered into a dish of cream." * In the " Fairie 
Quccne " it is again the wood strawberry we find : — 

One day, as they all three together went 
To the greenr wood to Rather strawbcrriM, 
There thaunst to them x dangi i nt.» 

' QturtiHy AVtwsv, JanaarY l8jl. " Kisc and Progress of Hortic-jltuie." 
• AtoJui, book :ii. ' Fairit Qinetie. book vl canto x. stanza | 



I Tkis accident consisted in a tiger making its appearance on the 

I atne, which would have made short work of PfestoreUa had not 

Cilidore engaged and slain the animal with hi-, shepherd's hook ; 

*Usz Condon ignominiously turned tail and Bed Truly a most 

opportune beast ! 

Early in the seventeenth century the American Virginian straw- 
berry was introduced into both France and England, ami probably 
■» Western Europe generally. The new-comers do not appear, 
owrevcr, to have thriven, and nearly two centuries had still to elapse 
before, by means of seedlings and b ■ urn, our gardeners pro- 

fited the magnificently improved fruit which now gratifies all our 
sttses but hearing ; for who has not wished during the strawberry. 
Stuootbat we heard of the fruit a little less in the vernacular of the 
CMtermonger ? To the ante-American period, by the reference to 
the kbicat of the stran berry, if not by its date of composition, 
Weogs the nursery ballad in which the man of the wilderness is 
aftjected to the withering retort, abounding in Attic salt, but not 
owe severe than such an ultra-marine question deserved :— 
The man of the wilderness asked me 
How many strawberries grew in the sea j 
I answered him as I thought good, 
" As many red herrings as grew in the wood. " 
Henry Buttes, in his very interesting ffOfk, "Dyet's Dry Dinner" 
iocs not allude to stranl>crTies at all, though most other !: 
>* Mentioned. Caspar Bauhin, in bis 'Mina.x," mentions but five 
nasties of the berry. It is only in the catalogue of Jean Robin, 
taunt to Louis XI II., that the Virginian strawberry is first specified 
(1624). Of the date of the middle of the seventeenth 
we possess two works which give us engravings of this (hut . 
Sough there is some improvement perceptible since the straw- 
OS* Gerard's illustrations, yet both in " A Book of Fruits and 
"(1653) and "A Booke of Flowers, FruictS, Beastes. Birds, 
Fbes" (1671,1, the fruit there depicted is the produce of the 
csftrratcd Fragaria Data, and does not attain the size of the very 
■(Best V.i In 1656 Parkinson in his work 1 

■eafcons the Virginian strawberry 1 iy name, but adds that " scarce 
ose berry can be seen ripe among a number of plants." He also 
describes the Bohemia strawberry, which must have been another 
Kara American variety— perhaps the Carolina, agreeing with the 
Tfonaa of Evelyn's list,' of which he says : — 

Tim tturbcrrjr bath been Willi us but of late dsyes, but is the fOOdl 

both for leaf Dcat to the \ ujjinian, ami fur lmuly far surpassing 



' Luly edition, 1629. 
HO. I?»3- / 

• Vide in/nt. 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

all ; for some of the lorries have been measured lo be five inches about. 
Qucstcr, the postmaster, first brought them over to our country. 

Another passage from Parkinson shows that the questions of 

sexuality of strawberries and of the changes which may supervene in 

an hermaphrodite plant through cultivation were but imperfectly 

understood by the botanists of that day: — 

There is another very like unto this strawberry that John Tradctcant brought 
with him from Bntttetl long ago, and in seven year* could never sec one berry ripe 
email (idea, Imt Mill ihe linu-i put rotten, although it would llower every year 
abundantly, and bear very large leaves. 

We find forced strawberries and cherries, as well as ice-cream, 
mentioned as being served at the installation dinner at Windsor, 
April 23, 1667, from which Daines Harrington conjectures that 
houses tnd ice were first introduced into England 
Charles II. '.s reign ; but the idea of forcing strawberries and 0\ 
fruits, u well u flowers, had already occurred to the great Lord 
Bacon, who writes : — 

Av we have housed the exotics of hot countries, lemons, oranges, 
myrtles, to preserve them, 10 we may house our native* to forward then ; II 
thus have violets, straw berries, and ptMIHI nil winUr, provided they be 
:nnl motajd al proper time*, 

In his •' French Gardiner " (1672), John Evelyn enumerates 
kinds of strawberries — tlie white, the large red, the capprous, and 
the (mall red srHd strawberry. Of these the first two are the Virgi 
thought nothing being said as regards the size of the first, it n 
tfas, white Alpine the third is the Hautbois, and of tht 

Concerning these last sorts, which are the anta.ll, you need not pot 
to the trouble of cultivating llicm |i fOU live near the woods, whete they a! 
for the children of every village will bring them to you for a very small re' 
And In ease you be far from these pretty mutt, you may furnish some 
<arptli of them on the sides of some of your ali<ys, without other care or 
than to plant them. 

. , bowi 1 kinds in his " Kalendarium 

tense," of which a list IS subjoined. 1 

Din ighteenth century no marked imj 

meal took place in erry culture. The Jragaria 

but it did not prove generally successful, nor 

did the J-iagaritt ekilittuii for some time aftci its introduction into 

ipe. This strawberry was brought to France in the year 1716, 

and by a curious coincidence its introducer bore the appropriate 

name of Frtitir. Seven plant-; were shipped from Chili, and were 


1 I. Common Wood. 2. Knglish Garden. 
Potonian (probably the Bohemia of Parkinson). 
7. The Green Strawberry, 8. Scarlet, ic 

3. American, iw '■ 
5. White Coped. 6. 


. Le«f 



c Old World by water which M. 
itit) nietcd out to the ship's com- 
pany and passengers owing to a shortness of supply. This Chili 
sin* berry was probably transported by the Spanish colonists from 
original habitat was tl a shores of the American 

tumiocnt. This variety is probabl) the parent of the Califomian 
species, and ' modern 

■t origin, and the pine-flsTOured sa wherries in 
jeatnl certainly trace descent from tfats Stock. M. Frexier, who 
tnjBieer to the French king, gave U Imported plants \Q M. 

eu, who succeeded in cultivating the (kSiauis with 

kr success in the royal gardens. In 1727 the Chili strawberry 
islrodaced into England, but froi hardener's Dictionary" 

(ftuli|i Miller) we gather that the new arrival was not undu:.i 
•atiiwwijxiently did not flourish. He says s— ■ 

HJ» 1 1 the European kin J in having larger, thicker, anil 

■W luirj leave* ; tbe froil is generally as large ai a walnut, and sometime* as 
'<(Obi hen egg. of a ■■■ colour, ami > micnhat less delicious in la<le 

■Wanwoii- 1 I brought tome of the in Holland, anno 

:>n4 lucre*** exceedingly ; but as yet I hare obtained no fruit. 
Ifcttga the lost season, anno 1 729, they produced great numbers of Doners. 

In ljnglcy'i " Pomona " (1729) only three kinds are mentioned, 
ftooir, : been introduced tiro years previously. The 

f'tpr irinam stra wberry , it by some reckoned as 

Irjvation in this country w is 
•Kancnded with much sue ess in ■ i-nth ceni 1 ,1, 

•thing m 1. rawberries and cherries had l>ccn 

sated by manure heat from time immemorial by the tandon market 
palmers. At die beginning of the eighteenth century, however, 
feat seem* to have existed a prcju nst the employaent of 

■nsse in the growtlt of strawberries, for we find that d M 

k* ns commenced by the landlord against a Dutch gardener who 
°*e to England in the reign of Queen Anne and settled on 

•xlull and 1 mtchman 

arid view* in jio\ is age on the subject oflujuid manure; but 

*t tat not allow «e short-sighted times the land 

been reserved for almost our own 
|E*nr 1I1 in tbe principles of Mechi and lose 

ugnancc to thi whilst degluting our doubtfully 

•mllen berries, 

Tbe above discursion on manure is gathered from the late Mr. 
•mphlet on thc"Cultur iwberryi" and, whilst 

fauy acknowledging all that growers of t e fruit owe lo the ejffcnva 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

gad experience of the producer of the Prince, w cannot: 

clinch attention to the second paragraph of bil pamphlei, which ft 
mast quote in extenso, as it contains two error* which it is desirable 
to set right:— 

The slrawlierry up \» the lime ol the Dutch pudi-nerV arrival in F.njUnd 
was caller! uioodkirty. One year a very heavy haiUtnrm came OV0 1-ondoo, ttt 
spoiled all the wocdUrrici with grit and mould ; next year the gardeners laid IU* 
under them, and from that time they have been called sltaxuberrie;. 


I In first reading this passage, our antiquarian soul was filled wi! 
delight at the prospect of discovering numerous ]xassagts in English 
authors prior to the time of the Dutch gardener, in which this nc» 
and pretty word "woodberry" occurred, but ere long it flislied 
across us that Spenser, Sidney, Shakespeare, Bacon, had talked of 
itrawbtrritt, but never mentioned woodberries ; whilst » short 
Kteareh Sufficed to show that all writers on horticultural subjects lad 
invariably made use of the name by which wc know the berry, and » 
more exhaustive investigation has not led to the discovery of one 
single passage in which the word "woodberry" is used- 1 Therefore 
neither the arrival ol the Dutch gardener with his advanced views on 
manuring nor the very heavy hailstorm which one year came over 
London can have brought about a change of nomenclature what 
there was no change to effect. Strawberries the berries were before, 
and strawberries they still remain. 

Secondly, the practice of laying straw under the plants in order to 
protect the berries from die effects of heavy showers of rain «* 
.lent in both France and England long before the time of Queen 
Anne ; though the protection was not so necessary with the stnw 
berrii irlid times as with our heavily fruited, low k'"*-' •■ 

modern kinds. Keats, in the " Song to Pan "in " Endymion," allodel 
with much truthfulness to nature and quaintness of rhyme to •** 
habit of the strawberry : — 

Low-creeping strawberries 
1 1 1 ■ i r -.umnicr coolness ; pent-up butterflies 
Tlnir freckled wingi. 

But the fruit was called by us English by the name of " : 
long before any patent slug-traps or truss-sccurcr* 
thought expedient for the well-being of the fruit. It has been i 
futably proved that the origin of the syllable " straw " is die Anglc-S* 
" stm/ien, to strew, to scatter," and that the fruit is called 
berry; or straying berry, from the erratic nature of its runners. 

1 Itbpottlblc that such a word may haw been In GollOQuU usage, I 
troukJ be ii-.'tereiliug to find any authority for the same. 



tunic blunderer like Home Tooke do.> not err on ni 
teeaingly palpable qucition as this, and gives the etymology cor- 
i Duchesne has, like the majority of men where 

pWology is concerned, fallen into the specious blunder. Just fancy, 
hoci-cr, an English philologist seriously attempting to explain the 
nunc by the fact that village children were in the habit of gathering 
Hxfivgar; nit on " straws" with a view 

tonic! Docs DOt the though! Bt once remind one of barbarous 
uaoolboys with hall tigs? or, if the more poetic view 

betoken, of buttercup and daisies well Angered by rustic maids? 

his suggestion is actually put forward as an alternative in a most 

evdlcnt American brv<fiurt, " The Illustrated Strawberry Culturist," 

Puller — a work which contains a great deal of valuable 

nfanrulion about the fruit, without being overburdened by tcchni. 


Hi the beginning of the present century the strawberry bi 

■■ume the proud position which it now maintains amongst 
fsffcili fruits. The first marked improvements [•rn.lueedwere si 
lepRom American species : thi Rosebeny in l8so j the Downtoo, 
is tti Grove End Scarlet in iS:o; I ing in 

Elton Pine in 1828 ; whilst • llowed shortl} 

•ndswith nil Pine, Prince Albert, Eliza, ami r.ritish Queen. Since 
<1< appearance of these improved kind* various seedlings and hybrids 
•aw been produced, which it would exceed our Space even to cnumc- 
nit Some havi ledagreat ent reputation, whilst 

*bcr- 11 raised which have been /bund not 10 repay 1 nitiv.i 

in the year 1824 the 
Botanical Society of London instructed Ml 

prdener in the Fruit Detriment at draw up a ti port of 
tkt different kinds of strawberries cultivated in i the 

'sssied Kirtgdom. Market-gardeners and amateur growers were 
■aduojd to fill in scheduled form?, in which were noted the name, 
1 btn 1 ter, history, Sc , ol the v iri ■■ ■ I inds they possessed, and after* 
wards in send runners of all the varieties they had mentioned, which 
«oc planted at Chiswick and carefully compared and class! 

trawberrics submitted to his investigation 

ia»o seven classes, which will be found to closely coincide with the 

ins of the botanist Jacques Gay, which have been accepted 

Lambcrtyc in his admirabl praph on the strawberry- 

which arc thus enumerated. Mr. Bamet describes twenty- 

•i* kinds of scarlet, five of black, fifteen of pine, three of Chili, and 

Il8 T/w Gentleman's Magazine. 

five of 11 iv seems then to have \- 

a great favourite I 
docs not posses BJOCh flavour. 

a very excel)' ilreudy long estabh i>& 

The highest | led to Wilmot's Superb, which is 3 de- 

scendant of the true CI. is v.itli the Roscbcrry. Mr. Barnet 

remarks that the Chili has lost its faults in its son, « hoastof 

beauty, productiveness, colour, and flavour, whilst some of the be" 
ute 6J inches in circumfcrcnoc. 

From the great variety of kinds transmitted to Chiswick for in- 
vestigation, it may be inferred that improvement and extension in 
Stl&wbenj culture was rapidly becoming prevalent throughout Eng- 

d, Utd that early in try London began largely to appeal 

to the fruit -resources of the country, and to absorb nearly all the 
produce of her suburbs. In the Saturday Afagatim for June 1834 
then is an interesting account of strawberry culture in the nci 
l.ipinhood of London, and the description is noteworthy as referring 
1 intermediary period in the history of the berry. Wc learn that 
in that yeai thousands of persons, principally women, gained their 
livelihood by occupations connected with strat ilture, which 

. ma prim ipaUy eai within a radius • 

:iie western side of the im unpolis. Isleworth, Brentford, ICaling, 
!I.u- ird, Mortfake, lla> MB> 

veil arc mentioned u pi .md the n 

trader cultivation is estimated at 1,000 acres. Nowadays the main 
supply comet from rather fartlm si the western suburbs, 

and tin.- ud " especially is I 1 heavy con- 

tribuOOfli for strawberries as well as e of Bc> 

in Kent in;!;, rded as the great centre growth 

for the supply of the London market .llndc to, 

only did women gather the Brail with their deft fingers, and stow it 
away delicately bo the pottles, but others 01 « carried the 

fruit I. u I illy and steadily to their ultimate desiirui 

Thus, in those pre-railway days, the berries were damaged and 
■nested about as little as possible ; though 

discovered that the pottle was a mistake, and that form of Insfcct 
has consequently given place to the pun 
relationship to the pottle that the nv 
to the old-f. 
was so far more 

guest These pottle-baskcvs, like tl t run- 

branch of strawberry industry. Brentford wa . W- 

Strawbcrrus. 1 19 

litu of the manufacture, and hundreds of women and children were 
employed in the process. Both forms of baskets have to pass 
through several hands ; the woods employed in their manufacture are 
deal and willow, tl. the rnost itmw- 

bctty gatht illy from the west— from Worcester- 

Shropshire, and Wales— whither they return in time for 
own corn harvest, with a goodly nest-egg as the result of the C 
berry harvest. 

:1c by little, the strawberry has attained the perfection 
now delights us. If what Dr. Hoteler said of strawberries — 
biles* God could have made a better berry, but 
• lid" — were true in olden d. -ndisputabiy is the 

tion admissible now. People may say what they like about the 
juiperior flavour of the old wild or the scmi-i ultivatcd Jfefj 
but may wc and our friends always sec before us on our di 

• a dish of ireU-ripened Myall's llritish Queen or 

flavoured Dr. Hogg ! Occasionally one comes across a true Haut- 

bois, with its voluptuous muscat flavour, which makes one for a time 

forget one's debt of gratitude to the New World, or a plate of Alpine 

strawberries and cream on a sultry August afternoon may lead one 

10 temporarily waver 111 one's allegiance to the noble berries which 

have graced our dessert -tables and tickled our |>alates during the 

earlier sunm. r ; but still we think the assertion is correct that it is 

D the course n entury that man has. learned what 

■ strawberry really meant. Who the Dr. Boteler was who made the 

profound Kflnrk we have jost quoted il a matter of considerable 

; but possibly he was Dr. William Butler, an eminent 

ID in bis day. It is ft attributed to Ixaak Walton 

if, but it is only quoted in the "Compl where 

Piscator says, " Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, 

Bolder said of strawberries — 'Doubtless God could have 

made a better berry, but doubtless God never did;' and so, it" I might 

be judge, God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent rccrca- 

ilusn angli' 

'lite strawberry is not only endowed with many virtues on which it 

would be superfluous todescant, but is remarkable, moreover, fora happy 

frcrd> ice. It docs not, like the melon or the pine-apple, 

r eq uir e caution on the pan of those devotees who are liable to suffer 

11 gastronomic pleasures ; it does not, like the grape, 

tnent of what to do with 1 »nd pips; 

whilst it presents no difficulty, like the cherry, on the subject of 

which have either to be discreetly funnelled on to the dessert -plate 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

through the hollowed hands, or boldly swallowed after the manner of 
the fearless and omnivorous Teuton ; there is no danger, as with the 
peach or 00 I llini , of the treacherous was]) lurking amidst itslu 

:!] , for thftt most justly anathematised insect has scarcely begun 
to run its course of awe-inspiring rapine : an immaculate bee has 
been observed in deep .mention to the charms of a Black Prince, but 
it must have been a bee led astray by U over-admiration of the for- 
bidden. Like other fruits in song and fable, the earth beTry, by the 
wry nature of its growth, conveys its lesson of humility ; and the 
haughtiest and gouticst monarch, would he gather a strawberry him- 
self, must literally stoop to conquer. This moral lesson begins we 
own, to be somewhat trying to the back after one has passed the 
grand climacteric ; but then everybody of that age who has a straw- 
lied has a wife and daughters to gather the fruit for him. or, at 
any rate, he ought to have. 

So free from deleterious qualities is the strawberry, and so whole- 
some is the fruit in it* action, that the most re.strit ted and cross-grained 
doctor cannot allege anything to its demerit. No acetous lerroent- 
ation ensues from the process oi digestion, and no ill effects follow 
t COPIOUS repast. l'eih.i;is at this point a few remarks regarding the 
m.ilii inal properties of the strawberry may not prove uninteresting to 
our readers. In kettnet's " Hook of the Table " the following quota- 
tion occurs from AherCfOfflbie : — " Physicians concur in placing straw- 
berries in the ir small catalogue of pleasant remedies, They dissolve 
the tartarcous incrustations of t he teeth. They promote perspiration. 
Persons afflicted with gout have found relief from using them ; so have 
patients in case of the stone; and Hoffman states that he has known 
consumptive people cured by them." Amongst this category of 
■ native properties that which refers to the gout has been the roost 
satisfactorily authenticated. No less an authority in the botanical 
world than the great I.innxus attributed his own cure from podagra to 
the effect of strawberries; and in the Edinburgh Rniew for July t8o6 
there occurs an extract from the " Amccnitatcs Academicae," in which 
an account is given of the circumstances under which the fruit proved 
of such singular service to the great botanist, and which induced him 
to recommend it to arthritic patients in general : — 

II appears thai aboajl Iha mil of June 1750 he experienced »o rioteot a* 
attack a» to b( un;iblr Id tile* cither RipOM or noun -inn, "1 (,>r a fortnight j awl 

he couiil 'mi .vi-n kit;, in. tiii quiet '«■ minute* at •■ lime. A plaw of itnt- 
berries having been accidentally brought to him whilst he win in thit anllciwl 
•laic, they proved to be the only article that was at all grateful to hU palate, and, 
after rating them, he slept »ome hours, the only time during the fourteen days of 
bit illness. When he awoke, he ate more strawberries ; and. having again good. 



bary *J 

slo-pfron midnight tantil the next morning, lie found himself well enough lo leave 
kaW,»r/i, in fact, experienced no pain whatever, though (he disease had of 
two* dtUKi.' uremely. The fallowing year Ihc goal came on again 

•but Ihr aw period ; and our invalid being then at liroliniiighi.ini. his pale, 
Mdly cruntcnonce Uracil the ijueen, who very condescendingly inquired what ho 
«MU take. Linn<rns replied. " Sfrmattrritt,' which were not to Ik 
ll« UreMy, however, ordered a plate of this fruit li ::M, ..iM, having 

am thai qati ' veil enough iImmm mcraingtpgolo t ant 

TVpdt returned the third year, bat la v much slighter degree than before, and 
lilt [reit botanist was. eventually ewid b) .y.teinalicaliy pursuing this simple 

7at«raiil>crri« used by Linnsms were tlie common wood straw- 
bary • > widely spread and plentiful in the Scandinavian 

TVo cases arc mentioned in the paper from which tin above 
ion is taken, showing that, wholesome as strawberries are 
w«vo»lly considered, they will, notwithstanding, art as a poison on 
woe persons. They occasioned syncope, succeeded by a petechial 
(•torescence of the skin; or, in plainer language, the victims felt very 
"int. ind afterwards suffered from a skin eruption, similar to that 
proijetd by arsenic. 1 iwder. These arc not the slrawbrrry 

•wi. by the absent e of which the long-lost brother is discovered on 
^c, but arc the result of the chemical action of the fruit on 
ladtridtal peculiarities, which have not yet been reduced to law, nor 
•uJaUctoril;. '. by I" in;; termed idiosyncrasies. The follow, 

ble :o any chemical action of the straw* 
bury :— 

I a 101011 cathedral city li»ed a nursery-gnrdener, whose main business 
•"to- "d strawlicrrics for the lablesof the wealthy, 

: lodgtr*, who were glad 
u 4*1 to pleasant a retreat within an eavy walk ol the catkfldml, and t" fi-. «- where 
Irarijats. flowers couid be enjoyed m abundance. Mr. and Mil Synnge had 

wily ; the master hod sold hU last grapes for 

•pttfly wmi. thill's HUck Prince were just coming into full bearing. 

»gc, bttiib bti annual oliTv-bnu arirJernbly 

•abased toward, the income of Ihc establishment by trcuring a most desirable 

Mpr u a permanency. Thlf lodger, Mr. Matthews, was tin i the 

i|ioi»»ed canon, and he took great interest in botany nnil Mr. Syringe's 

-tiag-huasea. Just before Easter an order came for three large dishes ol straw- 

Oas for a dinnci-iwrty at tin' house of a real good customer. The fniit wan to 

• winy-. s.i Mr. Syringa Mleeccd tbi 'trongwt 

l tno*c pain ... r. >.».i to .ii iir-t planting, 

' >r.l uiili the choicest manure, an .m to increased heal lo 

!.-m tirward by the critical day. On the eve of the Wednesday, Master 

KaUfl Matthews came to pay a passing visit to his uncle on his way to school. 

Tafa young gentleman, after the manner of his kind, strolled out in the BORttng 

'•»••» a Wat mischief lie could ili> Ill-luck directed Ins steps towards the si-aw- 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

berry-boosc, and, the door being by Mistake smlocked. be entered. What happened 
c«n easily be imagined !— oa the ooe band a thought!*** schoolboy of enormous 
dsgeanc apacky. and with a tool that bad no aspirations licyond a free run of 
Outer's ; on she other a profusion of moat hwckma berries which seemed banting 
to be cairn. Jo« at he began to reflect that be bad not yet break I 
agonised face of Mr. Syringe appeared in the doorway. Turning deadly pale, 
the unfortunate nun uttered a shriek of horror, and Bed to the bonv 
strawberries had to be procured by telegraphing to Cottnt Oanim, ami Mr. 
Matthew* was feread to pay a bill of £+. 10.-. A tc\ere eraptioo wu the remit 
of those strawberries. ! 

The following anecdote regarding Fontcnclle, which bean on the 
medical aspect of strawberries, reminds us of the wish fteqneu 
expressed by old people in En t they might tide over the 

month of May, in which case they thought themselves safe for 
another year : 

Fontcnclle ainsail ]« frabes arec passion, et les declarait tressalulaires, 
pourvu (ja'cllet totcot ircs-tocrceN. A la deraiere benre de *n tie, ton ami La- 
place Itti dit : " Eh blen ! dob cber papa, comment ccla *a-«-il ?" "Cela nc va 
pas, ccla s'en va," repood le philosophe, et il ajouta en tooriant l "Si ye pah) 
settlement stumper lea /raiia, j'espere virre encore on an " 11 n'atlrapa paa las 
fraiacs ; mail Koatenellc axait cent ans, et Ton prut crosre— »i Too rent — epic kt 
fnixi n'ont pas «te crnngcrcs a la longe'vtic dc l"auteur de* MtmJii. 

In order that the strawberry may be discussed in all its aspects, a 
short allusion to the strawberry-leaf as a badge of the higher ranks of 
nobility must not be omitted. The only allusion to the strawberry in 
the whole series of Notes ami Queries is the following quest i 
which remained unanswered by any correspondent, nor was light 
thrown on the subject by any editorial suggestion. "St. Swift 
inquires : Why were these leaves chosen to decorate ducal and 01 
coronets? 1 Tlat question cannot be answered iu : because 

strawbcrry-lcavcs were not chosen to decorate coro.-.> 
number of conventional leaves were used to ornament the crowns of 
the nobility as car rdgH of Edward III., and the> 

which u» early coronets are very' unlike a strawb-. did not 

receive their modem name till a much later epoch, and the reason 
of their being so name' DWH to us. It is only ir COM 

times that such expression* i to the si .cs," 

&c,* occur in our litera: | may W remarked tlui 

Beaconsfield has made frequent employment of the metapht 
early novels, two examples of which are quoted in Latham's John 
Dictionary The ducal coronet is ornamented with eight of 

' tttn aW (iwru, August I J. 1874. 

• "The «r>.t*TTy-'.e»»«oi her charWa-paneU are engraved An her ladyship's 
hea^--Th»ta«Tay'. /W ,fSm*', chap. ■ 



conventional leaves, as they arc guardedly called in the new edition 

of tli lopxdia Britannia," five of which arc shown in 

When the ducal coronet serves as a crest coronet, it 

.^rry-leaves. The coronet of a toarqu 

heightened by four strawberry-leaves, three being risible in drawing.*, 

: of an earl baa eight, with four represented in illoftti 
The coronets of viscounts and lawns have no ornamentation of 
strawberry ttt xt the reign of <, ■ 

II. that barons wcr; to * coronet at all. Since 1715 the 

base of an archbisru has been a ducal coronet, consequ 

the strawberry-leaves arc present. Kleurs-de-lys arc substituted for 
strawberry-leave? in the imperial crown of Kngland and in the 
coronet* of the Prince of Wales and younger sons of Her Majesty, 
but thai of the Duke of Cambridge bears strawberry-leaves. 

w. ooixcrr-sAMDAxa 


Toe Gentleman's Magazine. 


THE social essay is often a remarkably faithful index both to 
the manners and the spirit of a period. In Addison and 
Steele, in the beau-wit of a later generation, Bonnell Thornton — 
associate of the elder Colman — in Johnson, with his sententious 
formality, much may be found that reflects r.ot only the writtf 
their times. Nor is there any reason why oar contemporary 
humourists should be less representative of the days in which we 
live. The lucubrations, for instance, which Mr. Charles J. Dunphie 
has hut given us under the title of " Sweet Sleep," are rema- 
inrluenced by current peculiarities of manner and thought A special 
feature of this essayist i* his seeming readiness to fall in with that 

a! and Mate tone still too prevalent amongst us— a tone M 
though often a mere histrionic assumption under which excellent 
people disguise their better natures, is not harmless even when 
regarded in this light. With that large and languid section of the 
public which placidly congratulates itself upon its sujwriority to 
emotion, our essayist seems at first sight to concur. " Yes," says he, 
in effect, " let authors no longer pretend to uphold the delusions of 
enthusiasm, generosity, credulous faith, or to present any difficult 
ideals of sacrifice or duty. Let us admit henceforth that self-interest, 
decorously veiled perhaps for the sake of convenience, is the great 
law of the individual and consequently of society." Accor ! 
we have in the book referred to discourses on "The deBgl 
being rich," on " The absurdity of constancy," " The miser i 
development," and " The unimportance of everything," osso- 
moreovcr with such views of external things as well accord with the 
moral lopscy-turvcydom which the writer affects to del 
have dissertations, for example, on " The deli; a English 

climate," on "The pleasure* i' . and "The i: .l*an- 

lage» It will c nderstooi! 

rapport of the imp** i d aspects of i 

purely ironical, and that his pretended commend > 
a vehicle for keen -.1 spirited millers. In soi 

indeed, as also in the glowing lyrics which arc * 

Table Talk. 125 

took, his generous contempt of a worldly and conventional spirit 

ditwtly asserts itself. It is not the less, however, a sign of the times 

thatan advocate of those qualities which do our nature most honour 

Mould often feel that the best mode of enforcing them is ■ feigned 

limitation of their opposite*. Energy of style, fertile and apposite 

iOiUtranon, reading and scholarship arc exemplified in the book, 

of»hich, however, the most striking feature a the capacity shown to 

•'tbukc the cynic by cynicism— to drape hellish indifference with the 

*JrwiUgcs of plausibility, and yet all the more to bring out what is 

tpeDrnt in its aspect Work of this kind may very possibly be the 

fat symptom of a social reaction. In the course of a generation or 

t*o it nay no longer be the fashion to sneer at emotion, or to ignore 

•dean whether in life or the arts. To be reverent and earnest may 

the* be regarded, if only by way of variety, as proof of " good form " 

no less than of good feeling. 

PHE Queen has presented three trained nurses with the badge 
1 of the order ol" St Katharine; which I hope will do tfai n 
l«H>J, T • at all events, will be useful in cue of accidents, 

^*it» do other bandages handy. Hut I have had a good many nurses 
*** «y house from lime to time, and the decorated ones were certainly 
the from. 

]DO not wish to condemn unheard an active class, but I 
feci disposed to ventilate a grievance from which I fancy n good 
T »iny residents in suburban London suffer. Wishing to make the 
*»X»t of the few feet of garden in the rear of my house, I have from 
tine 10 time planted a few such flowers as will thrive so near London 
*acfce. These things flourish well enough until I admit a gardener. 
**ea they disappear. Tor a iittlc time 1 was embarrassed to reconcile 
^■e and effect, until my own observations and those of members of 
*J household showed mc that there was nothing mysterious, as I at 
«oeucoc fancied, no curious and hitherto unexplained antagonism 
Vt»een the two. In his zeal for transplanting, or in the absence of 
oad caused by his pursuits, my gardener pulled up my flowers by 
k roots and dropped them into his own pocket. 1 have tried a 
ped many changes of gardeners, and, though I cannot say I have 
««u ill take the plants, I have invariably found the same process of 
^appearance follow their visits. Reluctant to encourage energy so 
•■arreted, I have ceased to plant flowers, and allowed Nature to 
U* her way and cover the whole surface with grass. I wonder if 
* the nature of a strike among employers of jobbing 



The Gentlematis Magazine. 

gardeners would serve to correct thetn of a custom which, indulg 
in over-rnuch, might, by the process De Quincey describes, lead 
incivility and positive want of punctuality. 

WHEN, as experience proves, it is all but impossible to ma 
miners observe the precautions necessary to the preserva- 
tion of their own lives, and when, in defiance of warning or punish- 
ment, they will persist in tampering with the fastenings of their 
safety lamps, it seems difficult to find a means of reaching another 
class of workmen whose conduct is equally dangerous and inde- 
fensible. Everybody recalls how the carelessness of a workman who 
was repairing the roof of Canterbury Cathedral all but lost us one of 
the most glorious ecclesiastical piles in Europe. Short as is the 
period that has elapsed since that calamity was averted, it has wit- 
nessed the destruction, from a similar cause, of lialf a dozen of those 
country houses in which some of the choicest art treasures of 
kingdom are stored. Now, it is useless to appeal to the sestl 
feelings of those who are as insensible to the charms of an old 
building as the jackdaws that shelter in its crannies. Could M 
however, some application of electricity be brought to bear for 
purpose of fusing the lead employed in roof restorations, and cool 
not the necessity of carrying fire to the summit of a building be thus 
removed ? If such measures are practical, it should be compulsory 
upon the guardians of our historical monuments to employ them. 

f those 
of the 



I DO not know if the advocates of restrictive legislation with 
regard to Sunday arc cognisant of the change that is coining 
over the liabits of the British workman, or disposed to accqrt any 
share in the responsibility for bringing it about While we are tig! 
cning the bonds which surround Sunday enjoyments, and narrowing 
the circle within which the labouring classes ran disport themselvc* 
on that day, the objects of this paternal legislation arc quietly assign- 
ing to Monday the functions they can no longer attach to Sunday, 
and arc promoting the second day of the week to the place forme 
held by the first. Ixt any man who doubts this statement take 
walk on a fine Monday— supposing a fine day again to arrive 
those suburban districts which the working classes most affect, 
he will come home a convert A very large percentage of 
craftsmen and the like now abstain from work frem shortly 
noon on Saturday until Tuesday morning. I leave to statist 
and political economists to settle what amount of national loss 
involved in this forfeiture of productive labour. It is obvic 

Table Talk. 127 

caorraous, and it exercise* a disastrous influence over us in our 
CflBpetition, in certain forms of labour, with other nations. Mcan- 
vMe, our legislators will give way at no point. Once more by the 
rtujocity of the Bishops the House of Lords has recently decided 
that the museum or the picture gallery shall not be placed on the 
sunt level as tlic public-house. It is curious to find our ministers 
dimading so completely the signs of the times as to sec in the 
added holidays of which I speak a reason for maintaining existing 
idOiaions, instead v( a retail of cxccs-ivc severity. A stronger 
•Mince of :i between cause and effect cannot easily be 


T theory that everybody has got something good about them 
is, in my opin> it heresy; it is < hjefiy nourished by 

concealment, and I notice— whether through the influence of theanti- 
capul-punishment-mongcrs or not, I cannot say — that the news- 
Wen are apt to burke any case which proves its absurdity. For 
tumult, in no daily paper have I Been any mention of Marceline 

r6 years of age. having been condemned to death by the Court 
cf Auues of Vicnne for the foil rime:—" She forced her step- 

4uQkter, a little girl of eight, to take with her soup sixteen pins, two 
fctrfks, and some pieces of wood, whereupon the unfortunate cfaiU 
etpwed in the most horn I tents," Even « French jury omU 

■dao extenuating circumstance in this appalling, 01 but I 

l»r no doubt, tliat t people in this country who would 

petitioned that Miss Guio: should have been " spared " to U Ii the 
duld bad not died, the woman would certainly not have been hanged. 

a weakness for children, which must be my excuse for saying 
that in case Lynch law seems to me far preferable to the 

etttbliibcd article. 

ANT sends me the following 1 
Bydfl South W In one of Syiranu 

•Anabk i the number for kvgm 1S7S) I 

«*i»Ctd a remark alwut Australian win. res me he 

probably fair 
■Sffc; and I wish I had him here for .1 pleasant hour or two, just to 
eootii South Wales both can and 

don produce. Amongst them is a full ied wine— a "Bur- 

gw*k : , coin the term — called < bftiutt, which stands 

well, I liear, and is, I believe, to be got in London. I 
so in London by this time a shipment of champagne 


of red 
p*x a sigh of 
These m at least ooc 
and no 
wsdi a; aad I really 
■ake aad n prain g of it 
of ike world Even now, 
ot "Carbine*," 
of French "reds." 

>f the 

Oxhalf of John Keau's only suser, Madame Fanny Keats dc 
Uanos, the sole s ur v ivin g member of the poet'> immediate 
inioentially signed memorial was lately wot to the 
the view of obtaining a Gvd List pension. This the 
l/itd has not seen fit to grant; hot an award of £t 50 has been 
from the Queen's Bounty Fond. Having regard to the very 
public claims of one whose brother's works arc air 
classical, and to the urgency of the case through heavy 1 1 

the signatarics of the memorial, including most oi 
inent poet* of the day, have treated the grant as the nucleus of an 
EC fund, and a subscription has been set 00 foot to obi 
he lovers of Keats a proper provision fin 
ntcrnurialitw have already subscribed a considerable sum ; and it it 
tin tlut the nutter need only be brought before a wide 
Ihc speedy collection of the needful fond. 1 
great or nm.ill, .»■ cording to the donor's circumstances, arc thcr 
ncstly solicited from all who honour the name 01 
riptiuns r* ill nd promptly ack:; 

it of the Reading Room, British M 
Ml Mr. H. 

Fornun, of j8 Marlborough Hill, St. John's \VV 



Ai oust 1879. 





TUl. threatened eviction of the nan in the Ron itirred the 
wlbfci" greatly. Tlii J) v.h.ii might have been ex* 

imii fd Mi lAKelli • 1 ad foreseen and provided 
He knew that . ami that to turn 

^ their hon ard- working, sober, respectable men 

^otc they did not go t.. and believed in science rather 

•tanrei a persecution as the times will allow. 

•*" he calcubted on the n pei I of humanity for force and 

hom ni ! of tyranny liad to be 
**»idCTed -ud he thought that he would make the bold 

'WeboklK le by the issue. 

lOUrl, of course, that it was Rich ird I nllerton's intention to 

""M cottages for the dispossessed ; and lie smiled when he heard it 

'< «oi 1 ne houses to be built, sure enough ; but who would 

■* 'he tenants was another matter. The weather was such, however, 

Id be done for the present beyond marking out the 

Ctttld jnd digging the foundations ; and meanwhile Mr. Fullcrton 

■^Mfed to lodge John Graves and his brother Ben in a house of 

hijhli pened to be vacant; while Ringrove, in spite of 

•fcu !, would be Hermione's displeasure and 

any — Dick Stone and Allen Row among 
rest were housed by Mr, Ncsbitt and the local 
.is as things turned out the break-up was not so 



Tki CtMtLmns 



before the 

M * «- ka 
iaf sQtkmgs; 



were not 


Meanwiue, thoqgh much n> said, ncahrag wu done ; and that 

efigy. if in ii— ■■< at Tom Monrhaafs, boo came off. 

would not hare been sorry to hw*« bad a band in it, and would 

given ba bat bat with a free bean rf it would bave nude ihc 

ckMcr , but cm the whole the? thought better 01 

they said among themselves, woold be main sure tu 
and tbe notion died an as some others had done 
ge talked over the eviction — which the? fowled in taking : 
rather the work of the vicar than of that sorry, young Molyncux— 
i men on 'Change talk over the hnpaul war that chances to l 
I , and some said one thing and some another; but, save here and 
there a half-hearted malcontent 'taking pet' with the Chur<h and 
absenting himself for a lew Sundays from the services— so go hock 
when his temper had roofed — no action was taken whole — 

though everyone said it was a shame and a sin, and Mr. Lascdles 
was no better than the Pope of Rome, and they would have to look 
sharp if they didn't all want to be made into slaves— yet. in spite of 
all that, the Englishman's veneration for strength cum. ind 

if the vicar got ill-will from some he go: respect dashed with fear 
P more. 

At the Abbey that kind of lull which follows on a storm f- 
the household after the discussion between rJ and the 

rearrangement of their lives between Heimione and her husbu 
and for :\ few weeks things were apparently tranquil— as dea 
tranquil. No bystander could hare seen that the love which 
been so deep and true had received its blow, and 

there was as little real peace as happiness in Uus well- 
well-mannered family. Hcrmionc, «ei atished m 

and, like all women, regretting the love which she ha<: 
repulsed, at the fust did not care to aggravate her secession I . 
ecv- it, satisfied wit: d gains, 

left off for t)i iges. K:. . ak- 

ualwaisan uncert. i fearful L ionej 

go back on her old self if the i 
crafty angling gives lent: 
ukri -Mr. Ijstellc* took t 

■ic prCJCnl fcltcm WW ihnurlva v.: 
00 Dew unci, lie even seemed I i adversary to| 

Under which Lord? 


advantage by a relaxation of Church observances, which, by the 
Nmreii' nmaoded. 

lie winter had vet in wit . rms 

I icnt occurrence, and the frost did Dot break in 
The ibon days vitro sunless and dark, and " martins " ud evensong 

erforce given up foi want of attendants. Both 1km. 

wd Mrgini bad colds; and die vicar id of 

too nrnth austerity in the disi rhich J el ■ for 

of his influence. Had the daily been 

comk mid not hare allowed either to join in than ; and 

il them, if not quite th of Hamlet with the part of 

Hanh they would have been Theresa. 

Molyneuv, with her increasing thinness, lu-r hollow COUgh and 
<0Mmt fever, was out of the bound-, of possibility in u irbich 

men and killed oif the weak and aged ; and Mr, 1 at 
«ftndidnot think th of tough Aunt Catheria aacfa 

lace that he tboold 
1 ■■ ii;t- iii 1! ingrcgation wera also 111 

ild change, than to go on in 
■ : make lb < 11 ii 1 lud bron< bids, 

■d the Grace ci 1 1 pneumonia 

All that was for the pn •• m ■ ■ . • in 

•olcrdJc health was attendance on tin- Wednesday and Friday 
ttion on Sunday, and thai ill-important weekly 
wtfcssion which gives the pnest supreme control ol th< bmtly, eo 
** he can break up a danger- md an opposing unity if he 

upas tree planted in a clay pot would BOOH spill 
'••Mo fragments. These duties wire imperative on all who would 
***rtd well with their local I lie- sine of theil place in heat 

Ii d to no domi 
Fer though Richard kept more with bis wife and daughtei than 
** W ever done before, yet he could not COnsUtUU himself either 
ihtif gaoler or their spy ; and so long at he knew that 1 ert.un 1! 
•"tin* done, he had to ith the rest. When 

"ked Virginia, as he almost always did at breakfast " II ive yon 
Itro oat, my < inswered: "No, papa," he was 

•1 tlut, so far, the spoke of • ■ tense bad 

reus ecclesiastical wheel, and that the car of Tuggernauth 
ssdhsei extent in its dcstnii did 

st*ki>. tes which passed in the day between the Abbey 

ud the Vicarage , of the exhortations, the confessions, the constant 


T/ie Gentleman's Magazine. 

spiritual presence that wa» never suffered to fade from iheir con 
sciousness. He only knew that for about a fortnight those two dear 
ones of his, whom he was believing to guard, did not do anything 
monstrously unwise, and that neitl.' iscclles nor any other of 

the clergy entered the liousc. But tl only the outside of 

things ; the core remained the same. 

His keeping so much nearer to them, and seeing so much more 
of their actions, did not in the end advance Richard's i 
csthcr wife or daughter. Kind and gentle as he was to both, he was 
all the same a hindrance — an overseer and controller in one, whose 
companionship must not be suffered to bring p md which 

hindered what it did not give. Had they not been warped and held 
as they were, this new frequency of association would have been 
infinite joy, but now it had come too Late : — " too late '. " sighed 
Hermione, looking back to the old shrine with its withered flowers 
and defaced god, while borne away by a stronger will titan her own 
to the temple where that god was accursed and his worship the 
nlonable sin. 

ather was so bad that they were perforce kept so 
much indoors, to have Richard coming in and out continual!} 
with a scrap of newi from the day's paper, now with a beautiful bit of 
fairyland res-elation by the microscope, if sometimes embai! . 
when notes had to be written, and the like, yet sometimes was not 
wholly unpleasant— at least to Hermione, whose humour varied 
the hour. To Virginia, more intense and less personally swayed, 
her father's presence was always now a pain. But when the worst 
of the winter broke and Ihelr lives were ordered bad. into i he old 
groove of religious while Mr. LasceUei resumed his com- 

mand, it became an • <1 torture M b 

How could Ihey ■ M the Vicarage daily— that ark of 

!— as they had been accustom I | >do,« 

or asked to be taki 

In the carriage? They might My that they had parish 
to attend to once or twice in the week, perhaps;— but every day 
Impossible I LTnlen they wished to bring things to a premature 
crisis, the;. ■ Klians of tl 

legends; and how devoted soever tl) yet, 

they • director 

w unhap. U were! Mr. I.a>cellc» and Sister A 

-, ami their bitterness reacted ii 




Under which Lord? 


who :. The Sister's cold iriy broke Virginia's 

.md sent her to her km <■■• bl agonies of grief ; whereby she was 

nude colder and yet coldeT to her father as sonic sort of expiation ; 

■hile licrmionc — now chafed by the vicar's s.nirii a] • onglltnlatiOM 

on the evident peace established between licr and her husband — now 

uodic self-assertion by his allusions to ho light! of 

property, and sighing regrets that she could not take Iia< k In r gift of 

control—" not being strong against the man whom she hnd loved 

•o fervently "—roused to feverish unrest of vanity by ise, to 

oawholcaon: hi* half-cheeked words, ha suddenly 

.•autious self-control discontented; with herself 

»nd her life, her past and licr present alike — soon slipped into the 

Hate and place from whii h that fortnight's Test had apparently 

retcucd hcT. Her heart mm between those two opposing influences — 

w longing to throw herself into her husband's arms, beseeching him 

to forgive her sin against his love, and to take her to himself as of 

oW— now kneeling to Mr. LueeUflB, confessing her most intimate 

feeing*, her most secret thoughts, and giving herself to his guidance; 

QtdUating between wifely love and ecclesiastical fanaticism — old 

affections and new excitement* — it was scarcely to In wondered at 

if ho humour became varied and uncertain beyond what it had ever 

ten before. Neither was it to be wondered at, seeing how things 

'tally wete with her too, if Virginia had an anxious kind of look, 

ftsttett and searching, like a caged creature looking for means <>f 


ETrti* closeness of companionship which nu to guard, mute, 
fclaim, was daily becoming insupportable to both HermiOM and 
•1 ; and consequently daily more to Ki> hard's own 

Wctol It threw the charm of difficulty and the fascination of the 
faWtl- -nr scale with er attractions found at the 

Hermione's interviews with Mr. Lascelles — Virginia's 
and Fathei Truscott riefei and seldomer 

Ala before, but they were more fervid and intense in consequence. 
**awch had to he packed into a small compass ; and certain feelings, 
^nain resolves and wishes, like gun-cotton, gain force by compression. 
"0 «hat he would Richard felt the ground giving way under bit 1 
**l the hands which he strove so hard to retain, slipping cold and 
m his. An evil fortune seemed to pursue him which made all 
to efforts us. worse than useless. The force that opposed him 

■M at irresistible as electricity, as overpowering as gravitation ; and 
he m ■« relatively weak as Thor when he stirred the foundations of 
iht tanh and wrestled with that feeble-looking erone whose name was 


The GetUletnaris Magazine. 

OM Age. And what wast mi- on i is own side with Hcnnionewasastm 
with Virginia, if the threads here were of a slightly dinere"' 
pforion ;' wfa i h wove the tangled web there. 

When convinced no goo bin or to ttVm by 

the present method, Richard om morning broached the subject of 
foreign travel, saying with it I \t : 

"Would you not like to rd winter, Rcrmione? The 

weather is really terribly trying ! I long for the sunshine a 
skies, say of Italy. What do you '?>?" 

This was much for him to propose, pretext as it was. H« 
no travelling blood in him, and he loved both his home and I 
work, lii» bodily quiet and mental activity, too well to like t 

of knocking about fordi where was a-. 

v.l? no indeed:" said Hermione with .1 
it tinned in 1 bead to the window and the dreary pn 
U'lii: ked at her husband in these 

never > could avoid it, met his eyes. 

looked at her mother wit iinllv. 
" Would von not like to go to Italy, mamma?" she asked—" not 

gO to 

"No, not even to Rome," ansa mother with a forced 

1. " NY 1 

anil the child like it I am ready, and shotll 

! Richai I Wmui u in advocate unexpectedly 

"Ccrtabrj 1 d rternu'one with a nervous rough. 

mal: 1 think of :• 

Mr had prepared her for the chance of -osal. 

id had warnei - be 


would take uc out wand frost andbrii 



lovely at 
Ronu DOM 

oriR look. 
" II rnu 1 '•> 
will not hindi 1 
hot' 1 

ita would he a vet 

not be 



Under which Lord? 


RidnH fondly ; B but without her mother, I doubt if either she or I 

H:rmione blushed and looked embarrassed. 

ire very good," she said shyly, like a great girl receiving a 
compliment from her lover. " I dare say Italy would be very | ; 
^nijuitDow — I am sure indeed that it would— but for many rea- 
sons I am best at home, and it is only waste of time to talk about 

■m ■bich she got up and left the room, on pretence of attending 
*o»mc domestic duty which did not exist and which she would not 
***t attended to if it had existed. 

Fix her reward, Mr. Lascelles assured her that all the heavenly 

k'tfudiy were well pleased at htf constancy, and, what was more to the 

P*»B«e perhaps:, that he hi • entirely content. Cut he warned 

n*Jliutth*: infidel against (Those wickedness they wen: both arrayed 

^tnU spread his snare again; and he prepared her with her weapons of 

■feface against those " innumerable devices of Satan " of which this 

°fyxtionablc agnostic was supposed to be the chosen executant. 

"fterdbre it came about that, when Richard went back on the same 

*tyeet— this time emphasizing his own wish by complaining of not 

Wiag well;— and indeed he wis looking miserably ill ; — of suffering 

** the weather, craving for sunshine, wanting change, excitement, 

"ovtraent — Hcrmione took up an argumentative tone, saying with a 

"Kl cf unnatural firmness ami indifference which showed clearly 

•<*|fc what was the uncon strength of will behind her : 

*lf yoo really requite change, Richard, go abroad by all means. 
*e shaO take no harm and you will get good." 
- But will you not come with mc ? " he asked. 
She shook her bead. 
• Impossible," was her only answer. 

■aid not care to go without you," he said with grave 

"Oh, that is childiih." she answered with mock primness. "Old 
**n>d people as we are, we can afford to be separated for a few 
***s without breaking our hearts." 

A» die said this she suddenly crimsoned, then turned aside with 
''Sfebogh as affected as the rest. 

m And if I laid it on your duty a ? " asked Richard with a 

*fc.but conscious that he was trying a dangerous experiment. 

"I should then oppose you with my duties as a proprietor," said 
**»•«, repeating her lesson. " If you left, I should stay behind 
*h* after my affairs." 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

r. vinr h*r 

She spoke in a level, artificial voice, her heart misgiving her. 
But Superior had told her what to say, and she was bound to obey 

Reading between the lines Richard understood so far. 

" Morse "—the bailiff—" would attend to all the bu 
b< --ml (juietly. 

" 1 .should not choose to give everything up to Morse. I woul 
prefer to superintend them myself," she answered. 

He smiled. Her words called up one of the sweet images of I 

" It would be pretty to sec you over the books," he said, remem- 
bering her old-time inability to add up a page in a day ledgci »i:' 
tolerable exactness, and her general confusion between pence an 
shillings which made the total not a little misleading. 

Hcrmione flushed. 

" It is your fault that I can do so little," she said with petulanc 
" I think it is very hard that I know so little of my own affairs ; 
I must say I do not like to be so entirely in the dark ax I have 
kept all my life." 

This was the first card of the new lead, the first indication of 
new departure. 

Richard looked at her full and straight in the face — his own 
grave rather than stern. 

" You shall be enlightened on all that concerns us at any moment 
when you will give me your attention," he said. " I have no wish i 
keep you in the dark." 

"It is very odd then that you have done so," .iaid Hcrmio 
Then repenting of her injustice, she added impulsively: " No, 1 1 
not say that after all ! It has been the fault of my own wTctche 

" Less that than the result of your loving trust," said Rv 
"Where one can do all single-handed, is it not a waste of force 
employ two? But for my own part I shall be delighted to show ; 
all the mysteries of book-keeping and lease-letting. When will 
come for your lesson ? " 

He smiled again as he spoke. The vision of her pretty golde 
head bending over the accounts in his study, as she used in the 
days of their marriage, when she thought that somehow her i 
had grown in the night because she put down an account of 
pounds in the shilling column and was the triumphant possessor < 
so much more than she had a right to expect — the vision of her ce 
miiukes and their pleasant correction came before him as perhap 

Under which Lord? 


Ac beginning of a new lif i them and the sweeping away of 

Aac "retched misunderstandings by which they were kept asunder. 

"When will you come, wife?" he asked again, forgetting the 
terra* on which they were living, and leaning forward with sudden 

felt the false move that she had made. What would Superior 
Hyif he heart! of this monstrous proposition of imixllv intercourse 
■rthhcrcxcommunicitt l hatband? and what would he do were she 
toascnl to it ? T! bl made her shiver. 

i go from home 1 will find it all out by myself,'' she aaid 
■vnedry, in the tone of one half-frightened. " And, as you say, 
■kBejrou bare) the rnuagamenl of things, I am not wutteej." 

And then the conversation droppc<l. Richard went wearily into 
ai» «udy while she, Stirling her heartache by first reading a page or 
t»o of De It'iiUttione, turned to an illumination which the vicar 
!*d begged her to do for his own private room. It was to DC 
•etret between them ; and secresy gave it a greater charm and 
caned miilt it a deeper danger. But even though the work pleased 
her, ari' r was the centre of her holiest feelings and highest 

We~K> the was for ever repeating to herself— a tear dropped on 
•Wtdlum, which gave her infinite trouble to work over. 

- this nothing more was said about leaving Crossholmc. 
too Richard's aim had been taken— and had failed. 

Things went on in intertable way, the gulf between this 

">Md father and husband and his converted beloved growing 
deeper and wider day by day, till suddenly on a certain Wednesday 
"Xniag Hermionc ami Virginia appeared at the breakfast-table, 
fasted in black, and with a generally austere air that Richard must 
•»♦« been Wind not to hav. They had been down to 

"uttins," and Hermionc had evidently been weeping; while 
«|iau was even more serious than usual, and with more of that 
and feverish expression which had lately taken the place of 
h f r former calm intensity. Religion with her had been neither fear 
■* doubt nor yet division of feeling. It had been one straight 
PHh lrhkh she was called on to follow, and which she would have 
'lied other than forsake. Now something had sprung up within her 
•fcf of which even her mother, even Superior was ignorant — and 
■"ut remain so until she had seen her way once more clearly. But 
dorinj; of fighting through her difficulties, she was almost 

*» Unhappy as her father, almost as torn and tossed and hesitating 
*» her mother. And her face on this Wednesday morning was the 
winw e-f her mind. 





tlcmaris ft! 

Richard looking .mho | he first under- 

standing how the change in their ge ide— 
noticed thai nekhei took mo 

coffee without milk, and :i small square of toast without butter. I If 

let the ei < rtiiin iiy pots with mil. Truth to suy he «u 

growing afraid oftroubl <mtrol 

when he had stirred, and whidi healed no <>m .vn 

them. Luncheon hi bad by himself; tod when he asked where 
told they were at church. The rusty littli 

ill the morning— it 
soft, mild Februafy morning, incaih of the 

spring iteaJra m ibe banks and bi hi Bui Ri hard 

not knowwhal 1 He only saw th; ■ than 

ordinary was on hand in the ecclesiastical world, and won 
su p er s t iti o u s vagary it Bright be. 

At dinner, things were as odd as they lud been at breakfast, 
and as dreary u at bk solitary loncheoa 'l*he flowers and ulilc 
Omamenta had ill been removed; and the soup which woul<! 
been familiar enough to a Frenchman in his maigre days, WI 
familiar to Richard Fullerton. The salt fish too was not a fn 
dish at hi ud( disliked it So did Mcrmione 

Virginia; but they took nothing else, and of mgly: 

the meats which followed were manifestly prepared for one 
only, and placed before bun alone. 

It was a tnd essent nd, though of 

IBM their meals had been silent and dull to xaenc,' 

to-day things surpassed them:.. I the self . 

He flesh of the believer the personal indulgence of 

heretic seem gross ■ lend, 

" W ! Virginia eat? " asked Richard < i 

Love names and tender epithets had dropped between ill 
Hcnnionc had repulsed them too ol it possible 

nun with silt M dignity to continue what was so e» ide 

unwi-l' >in herf.r 

to her tenderly wai used t" be her fon 

I'm Alness. 

•' 1 1 i\ .Ash Wed -tid Hcrmionc with « 


" liui i' , why sti ■ cat 

dim i 

•• li 

e and 

Under which Lord? 


rd looked up with a sudden H ish of scorn. 

he Great] by eating sparingly 

1 very disagreeable kind o; gastric juice 

1 the mischief with your mtn ned. 

id Hem 
1...1 n lation en 
make between sail r lilt-, jursnips and the 


thing? arc nothing in thcmscl Hcrmione. "The 

nk* is in ' 

" It is a comfortless kind of thing," returned hd graceless hus 
■ >r my own pari I cannot see tin- ethical value of ii 
I of hunger. ' 
"1 1 . not the "Jy of pleature, and We were not sent 

world to seek heaven by our sen 
Hen id this with the oddest kind of demtrreDess possible — 

, because so evidently thi lesson learnt and a doctriae 

sed on the original material, and was in no wise spontaneous 

" I don't know about thru." said Richard. " Good digestion and 

tyipineo, prosperity and virtue, arc often interchangeable terms in 

oea known to humanity hare 1 1 >nv • most 

and insm .ts i npropei food disorders 

n quite .is much as o« 1 Indul 

hi and the needle'-, eye?" the asked with weak 

1 all humbug," he answered hastilj •• 1 be Kingdom of 
en of there meant simplycommuni in Rnd self nnpoTerish- 
rkiil h 1 1 the rii h young n u 

nsgiving d< 1 more than it 

Upifiml ih •', using his wealth for wages; 

»*el iking man can have. Rich 1 

in the poor, i iccaase they are 

brtter - temptations. We do not rind the 

dwjjerous classes among tl my more than we find the diseases 

'"faced by want and misery among the well ■housed and well fed. 

ndittons from which it is the end of civilixati in 


• will drop the- conver 

iron can <:all the Bible humhi 

140 The Gentleman s Magazine. 

"I did not mean to offend yon, said Richard. " But I confess 
with shame that I lose patience at times when I sec a book 
dealt with quite B different condition of civilization and 
thought from our own, used as the eternal obstacle to progre* 
reason ; and in my own life made the destroying agent of I 
ness. The idolatry which you deprecate when applied to A 
and Siva is nowhere so absolute as in this blind w> myth* 

and axioms which might suit the childhood of society, l>ut whii 
science of a maturer age checks and refutes a! all points." 

" If you say another word in the HUSe Strain I I 
table," said Hermione severely; while Virginia, her pale fan- lull of 
colour, rate abruptly nd left the room without speaking. " It i% 
useless to talk to yon," she continued with temper. peak 

of somctl' BOt it all whit li, perhaps, would be best." 

" No; let us speak of something else of your new dr» 
Richard, feeling that he would rather have it all out now at 
thinking that perhaps a little personality of application might shame 
his poor wife into some return to common sense. "Wtutf 
and Virginia wearing to-day? You look as if you I i to I 


•' We arc in Lent," said Hermione, blushing. 

" Yes ; the Church, our me in mourning, and we arc her 

children. " 

"The modem milliner's version of the Eastern filthy duvt and 
ashes? Forty days of sombre ugliness' Hard on unrcgroerate 
men like myself, who low olours and who take pride in the 

wife's beauty, the daughter's grace I" 

He spoke with sadness, dashed with mockery dt which 

lifted it up from the de;i row. 

"If you want bright colours look at the new ■ id."" said 

Hermione with a scornful act 

"Yes? I have never taken much notice n( the I 
their dresses," he returned quietly. " Bui l fetrently hop 
all my household i3 not going into black because of Lent. 
the fables of Creek an thology a incor- 


" If they wish to remain in my service they will," replied l 
mione with strange i [ will 

go to > il to you night 

Do not disturb yourself for us again."* 

"An> I not to see you or tba child again 

Under which Lord? 141 

Richard, not raising ti He could not accustom himself to 

this painful estrangement ; and every frail proof, every new phase. 
increased the bitterness of his sorrow, till he sometimes wondered 
how he lived through the agony of his d 

•' No," said Hermione, she too not looking up, hut trying to 
remember all that Mr. LimcIU-; had Mid 10 her tlii* morning — 

;.c Richard's iniquity so that her heart might bud 
ajp > rginia and I wish to end this solemn da) in peace 

arm We do not wish all our sacred dis> 

turl v. hii-h you lit SO lil>eral." 

ird " It is but one more sacrifice ta 
He sighed heavily. 'When and where will [| .ill 
end ?' be ■ ltd fa Bit 

"Thai lies with you alone," replied Hcimionc. "Truth is un- 
changeable, and we are in the way of troth. Good night- I will 
wi»l. j?»d night from you " 

I ood night," was his reply made with a faltering voice, 
l^nt — this time of mourning — at which you are playing is too sor- 
ful a reality for me 

W could She knew it all 

v too well ; but he was an atheist, and it was his own fault if he 

suffered He had cut himself off from peace as from light, as 

1. truth ; and the hideous master whom he was serving was hut 

dealing with him according to the law of his being. 

With a sigh as sad as his own she turned from him silently. A9 

closed the door, I ed his arms on the table, and laid oil 

If only he could see the end of it all ! He 

would wait in patience and in love, he would he forbearing, and he 

e his rights if onl) he night hope that one day he should 

recover what now he had so strangely lost. But things were 

gri- not better; and his hopes were dimmer and his 

hen as the day* passed one after the other, each I ringing 

some new triumph to his enemy, some new discomfiture to himself. 

And he— he i i more arrest nor improve than if his beloved 

were at the |toint of death, and he tailed on the Primal Force to 

bring them back 10 life I 

dden gasp. 1 sudden spasm at his heart, 
brought him back from regrets to consciousness. He had had much 1 

. heart (A I tort than oner- these sharp p.iur. 

Startled him as now. Hut the faiulness which followed soon 

pawed ; m tones brought ifleehtsaa . save 

y pale, and with a look of join on his mild 

14 = 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

no t 

fine face that made the man's best ache far syarpftth; 
node him, too — being by no means really ••converted," though he 
seemed to be so to please his misii u silent -aths against 'that 

black rascal," as he called the vicar, which would have got him * 
decent penance- had they been D | .n I .nfession. 

The severities whit l> begat) On Ash Wednesday were continu 
through i I the slight relaxing of discipline thai had beta 

[ ■ < . r 1 1 1 1 1 1 l • 1 during Advent was now exchanged foi the strictest j 
ties that have been as yet formulated b) the ritualist parly. During 
this time of sacred mourning and holy mortification, the Strain OH the 
relations between Richard and his wife and danghr 'CUed 

almost beyond bearing. Never had the Church been made soprotai- 
neut in his household ; never had the defiance which it inculcated 
been so openly flung in the bee of his authority, so passionately \"<>- 
claimed Every ecclesiastical observance that had been given up 

for the time was resumed, and more were superadded. Wednesday 

and Friday fastings with abstinence-days to boot ; "mattins"andeie»" 

SOIlg, and full sets iter, on every possible ncci-inn . confession, Will 
more severe Consequences of penance and forced abstention fcon 
innocent enjoyments not connected with the Church than had crtfl 
hitherto been the role ; Sunday spent wholly in the sthoolroom tad 
the Vicarage ; an ostentatious display of piety ami devotion all round, 
coupled with a coldness like death to Richard the agnostic, eacoub 
mnnicated and infidel— these wen- the commands of Mr. Lascelles— 
these Father ftuKOtt's directions ; and the two women under their 
i ■ ■ 1 1 1 r • , I fulfilled them to the letter. 

It was in vain that Richard remonstrated, in vain that he reasoned, 
that he ridiculed, that he forbade. Mis wife and daughter opposed 
that silent stubbornness oi women who cannot be coerced and *R 
influent etl, and went their own way, no matter how much be 
opposed. And as HermiODC -aid when he was more urgent l**" 
usual because Of Virginia's increased pallor, and hei own I 
unrest, unless he absolutely locked them up, and they were unable to 
get out, they would go on disobeying him, bound by a higher *d* 
than any that he knew or could impose. 

What could be do? Nothing. Mr. Lascelleshad spoken 
truth — the law had tied bis hand-,. Because of his spceulS 
opinions, the rights which Nature herself h 
by men's convention ; and one day his wife, at the instance of hC 
confessor, told bun that if he persisted in interfering with cithtf 
herself or Vir, would apply to the Court .ryto" 

protection, and make her daughter a ward whose religious life 

Under -which Lordt 143 

law would raped, 01 ie unfettered exercise of whose du. 

•ould pro\ Mr. I.usceli ne. --he offered QMS 

tivc of submission to the new order of thing*, when he 
would be let alone and his abominable infidelity so far lofa i 

kji tins, and lie chose to fight them— well I she would ma 1 bin 
. nd let the Master of the Rolls judgB between lli< 
So ; thing stood, and Richard could not change 11 

as could K tried his b twitb 

llermioncm ia lived their lives* and the repro 

late husband and father lived bis. They met :it meal nm.-. Slid Bl BO 
other; and those meals were the least painful when there ma ICMt Hid. 

■.I increase of bitterness, and to bring 
additional sorrow on all concerned. Silence was safe, just as dead 
irikeno blow.-. fore MU the order of the day 

at the Abbey. 

ugh the clerical j - . ■ -.-. ■ r luv I the day, the two Abbey 

•rage, and by the Giurch 

lor the truth— domestic 

1: for whotc sufferings the faithful • •< re called on i" in* 

fervently and frequently, and who I mcy they were bidden to 

admii- d be imitate, It was a proud position into which 

ifc who had forsaken her vows, the daughter who had abjured 

her ol . were exalted; and with the self-deception of 

kind they accepted the martyr's palm as if it honestly belonged to 

Richard Fullertmi ly breaking hi 

under the blight that had Gall ... the hk.h who had conquered 

•nd the women who had deserted him, asked a blessing on their 
•Isofde-: med then or their own ns 

merited ics. 

Chapter XXIII, 


lr Mrrmione and Virginia were the more interesting converts, 

I to be overcome and substantia] 
to tli' I to be secured for the futu amily 

11 in the present Over them 
without d Ecrcising tact or 

e over 
He di . their time, their property, their |«rsons, their 


144 The Gentleman' s Magazine. 

actions, as if independence and self-respect were won: 
meaning in English life ; and they obeyed him as if they had been 
born into slavery and knew nothing higher than the docility of dogs 
following at the heel of the master. 

If he wanted more money than he thought well to ask from 
Hermione — whom however he was leading deliberately into debt, 
to have a still better purchase over her— he applied to Cuthbert. If 
Cuthben had run dry — as often happened now— he came on Aunt 
Catherine who liad private funds beyond those which were tl 
into the common stock ; and if these funds were exhausted, then lie 
drew on Thereat personal allowance out of her share of the esc 
also thrown into the common stock— limiting her own expend 
to tire poundl ■ quarter and taking the rest as a loan to the Lord. 
From one or the other of these haman sheep he managed to 
sufficient wool for the parish ; and the vestryn Knew to a 

fraction what the vicarage yielded, marvelled at the ! '.oings 

which were like the cruse of oil and measure of meal that increased 
with the using. 

When priests and brother* came down in such numbers as he 
himself con 1. 1 not BOOK a| the Vict told Aunt Catherine how 

many beds he wanted, and gave her the names of his guests as coolly 
as if she h. tlie hotel porter hired to register arrivals. He 

did not ask, be it understood, for this hospitality to his friends, 

to the |M>or, He ordered what he wanted with*" 
beforehand or thanks to follow. When he wished this si 
have so many pounds of beef, he wrote the order on Churchlands, as 
if making use of a banking account which he did not trouble himself 
about overdrawing. It he wanted the carriage, he sent dov 
man with a message giving the hour ; if he had not enough forks or 
spoons, glasses or crockery, for the occasion, his housemaid wt i 
Churchlands with a basket, commissioned to bring back so I 
He disposed of his three proselytes body and soul ; and they 
at his feet and found their pride in the extremes to which they 
carried their submission. 

Aunt Catherine, besides her personal respect, ..« of the 

most slavish kind, had an abject fear of this handsome Meirs, 

a* the arbitary dispenser of spiritual pai ;cn»al 

penal 1 1 . ami dreaded nothing so 

pleasure. The sacred powers ot 

claimed as Priest, her more 

liberally llian In ad she oft 

■ , kind of haze whei t nouraWi 

UtuUr which Lord? 


Usollcs was identical with St. Peter, with qualities and attributes 
intermixed. More than once she whispered to her 
her own conviction that the vicar of Crossholmc was an 
' of the Apostle ; and she added her advice to pay the price 
of humility and submission now for the sake of getting good 
(fans hereafter. Like all unreasoning people, she enlarged the 
jonhtcd borders by exaggeration ; and like all weak ones she was 
> fttoh-worshippcr under the name of a Christian. " Superior " was 
iJiculisman by which she was ruled, and her credulity that by which 
be conjured; and the result of all was that her weak brain was 
i!'; daily weaker, until it wax only tOO evident that ifae would 
*xn degenerate into confessed imbecility, and dribble out the re- 
lief of her life M ■ harmlcNs lunatic, passing her days in close 
ampinionship with the demigods of the Christum I HvmpoS, 

if Aunt Catherine was still his creature, through all the 
lion enforced and submission rendered, something of a dis. 
•ring kind had of late traversed Cuthbert's mind, which Mr. 
LuceBes. proud and confident as he was, scarcely noted, still less 
«himsclf to analyze. But there it was; and the question was, what 
1 Was it love for Virginia? and by that love the faintest 
pwtte wearing away from hi* former holy zeal? — looking back 
Arks hand had been put to the plough ? 

tttin in feature, weedy in frame, awkward in gesture, poor 

Caibert was little likely to please a fastidious taste. He was of the 

W, »hen extraordinarily animated, to make short butts and dashes 

8 4e object of his affections ; to take her hand somewhere about 

*t «ist, then drop it afteT a moment's limp holding as if he 

d burned his fingers ; to laugh insanely at small jokes whereof no 

*tha himself could sec the fun ; and to ask her advice as to the 

&obess of his coat according to the clay, and whether he should 

r* so his woollen scarf or no. If "high" he would present her 

«t> copies of Fra Angclico and Botticelli; if "low" he would 

rthe Bible do service for his Ovid, and quote texts that should 

tiit earthly passion a voice but keep his soul in the right waj . 

ttfoeticaliy mediaeval he would follow his beloved at a respectful 

4ooce as her servitor, devoted to the joyful task of submission to 

e »ij and the glorification of her graces ; he would stand in 

Aping lines like the pictures of pages and squire; in >km due 

•d plumed hats, and when ihe spoke he would reply to her with 

Ojgerated courtesy and respect ; he would make weak verses, 

his lute and my lady's garden would often occur ; and he 

I think that be had copied to the life the early Italian poets 

»w. ceaar. ho. 1784. l 

146 The Gentleman s Magazine. 

whose stately methods of courtship had touched his fancy. This he 
would do when of the kind which aims to live U] 
and parodies the noble school with whom passion is not sense so 
much as thought. 

But be had not got to the length yet of any of these self-commit- 
ting expressions. He contented himself with nourishing for Vii 
a washy, feeble sort of sentimental admiration which was his version 
of the magnificent insanity of which Romeo died — of the passionate 
religion for which Tasso suffered. He made love— if he n 
all— by looks only. He wanted nothing more than he had— 1 
was to sec Virginia every day, and often more than OOCe in th. 
■ben be would plant himself where he could watch her pore 
passionless outline ; Ins light grey eyei fixed on lier e was 

nothing else to took ab Rims like an ng at her— the lips 

wide apart, and the p rid there with unbi 

S of solemn feebleness. Hut he 
liing to her. It was all dumb watch 
approval, and no attempt at anything more anient And yet then 
was a certain mute understanding between them which might 
mean— anything. 

Though he gave the idea his sanction, an red it infinitely 

to any chances with Ringrove, the vicar was not much inti 

wooing of acolyte, lie fctt as sure of him 

as of Virginia, and counted on both as his own devoted personal 

1 at the loyal children of the Anglican Church, who 

would never dfl strict line of his guidance and his 

teaching. If they v. ic would then have to con- 

1I.1 the chances Dt uch changes as might result from 
relations \ bold demand fur the recovery of some of that pt< 
of which the hypothetic Inly Mot I 

might be necdfni | earthly love docs son 

ecclesiastical devotm family have the ti 

Mil I ib'i 

inaki aged 

In ; xeal for 

rod to thi 

even gon< 

te howevn 

Under which Lord? 147 

4e subject when cither Superior or Theresa spoke of it. Nothing 
definite was done anyhow ; and he laid the blame of the delay on the 
beotd shoulders of those mysterious sinners, the lawyers. He pro- 
felted himself disgusted, and even went to the length of a feeble lie 
sag that he had written letters of inquiry; which he had not 
done; but the act of restitution was none the nearer completion, 
and the rent skirt of the mother was still wanting that godly patching. 

Ah©, the young man had a little wavered about going up be 
onfioMion ax Easter ; sometimes saying that he was not prepared 
ataDy, and the exan bung chaplain would never pass him ; 
wractinie* pleading moral humility, and that he was not worthy to 
urienkc the sa< red office, which only holy men should fill. But 
•taunts ended by saying that he would probably go up at Easter 
B cuipaally proposed, and if not then, yet certainly he would even- 
tually. All the same he fenced with the one question and drew 
bad tin the othrr. But (hough Mr. LatCeUes was often irritated, 
be «« never afraid. He smiled as he thought how firmly he held 
ibh weak brother in the grip of his strong hand, and how entirely he 
i*d dominated his feeble nature ; and he believed that this hesitation 
•as really due to whatCuthbert himself said — the scruples of a supcr- 
■We conscience, which mad< him feel unworthy. 

In this state of things Lent passed into its middle term — the mi- 

rof Romanism. It was settled that Virginia was to be confirmed 

: Enter. Father Trascott was preparing her, and Richard's oppo- 

dsd not count Continual ton comes into the ordinary life of 

respectable Protestants, and the objei tiona of SB infidel father would 

gomvay in law. This matter was safe enough ; that in doubt was 

tatprfs visit to C for her " retreat ' prior to confirmation, To 

das Richard would certainly Dew consent ; and as tins is no part of 
ordinary respectable Protestantism, the infidel here would prove the 
socager should it come to * collision between father and daughter — 
spwstic and Christian. 

All the tame that rctrc ! be arranged and accomplished, 

let « cost what it would in the way of dorni stu peace and filial duty 
Iher Truscott and Sister Agnes decided . and Mr. Lasccllcs 
*ni Hrrrmune approved. 

Father Truscott had almost taken up his abode now at Crossholmc, 
•here he made himself useful and did more work than anyone 
the. He helped the vicar manfully in the parish and with the 

vices, and took many of his penitents off his hands. Of these, 
, Fullerton was of course the most important He was carry- 
1 secret spiritual tillage with her tliat so far had borne no 

148 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

DOtward fruit, but of which the harvest was none the less growing— 
if silently and secretly, yet always growing. He brought her books 
and beads and odds and ends of queer things which he < 

in. I which he gave to her alone, with much pomp of rev- 
keep 1 hem hidden. She was not to show 
them even to be* mother. Steer Agnes was the only person who 
might handle them, making the sign of the cross as she did so — 
press them to her forehead, her lips— kneel before them with out- 
stretched arms invoking the protection of the saints whereof these 
curious bits of dusty decay were said to be the sacred remains. She 
was the only one who knew all that was going on behind the scenes, 
and what ir meant and was to end in. And her countenance 
strengthened Virginia that once pure and transparent soul — HI 

was substantially 1 living lie. But for this 00*1 
have found her position unendurable; with it, double dealing and 
falsehood n religion became only too fatally easy. The 

had taken over her the same kind of control as that which the 
vicar bad taken over Hermione, and had so completely usurped the 
place of mother that the actual mother and daughter were simply 
friends, not i oninl.intes. Sister Agnes was Virginia's real mother, as 
Father Truscott was her real fathcT ; and her conscience was at rest 
when these two approved what mamma and the vicar would have 
disallowed, and that poor lost servant of Satan at home would have for- 
bidden. Whither this little quartet of secret illuminati were tending, 
and what was being hidden from the face of day among them alt, 
time alone would reveal. 

If Aunt Catherine feared Superior as a vicegerent who could 
1. Theresa adored him as a god who could bless, whose wo 

f ecstasy, nnd whose service was its own reward. She was 
never so happy as when she was being used for the glory- 
Church and the conversion of the parish. But it must be undi 
direction, else would the salt have lost its savour an 
new. Wihout his words of encouragement, his smile of aj>i 

very remonstrance ow well she la.' •-nder 

10 kiss the rod by which they are chastised I— 
found re'. tame affair ; and her soul \ 

ied those 1 had cai 

giddy heights of enthusiasm, and would have fallen dow 
of " rca.'. 

iling personal influence is withdrawn, 
continued as they were, Theresa touched the cod 
her now ecstasy, no* despair ; and her very life was consumed by 

Under which Lord? 


tbe fervid passion with which she made love to a man under the form 
of serving the Church and worshipping God. 

la one thing only was she disobedient to her hicrophant : she 
*oold not refrain from the devout imprudences which made her 
bppbess and destroyed her health. Now that Lent had come in 
*e fisted and abstained with a very fierceness of self-abnegation, 
though she was in the state which required generous living and 
frequent nourishment Whatever the day might be, she was to be 
fomd punctually in her place at " mattins " and " evensong," and she 
told have felt herself as reprobate as unhappy had she missed early 
tdetration— of course fasting She was forced to give up her pleasant 
fet about the temporary altar in the schoolroom, as she was forced to 
PC up all of personal activity of serving. Her failing strength 
ctoifelled even her ardent mind ; and when she had fainted two or 
foretimes over her task, she had nothing for it but submission to her 

Mia Pryor, the schoolmistress, who cherished for the handsome 
**»» one of those hopeless passions from a distance which make the 
•"fctece of some humble women's lives — whereof the reality is to 
^ty the draper — took the girl's work on herself, and did it better. 
"k enforced renunciation was u much as Theresa could bear. 
*Wc»Ould have broken her down, even though Superior himself 
•wJd have approved She could not bring herself to renounce her 
fcfy imprudences, more especially that of attendance at the office*. 
Her highest moment of happiness was when she could see that 
'•doted priest standing between her and the Divine — himself to her 
fte Divine ; when she could hear his voice ; let her soul be carried 
*s h were in the arms of his spirit up to the gates of heaven by his 
f**J«n; and take her especial share of the benediction which had 
*> nmch more significance when given by him than by any other ; 
| Vn she 'could pour out her love and call it now a hymn and now 

She could not give it all up. Her temperament was of that imperious 
■isd which is "founded on absolutes," in matters of love demanding 
swal communion for happiness. She was no female Rousseau to 
^*t her lover for the pleasure of writing to him and receiving his 
feOenia return. She could not make herself content with memory or 
fcsjxuioJL Anticipation to be sure did something for her, but 
■utipuion without fulfilment was only so much additional pain. If 
•ebd expected to see Superior and been disappointed, her anguish 

Lknae intolerable ; and a sleepless night spent in passionate weeping, 
B feverish despair, was by no means the best kind of thing for a girl 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

whose life was lunging by a thread so frai! >ight snap 

one week to another. 

Unlets one of two miracles should be wrought in her behalf, things 
would evidently go ill with poor Theresa. If she could not force 
herself back to common sense and self-control or if a ritualist 
clergyman, who found his advantage in cchku y, would not break 
throng) igamous vows and marry one who was of some slight 

advantage to him as a penitent and would l>c none as a wife- 
would be one grave the more in die old churchyard before the year 
was out Failing either alternative, the only chance for her safety- 
lay in her immediate removal; when perhaps a change of scene 
might induce a change of interest, and bar health might be restored 
because her heart would be healed. 

I in vicar saw all this dearly enough and aed to act on 

ii. Her. hysti :i> iii emotion troubled him by o*>ty, and very 

little more wa<. wanted R scandal to the Church by some 

public display which should reveal to the world all that it wax 
important to conceal, and tell even more than the UutlL 

presence at the services embarrassed him in more ways tha-i 

dangerously bright i 'nsity 

■ rforming the most otnee 

rbed us thought 
dread of what might come, Hi r tempestuous tears wed, 

now irritated him ; her self-accusations of imaginary sins, to excuse 
the hysterical passion which she i ould nol inge- 

nuity to soothe with becoming gravity and tendem 
despair when he Iter peril when 

he encouraged, perplexed his powers of managemerr 
anxious to remove from the place one whose religious aril 
evidently the mere cloak foi the disorders of human passion. 

More than on re in his career 1 ade 

daughters of the Church by first making devoted adoi 
A dangerous game at the best, il 
now ; and though .•■■■ y I 
poor victims and h i 
scot-free— he could not ! 
nature was mo 

Englishwomen's — more easy to i< mi - 
and of an intenser 
after stimulation had li . an*_ 

That dreaded i 

on removing this inconv 

Under which Lord? 151 

hr insidious, illness— her ardent imagination still more excited by 
the superfluous fastings, the frequent acts of adoration, the personal 
asteritics, the iou which made the pari] and the 

joy of her present unwholesome state — Theresa went into a kind of 
hysterical trance, something like that which she had had on the day 
of the Harvest Festival after her first confession in the sacristy. She 
had been much moved during the service, weeping bitterly during 
the ccuifrsMoii, the psalms, the hymns ; she was oppressed by a sense 
of spiritual sin which only Superior could remove — of her lost con- 
dition wherein only Superior could save. But be was so far off! — he 
was hie the Holy Mother whose protection she invoked— Uke that 
Dread Iking Himself whose wrath she deprecated. The schoolroom 
aund ill that was in it faded into darkness — only the vicar's figure 
stMd rot in light as he knelt by the reading desk and read tin 
« lvj»es of th , to which the congregation and the choir re- 

*pcoded. Gradually she lost all sense of where she was ; time flowed 
***» eternity and circumstance was swallowed up in feeling. She 
Vnch, with eyes strained on this beloved man whom fancy and far.a- 
lioan tad rendered more beautiful than before, but had also made 
i»fcl«id to be feared , the responses died on her lips, the sound of 
•■died from her hearing, and when the service was over and all 
•e ftom their knees she was, kneeling still, rigid, white, over- 
•^hu loit to all outward sense and reason alike. 
Audi Catherine touched her. 
"Theresa ! " she whispered, " are you asleep ? " 
At the first the girl did QOl n wer, but 011 the second touch her 
aa dcnhg senses returned, and with a shriek that startled all in the 
^**» she cried out : 

*' Superior I Beloved Superior I Save me ! Oh save me ! 1 am 
•ithout you ! Cod has forsaken me — my God in man do you 

Then she fell backwards in an uncontrollable fit of hysterica ; 

"Peking, sobbing, screaming, beating the air with her hands, fighting 

Buginary foes, calling again on the vicar to save her, and 

a **J through all the degrading phases of this terrible temporary 

The women sitting nearest to her gathered round her. Aunt 

^"fcrine, herself in hysterics of a milder kind, screamed out thai 

^e «s possessed and besought Superior to exorcise the demon and 

***& her niece to reason and calmness. Miss Pryor, shedding 

^S chafed her hand and called her " poor dear " and "afflicted 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

lamb ; " while Sister Agin oramon sense in spile of 

all her fanatical follies, tried ity of voice would do ; and 

Mrs. Neshiti uiil : "Carry her out ioto the fresh air and dash cold 
water in hi I 

Virginia, pale and trembling, prayed fervently to the Blessed 
Virgin as her contribution to the healing methods <>l DMtM , 

and Cuthbcri mechanically took up the tliuribleand swung a i 
of incense into the room. But nothing of this was of much avail 
nil Ringrove, leaving hii pi. nc," strode ■ little griariv to the agitated 
group, tad taking up the screaming girl in Iris aims carried her, 
struggling and Crying out like one in agony, into the open space of 

on the gravel. 
Hid before any one knew vhftt was being done, Mrs. Nesliitt dashed 

a few < upaful of cold wati by degrees restore 

lc 1km 

But it had been a horrible e tober linst 

the near, both now and when the time of reaction should com 
indeed it ever should ' 

The next day the vicar went to Churchlands, armed with the 
scourge which it was his duty to use. 

He found Theresa lying on the sofa, looking llushed and breathing 
lly. As became into the room she ip with ft- « 

delight yet dread, afraid that he would scold her for the scene of 
yesterday, but too happy to be in his adored presence 
ions to conceal her joy. 

" My child ! you have grieved me," he said paternally, gr.. 
with a line mingling of sorrow and rebuke. And it cost hi 
thing to speak to be 

and took hei hot thin hand i" hit. "Now I have i le to talk 10 

jroilt* he Continued. *' I must have something don i 

will break ell ouj hearts i 

"Howgoi re, and to such a wi .urrmi 

Theresa, her large n; with tears. 

iic smoothed her d 
when they wet but somehow his touch was diffi i 

i what it always was. A woman's love has strange 
and Theresa's natur 

though her perct; not obscured. tbtj st 

ikes thosi re, sluunefi 


" Dear Super! 
look which told all tlut I 

Under which Lord? 



"I am very unhappy ■boot you, Theresa," Mid the rfcu in his 
s»«elwt voice, and how sweet he could make it when he chose I 
,r Superior !" she said again. 
Her heart was too full for more titan these half-sobbing intex- 
jsctiocs ; and that he should be unhappy when he might have been 
agrj was too delightful to het tool (be any pretence of deprecation. 
<-. Iwen thinking earnestly of what would be bes.t fot you," 
u on tossy, looking sway from her— at the window opposl 
kkeaman in deep a ion, only thinking of what he is Dying, 

• which he is looking. "All List night 1 
r thinking of you and praying fur you. Vour painful attack 
me more anguish than I can well m pr en . No; do not speak, 
child t listen to [me in humility and siU-in.e"— this with sudden 
Mverky. "1 have a plan for you. It is that you leave Crostholmc 
for a »hile, and trys milder climate. I should like you to go to 
Prnuace. I have friends there who would look after you ; the 
phot* lovely, the air delicious, and you would thus avoid the cold 
cw *ni m> pernicious here in the spring." 

"Oh, Superior! I could not leave Crosshotme,' cried poor 
kraa trembling and with a sudden rush of tears. "The dear 

my t! . -I could not give then up " 

-'■ -ircastic smile crossed the ricar's thin Hps. That bead roll 
of rtuon.1 why, and the governii l( It out ! 

I my desire; I sin lure of,'' he said with 

Skc covered her face. 

ihe said, the hot teat 

ttfln* . igh her wasted fingers ; " hut indeed it will be such 

to leave home that 1 am sure 1 shall be far worse than 

' *n now ; and I am not ill, dear Superior. I am nut indeed I 

than I was." 

Ed her face as she said this, pitiful, pleading, eloquent 

of her grief, of her love 1 1 was a face that might 

■** excused any man's yielding to the weakness of compassion, but 

Mr, I jscelles at that moment it was hideous and hateful. 

You think yourself stronger than you arc, as do all invalids in 

condition," he said coldly in ipite of himself. Could nothing 

Of those burning eyes ? " Your friends know better 

you how ill you are, and how much you need care at this time. 

eks in a favourable climate will probably restore you to 

usual health, and make us all happy about you again." 

" Do not send me away, Superior," she half whispered, lasuv^ owe 




154 The Gentleman's Magazinr. 

hand on his arm in entreaty. "Let me stay with you all. I will 
submit to any restrictions you please, it" only 1 may stay at home. I 
shall get quite well when the spring tomes, and I get rid of this 
horrid cold ; and then you will give me l»ack my work in the dear 

uroh when it ia opened. I have bo ing 

meant to be playful and th.i I of the 

saddest pathos. " I have obeyed you so faithfully in all that ) 
have ordered ; now let me have my own way for once— let me M «> 
here ; do not send me from home." 

' I 01 your own good, Theresa, 1 said the vicar with hi'- 
smile and in his softest voice, but with his eyes at their hardest 
" It will be no pleasure to me to lose you out of my 
but for your i go. Remember that dreadful, tl 

awful scene of yesterday. ">'■ m have tliat repeated." 

He said this with -•' fierce uncontrollable burst ofim 

i • Iron hi !''■■' ■■ while he Bung her hand &i n 

•• It was fucli 

U never httppeni d 
Theresa, i .ed. 

" it might, but it hail do 
meaning. " Vou 

-t leave hon . without qt 

your penani e foi jrour tin 

■• Hut hoi i h ihi I" :t ptai t i 

th .ill. -ii'iin. • in. i ground with um 

.I') 1 . 

" Change of air i:. iid the vi 

" i led beseechingly. 

i arts that obey Iter, Peace comes 

by the way of duty and obedience," he ann betj 

.one he y as well . : "The 

is not o:i i' ii in argue, Theresa. It ia my will tlui you ga 

Need 1 suy more ? " 

did not answer, but taking 

the will 
At t 


Under which Lord? 


humbly. " 1 should think you wanted no help with her. 
tiful," he added, writhing himself into an attitude. 
'Induce her to submit cheerfully to the inconvenience of leaving 
:fbra little while,"" Mr. I.ascclles answered. 
"Why should sister leave home?" asked Cuthbert who had 
Wv adopted this somewhat quaint form of speech :is sounding 
rapt and antiquated. 

"Because of the dear child', state of health, which diitn sei 
u," aid Mr. Lascelles, looking above Theresa's head compas- 

wate'v. "Change to a warmer climate will do her good till the 
pujhis really settled." 

' It will be hard to go," said Theresa: but she added submis- 
■rff, though the words almost strangled her : " but of course 
kpenor knows best, and. if he wishes it, I am ready to obey." 

Aaodd expression came on Cuthtx rt i lace. I fumble and down- 
falls it always was when he was dealing with Mr. Lascelles, it was 
*» quite sincere There Bitted over ii too the reflection of the 
*a$it : If so submissive - , what u<-n\ of help tram nie? and wh;ii 
<ha tha pretence of impotence hide ? Aloud, he said hesitatingly : 
*Sj«er can scarce go alone," 

"1 aire provided for all that," answered the vicar, master of all 
atittua. "I have friends who will look after her at IVii.-.hh c, 
*w*l wish her to go ; and she must take DtusIIj." 
Dsialla *ai the ntaid. 

"1 think that our aunt will hardly like sister to go alone," said 
•"Mfcrt returning to the i itli the tenacity of his kind. 

'Sot it* I undertake the responsibility ? " asked the vicar with a 
i which a turn of the stale would dispose to menace. He 
I obedience from his creatures; and this future curate of 
lis he but the chief of his creatures? 
1 shuftkd his feet uneasily. 
urc always kind and thoughtful, dear Superior," he said, 
*nt, craven, flattering as ever, but with the same odd accent of 
""«■% naming through his blandishments as before. " Still, we 
">bnj: : much to each other, sister and I ami out aunt, 

it will be a trial to our aunt to let sister go alone ; and 
t rough, too." 
Tralsiie the tain da of perfection," said the vicar, 

"tin authority, yes," said Cuthbert, lowering his eyes. 

»," said Mr. Lascelles emphatically. 
kbm bent his head and joined his hands together like a 
'■"Ob Reaving the benediction of a saint. 

156 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

•' As now," he echoed reverentially ; hui Ml looie lips crisped a 
very little and the voice was dry and hard. 

"The question then is settled, and Theresa goe» to Penzance 
next week,' said the vicar. 

"If you wish it, Superior," replied Thcresi, giving up her love 
for love's very sake. But a look of such despair came into her face 
that even Mr. LasoeUes was touched to the point of compassion if 

" If you are good I 0011 you can return toon," he said 

kindly. " You need however more car* than you y 
and I must provide for your having it. We have no: 
faithful daughters of the Church, thai we can afford to lo 
one as you." 

" Thank you," said Theresa with a swift upward glance of adora- 
tion. " When you approve, Superior, my eons' 
know no higher author r. 

Again Cuthbett shuffled hi -v. but he echoed 

I words, and said: "Our highest," like a parrot repeating a 

He was sittini nedUevsl aititu » on the 

ground and his hands joined together flatwise, resl 

"The highest is the lust, said Mr. Lasccl lly. 

" Yours is the highest It is the same as God's ! " ■ rsa. 

"1 do my best to make myself a faithful interpret! *afe 

guide, but I often fall like Others. I am only a 
1 ar, with a smile of graceful humility. 

"To me more than a man!" murmured There! then she 

closed her eyes and her toad sank deeper into the pillow again, 
as so oltcn before, Scmclc over whom the breath of her Cod lia* 

If the man's heart waxed fat for gratified pride, what wonder? 
True, folly, fanaticism, vanity, passion, 

noblest set of motives r hi« 

kind. But when that influence is gained ? — when he can 
wife to repudiate her husband and transfer to hi 
duty and obedience which were rightfully that other'*? 
can inspire a good girl with a 

of her youth from the sweet modesty of maidenhood to 
desttn -nad?— when he can destroy the in- 

c of a tea adoring child ? — roil 

in his own count: 
ground from imd oscr and closer till soon there would 

Under whuh Lord ? 


be nothing left for him but the final fall? — when he can carry all before 
him ind subdue every stronghold that he assaults ? — what man-el that 
he should be proud and assume the quasi-divine and personally 
infallible power which no one has the courage or the common sense 
to deny? The position of a ritualist " priest " is about the proudest 
of all in the world of human leaders. Freed from the close organiza- 
tion, the authority of the Romish Church, he is absolute in his own 
domain ; and no one understood this better than the smooth-voiced 
tHvsoulcd Honourable and Reverend I.-utncclot Lascelles, Vicar 
cf Crossholme, 3nd Richard Fullciton's conquering foe. 

When he had gone, Cuthbert, unbuckling himself as it were from 
hismc&cvalism and slouching into the commonplace, took up the 
ptoblc and spoke tartly to his sister, saying that .she pave way too 
much to the vicar — he did not call him Superior, but simply the 
iQd paid him a vast deal too much honour. 
"How can I ? : ' said Theresa. "Too much honour ! my director, 
»pnest,and in authority over me I " 

i certain extent," hesitated Cuthbert 

' IVhat tin you mean, Cuthbert ? Are you cooling towards 

S«perw?" cried 1 , half rising in her horror. This was of a truth 

hugtog sacrilege into the In 'use. 

"So, I am not cooling to him at all," he answered, shuffling ; 

•^sumptions are n little extreme. He has not authority for 

*Aithc says and does." 

"No one would have more over me," said Theresa, a little beside 
'"oea ning 
He left her dark, but returned, as perhaps a slight lead : 

lit that dear Father Truscott would support my view if I 

iJhefare him for decision. I think he would give it as his opinion 

*M jour submission to Superior savoured a little of idolatry, 

•> m i sin against the Church ranks with witchcraft. You 

'"■dfsay that Mrs. FulIcrtoB's submission is extreme and not 


'She is married," replied Theresa hastily ; " I am not. That 

^*3 the difference." 

Soil did • but neither brother nor sister saw clearly the full signi- 

Xtoftiris bit of naive reasoning on the girl's part, who thus un- 

*wJy showed the direction of her own feelings, and perhaps 

•fcjkuiiMr of her hopes. 

Hie end of this, as of other conversations of the like kind, 
*» tha, orer-excited, distressed, and disappointed — she did not 
■fcnund why — Theresa cried and sobbed so violently that she 

1 5 8 

The Gen//eman's Magazine. 

broke one of the smaller vessels and dyed her handkerchief with 
blood. There had been a good deal of this alarming haemorrhage of 
l.ite, but no one knew of it save Drusilla; and she was bound over 10 
sccresy. More than half in love as she was on her own account with 
the handsome vicar, and reading only too clearly the state to whidi 
poor There:.;i had reduced herself, she kept all thai she knew a dose 
secret. She did not wish to distress her young mistress, nor to brir^t 
harm or confusion to the dear vicar ; and she was right in thin 
Aunt Catherine too weak, «Od Cuthbert too silly, to be of use 1 
she told them all she knew — right too in feeling that There** 
must fight it out l»y herself and be lost or saved — " as God wills," 
said Drusilla piously, mistaking frilly for fate. 



Things always enlarge themselves in the telling, and thi 
Cg] attack of Theresa was exaggerated out of all likeness to it 
self. Kvery kind of -.haineful thing was slid, every kind of inl 
reason given for wliat mu really only the physical break-down of 
sickly girl weakened by fating and disease, both, and excited by 
gion and love in one. Everyone was astir, everyone felt \» 
outraged on which of the two sides he or sin stood ; and 
whole neighbourhood was as busy as ■ nest of ants when its 
ways are laid bare. Even Mr. l.isccllcs. though he had for 
much, had not fully realized to what extent the fire of scandal 
run on the dry stubble of credulity and love of gossip ; and for 
moment stood aghast at the mischief which his ardent and de 
penitent had unwittingly wrought him. She, who would have 
her life for him, bad herseU lighted this fire whii 
consume him — had herself lei loose the howling pack of dctrac 
and contemners who were to bants and afftii i, if not to 
destroy him ! He was sorry for her, but be was more sorry for hsi 
and though in the depths of his consciousness he was vexed with him 
self, on the surface of things, ami so i o '» now ledgroent went, 

he blamed her only and held himself more sinned against than 

The news spread as far as Starton, and reached Lady Mai 
unreluctant cars. By this time it had bulged considerably, and low 

Under which Lord? 


jfeosi all its 0rigin.1l form ; but my lady accepted it as it was, 
DtetKly, and rubbed her hands at the chance it gave her. Hating 
nrualism as she did, it was a joyful day to her when she could hit a 
Hot on the professors, and pounce down on a weak place in the 
bmnutity of those ghostly fathers and spiritual daughters. And on 
this occasion her satisfaction was complete She believed implicitly 
aB dm the outlying world proclaimed. There was no doubt about it. 
Thee never is any doubt about things of which ire know absolutely 
and whereof «c never examine the evidence ; and it was sort! 
the indubitable four made up of two and two, thai Mr. Lascelles 
hadbeea Airting with Theresa Molyncux, and now had jilted and 
taopii . And if the girl had been silly enough to fall in love 

«irti him, and was breaking her heart at the disappointment, he 

•sjhl to be made 10 marry her, said I-uly Maine; or else, she added, 
hxvenie of retributive strong .is her knowledge was weak, 

ka gown ought to be taken from him. She had no patient, e, she laid, 
»nh these Pharisees who go about among silly women and devour 
lea ; and if sin management of things, she would 

•ate all that kind of thing pi n 

.Mu for the main body o( ' n>selytisers if the Lady Maine* 

"Protestantism had it all their own way, and the personal love of 
tlor female disciples were accounted to them for sin ! — and good-bye 
kthe influence of the priesthood if it might deal only with the intel- 
*u of mm, and not trade on the heart of woman '.— that heart with 
til ts strength and weakness, its hopes, it^ fears, us passions, its de- 
an on which they build their stronghold and found their empire. 
atwoald indeed be iIil I cii.|i without the oil, the thorns laid be- 

ihi hand to make them of use. 

Bat though Theresa had been wor;c than ^illy to have fallen in 

with M ■ -, and more than reprehensible to have shown 

the bad done so in public— and at church too, of all places in 

world! -Mill she was motln id Lady Maine was one of 

3K. by no means necessarily maternal, women to «i hum an orphan 

b the M object for all kinds of imp. 1 1 in. 1 !i . and bullying under 

bead of advice, because, poor thing, she has no mother 

o tell her an 

And now, though she abhorred the whole Papi its, as she 

■Bed the congregation at Crossholme, yet this was an occasion when 

Kttjran ci d to womanly duty ; and Lady Maine 

it to be an imperative dutj to no over to Churchlands and 

to that silly little owl plainly. Poor foolish thing!" she 

holding herself erect ; Ci she has no one to guide her ; for that 

160 The Gentleman's Magazine. 


weak-brained old aunt of hers, with her saints and her 
better than a magpie about the girl. I doubt if she knows the 
of a leech from the tail, or how a mustard-plaistcr should l>c put < 
and I dare say if the thunder turned the milk sour she wouli 
that some saint had done it for punishment ; though, for the n 
of that," said Lady Maine, her thought making a. sudden rctun 
might be Satan who had had a hand in it. For we know tr 
goes about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour 
why not the milk as well as anything else ? " 

Prompt and decided, Lady Maine drove off at once on 

on of " tallying" Theresa Molyneux ; and of course fouro 

at home — and visible. With the feverish obstinacy that characti 

lur disease, the poor girl insisted on it that -.he was not really 

she was getting better daily, and n won as the spring 
the would be Quite well. Meanwhile she would give up nothing 
she could possibly retain, and she would not give up seeing those 
might call. For this week she was forbidden to leave the h< 
but Superior had not interdicted visitors, of whom Lady Maim 
the first. 

She came into the room with her usual martial stride and mi 
bearing. Her thickly wadded mantle of black velvet, trimmed 
broad bands of Russian '■able, made her look biggcT than she i 
was ; and her sweeping train of heavy silk, and her high be 
amounted by a plume of hearse like feathers, increased her J 
rent suture by at the least eight or ten inches. Truly she w»s j 
midablc creature to look at ; anil her (ieep-toned voice, wid 
uncompromising directness on which she prided herself, mack 
formidable to listen to. 

She stood over the flushed and attenuated girl lying on t 
as if she had been a nightmare in bodily substance ; and 
knew instinctively that she had an ordeal to face. She was 
that this rasping creature had been let in and both Aunt Cadi 
and Cuthbert DOl ' Bui U the thing was on her it had to be 
through, and l.-idy Maine was mortal like any other and 
dinner hour at the end of the clay. 

"Well, Miss Molyneux," began my lady severely, "a 
may you be to-day ? " 

"Very well, thank you, Lady Maine," mid I bema. 

" Vou call this being very well, do you ? I don't ; and I doa 
how you could be much worse, you foolish child, to be alive 
on that sofa at all." 

•I am getting better," said Theresa; and then she 

hen she coi 

Under which Lord? 


with what Lady Maine, in speaking of this interview, called "that 
dwdn-ard cough of hers— and she saying she was quite well indeed ! 
It ws downright impiety and flying in the face of Providem a | 

"And what have you to say for yourself, making llut precious 
s(«ne that 1 heard of in church, last Sunday ? " asked my lady as 
jetody as before. " Pretty goings-on indeed when a young woman 
Kit you can go shrieking and screaming in the middle of the Litany, 
ud accuse herself of goodness knows what sins and wickednesses I 
hi time the Bishop looked you all up here in this blackholc of 
Papistry — that is my opinion ; and the sooner a stop is put to all 
uiimpiety and idolatry the tetter for every one concerned. It isn't 
fanrt, Miss Molyncux ; and now you sec where all your High 
Qrarch vagaries have led you ' " 

" I do not suppose I am the only one who has been taken ill in 
dutch," said Theresa, plucking up a spirit ; "and I do not sec what 
*e High Church, as you call it— what our Anglicanism— has to do 

" listen to the poll-parrot ! " cried my lady disdainfully. " No ; 
ad you are not the first -illy girl who has fallen in love with a 
■nth-tongued, designing prist ' «he added. 

u Lady Maine! leteM, raising herself in her indig- 


"Oh yes! it is all very well to say, 'Lady Maine' here, and 
lady Maine' there, but Lady Matnc knows what she is about as 
tsajiny one can tell i 'his is just the simple truth, Miss 

Ifeiyoflu— you arc madly in love with that good-for-nothing parson 
"* Jots, and the whole county knows it and is talking of it. 
*i if your brother docs not take it up and bring it into court, he 
i*fr. That's all I have to S3) 

"My brother ! do you think he believes such an infamy as this ! " 
■ Theresa violent]; agitated. 

"Of course you denj it ; all gh"ll do when things are as plain a; 
> *arlet shawl of mine. But others must be allowed to judge," 
dy grimly. "And a- far as I myself go, I have no doubt 
lAcraattcr. You have fallen 1k.hI ovei ears in love, I tell you ; 
Tfluirca foolish girl for your pains. That kind of man never 
preme contempt. " He would lose half 
Wver over girls like you if he did. Cannot you see that for your- 
■So take my adva,-. The wisest thing you can do is to wipe 
4>» foBy out of your mind and begin afresh. Make a clean 
your ritualism; playing with the fire of Romanism von 

aa — four abominable confession, Mr. 
rw. cou-v. xo. 17S4. m 

Lascelles, hysterics, and 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

nil the ml of H i and tot« lhame to yourself thai you have 
foolish hitherto, and resolve to be wiser for the future. Yon may 
forgiven as far . -is you have gone, because you have no mothcs 
tell you things, and keep you in the right way— and that aunt 
is little better than a child herself; l)ut now that 1 have tpofcan 
you, you have no excuse. You cannot say that you have not 
told the truth and put right." 

" I do not sec what you wish me to give up, Lady Maine," 
Theresa, whose answer was delayed because of a terrible fit of coi 
ing, during which Lady Maine patted her back rather forcibly, 
she had been choking, and nearly killed her on the spot 
you wish me not to go to church? What is it you think sn 
in our lives ?" 

"What do I think wicked, child? Your putting your faith 
stocks ami stones instead of in the precious Scriptures — your worship 
of the creature I the Creator, and letting Mr. 1 .ascetics cany 

you off your feet, as you do. It is not decent, I tell you ! You an 
iimiii .irried girl too! And thai pretty little Mrs. 1-ullcrton with a 
bobudl it It downright briqtrirj and the abomination of d 
tion ; that is what it is, and so 1 till yofl "" 

" I do not know what you mean," said Theresa wearily, and lu 
her face inwards to the pillow 

'• Why ! don't you confess, and take the sacrament every week, 
have saints' days, and processions and vestments, and spend 
than halt your time in church ?" the lady said in a surprised 
"And then you say you don't know what 1 mi an, indeed! 
more could I mean, and what more COlltd fOU all do? Would 
make that parson oi POUraapopi at once? Yon have do 
most you could ; if you did more, you d have to carry him about 
a gilt idol with diamond eyes! I <i if the truth ami k 

yon kiss his foot, as those benighted Romans do with their Po 
It would be only like you all if you did." 

" He is worthy of it," 1 said Theresa with strange passion. 

I^ady Maine rose. 

■ I sec tliat you are given over to your witchcrafts and idolai 
she said in her deep, bclUmouthed way ; " and I see that my ki 
Christian endeavour to bn i! h k to the truth of tl 

not been met in the spirit whit li it deserved. I, a Christian mo 1 
come to offer you, a motlu -rless girl, good advice; to slww you wi 
you have done wrong, and how you can repent. You put up J 
shoulder, and tarn a deaf ear to inc. Don't say, however, that 
hare not been warned. At the last Day remember you will have 


Under wftich Lord? 

» 6 3 

:u account for all your means of grace misused; and thi 

: to-day will be one of them.'' 
; 'I should have to give an account if I neglected the means held 
out to me by the dear Church," said Theresa, still too much Cowed 
to know the cooling influence of social fear. 

"Poor misguided girl ! I will pray for you," said my lady with 
acrimony. " I will pray that you ni >y be led into the way of QoejM I 

-Rather ask the prayers of the Church for yourself, that you 
««y be made one of her children." retorted Theresa. 

"You are obstinate and impertinent !" said my lady angrily. " 1 
i wasting my time here." 

" 1 mutt always love die Church and obey beg teaching, through 
'« priests," said Theresa. 

"May God forgive you !" MJd l*dj Maine, turning from the 
ceeck by which she had l>een standing, and striding out .it the room 
fte one who has discharge < I her conscience of a heavy burden, and 
■wis free to harbour in its stead a due amount of righteous in- 

And when she had gone, Theresa had another fit of con 
i ended in again that fatal red line — the measure that told how 
aft was wasting. 

lady Maine was not die only woman who came to play the part 
of l chastizing mother to the child of many and daughter oi none, 
r Agnes also took on herself the office which indeed washers 
frijfctof place — hers according to her rank in the local theoi rati 
-and came to admi on and rebuke in her own 

If my lady was rough as granite, the Sister was sharp as steel. 
•pared this poor erring Sappho of ecclesiastic-ism no more 
dad the coarse-grained, military-minded lady of Starton. She 
to her certainly Stn even smilingly and with her best 

She asked after her health down to the minutest 
wiih a pathological kind of sympathy that would have made 
fortune of a hospital nurse. Then she touched on the scene of 
Sunday ; said it was a pity and a grievous ofli nc« that must be 
for: ' 'light to 1 tfoi help against the tempta- 

and »n be supported in her weakness. 
Aad when Theresa averred that she had — that she had | 
prayed till all grew dark abou i she felt a il God had 

her and given her over into the dutches of Satan — the 
bent her eyes on her with a look so searching, so steady, that 

M 2 

1 64 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

Theresa quitted • while she said, b bo gentlest voice, her 

BtJUesi maimer : 

- You did not ask in the right way, my child, else grace would 
have come to you. You make the Eternal Promise <>f no avail if you 
do not sec this." 

" I did my best." said Theresa weeping. 

"Ah !" said the Sister, bland, imperturbable, hard, serere 
fly was in the ointment, and it was some earthly tilm of your own 
corrupt nature that had come between you and eternal hy 

i , i nng on, she said in t' my of personal smooth 

intrinsic cruelt> : 

'I BUlM tell fOU p.nw, ..I,..: IIri. mi. how Kreaily Su|>crior wa» 
shocked at the whole scene. 1 know how good and kind I 
and that in ill probabi&tj! be would not tell you what he felt when 
lied You arc iti a <!lTi< :it .- state of health at this moment, and 
be "null I wish to spare you. He is never oi»e to break the bruised 
reed ; bUl bf wen revolted and distressed bCyOO d all measure. 
Nothing but the grace which surrounds him could have borne him 

li that painful trial with the dignity and p:i 
his own— the ideal of the Christian gentleman as he 

She watched Theresa narrowly while she |>raiscd Iver brother so 
enthusiastically. It was part of the punishment that she had devised 
for the girl, with whom indeed she was so irate that it was with great 
difficulty she could control herself even to this outward sc 


" I am so sorry!" cried Theresa, her ready tears flc 
"And he is so splendid — so great ! To think that I, of 
should have vexed him ! " 

" It was a grievous pity," said the HkeSopc 

entially pure-minded and self-controlled, these w scs of 

iplincd nature in woman-- these mad, screaming h\ 
nothing— arc beyond all things luteful. Women arc to him 
> sense sacred creatures; as they are to all men wit 

ciple*. ib wfeba to 

vaintu i martyrs ; ind anything else |»ains an 

see 1 kn iddcd 

with i 

said Theresa dejc How sorry and ashamed 


man who has vowed hi cfc\ t i<> the : the 

h — who • 
Agnes with an intensity of emphasis whu . ', , , ■ 

Uttdcr which Lord ' 


would have said was passionate feminine spitefulncss— " a man who 
has a horror of all coarseness and pabKctty, to be appealed to in the 
midst of his holy office by a girl in the crowd of his congregation 
going into a shrieking fit of hysterica ! It was most unfortunate — 
most lamentable on all accounts ; and will give the enemy cause to 
rejoice over him !" said Sister Agnes, with a tight and nervous 
cttsping of her hands together to prevent that irritable fluking of the 
tagers of less subdued people. 

"If I could do am thing *' murmur. <1 pool ILi. -a, between 

Mhbiog and that dreadful cou; 
"Noi yoacanool) perform penance lot youi own sin," said the 
"The public ahame and hindrance Superior must 

toe through as he best can. It will be a hard trial, but God ■M 
Mtm^then him t" bear it. But we looked for such a 

Hanuling-blnck to our work here from i.v, Theresa. Yon have been 
Oterf our dearest and most caitd for, and from yon has . omc tins 
isult, this terrible wrong-doing I 

have mercy ! " cried the poor girl, holding out her 
HWand catching at the Sister convulsively. 

The Sister unclasped her hand with her strong vice-like grip. 
" I will have no scene*. There- 1 id severely. " Be quiet, 

thi instant, or 1 ve you." 

She might as well have commanded the waves .1! the sea to be 

■IL Sorrow and ihl .hat she knew— unexpressed anguish 

**»hat she did ncK know — overpowered her, weak as she was ; and 

•fcta Sister Agnes rang the bell and summoned Drusilla to her 

tortured mistres the maid both thought th.u she would have 

1-. their hands 

'Faugh''' said the Sister brushing her dress hastily, as she left 

is full of her shameless love ! I feel unclean— as if 

I had been with B leper: Ah, this leprosy of passion— this 

rilcocw of earth that clings about Itich girls and women ! And my 

brother, who encourage.-, n all 1 bo has made both this little fool 

tod Mrs. Fullcrton, and half a hundred more, in love with him — 

a a shameful ! hideous! I will luve no more of it. My soul turns 

apimt it all. 1 hate this pla< e and all the work that goes on in it, 

and I lute myself that I ever gave in to the scheme of helping it 

i' -inl It is insincere, personal, vicious, earthly. The very 

piwK is Ijurvcclot's dangerous |K>wcr over Hermione Fullcrton ; 

awl though tcard that atheist husband of hers, ibj is 

infamously wrong in her moti 

.Ic thinking all this bitterly, she suddenly came upon Virginia, 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

walking alone, in her Lenten robes of solemn black relieved only by 
the blue scarf which she wore in token of the Heavenly Mother 
whose child she was. 

" I (ere Bt least is one whose touch is pure 1 " she said to herself; 
"and wh.. abhors as much as I do the follies of the wilier sex 
u ,i the M' a "i the titer!" 

In whi. h 1 r i if catalogue the Sister summarized the whole of that 
portion of humanity which loves ace on ling to nature, and does not 
was- iona and reveries the forces given for humanity and 


" My Mother!" said Virginia with fervour 

tad when the Sister answered back, " My good child, well met I " 
the girl's happiness was complete— as complete as was at any time 
Theresa's when Superior made her understand that he loved her like a 
nun, while directing her like a. spirit j made her 

■ eommined rrimsell by one word or gesture which lie could 
I iin away on the score of paternal guidance, and as having 
no more special meaning than if she had been a child, or both a pair 
iiiu images. 

whole place continued in an uproar, and, in spite of the 

id their unwearied >f explanation, thing* 

tool s handsome celibate wl. roduoed ritualism 

ott was m 'de 

tic l»y, and by no means in a straight line, to hi* friend round 
sc feet all of scandal surged ; and to recommend to 

him, allusively, a little more discipline and a little less (a.-- 

Spcaking in . i" the best'eonduct of a congregation, and 

iuscott *-• be, 

for his jiart, had always fought shyof In stt ri* a I tetn| vcr 

precious their teal when won. He found them tl» iticnlt of 

all to^e, ->nd thnryi capable of doing as much ltarm at good. 
" The) personify too murh," he said, looking at the cviling 

map of fin dial had come into the whitewash. 

I priest, howw. to them, ami tl tier 

»» their personal (J s wretched creatures, 

ihctmctvcs to wfl 

Bl we must brave all danger for the aakc of the cam that may 
■-i:J Mr. lav clla j,-ra c» 

saw fighting with • 

handling,'' said the Fathej, 
* myself 1 hate always svoided the whole rangx i.vac 

Under which Lord ' 167 

Bvrhom I have sought to influence were eminently safe by tern, 
it as well as principle. And when I was a younger man I 
ns even more careful. The Church will never be safe from misad- 
wntares and misundcrsi he continued, "until the celibacy 

afthe clergy is made part of the legal condition of orders, so that no 
dee hopes can Ik- powiblft Then, if women love they will love with 
their eyes open and to their on n shame and damnation." 

Hut Mr. I-ascellcs objected, and said he thought that this, like 
tuny other things, should be a matter of choice and individual 
•ill ; and that enforced celibacy would deprive of its grace and benefit 
Alt which was voluntarily undertaken. 

! " said Father Truscott trailing ; " it is always the same 
Oing with you, Superior. Vim I diarfpluio outside yourself, 

»i want to be at the head of .ill ion and authority. 

Yetniuothc commandant — yuu will not be lieutenant; and your 
. has not only its spiritual danger but its organic weakness — 
J»»v close rcasoner could point out." 

b was a bold thing to say, even from a lather ; but the vicar did 
Mtetcnt the liberty. On the contrary he smiled too, joined his 
fand* together according to hi-- wont, beat his clean, well-kept taper 
hgertrps lightly against each other, and accepted bis rebuke as meekly 
i been a little girl at the knee of her mother. A rebuke 
Wording to Father Truscott, it was his title to honour to Mr. Lascclles. 
Minis war with the I !i shops, as well as with the law of the land, which 
o* ritualist clergy arc carrying on in England, and where each man 
* leader, general, bishop, pope to himself, the very charm of the 
West lies in the fact that while all make the freedom of the Church 
to exercise tyranny over the laity the main object, each fights in 
fcj o«n way, and pays no obedience to any authority whatsoever, 
other than that which he chooses to elect for his own particular 
pndince- Bashi-bazouks of ecclesiasticism as they are, only the 
Metre and the humble go over to Rome, where rightfully they 
Wong ; because they only will give up this terrible fascination of 
peaonal power— this seductive snare of spiritual autocracy —for the 
■he of what they believe to be the truth. And Mr. Lascelles was not 
•f these. 

"" M r must do what we cum, left by our leaders without guidance 
iiwexre,'' said the vicar in reply, with perfect urbanity. " We must 
iny against vanity and self-sufficiency ; but until our beloved Church 
ha taken to herself her own unfettered rights of organisation, we 
Bat each act for the best according to the light vouchsafed." 

They looked at each other scarchingly; but neither read what 

j 68 

The Gentleman s Magazine. 

the other wished should be kept hidden. Each man was urn 
his aims, hypocritical in his methods ; crafty, self-controlled, secret an 
clever. They were well matched in their game, hut between the t» 
it was Mr. Lascelles this time who was the dupe. 

Not only the blatant exaggerations of the world which kne 
nothing and the strictures of his friend who knew too much, it 
frosty displeasure of hi* sister and the embarrassed annoyance < 
Hermione, troubled the vicar's peace at this time, but anonymix 
letters: flew about like tongues of fire, and made that which was ahead 
bad still worse than need be. More than one was sent to tla 
ICCUfklg him of shameful deeds that would not bear translating hn 
speech ; and more than one was sent even to poor Theresa, ill, an 
perhaps even now dying, as she was known to be. An expert mig! 
have made out a family likeness to the little chandler's weekly btl 
for soapand oil and candles ; but the writing was del erl) 'lisguise* 
and there were no calligraphic experts at Crossholmc. As 
was they came in with the general difficulties and disagreeables oftfi 
time ; and though they chafed the proud nature of the I 
gentleman as well as the autocratic priest, yet they had to be borne 
and all things arc " lived down " at last, thought .Mr. I ..v.- diet. 

Meanwhile the talk grew and grew, and the feeling raised thcrcti 
was more bitter and yet more bitter in the minds of those who ha 
not given in to the new movement, though it brought the phalanx c 
believers into apparently .1 still 1 loser, more compact more solid bod) 
But to those who were against the whole thing these vile reports *■ 
shameless commentaries were a weapon which they did not scnfl 
to use. Things went so far that one day when the vicar was passu 
Tom Moorhcad's forge a word came hissing out with the sparks froi 
the iron that struck his car with a sense of burning ; and some oa 
standing by the fire laughed brutally. He stopped, turned bad 
and stepped inside the threshold. 

" Good day, my men," he said with clerical abruptnei 
there any one here among you that belongs to God?" 

It was a bold thing to do ; but boldness takes in Kngland, aa 
some of the men answered him 1 ly enough , if Tom hiinsd 

standing there in the ruddy light, with his bushy red heard turned \ 
flame and his brawny arms liare to the shoulder, gave the horse-fits 
which he was forging a vicious blow as if he had had the vii 
head between and answered blurlly : 

" 1 don't know what you mean by belonging to God, master, 
you mean do we belong to that rag and doll shop of yours, I takt 
that wc don't, and we don't wish to neither." 

Under which Lord"? 


food time. Ton)," said the victf cheerily, standing there 
in the doorway erect, unruffled, Speckle**, the tail Ottalot the high- 
ca«e priest ! — " Vou arc too honest • • fellow in your own way tO be 
let to go to perdition. The grace which turned Saul the perse- 

the Apostle will some day draw you too from the darkness 
loihcligh: ' 

" No, sir, it won't I'm a fossil, 1 am," said Tom with ,1 ji 
hi^h. " You can't change a fossil ' " 

No." returned the vicar quickly. " Vou can only clear him 

1st. That is something, is it not, my man ?— clean him 

:hc edge- all that mass of limestone and chalk 

Uflfakhha is embedded, ami make him come to his best. Even 

you sec. Tom. can be done something with by care; .m.l 

to Power which created CM) restore." 

"Ah, the jingle goes well ' " said Tom, turning his back rU< 

"ha it don 1 me Come rates, beat 1 hand I I here 

*ork to do, and can't stand chopping logic with this gentleman all 

"Wefl, I will not detain you any longer," said the vicar with 
composure. " You arc busy now, I sec. Good day, Tom. 

1 day, my men. Remember what I always have to tell you — 
awful choice between good and evil, time and eternity, hea\cn 

hell, that you are called on to make ami are now making. Let 
1 man among you put this question to himself solemnly : — ' What 

I chosen? which am I choosing?' Good day. God be with 

'Come mates! dang it all I" cried Tom impatiently, "this 

has lasted long enough. It may do for a few foolish 

as have nothing else to think of, but it won't go down with 

We are men, and have learned in quite another school. Here, 

, bear a hand and look sharp ! 

ne of the men said, " Good day, sir," humanely, as the 

and no one again flung out that shameful word as he 

liar recognizing his English courage in bearding the surliest 

1 of them all in his den. 

( To bt continued. ) 


The Gentletnaris Magatint. 


Part I. 

THE epitaph of Gcrnui o on Slu»kes|icarc w 

mitten by the inn : which penned the following 

sentence; an inscription wonhy Of perpetual recotd on the Itgi 
of (.iotham or in the day-book of the yet unstranded Ship of 

"Thetnas Lord Cromwell -.—Sir John Oldautlt.—A Yorkshire 
Tragedy. — The three last pieces are not only unquestionably Shake- 
speare's, but in my opinion they deserve to be classed among his 
best ami maturest work 

This memorable opinion is the verdict of the modest and hid i< 

l on Schlegcl : who had likewise in his day the condescension to 

our ignorance of the melancholy fad so strangely overlooked 

by the contemporaries of Christopher Marlowe, tlut " his verses are 

g, bat without energy. So in .. but irui ; too strange, we may 

reasonably infer, not to be true. ' July to Go 

house of English poetry ever disclosed a secret of this kind : 10 
German ears alone has such discord or default l>een ever perceptible 
in its harmonies. 

Now, the beta with regard to tbi f* era briefly these 

TMtunat Lord Cromwell i » piet e ol m h utterly shapeless, spiritless, 
bodiless, soulless, senseless, helpless, worthless rubbish, that then 
no known writer of Shakespeare's agi 
without the infliction of an unwarrani 

memory. Sir yohn OUtasl; '.impound piecework of four 

minor playwrights, one of them alt nd uthcrwiiw a 

i Munday, Drayton, Wilson, and Hal 
patchery collided up and St 

■ng to pieces 
' oarse, crude, and vigorous unproni; 
we poatih 

i finger), .pose 

The Historical Play of King Edward III. 1 7 1 

nut during ihe tost ten years of his life he was likely to have taken 
fan in any uich d visation. 

These arc matters of such obsolete notoriety to all students, that 
the very recapitulation of the facts would be an impertinence in a 
'ut" »liii:h had not shown itself tolerant of such illimitable ignorance 
■da iilablc impudence as may find vent in the duncery 

»uckcry of .- Shim Shakespeare Society. And as long as 
k"glijh 'lunccs arc found ready to accept and to circulate as critical 
K°W the current brass of German pedants, so long will it be worth 
■hie to exhibit in the indecorous nakedness of their undraped 
"Nudity the presumptions and assumptions of the least incompetent 
Jwurers in that foreign school. 

The example and the exposure of Schlegel's misadventures in 

•fcsbnehave not winced to warn ofl minor blunderers from treading 

**il emulous confidence "through forthright* and meanders" in 

**e very n of their precursor's tra< ■• •. Among tlie latest 

developments of tmp cr li nftnl Imbecility in the Shan Shakespearean 

lUartcr of the good town of Gotham, wc may notice the revival of a 

*ell-nigh still-bom theory, first dropped in a modest comer of the 

1 ftical world exactly a hundred and seventeen years ago. Its parent, 

"otwithstandin^ this perhaps venial indiscretion, was apparently an 

md modest gentleman, by no means to be confounded with 

^jr braxenbrowed and brazen-throated nans of dunces assembling 

1 the presidential bray of a professional proficient in the Early 

*"-ngh$h dialect of Billingsgate Market. And the play itself, which 

*cnuous theorist was fain, with all diffidence, to try whether 

**»pl» he might be Ikrrmilted tO foist on the apocrypha] f.uhcihood of 

***sakespeare, is not without such minor merits as may exctue us for 

* r *tiDg a few minutes on examination ol the theory which tedu to 

Confer on it the factitious and artificial attraction of a spurious and 

*<lwnttuous interest 

"The Kaignc nf Kin:; Edward the tliir.1 : As it hath bin sundrie 

ttucs plaied about ih I London," ws published in 1596, and 

**>lkough two or tin nymous editions before the date of the 

Eeneration was QUI whit I. rn t produced it. Having thus run to the 

**d of its natural tether, it fell as naturally into the oblivion which 

■•devoured, and has not again disgorged, so many a more precious 

todaction of its period. In 1760 it was reprinted in the " 1'rolu- 

*>■*' of Edward Capcll, whose text is now before me. Thil editor 

•■the first mortal to suggest that his newly unearthed treasure 

•ight possibly be a windfall from the topless tree of Shakespeare. 

long, as I have said, a duly modest and an evidently honest man , 

172 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

he admits "with cwdoui " ft (o* Oi tittle of " external 

UOCrer to be alleged in support of tliks gratuitous 

odoo bat he submits, with some fair show of reason, that 

thttcb* certain "rctembhuia between th i ■ 

Shakespeare's) "earhei perforn 

and, without the slightest show of any reason whatever, he appends to 

thii butnbh .mil plausible pi rtion 

Lt the time ol itsap] " there was no knoii equal 

plaj "; wherea imputation there were, 1 

I Id my, On the authority ol i : .i dsIowc least adozen — 

and noil::. i score. In one then newly 

dead, too long before his time, whose memory star-, 
above the possible a of such a work ill 

Shakespeare's very self. 
Of one point we may be sure, ereti where 90 much is unsur 
wc find it here: in the tun at!, . rase of the Persian 

;ius, "one thing is certain, and the real is lies." The author 
of Ki mrf III. was a devout student and a humble foil 

of Christopher Marlowe, not ret wholly disengaged by that .<■ 
and beneficent influence from all attrai uon inwards the 
veins o( rhyming mother-wit*:" and fittei on the whole lo follow 
this easier and earlier vein of writing, half I] . a and half 

k.;i ii , than to 'ii his punier drabs the young giant's newly 

fashioned buskin of blank verse 1 owing struggle, 

the traces of dusinconipli i^hout 

in the alternate prevaleo and irreconcilable 

styles . ■ in' ii ) el il n of a do 

authorship. Foe the ioi which mi 

whole work, the spirit lea and imbue 

design, is <>i a piece, toti throughoi ;>tiblc 

to the eye, a tOU< by the finger, alike of a scholiast 

and a d.i: 

istakablc bj ll e ;udent an;' 
indiscernible to the sciolist ei may be trie 

demcr: oi involv 

■sncsK or baste II re is not th' 
of a rough and ready hand; here 

in die discharge of 
of an imposition somcthi:. 'fully 

the latter half of Tht Jr. to, in the burl icrludesoT 

Doctor Faujtus, and well-nigh throughout the whole scheme and 


The Historical Play of King lidivard Iff. 1 73 

cone of Tfts Uasuert <r/ flarit. Whatever in 

111. i* mediocre or wor dentij such OS it is through no 

pmicmatc or slovenly precipitation of handiwork, but through pure 
awnpetence to do better. The blame of the failure, the shame of 
••k Aortcoming, cannot be laid to the account of any momentary 
cms or default in emotion, of passing exhaustion or excitement, 
*tfwem>ittent impulse and reaction; it is an indication of lifelong 
"i irremediable impotence. And it is further to be noted that by 
6f the least unsuccessful parts of the play are also by far the most 
unimportant The capacity of the author seems to sin ink and swell 
^/lemately, to erect its plumes and deject them, to contract and to 
<hl*te the range and orbit of its flight, in a steadily inverse degree to 
*he proportionate interest of the subject ur worth of the topic in 
hand. There could lie no surer proof that it 1. neither the early nor 
«hc hasty work of a great or even a remarkable poet. It is the best 
**at could be done at any time by a ton .< i< n:i his and studious 
Workman of technically iasumcieat culture and of naturally limited 

1 would not, however, be supposed to undervalue the genuine 

d graceful ability of execution displayed by the author at his best. 

He could write at times viiy mm li after the earliest fashion of the 

»dalewcm Shakespeare; in other words, after the fashion of the day 

<**" koor, to which in some degree the greatest writer of that hour or 

: °at day cannot choose but conform at Starting, and the smallest 

^nter must needs conform for ever. By the rule which would 

**taS«te to Shakespeare every line written in his first manner which 

*rreired during the first years of his ]>oetic progress, it is hard to 

**y what amount of bad verse or better, < tirrcnt during the rise and 

L **« irign of their several influences, — for this kind of echo or of 

;c >tr*otk, consciously or unconsciously rcpcrcussivc or reflective, 

^•^Tpis with the very tirst audible sound of a man's voice in song, 

first noticeable stroke of his hand in painting— it is 

***ai to ay what amount <blc or intolerable work might not 

' nayt.-. liable by scholiasts of the future to HyTon or to 

**«&, 01 in Mr. Browning. A time by this rule 

"ight come — but I am fain to think better of the Fates- -when by 

°*pimon of d Is and collation of dismembered phrases 

*t«enoiy of Mr. Tennyson would be weighted and degraded by 

****cription of whole volumes of pilfered and diluted verse now 

E *tat— if not yet submerged— under the name or the pseudonym 

''oe present Viceroy— or Vice-empress is it ?— of India. But the 

*fa«u truth is this: the voice of Shakespeare's adolescence had as 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 


usual an echo in it of other men's notes : I can remember the name 
of but one poet whose voice from the beginning had none ; who 
started with a It] ; own, though he may hare chose: 

— "annex the wise it call." mmty is obsolete — to annex whole 
phrases or whole verses at need, for the use or the ease of an idle 
minute ; and this name of course is Marlowe's. So starting, Shake- 
speare had yet (like all other and lesser poets bom) some perceptible 
notes in his yet half boyish voice that were not borrowed; and these 
were at once t.! uul re echoed by such fellow-pupils with 

Shakespeare of the young Master of them all — such humble a 
feebler disciples, or simpler sheep (shall we call them ?) of the great 
"dead shepherd "—as the now indistinguishable UltiHX of Kin 
■n/ 111 

In the first scene of tlu' ho imitation of Marlowe rnosl 

patent to the most purblind Geanan pedant, and perceptible through 
his spectacles to the mosl impiidi lunce, P> 

may also lie nn imitation of the Mill style of ShakcapWI 

and the style may be mi as a copy of a copy 

— a study after the mnnn. i .1 Marlowe* not at second hand, bin 
third. In any r.i-t-, being obvio ■ llat and feeble to show a 

touch of cither godlike hand, tin be set aside at onca to 

make way for the second 

The ■ cd, I'M- lot m cc 

to the outbreak of rhyme. In other words, the energetic or 
part is at best passable— fluent and decent commonplace : but wher 
the style turns and und runs into men like 

becomes perceptible to tl Shakespeare. Wi 

ness these lines spoki ontcmplai 

•auty, while fel ■ ■• against the nascv 

of a base love: — 

light to lnk.e light from n n 

■ I >oo 

lo (or tbec ! 

Dtripil tstmf. if Shake 1* nw v 


orergrowtli of unprofitable tlowera— bnghs poiiv, 

The Historital Play of King Edtvard ITT. 175 

elaborate antithesis— this is as good of its kind as anything 
en A et and Horace Smith. Indeed, it may remind us 

of that parody on the • liluons, flower)- and frothy style of 

Agatli it die opening <>f the Thtimepkoriazusir. cannot but 

■ake the youngest and most ignorant reader laugh, though the oldest 
and most learned baa never set eyes on a line of the original 1 
which supplied the incarnate god of comic song with matter for aich 
exquisite burlesque. 

T<> tlie speech above cited the reply of the Countess is even 
PKefuller, and closer to the same general model of fanciful elegiac 

dnloMc — 

ny presence, like thr April mn, 
Flatter out earth, and suddenly be done : 

happy do not make out outward wall 
Thaa th-.i »ilt grace our Inward house uithaL 
Oar hou»c. my liege, it like a country twain, 

it, and manner* blunt and plain, 
P r s m t tb naught ; y! inly bcauliii- 'I 
V. i'Ii I -mi 111 %■'. rtchw, and fan hidden | " ■ 
whrre the golden ore doth buried lie, 
The ground, undecked nilh nature'* lapcttry. 
Seems barren, * dry; 

1 in- upper turi "i earth 
I iidc, pe-rfiii 1 
Delve lliete, and find thi. issue, and their pride. 
To spring from ordnre and corruption'* side. 
Hut, to nuke up my all too long compare. 
ThCM ray.. 

doth hide 
bed pride, 
n let tlicc be, 
Ernresl ibysclf to stay awhile trill 

Kotoolyil: [-. grace of this charming la-i couplet, but the 

■»*.'' -ength, the fluency and clarity ol tb< whole passage, 

• to show that : ial tuggi rtion ol CapeJI, if (as I 

iiui admit) unp.iTdonablc. The 

***)■ oversight perceptible to any eye and painful to any eai not 

•eilnl lature from all perception of pleasure or of 

1 >m good verse or bad— itionofthe 

■foe rhyme with but one poor couplet intervening — suggests rather 

the oinvght of an unfledged poet than the obtuscness of a full-grown 

portki -.: 

..-■] |erfunu-<"; marking tbi in n 

■ th the acTapulout honesty wlii:*! would stem to hate usually dUling' 
au» Inm more daring aad more famous editor*. 

1 7 6 

The Gentleman V .' 

But of ben ng o 
imitators in ever)- generation may not as much said bj 
tolerant or kind! Among the herd that swarm after t!>< 
heel or fawn upon the hand of Mr. Tennyson, more than one, mor< 
than two or three, have COOK U close as his poor little viceregal 01 
vice-imperial parasite to the very touch and action of the master'* 
hand which feeds men unawares from his platter as they fawn ; at 
close as this nameless and short-winded satellite to the gesture and 
the stroke of Shakespeare's. For this also must be noted ; that the 
resemblance here is but of stray words, of single lines, of separable 
passages. The whole tone of the text, the whole build of the play, 
the whole scheme of the poem, is far enough from any such resem- 
blance. The structure, th< iporitton, is feeble, incongruous, 

Icquate, effete. Hut this, of course, is imperceptible and imnu 
ten mi and bellowing dunces who swallow the cast 

theories of strangers to disgorge them ugain in English. Which 
indeed is no great matter; but the student of another sort will 
remark at a nt i giant e what a short-breathed runner, what a btoken- 
winded athlete hi Hi" lt*J of tragic verse, is the indiscovcrahle author 
of this play. 

There is another point which the W( vnagogue 

will by no man In- exacted to appreciate; for to app 

requires aome knowledge ding of the poetry of 

the Shakcspc ircan ly we now should ■ .an 

Kliiabethan or Jacobean, for the sake of verbal convenience, if not 
for the sake of literary it uch knowledge or under- 

standing no sane man will expect to find in any such qui *en 

in the broad coarse eon we find here . :lic 

c sweet and til i tin- very cradle-song i Q it) 

of our drama : so like Shukcspc say who knew nothing 

of Shakespeare's fellow*, thai «,• . mnot choose I his 

hand. Here as always first in the field -the gen 
harvest-field of S): 
passage from Gr 

\ Plays— on which he obs< 
^icare, thi 

lion over the selfish, 
love of man, 

woman's love at the first hear 
rcmen I 

or suspicion of jcaloi 
■—if I dare 

The Historical Play of King Edward I If. 177 

• very name ox whose lustiest word must 

•n this ox soy rustier outweigh many a babbling and brawling 

generation or Sham Slukespeareans - this lovely passage is indeed as 

like the manner of Shakespeare as it can DC— to eyes ignorant of what 

m fellows can do ; but it is not like the manner of the Shakespeare 

. however, is beside the question. It K 

the CfMftijr 0/ Enors— 

■■'■■ur » L>U — Romro and Juliet It is so like that had 

»e fallen upon it in any of these plays it would long since ha\e been 

* household word in all men's mouths forswcetnetS, truth, simplicity, 

perfect and instinetiv: y of touch. It is wry much liker the 

ant Banner of Shakespeare thi King Edward J1I. 

AndnoSham Si. thai I know of -but thismaj be 

&u rather to superfluity of ignorani than i 

«a the |«rt of that 1 gang— has] 

tiis howling homage the authorship of Gnerii 

Retotning to our text, we find in thi ccch of the King 

wound up ycl coupkt which has 

stnerj ii of Shakespeare's early notes— the catch \ii uords 

oulet : on words which his tripping tongue in youth could 

wtcr r 

Casntoa, al'<cii n h me, 

It »hitl atwml ••■ lice. 

Ami *uh i courtly and courteous eu 

|*usm are pass from the first to the second and most important 

Any reader well versed in the text of Shakespeare, and ill versed 
work of his early rivals and his later pupils, might well l>c 
on a first reading of the speech with which this set 0] 
iut with Capell that here at least was the unformed 

ile indeed, ["he writer. 

*f BUght say, has the nee of his eye, the very trii k Od 

RW. the m Bui on getting little more 

*M»letige- { him always to have a sprinkling of poetic 

ta«e and a dent to unlit 

of " loud 
«aa|lcr» and bullies in the school 

Whin blind and Baked Ignorance 
On «lt ilunp aU day long— 
NO. 1784. n 

i 7 8 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

and mod iin'ii won all thing* connected or connective 

i reader will tind the use of his new know- 
ledge in th ion to which he will have attained that I 
earl) his two early poems, the style of Shakespeare was 
not for the most part distinctively his own. It was that of a crew, a 
knot of young writers, among whom he found at once both leaders 
and followers to be guided and to guide. A mere glance into tlic 
ric literature of live time will suffice to show the dullest eye and 
r how nearly innumerable were the Englishmen 
of Eli ..ho could sing in the court!. 
the pel i nan of them a i"c • 

nuine of their kind : — 

Faciei turn onnibas mat, 
Kcc di»ws» Ijmcn : 

and yel is the generic likeness between flower and flower of 

the same lyrical gatd m but 

here in Bird's, Morley's, I lowland's colic 
of nunc with the words appended— in such jewelled volumes as 
Ewgfo' eat Rh<>pi«,{y— their name is 

II, their numbers arc numberless. You cannot call them > 
tors, this man of that, or all of any ; they were all of one school, but it 
was a school without a master or a head. so it vru 

the earliest sect or gathering of dramatic v»i 

lowe alone stood apart and above them all— the young Shakespeare 
: the rest ; but among these we cann<-i -cues*, 

how n nigh as comjieteni as he to continue the fluent 

rhyme, to prolong tli f Greene and I'eelc, their fir 

most famous lead' 

No more docile or capable pupil could have been desired by any 
master in any art than the author of DavU am/ lUtAtaiv has found in 
the writer of this second act. He lus indeed surpassed his model, 
if not in grai e and 
nuily and co,u V 

his manner, but c pared h 

master's we may faith call it vigorous 
. ol mere bug I 

:t enough 
gjai line oi b a *s about as i 

r tragic oi dramal *e,ai 

might be expected bo should 

The I ! Play of King Edxoard III. 179 

suddenly assume the buskin of tragedy. Let us suppose that 

Moschus, for example, on the strength of having written a sweeter 

cleg) than ever before was dinted over the untimely grave of a friend 

and fellun-singcr, had said within himself— "Go to, I will be 

•hoclcs "— can we imagine thai the tragic result would have been 

other than b 11 deed for the credit of his gentle name, and 

: indeed for all who might have envied the mild and modest 

hyporris) had Em induced then to 

. ■. ikle with the froth ;ind slaver of their promiscuous and point- 

less ad 

As t: • generally known than it deserves to be — 

■ "vn, though tea claim to 

general notice is faint indeed compared with that of many a poem of 

its age familiar only to special students in our own — I will trans, nk- 

a few passages to show how far the writer could KW b Dl his best ; 

leaving for other-, to find out how far short of that not inaccessible 

is too generally content to fall and to remain. 

The opening speech is jpoki Lodowick, ■ parasite of the 

; who woukl appear, like Francois Villon under the roof of his 

Fat Madge, to have succeeded in iL-euneihng the piofessioml duties 

y, the generally discordant and discrepant offices ? — of 

a pOe'- imp : 

•at perceive his eye in hct eye liwt, 
Hi* ear to diink her tract Mlgoc I utterance; 
And changing passion, tike inconstant cloud's 
'II; it, nckl >i|»'ii tin- earriaj-c of tl 
liu mix, and die, In hb .(iMuibid cheek-.. 
l/\ when the^llc■J. even then ili.l ic : 

A» if tier cheeks \ij some endUMted |«jwcr 

!. 1 NBi n I ile, 

• ■n iheir scarlet nrnann at . ; 
her oriental ltd 
Thai. I ' live things to dead. 1 


. lwx» Iciidci BO I. 1 tune, 
■ in the tarred presence of * I 

' Tlic feeble aicbaic lovenion in this line u. one uaOAf MOM ... .11 sij;nj 

luck die date ot" iku play to Ihl 

•I , ". ll.C full Ulllucliie ..I In 

■ml ciaMi.: . t as aa instance Of MUVrtal boa thai 

a COiuie< woik ■ id"— 

•Urce »ord> i m acnt »Wukr o| 


X i 

i So 

The Gentleman s Magazine. 

If he did blub, 'MM red immodest shame 

To vail bia eyes omits, being a king . 

II .he looked pale, twai silly •Oman's fear 

To bear herself in presence of a Idl 

If he looked pale, it was with guilty feu 

To dote amiss, being a mighty king. 

This is better than the in-ufferabU: style of Lacrine, which is in 
great part made up of such rhymeless couplets, each tagged with an 
empty verbal antithesis ; but taken as a sample of dramatic writing, 
it is but just better than what is utterly intolerable. Dogberry has 
defined it exactly ; it is Dot not to be endured. 

The following speech of King Edward is in that 1" Hex style of 
which the author's two chief models were not at their licit incapable 
for 3. while under the influence and guidance (we may suppose) of 
their friend Marlowe : 

She it grown more fairer far since I came hither ; 

1 ler voice more silver every word than other, 

Her wit more fluent. What a strange discourse 

Unfolded >hc of David and I 

T-.'ivm tkui, quoin ca spake broad, 

Wiih epithets and accents of the Scot ; 

I'.ui somewhat better than the Scot could speak : 

Ami Ihm, quoth she— and answered then herself; 

For who could speak like her ? but she herself 

Hrcathc>, from the wall an angel's note from heaven 

Of sweet daAau a ■■■■ bit '•" 

\\ Inn ,lir maid talk of peace, mctliinks her to: ,. 

Commanded war to prison ; ' when of war, 

' Here for the first lime we come upon a verse not unworthy of Mallow* 
a verse in spirit av in , . ifling t he deep oceanic reverberation* 

of his " niigh'y li"<- ." profound ttd |tta] nd -.i"i| > and single a< a nnte of the 
music of the sea. hard il > r were 

never to catch one passing lone of his Master's habitual accent, tt may be worth 
Nfefll Mtiogj I".- Ben "f quicker if of shorter ear than a : ctptarcaa't, 

that we tad hm 'he wine modulation i>f verse common cnoagl .-n, bat 

new to i ' frrfeaW n -which we 

passage of Marlowe's imperfect pi.-.;. . yoaag 

Matter'* untimely death : 

tWIiy »UrV tlnm in Bl 
I-eay in mine arms : mine arras ore Opt 
If Hi :<m me. and I'll turn from ll. 

iBOOgh lht>u hail i 

I lisv.- not 

we aaay lot*, loot; in raia for the like i 
crw-lrtt and feeblest work ol 
MmvrJ lir. 

n frtv. 


The Historical Play of King Edward III. i 8 1 

It wakened Csesar from his Roman grave 
To hear war beautified by her discourse. 
Wisdom is foolishness, but in her tongue ; 
Beauty a slander, but in her (air face ; 
There is no summer but in her cheerful looks, 
Nor frosty winter but in her disdain. 
I cannot blame the Scots that did besiege her, 
For she is all the treasure of our land ; 
But call them cowards that they ran away, 
Having so rich and fair a cause to stay. 

[To bt concluded.) 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 



MR. RANYARD, one of the secretaries of the Royal Asl: 
nomical Society, has recently called attention to the abundant 
evidence which has now been obtained to show that mcte»ri<- 
constantly falling upon the earth. Although the circumstance had 
long l>een recognised by astronomers, first as a necessary conset; 
of the known motions of meteors in space, and secondly from the 
actual study of terrestrial matter ; yet it is desirable that the full 
force of the c\idcnce should be generally understood, and that some 
of the inferences dcduciblc from the fact that meteor dust thus 
upon the earth should be clearly apprehended. Moreover, 
interest has recently been drawn to meteoric investigations in con 
quence of the recognition by the French Academy of Sciences of 
the labours of Stanislas Mcunicr in this department of resc 
I propose now to examine, in the first place, some of the eviden 
collected by Mr. Ranyard. then to discuss the conclusions of Meuni 
and lastly, to indicate the part which, as I think, the downfall 
meteoric matter has performed in past ages of our earth's hist 
Whether the views I advance be regarded as established by t 
evidence adduced, or not, the evidence itself is full of interest ; ■ 
I shall have much more to say about the evidence than about 
theoretical inferences which I deduce from it. 

It must first be noted that, from observations made upon falling 
irs, astronomers have been led to the conclusion that, in travelling 
und the sun each year, the eardi encounters about 400,000,000 
meteoric bodies of all order* of sixe, down to the least which would 
be visible in a telescope of considerable power. As it follows from 
this, that on the average more than a million meteors fall per day, and 
as each of these bodies in falling becomes turned into vapour, which 
must spread through a much largcT extent of space than had been 
occupied by the meteor while solid, we can very well undcrstan 
the particles formed from the subsequent condensation of the 
valorised mcteore into a sort of fine meteoric rain, would be recog- 
nisable in certain localities where the circumstances were favourable 
to their remaining undisturbed during long periods of tunc. We do 

Meteor Dust. 1,83 

ite such good reason for expecting that any small, suitably 
prtrored surface, exposed for hours or even for days or months to the 
sir, *T>uld receive any recognisable amount of meteoric matter. I con- 
fas, therefore, to feeling some little hesitation in accepting accounts of 
meteoric particles gathered on sheets of glass coaled with glycerine, 
or otherwise fitted to capture minute portions of solid matter. When 
niL-tallic portions have been thus captured, I think their origin must 
le otherwise explained than by attributing them to meteoric down- 
&1L For a million meteors per day means about one meteor for two 
id square miles of the earth's surface. In half a year one meteor 
on the average would fall on eai h ■< nare mil,: of dial surface; and, 
a the average weight of a meteor mu 1 I"- estimated rather by gE 
'tort by ounces, I cannot think the meteor-hunter, with his square 
fcot of glyccrincd glass, can have uracil chance, even if he waits 
"any years, of catching partii lea, distributed at the rate of ten or 
*dve grains per weight perhaps over a square mile. It luch an 
thiervcr captured half-a-doxcn meteoric particles in ten or twelve 
jars, the result, though surprising, might be accepted as reconcilable 
•ith the known laws of meteoric downfall. Hut if, in a lew weeks, a 
twmdctahlc number of me! attic particles, even though microscopic 
to dimensions, were detected, the probability would be suggested 
tma such particles were of terrestrial, not of interplanetary or inler- 
*dlo, origin. 

So much premised, let us consider the evidence gathered by Mi. 
R«y*rd, noting that much of it is open to no objection on the score 
01 say antecedent improbability such as I have just considered. 

Intbc year 1862, Professor Andrews announced, in a paper read 
«**e the lirhish Association, that he had discovered particles ot 
"•twtiron in the basalt ol the Giant's Causeway. Having reduced 
portions of the rock in a porcelain mortar to a tolerably fine powder, 
■•petic portions were collected by passing a magnet several times 
****& the powder. The particles adhering to the magnet were 
"•placed under the microscope, and moistened with an m id solu- 
"Wof sulphate of copper. On sonic of them coppa w.i 1 deposit) d 
■ asunner which indicated the presence of native iron It seem. 

■•probable that this iion was derived from meteors whi h fell on 
** basalt when it was still in a plastic condition. It is, indeed, 
fcScnlt to see how iron could otherwise have found its way to such a 

The neat piece of evident belongs to the doubtful category 
*we considered. Mr. T. I.. Phipson, Phil. IX. author of a very 
*AI collection of facts about meteors, aerolites, and falling stars, sa\* 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

t work he li:i 1 1 frequently exposed to the wind. i sheet of 
cd with some transparcm nous substance, in order to 

the particles of dust floating in the air. He says : " I Itave foui 
th;it when a gLiss covered with pure glycerine is exposed to a si 
wind late in November, it receives a certain number of blink anguit 
particles ; some three or four may be thus coilec : i since of 

couple of houiN. The experiment being made far in ihc count 
away from tlic 'amutS 1 Of a town, the black particles *how them 

selves .ill the nine. They we, however, not toot 01 1 1 they 

can be dissolved in strong rrjrdi produce yell 

chloride of mm opon the glass plate." Me continue >ugh 

have made this experiment at various periods of the year, and in 
different countries, it is only in the winter months that the 

pving with byrjrochlorit loridc of iron, have been 

met with, 

1 have already indicated strong .» priori reasons for question! 
whether meteoric matter could be captured, even in many mon 

ing small sheets of glyecrined glass to the air, and for doubtii 
till more seriously the POM capturing such matter at the 

rate of many particles per diem. Rcichcnbaeh's experiments were 
rejected by the more cautious reasoncrs, and. as I think, very pro- 
perly rejected, for such reasons as 1 have indicated above. Mr 
cm to carry their own refutation along with them, 
l i i >.; he has placed upon theni is concerned, 
ndecd, ol : the black particles were not soot, for carbon 

docs not dissolve in hydrochloric or murii and of course no traces 

of iron could, under aXrj circu , be obtained from the 

products of combustion. But there .ire t i believing thai 

minute particles arc often present in Brooke. The mere act of 
poking a fire must often remove minute fragments of iron fr 
poker and from the bars of the grate, and such would 

readily be carried upwards by the ascending current of warm 
becoming coated with soot, wnii Id present precise!) ap| 

ancc as Mr. Phipson describes. Morec here 

much iron passes annually through the fui 
goes various processes of mi it would -nodi 

th< ;1 »r. 
Albeit, 1 think the concluding words of the abov 
indicate a much closer relationship between black 

iles and our winter fire expected to ! i 

catcd by mcteon itmself m Icrs 

appearance of the particles in ill ideoce 



Meleor Dust. 


imcTplancU; And it is the case that a country in 

northern latitudes must receive more meteoric visitants in the first 

three months after the autumnal equinox than in the first three 

months after the vernal equinox. But during the three winter months 

preceding the vernal equinox the number of meteoric visitants is in 

equal degree less than during the three summer months preceding 

the autumnal equinox. In fact, from midsummer to midwinter 

tbe northern hemisphere travels somewhat more forward than the 

KWthern, while I'mm midwinter to midsummer the southern hemi 

sphere tmels somewhat more forward than the northern; and. lor the 

am* reason that in walking under rain the forward half of an urn- 

breHa receives (on the average for different winds) the greater number 

of raindrops, so, from midsummer to midwinter the northern hemi- 

H*erc receives a somewhat greater number of meteoric visitants than 

tie JWJthcm, and a somewhat smaller number from midwinter to 

■drummer. But the winter months, as such, should show no supc- 

"orirj in this respect over the summer months. We must look, then, 

to wme other explanation of the observed fact, that more of the 

M>ck particles were captured in winter than in summer — or rather 

tai many were captured in winter, and none at all in summer. It 

•{■pars to me that we find such an explanation in the circumstance 

^"household fires are lighted in winter, and, for the most pari. 

"anriathcd in summer. 

next evidence considered liy Mr. [lanyard il of a more Mti • 
*»orynaturc. Towards th< . nd ol 1871, Dr. Nordenskjold collected 
*9'UBtity of apparently pari SMW . which fell in the neighbourhood 

* Stockholm, d" ivy snowstorm. On melting a cubic metre 

* this snow (a cubic metre is equal to about 354 cubic feet, or in 
c °*Ment corresponds to about 1,760} pints), he found that it left a 

*>ck residue, from which he was able to extract with a magnet 

***tides which, when rubbed in an agate mortar, exhibited metallic 

c **»racters, and, on being treated with acid, proved to be iron. In 

*»s there was nothing more indicative of meteoric matter than in 

"r- Prii|«son'i experiments ; for snow falling near a city like Stock- 

^hn would be apt to carry down a number of those black particles 

f'jrm part of the smoke of a city, and I'hipson's experiments 

In to prove that minute particles of iron may be present in such 

But when, in 1872, Dr. Nordcnskjokl obtained metallic 

in snow from the ice of the Rantajcrwi, a spot separated by 

; forest from the nearest houses at Evoia, in Finland, the cvi- 

"fcnee appears a great deal more satisfactory. Albeit it cannot be 

*guded as in itself decisive ; and Dr. Nordenskjold's account of the 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

nature of the residue out of which metallic matter was obtained, 
certainly suggests a smoky rather than a cosmical origin. When wow 
obtained in the region named was melted, it " yielded a soot-like 
residue, which under the microscope was found to consist c>f white ■<: 
yellowish. white granules, with black carbonaceous substance, from 
which the magnet removed black grains, which, when rublx 
mortar, were seen to be iron." 

The examination of snow collected in Arctic regions seems a bi 
more satisfactory method of seeking for evidence of meteoric dust 
than the study of snow which has fallen anywhere near places 
inhabited by man. During the Arctic Expedition of 187a, an 
Unity w;u afforded for such researches. On August 8, 1S71, the 
snow covering the drift ice in latitude 8o c north and longitude ij' 
1 1st, was observed to be thickly covered with small black particles, 
while in places these penetrated to a depth of some inches the 
granular mass of ice into which the underlying snow had bcei 
vetted. Among these black particles magnetic matter was found to 
Imndant, and that this matter was iron was proved by itspowi 
of reducing copper sulphate (in the same way, dial is, .is in the 
experiments made by Dr. Andrews), Again, on September ;, rfl 
latitude 80" north and longitude 15' east, the ice field «-i> found 
.•■ with 1 bed of freshly fallen now 50 millimetres (abort • 
inches) thick, then a more compact bed abuut 8 millimetre* (or 
say one-third of an inch) in thickness, and below this a layer J» 
millimetres (say li inch) thick of snow converted into a crystalline 
granular mass. The latter was full of black granuli come 

grey when dried, and exhibited the magnetic and chemical characters 
already referred to. They amounted to from one-tenth of a milli- 
gramme to a milligramme in a cubic metre of snow, a milligramme 
being equal t» about 165th of a grain. As the falling snow 
sweep through a large region of air, and so have a chance of < 
a considerable: number of meteoric particles, the presence of 
65th to a (J5oth of a grain of meteoric matter in 35 cubic feet of « 

mis to accord fairly with what we might expect from the 
relative paucity and minuteness of the earth's meteoric 
Moreover, the nature <>f the metallic matter fuund in these, 
snows accords far better with the theory ol it:, meteoric origin 
that of the metallic matter found in the black |iartides of Ph 
and some of Rcichcnbach's experiment It is nearly certain I 
effectual measures were taken for capturing w natter, I 

other metals than iron would be detected. Now, the matt. 
in Arctic regions contained such cAhci metals. We are told that 1 



Afttor Dust. 187 

analysis of the grey particle* 1 <r. Nordenskjdld to establish 

bait, and probably nickel. 

y Mr. Ranyard does not appear to me 

to be altogether so satisfactory. During the yean 1874, 1875, and 

ibed in the Compttt Rtndus ai series of papers 

on his examination of atmospheric du-.t. He showed that "in the 

dust deposited upon the towers of the Cathedral of Notre I tame, U 

i in the solid matter deposited from rain-water, there were 

I c particles containing iron, nickel, and cobalt. On examining 

these particles under tin- microscope he found that they were very 

which he was able to detach by 
D from the surface of meteorites, and be concludes they 
are the sotidificd metallic rain detached from meteoric masses during 
through the atfflosi here." The presence of nickel 
and cobalt favours the belief that the meUlfic matta detected 
by M a really was meteoric matter, .is, of course, docs the 

1 e of the particles t 1 can be detached from the 

of meteorites by friction. Still, the towers of Notre Dame 
are n* lace where we should look for meteoric 

1 absolutely free fi latum with the products of com- 

bustion and other processes taki:. in and around human 

'Hie evidence next to be examined is curious, and withal some- 
what i Dr. Walter Flight published in the 
'irch and April, 1875, a paper on " Meteoric Dust," 
since been reprinted in the Antic Manual. After dc 
.. Dr. Nordcnskjold's observations, Dr. Flight remarks that the 
dust from the Polar ice north of Spitzbergcn bears a great resemblance 
to a substance to which Dr. Nordcnskjold has given the name of rrjwv- 
■'om two Greek words signifying ice and dust). This substance 
"was found," says Dr. Flight, "in Greenland, in 1870, very evenly 
ited, in not inconsiderable quantity, in vhorc ice, as well as on 
ice th oast, and at a height of 700 metres" (about 
760 yards) he dosl of both localities has probably 
a coon nil fly met with in the holes of 
il grey powder at the bottom of the water 
filling the holes. Considerable quantities of this subs;ancc arc often 
carried down by streams which traverse die glacier in all directions. 
The >■ feed these streams lie towards the east, on a 
slowly-rising undulating plateau, on the surface of which not the 
■ne or larger rock masses was to be observed. 
The actual | material, in open hollows on the wnfote 

1 88 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

of the glacier, precluded the possibility of its having been derived 
from the ground beneath." 

Dr. Flight then goes on to consider the probable origin of cryo- 
conitc. 1 lc remarks that the subject is " highly enigmatical. That 
cryoconitc is not a product of the weathering of the gneiss of the coast 
is shown by its inferior hardness, indicating the absence of granite 
by the large proportion of soda, and by the fact of mica not being 
present That it is not dust derived from the basalt area of Green- 
land is indicated by the subordinate position which the oxide of iron 
occupies among the constituents, as well as by the large proportion 
of silicic acid. We have then to fall bade on the assumption that it 

is cither of volcanic or of cosrnical origin The trvoconite, 

whencesocver it comes, contains one constituent <>f cosmical i 
Dr. Nordcnskjold extracted, by means of the magnet, from i 
quantity of material sufficient particles to determine their metallic 
nature and composition. These grains separate i upper from I 
tion of the sulphate, and exhibit conclusive indications "I tin ■ presence 
of cobalt (not only before the blowpipe, but with the solution of 
potassium-nitrite), of copper, and of nickel — though in the Litter < 
with a smaller degree of certainty, 1 — through the reactions <>f 
metal being of a less delicate character." It is clear from this i 
scription that cryoconitc is to all intents and purposes identical i 
the matter obtained by Dr. Nordcnskjold from the melting of | 
snows. The evidence, however, is in this case remarkable, I 
this cryoconitc or ice dust is found " very evenly distributed in 
inconsiderable quantities." Probably, however, the difficulty 

Dg will disappear if we consider that large quantities of i 
which falls in the Arctic regions is subsequently melted on 
without melting ; and thus a layer of one inch of compressed ice ■ 
represent the downfall of as nun h snow as — even when conve 
would form a laytr several feet, perhaps several yards, in thii 
if none of it underwent evaporation. Thus we can understand j 
the presence even of a considerable proportion of this 
matter in the compressed Arctic snows may be reconcilable with 
actual downfall of relatively very minute quantities of such 
very large quantities of snow. For of course the evaporation 
snow would not cause the removal of a single particle of the i 

' Science know* of no degree* of certainty, though probability m*y I 
more and more nearly to certainty. It It at well t" lie accurate even in < 
as the abore, where no error it likely to arise ; for a habit of speaking i 
U soon acquired, ami, in cases where errors may very readily arise, often 
tcrioialf mischievous. 

Mtteor Dust. 


ot meteoric matter. It would be a research of considerable interest, 
I may remark, to inquire in what degree the Polar snows evaporate 
m compared with thwc portion! which come to form put of glacial 
manes. Although very- probably it might not be found possible to 
. even for any given region, far less for regions 
of great extent and varying nature, yet general evidence might be 
obtained which, combined with the result is, such as 

ordenskjold has already applied to large quantities of the com- 
pressed snow, might throw much clearer light than we now possess 
of meteoric matter actually falling year by year upon 
the earth. 

Turn we no* Upine snows to the depths of the great 

ocean. Here, as it should seem, \ve may expect to find met 
matter, for not one particle of metallic matter which has once reached 
the surface of the mid-ocean can fail to sink and become part of the 
matter deposited at the sea-bottom. Hire also, at least in regions 
tar removed from the shores or from the ordinary track i 1. m 
vessels, we should expect to find small trace of admixture with 
metallic matter from terrestrial sources. 

In 1876, Mr. John Murray gave an interesting account of his ex- 
amination of the deposits found at the bottom of the oceans and seas 
visited by the Government ship Challtngo. The full account will be 
found in the ninth volume of the " Proceedings of the Royal Society 
of Edinburgh." The following points arc all that we need consider 
here Mr. Murray found, in many of the deep-sea clays, a nun 
of magnet s, "some of which he extracted by means of a 

magnet carefully covered with paper. On placing them under an 
scope, and moistening with the acid solutions of sulphate of topper, he 
nd tlut OOppei w js deposited on some of the particles.'* From this 
rcumsance that the particles bore a strong resemblance 
ltd on the "mammtUated outer surface of the Cape 
ictcon that the particles had a cosmical 

a Me loggt i; reason why meteoric [.articles are found in 

tbundance in , is that at the bottom of the 

ocean, far from land, nidi particles would no! 1"- wished away or so 
rapidly covered up as in the case of deposits found near to continents. 
They would consequently appear to form a larger proportion of de- 
posited matter. He also suggests that the nickel present in meteoric 

n would greatly retard the oxidation of such ((articles, " I'roi 
Alexander Hcrschel has, I understand," adds Mr. Ranyard, " examined 
under the microscope some of the- particle s extracted by Mr. Murray, 

pinion that they are of probably cosmic 


T/u Gentleman's Magazine. 


Here again we seem to recognise a means of determining the 
actual rate of meteoric ingathering at the present time. For it should 
be possible to determine the rate at which the sea-bottom is rising in 
particular regions. This done, the quantity of cosmical matter found 
in a given thickness or quantity of a deposit in one of these region* 
would indicate very accurately the quantity which had (alien in » 
given time. And tint* we should Ik; able to infer the rate at which 
ili>-- whole earth is growing on account of meteoric indraught Tbc 
mean of the quantities ionnd to fill year by year on each, per square 
yard or per square mile, in several well-examined regions, could 
be fairly taken as the mean annual deposit per each square yard or 
square mile, as the case might be, of the whole surface of the earth. 
We should thus be able to infer, approximately, the actual 
the earth in pounds or tons during a year or a century. 

Next let us pass from the deep seas to the summits of lol 
tains, or, better, to the snows collected in large mountain passes. 

In September 1876, Mons. E. Yung published a paper 
'• Etude sur les Poussitrcs cosmiqucs." In this he give 
showing iron particles which he had found in snow that had 
at the Hospice of St. Bernard. During the years 1X75 and | 

M. Tung examined mow which had fallen on othet mountain* 

Switzerland. In every case he found (as Reichenbach had 
done) a number of iron particles. He also extracted with a majn 
minute globules of iron from ilust collected on the towers of chi 
This agrees well with the results of M. Tissandicr's open: 
Ranyard remarks that the iron particles figured on M. Yung's 
arc mostly spherical or pear-shaped, with projecting points and ih 
of metaL 

Mr. Ranyard's own observations have next to be con 
During his passage across the Atlantic, in returning from the ex; 
tion for observing the eclipse of July iS7S,he repeated in a modified 
form Mr. Phipson's experiments. " When at a distance of about i.oca 
miles from the American coast," he says, "I exposed some glas^ 
covered with glycerine to the wind. They were placed upon a wind- 
vane, behind a tiu funnel which directed a current of air upon the 
centre of the plate. The wind vane was mounted near the pro«o( 
the vessel, ami duriiu.; ilu tunc of the exposure the wind was blowing 
nearly at right angles to the course of the vessel." It is clear, there- 
fore, that whatever air fell upon the tin funnel, and through the 
upon the glycerincd plate, had come across the open sea, not 
the region over or near the smoke-stack (to use a convenient Ann 

si. 191 

Mr. Ranyard exposed four plates, for periods of 30 hours, 24 
hours, 18 hours, and 20 hours n rpcctively, "Immediately after 
the exposure the plates iced," he says. ' in a box, such 

as is ordinarily used by photographers for carrying negatives, and 
the whole was wrapped in paper so as carefully to exclude dust till 
the plates could be brought to England for examination.'' When 
the box was opened the plates were examined under the microscope, 
were submitted to the action of dilute hydrochloric at Ed, 
(towards to thai of sulphocyanide nun, a process which 

would indicate tbepresenceof iron partii 1. . by a bright n d -\ tin. The 

.1 in this 1 1* follows:— 

11 l.ich was exposed iS hours, a rather Urge pal 

ticle containni.r iron wi (bund. It wi-. <-i a dark brown colour, and 
was somewhat elongate:!, tapering slightly towards one end, but was 
no* angular like the parti by Mr, Phfpsan, It was clearly 

to the naked eye, and I estimated it to be between the one 
dtli and Ihc one one-hundred and-fiftleth ol an inch in its 
loogc There were other tra ton upon the plates, 

but only in vet- always in connection with minute 

hou> and nils which had lodged in the glycerin. 

i ear far more satisfactory than any hitherto ob- 
tained from the exposure of glyecrined plates to currents of air. For, 
first, the method used was not open to the objections existing in the 

ndPhipson,and, in the second place, the 

minute amount of metallic matter captured accords far better with 

a priori probabilities than the large " finds" which have been made by 

obocrv satisfactory methods. However, Mr. Ranyard 

him** ■ ■, any means satisfied, — a remarkably good symptom 

in an not fed satisfied," he says, " with the 

il although the plates were carefully cleaned, and the 

-.Itowed no traces of iron, the box in win. h 

Ml in I'rof. Henry Draper's 

laboratory utcd to make sure that it was Dei 

before making use of it. On another oe. 
I would recommend that the box in which the plates are to bi 
i should be carefully 1 rid coated on the inside with 

rine. A box without a lock ind with brass hinges should be 
nude use of. It tnigh le to vary the expi 

cxpuung a magnet to the wind, with pol rith tin-foil. On 

nil the magnetic panicles" (always supposing 
OU tl be allowed to fall ate covered 



T/te Gentleman's Magazine. 

From the combined results of all these different methods of 
observation we may safely infer that meteoric dust, in the form of 
minute particles of metallic matter, is at all times present in 00! 
atmosphere, though the total amount, even for the whole earth, must 
be at any moment exceedingly small, while the quantity falling on I 
square yard, or even a square mile, of the earth's surface in 
even in a whole year, must be so minute as to be pract; 

Mr. k; indeed, in discussing the results of the 
researches, is led to adopt some conclusions, or rather to 
favourably of tone Inferences, which would seem to imply that the 
downfall of meteoric dust upon our atmosphere plays a much more 
important put can justly, I conceive, be attributed 10 it- "'IV 
above observations," he says, "seem to point to a conclusion which has, 
I believe, been advocated for some time pa U by Mr. Proctor, namely, 
that meteoric matter is continually falling in quantities which, in m 
lapse of ages, must accumulate so as materially to contribute lots* 
matter of the earth's crust. There can belittle doubt that in nV 
course of a year millions of meteors enter the earth's atmwpht n 
few of the larger masses reach the earth's surface, but by far the RWtfrr 
number appear to be consumed in the higher atmosphere. The aha** 1 
observations show that minute particles of iron frequently reach lW 
earth's surface without having undergone any change such a? way •< 
expected to result from their passage through the air in an iturasue- 
H cut state." To this he adds in a note the remark that iron partidc* 
probably form only a very null pad of the meteoric, dust continual!)' 
falling — for, of the larger masses whic h have been seen to fall, it hast** 
estimated that not one in fifty is iron. " Dr. Might informs me," hi 
'• that in the British Museum thcTc arc joj stony meteorites, all °' 
which have been seen to fall, and there are only four iron meteor*** 
which have been seen to fall. Stony meteorites consist for the »o* 
part of olivine, augitc, hornblende, felspar, and other minerals mo* 
of which are common in volcanic and mctamotphic rocks, *»•' 
cannot be distinguished as having a meteoric origin unless they* 
found in masses. It is worthy of remark that all the elements 
arc common in meteorites are also common in the stratified rocks, j 

It has been for researches into the matters touched 
words just quoted that Mr. Stanislas Meuniei haa recently 
the Ijilande Medal at the liands of the Paris Academy of Scie 
In awarding to him this recognition of his laborious a) 
researches, the Ac. expressed approval of the startling 

in my opinion utterly inadmissible, theory which he has 

Meteor Dust. 


the results of his researches. This theory is that meteors form part 
of what was once a planet, with geological Strata like thai of our own 
"and that later it was decomposed EstO separate fragments, 
under the action of causes difficult to define exactly " (these are the 
tnett words of the whole passage), " but which we have more I 

Been in operation in the heavens themselves " (and these are 
the most incorrect). Nothing wilder than this theory has been 
idnaccd by a student of science since Sir \V. Thomson enunciated 
the amazing doctrine that life itself had been brought to the earth 
•aid the fragments of a world once peopled by living creati 

ng more readily disproved has ever been asserted as a result of 
ictnil observation than the explanation put by Mcunier upon the 
»<alled " new stars" (fee these are the objects which he regards as 
iAastnting his t '-.-.. he decomposition of worlds), since Prof 

Jvnnced as practically certain the sea-bird theory of CO) 

the careful study of any one comet ever observed for 

roort astronomers would have shown to be 

ire can be nothing more certain than that the meteor 

'JKena encountered by the earth could never have fanned put of 

» JitiRlc large glol>e, even if such globes could conceivably be 

K*8tred into fragments. Not even a million exploded glob* i could 

lot for the arruuing diversity observed among the meteoric 

tpteaa encountered by the earth. Foi although she docs not 

mtour.tcr a million v.ich systems, or possibly even a thousand, yet 

fhai the known fact of her encountering hundreds of such systems 

omes to all intents and purposes certain thai many millions, 

•Hularly diverse in arrangement, position, motion, and so forth, 

in the solar domain. And again, among all the theories 

e hitherto been advanced in explanation of the appearance 

a- stars (or rather the sudden increase of certain stars in 

iplendour;. utterly incrcd:i admissible is that which 

would regard these phenomena as due to the sudden decomposition 

like the earth, of true geological epoch 

Returning to Mr. Ranyard's inferences from the recognition of 

meteoric dust, 1 must remark that the theory he has attributed to me 

one that I have advocated, in the form at lea h he 

-, it. I have no doubt that the earth has in remote past ages 

ed no small portion of her present mass from the interplanetary 

inly have never maintained that the meteoric 

matter now con: lling must, in the lapse of agi 

to contribute to the matter of the i 
crutt. On Ok- contrary, [I u that this rannot pea 



J 94 

The Gentleman $ Magazine. 

i«mi. I do not believe thai in the lapse of ages, usine. 
pp i iv many thousands of years, the hundredth part of 

ii, in this way to the earth's diameter. I do not 

•ik that in ;i thousand millions of yean the earth's diameter can be 
increased a tingle toot in tli h an increase 

would hardly be properly described as a material contribution to the 
thickness of the earth's crust.) For as I have already mentioned, 
taking the highest estimate of die number of meteors of all orders 
which fall » Ctrl] upon the earth — or rather which enter her atmo- 
sphere — and die greatest average weight which can he attributed to 
each, it is certain that not more than one ounce of matter is added 
to each square mile of the earth's surface per annum. Now, in * 
square mile there are (nearly enough) about 1,500,000 square yards. 
So 1 if die supply of n owed no signs of 

the next not more than a 

pound's might of natter would l>e added to eai t yard of die 

earth's M -he course tl r-t millions of years, or rouj.: 

• it three stones' weight to each square yard in the course of a 
thousand millions of years. Now, this amount of matter spread 
a square yard would form a layer of very small thickness even if die 
greater part of the matter were no denser than pumice stone. If of 
the density of water, 431b. of such matter would have a volume 
j to that enclosed within a four-gallon vessel. Or the matter 
nay be put t' :btc foot of water weighs as nearly as pos* 1 

1,000 ot, and as there are oorj . it follow- 

vessel of water eight inches deep by one square foot in horizontal 
cross-section would be as nearly as possible equal in weight to the 
maximum quantity of meteoric matter tailing on each square 
the earth's surface in a thousand millions of years. are 

nine square feet in a square yard Hence it follows that the tout 
increment of meteoric matter, in a thousand millions of yea 
the average of the density of water, would add but one inch 1 
mm to the crust of* the earth, or would increase the ear 
(supposed unchanged 60m other causes) by two inches. 

refore some of the effects whk nyard goes DO to 

ate to meteoric downfall must cither be rejected as 
or must be regarded as belonging to exceedingly remote eras of the 
tarn's history, when free meteoric matter existed in much greater 
pm lw a o n . and was therefore captured much root* frrelv than 

-anil i- a*Ti-e «hcs he 

there qui be httk doubt that up to s great hoc: anlr, 

Meteor Dust. 


the air is impregnated with dust \ iiwing meteoric dust. 
The explanation which he is thus led to give of the dark blue colour 
cf the sky seen from the highest mountains, most certainly must be 
rejected. It is true that this colour indicates, as Professor Tynd.ill 
las shown, "the presence of particles small compared with the v. 
log!) of light." Hut the suggestion that " the blue colour may be 
eased by dust derived from the dc"bris of meteors, the mallei 
pricks of which may possibly occupy months or even year* in 
Uag to the earth's surface," is altogether inconsistent with the 
kajwn astronomical facts respecting meteors. If this really were the 
sac explanation of the daik blue colour of the sky, then even- night 
Be whole sky would be ablaze wit li falling stars ; for nothing short 
•* the constant arrival of meteoric matter as it arrives during toe 
pat displays of shooting Stan would produce the abundant meteoric 
*BJ in the upper air whidi Mr. Kanyard's suggested explanation 
.:. ret 

Again, he makes the following remarks, which, by the way, are 
•til worth careful study, even though we may feel compelled (as I 
totally feel compelled) to reject the conclusion to which they con- 
fct Mr. Ranyard : "Much evidence has been collected by I'm- 
fcsor Von Niessl and others which tends to show that many of the 
meteoric masses enter the earth's atmosphere with velocities in- 
that they are moving in hyperbolic orbits and consequently 
<k sot belong to the solar system. It seems, therefore, probable that 
t all events a certain proportion of the meteoric dust is derived 
too sources outside the solar system." So far all is just; it i- m 
•ha follows that Mr. Ranyard fails, I think, to take due account of 
4e rektivc minuteness of the quantity of meteoric matter which can 
*teoe have fallen on the earrji during the more recent geological eras. 
'He earth and planets, as they arc carried along with the sun in his 
*»tioo through space, would thus receive a larger proportion o! 
•atohc matter on their northern than on their southern hemi- 
^ktftt; and I would suggest, as a theory worthy of consulera- 
*«. that this may account for the preponderating mass of the 
''WBents in the northern hemisphere of the earth, and for the- 
*fch has so frequently been pointed out by physical geograpl 
*« tee great terrestrial peninsulas all taper towards the southern 


"Tie following fuel* with regard to the moon and tin- planet Mar* may 

,'apMr. Ranyard. "have some connection with the unequal addition of 

nutter in ihnr northern and wuithem hemispheres. On tin- moon the 

actios haw been decidedly mow intense in the 


196 The Getiilemaris Magazine. 

It should be noticed, in the first place, that the excess of land in 
the northern hemisphere would tend to prove rather that 'the greater 
amount of solid matter was in the southern than that it was i 
northern hemisphere. For the water has been drawn by the Btti 
influence of the earth's solid matter as a whole to the southern hemi- 
sphere ; and tin's circumstance can scarcely be otherwise cxpl 
than by ntpposing thai there is in the southern half of the earth' 
globe a preponderance of attracting matter. Apart, however, from 
is quite certain that the excess of matter in the northern 
hemisphere could not be explained as Mr. Ranyard suggc 
excess amounts to an average difference of at '.cast 400 feet in level ; 
and it is quite certain that, while at the present rate of meteoric down- 
pour, more than ten thousand millions of years would be required to 
produce a layer 400 feet thick, and a hundred tiroes that period to 
produce an excess of thickness of that amount in the northern as 
compared with the southern hemisphere. It cannot be doubted that 
the time to which the present conformation of the lands and seas 
belongs cannot amount to five millions of years, or, indeed, to any- 
ihftt duration. We have the clearest possible evidence 
that large parts of even the higher lands in the northern hemisphere 
were under water at a much less remote epoch. 

Again, tl ness of the meteoric indraught, as compared 

of the earth's atmosphere, renders inadrm 

the ingenious theory- advanced by Mr. Ranyard to account for 

changes in the climate of the The experiments of Professor 

AfthtU show that when meteoric masses 

northarn hcrncipbcrc. sad it wiH abo he noticed thai the great enter range* ran 
1 .wih and math. Oo the planet Mm- 1( «e adopt the deGneation of the 
»ea» tad continent* given by Proctor « his nap, which «»>■ chiefly nude ftn 
the drawing* of the pi. '>iere i\ a* 00 oar earth, a great: 1 

-can nuttcc in the southern than la the pmlh ei n heraUpbere. On 
>* land urtace Li drodnUy greater than the ocean aarnce, *o that the 
•r*» »|<e>oif redweod to mere laVrea and narrow mlao." (This, by the aqtj 

.-. ahrthrr any nap b* contaiered, nt the aanrr recent map* • 
■ail SehiapaieUi hare bated em the nhimrlan of Man maoV 

ivwnMt vfpaaltion of 1877. Tu my run map t have ar-| 
•n(4» hm raVcUee rott, far tuning drawn h aa an - 
«a wMrtt aaoal apnea, cat the gtoba ate ny—a j by rpnvl apatn in the map. 
I nave cat oa< tha p*ttt rrpmaWMg land tram taw rr,«r»mtinc. water, and, 
watghtag tbnw |v». of paper, haw boast that thtaw Wl.-ngw . . weigh, 

•at eoaatrj the «aaar aa then* W h - mg lra j to the tar 

«.U ha aoMml that ihwnr < tale* and aaim- 
aajtaji ta the m a rt i n anrn t aim ua, ml that what haa beer. 
dkt •( ri—ha u w. haa «. aandmi Im* dandaOI. 
Martial e- . . 

MeUor Dust 



few 1 




are healed, considerable amounts of occluded gas arc given off. We 
shall therefore, in considering the results which must follow hum the 
continuous fall of meteoric matter, have to take into account the 
at gaseous matter is probably l>cing continually added to the 
Atmosph' n-. it the amount of gaseous matter taken fiom the air 
and stored up in a solid form by the agency of plants and annuls, 
and by distances, docs not counterbalance the 

amount continually added to the ■ re from meteors, together 

with the supph. vents anil from other soi 

from which the atmosphere may be recruited, it wiO b Ql tli.n 

the total amount of the atmosphere must cither 1 
decreasing. And the point to which 1 wish to draw attention is that 
such increase or decrease would in time serve to account for great 
changes of temperature at the earth's surface. If we suppose the 
earth to pass through a region of space where- then ore comparatively 
few meteors, the height of the atmosphere would in the course of 
1 greatly decreased, and we should temperature at the 

l>onding to the present temperature of our mountain 
tops. In the language of geologists, a glacial epoch would be the 
1 hand, the earth passed through a region of 
•pace rich in meteors, containing occluded carbonic acid fu, the 
atmosphere would increase in depth, and a period like the cu> 
period might be the result, in which a temi-tropicAl 
vegetation might again flourish on the coast of Greenland." 

ie true that, in time, such changes as are at present 
ing 1 >r the other of the two opposite causes of 

nge were to operate, produce an atmosphere much rarer, n 
r than the present atmo.-ajlitn ol 

n that the intervals of tun. hte so- 

called glacial epochs from epochs when rich vegetation of a 

ad existed in Arctic regions, were not nearly long enough 
;>rcciablc changes of :n. been pro- 

e manner suggested by Mr. (lanyard The total v.. 
1 eonc matter added in ten million years to the earth, at the 
ircwnt rate of indraught, would not add one-tenth of 1 the 

of the mercurial coi romctcr, even 

tion that die whole of the us added became not 

en it reached our air, but remained gase<; ards, 

in such sort that, throughout the whole of those millions of years, no 
meteoric dust was debited— for meteor 
dentation of meteoric vaiwur. There are reasons for believing 

of a semi-tropical vegetation in Arctic a.ud \v\Ut\k. 

Gentleman's Magazine. 

regions was due to the greater density of the air in remote tiroes, and 
difference in its constitution ; but it is quite certain that no 
such difference can be ascribed to meteoric downfall within the 
interval over which geological surrey extends. For it must be 
'•■ibcrcd that the passage of our solar system through a region rich 
in meteoric matter could not possibly produce an excess of meteoric 
downfall for a period of moderate duration, foil: .cntly 

by a prolonged period of relative meteoric scarcity n-tcors 

gathered during such a passage would be gathered by the solar 
system as a whole, and would not get distributed among the several 
members of that system for many millions of years. Mad there 
lxen such downfall during the carboniferous era. the earth would 
not have exhausted in the interval which has elapsed since (the 
maximum interval, that is, which geology will allow us to recognise) 
a tithe of that meteoric wealth. We can safely conclude from the 
minute amount of meteoric indraught now, that there has been no 
such meteoric wealth as this theory supposes, during a period at 
least a hundred times as long as that which separates the carboni- 
ferous era from the present v.- 

But although some of the remits which have been supposed to 
from the downfall of meteoric matter most thus be 
missed as the minutest quan: 

known to be felling year by year, there remain many interesting 
lonccs from the recognised laws of meteoric distribution. The 
-. indeed, one which, so far from being as yet exhausted, seems 
scarcely tu have be. '.tacked Nor can we won. 

we remember how short a rime has el 
and fchootmg stars have had their troc position as members of 
solar system assigned to them. Recognising, as we now 

most, the tact that day by day, and rear by year, our earth gathers 
leoric fragments, remembering that the meteors thus captured 
ch year are only those which remain after thousands 
of million* of yean, dariaj which the proem has continued, we 
cannot but perceive tha: past meteors mat erved 

mo« uuporum purposes in the economy, not merely of our earth, 
but o> x system Xor b it wholly imposs&le thai a* men 

more and more 
.- n u mb e r* , and the constitution of the meteor*. 

bk to infce. with a chanson and mines* a- 
nature of the system of ^^j. toadies which 
■ V walar ••stem was yocog. 

■aatAJus a. mocroE. 







iblc within the limits Of On Article to touch on more 
1 than one or two points in connection with the work of the 
London School Board. 

I have not therefore in this paper discussed the question of exp 
or attempted to make any comparison of the cost of the volun t.iry 
and School Board system. The real expenditure of the London 
School Board will of course be governed by the answers that arc 
given by the ratepayers to the following among oilier questions: — 
Are all the poor children in London to be educated? Is it good p 
to ert< led with ill the comforts and con- 

vtnkm the majority of the B boob now contain? 

Id they be, or should they be of thi 
id mow economical*. in? Are the I id too highly, 

I — and ti reason why the cost of teaching in 

mdon Board Schools is proportionately so great — is it goo<l potii y 
Dumber of teachers to the same number of children 
in most v schools? Arc the children to be taught the 

lone, or arc they to receive a higher education ? 

is a matter of revenue, but equally involves 
a policy. Shall h or low? This question I have 

voured to answer, while at the same time I have discussed 
hool provision, the bye-laws, managers, etc. There arc many 
ther minor but interesting features of the work which lack of space 
my examining; among which I may mention Industrial 
ools, " capricious migration of children from school to school," 
education of blind, deaf, and dumb, cooker), 


In work of the London School Board wc are too 

1870, under the vol item, London 

long way I lost of the other large towns in its ei 

Uld that the schools which it possessed were scattered 
eery irregularly over its surface, and were often most abundant where 

.1 needed. 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

This must not be taken as a reproach against the voluntary 
i. it London from an educational point of view is peculiarly 
.■.itu.n. (!. Not only is the extent of area enormous, and the popula- 
tion vast — luting more numerous than that of Scotland — but its 
awkward distribution militates against a thorough and impartial divi- 
sion of any educational fund provided by voluntary means. For instead 
of the dwellings of the rich and poor being indiscriminately mixed 
together, or within reasonable distance of one another, as in smaller 
towns, the rich are congregated in certain regions with only a small 
Sprinkling of poor among them, while the latter are crowded in their 
own densely populated districts, with perhaps not a single weali 
in in living in their midst. And in many cases between the t 
quarters is .1 great barrier fixed, in the shape Of warehouses, 
and Other buildings used only during the day. 

W lien, therefore, the School Board came into existence, some 
trictS and divisions were found to be sufficiently and even excess 
provided with schools, while others required to be studded with 
buildings. For instance in the rich division of Westminster it has so 
been only necessary to build two small Hoard schools, while in the 
and more populous division of the Tower Hamlets, the Hoard ha 1 
already been forced to provide 30,000 school places, and have 
thousands more, building or in contemplation. Then, too, t". 
populated and ever-increasing suburbs, were almost entirely lad 
in scln ml accommodation, and many outlying schools had to be 
!>v tin Hoard, some of which are as much as seven or nine mi 
bom Hyde Park Corner. 

The poorer districts would have been totally unable to bear 
whole cost Of establishing t] OJ schools in their own qu 

and so the incidence of the burden of the education rate was equal] 
om the whole of the Metropolis. Thus the City- with 01 
small transferred Board school in its midst — will pay this year sevi 
thousand pounds more in education rates than Lambeth, which 
40,030 children in Board schools. 

original ground on which was based the first calculation 
the educational needs of London was the Census of 1871 ; that n 
bcring of the people showed that, out of a population of c 
over 3,000,000, them were some 575,000 children 1 
mtntnry school class between the ages of 3 and 13. All 
however, did not require school accommodation, and largi 
had to be made for those who were " too young to go to sch 
"in the country,* "sick," "necessarily at work," etc; leaving 
«t /mated residue of 452,000 children needing accommodation. 

The London School Board and its Work. 201 

Toe school places supposed to lie at that time actually available 
*crc calculated at 313,000. In addition, promises to build or en- 
luge schools were freely made by the different voluntary agencies; 
ad it was estimated that the total accommodation, existing or pro- 
jected, exclusive of Board schools, would provide lor at least 350,000 
chidrcn; and it was therefore assumed that if the School Board were 
pjdmlly to add rather over 100,000 places, London would be 
■ffiied with a sufficient number of elementary schools. On these 
ponds it was confidently asserted that the education rate would not 
be aore than twopence or threepence in the pound ; and there is 
Me doubt that if these calculations of numbers and provision had 
W been afterwards completely falsified, the rate need never have 
weeded threepence. 

Bst unfortunately for the pockets of the ratepayers — though 
pembly not for the cause of education— many disturbing elements 
"Jiely dispelled this sanguine view of the future, and the Board, 
»*ead of 100,000, have already 200,000 children on their hands, 
ad trill have many thousands more to accommodate with schools. 
He net is, that miscalculations were made in the original estimate of 
1* provision existing in the voluntary, private-adventure, and official 
•diceb; for instance, their accommodation was calculated on the 
•^Wquare-feet basis, while, in London at least, nine square feet is 
to* cr^sidered by most schools the minimum amount of ipn e thai 
a be allowed for each child. Then the "military schools "were 

kooedby their nominal " barrack " accommodation, instead of by 

amber of children who did or could attend them. They ought 

to hare been added in at all, and they have since been struck 

tat of efficient public elementary schools. And in many 

tic schools the full number of places calculated were — and are — 

<n*ny reasons not really available. 

Then, again, the profuse promises of enlargement that were made 

- by the managers and friends of the voluntary schools— often 

»>dt the intent to stave off the evil day when it might become 

■aesmy to plant a Board school in the neighbourhood— were in 

1 cases not redeemed. In addition, many private-adventure 

■a* were reckoned in the eftk ient list, with the hope that if time 

aagrvcnlhctn they would bring themselves up to the necessary 

cadard of efficiency. This hope has been grievously disappointed, 

I «d scores of these small schools have liven condemned by the F.du- 

f obm Department, and their accommodation has ceased to be calcu - 

I aed as available. Other schools also, for many and various reasons, 

lore from time to time been closed, and the children left to seek 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

accommodation elsewhere. ' Last, and no: ufoucl. 

and another, " Ragged," "Church," " ining 40,000 

places, have been transferred to the Board, usually in consequence 
of the inability of the managers to continue to raise xutficicnt sub- 
scriptions to carry them on; but in some cases bec imagers 
liked the Board system of education as well as, or better than, tl. 
own, and were glad to be relieved of the care of their schools. 

The effect of all these deductions hat l«en to create a defr 
some 100,000 places on the orig;i late of accommodation pro- 

vided, «r to he provided, by voluntary means ; while, on the other 

■ annual increase of pi pulation has been unexpected!; 
and it is found that the children of the elementary school class 
London increase at the rate of some six or seven a year, 

■st all these children have to be accommodated by the 

id, for the voluntary agencies have been, and an »di 

occupied in holding their own to be able to do more 1 hlly 

increase the p their icboi 

The schedules of the School Board \ isitors for las- wed 

a total of 612,00c of the elementary school class between 

the ages of 3 and ltd «if these it is calculated that Ml 

518,000 . will increase year 

>car. The voluntary system, foi >ily pro- 

vides ac< >r 374, 500 children, instead of for the 350,000 

nearly 250,00 i- left to be for by the Board. I 

have stated that the ori| >■ ' 1 Hoard prov 

forth to die p limited to about 100,000 places, and I 

ral that the ratepayers should now grumble torn 'ien they 

see ' ujion to pro. ore 

children than they were led to expect, and find the rate 
pence halfpenny In tl It is. 

1 During tin- yi*r ending Ml . is;s, 41 "effickal , wlia 

accommodation foe 5,000 children, closed tl" 

Tbc reatooa givea (or thu »tep were at 1 
accomaMxUttoe for ijs children, > . uMamam 

•latins 958, were condemned** ••iitstitncJeni 

accommodation for 1,120, wrie clotcd on accuu -«s* 

rro diaa-iiued." "kaxne., , ncooawandalWia; ttS, 

nn remaoe for eknlng «n» given ; ihew mate air - 

'"dais" accounted fur two acaool-- 
11 w hoots with accnanmoriatloi. «d 

Ugh '• waat affl ghl Itad 1 -«, 

•thrr two mcii a Irwr «■! •caool 

The London School Board and its Work. 203 

bla: >ard for this vast increase in the number of children 

brought under their care, seeing that they arc bound to supply 

all deficiencies and shortcomings of the voluntary system on pain 

I eing dissolved as a School Board in default. The London Board 

. by no m lit, for 11 \ in existence 

=00,000 children, 

inary," and "transferred" scho. I . Id the proportions of, 12, 000, and 22,000. It has also in course of erection 

•choc-Is ' _' places for 30,000 children ; while additional 

inished — and many of them 
*S aot be erected for irs— will contain some 62,000 places. 

T« 12,000 places in the temporary schools will be then absorbed, 
» that when the network of Board schools, as at present projc 
uojjnjilci "c for 278,000 children. 

the voluntarj led for oUicr 274,500 

cUdran : thus within a few feats, it ;ill the projected schools 

ate built, in London alone, there will be » I ai com- 

raccktion for 552,000 chtldrei elementary school class, m 

inercaie of 290,000 places on 1871, or more than 100 per cent. 

These grand totals apply to the future ; but even at present the 

"saber of children on the rolls of vc limitary and Board, 

kifetojt exactly double that of 1S71. At Christmas of this 

"anbcronly amounted to 222,500, while last Christmas it was 444,300. 

The cost g the land (and taking land under compulsory 

peters is a costly process), building and furnishing the Board schools, 

lad repairs to those transferred — permanent transferred schools always 

ixpenses — have already necessitated a capital expen- 

I over ^£3,000,000, and it is probable that the capital account 

•iD 1 d short of .£5,000,000. 

ird's expenditure this year will probably amount to 
^595.°o°> involving a rate ol 5} Y. in Che 1 mund. The lion's sliare of die 
racomc is of course absorbed by school management expenses, Bfld 
under this head some .£345. 000 nt. Interest and r e paym ent 

of loans take .£133.000 iforcing< n" and "industrial 

ich< ^68,000 ; this last ex|)endii.: aid 

be 1 mtary as well as die Board school-.. 

It i» difficult, with any pretence to accural ble 

'• >ard ; for even when the arrears of past 

deficiency ar nadc good, fresh schools will have to be 

I to keep • annual increase of children; it is 

hoped, I lie assesuble value of property in London will 

i n crea s e equally with the demands upon it, and — the sc.\\oo\ \io\iVkW 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

tion once overtaken— liabilities /or future needs will not < ,;er 


But the chief clement of uncertainty is the future ol ttXJf 

schools. Will they be able to hold their own in the cdui 
or will they be forced to give up the contest and throw their children 
m masse on the hands of the Board - 

The effect on the I R course of action would be very 

serious indeed. At present the voluntary system e<: ore than 

half the children in Ixmdon without any expense to the ratepayers— 
though partly, of course, at the expense of the taxpayer — and if this 
quarter of a million of children were handed over to the Board — even 
though it had not to provide new buildings for all the children — the 
rate would be doubled, and the annual expenditure would amount to 
over ,£1,000,000 ; a serious charge for edu 

On the cause of elementary education such a result «ronId l>- 
less disastrous. For instead of the present healthy competition, the 
useful variety Of educational tyrie*, the choice of *cho«>! du- 

ration would gravitate towards one uniform Ic-.t.-:, and I a 0/ 

management would tend to become highly centralis I h school 

■ 1 ncighlx>ur, and not being stirred by 
any denominational riwalry or se> .nparison, would at 

iK in energy and vitality. I lin, education would lose- 

that whirli it can ill spare— the motive power of religious zeal, and 
reli; nation would grievously suffer both actually and by 

example, while the bun influence 1 hools of outside 

persona! interest and management would I led. 

There can be little doubt but that the weakest and poorest ol 
voluntary schools will be gradually 

are symptoms apparent as though the whole volunta 1 1 were in 

a decline. During the first few years after the Board began 
work, tlic voluntary schools made some progrc 1 to 

filling up the gaps formed in the: annua) transfi 

schools to the Board, they increased their accomnv 
150,000 places in December 1872 to 288,000 u> 
lUit this their most flourishing ye-> ace been 

rapidly; and omroodai icir 

schools only amounted to 274,500 places. 

These figures are not very encouraging, but I cann 1 
■mdon trr 
thigh. There ou; : -not to -in 

■rtcrs of the 

The London School Board and its Work. 205 

while the Board arc demanding a heavy compulsory rate from the 
other, more especially as of late years the Government grants 
carried l»y the children lave considerably lightened the burdens to 
be borm voluntary sul be, however, that 

Mai will abate— an incrt-v on 0M pocket 100 often has a 

sobering effect on enthusiasm— and a generation which knew not 
may grow up and refus at : Ihc doom ot 

these school* will then be scaled. 

So (ar, however, those which have fallen Ofll ol the ranks, or gone 
<rwto tl>c enemy, have been for I part the manned, the halt, 

aadihc blind. 1 hough the cripples and the weak ait thus lost, (he 
strong and healthy are left, and they should be able still to maintain 
their ground. 

In live nature of things it was inevitable that some schools would 
bejfessed out of eastern e, for of late years there has been RIi 
Ojaciening of the educational desires and demands of the: nation that 
"tare no longer content with the old low, stagnant level at which 
edsation had rem-i 

Asking, then, as the schools which disappear are those only which 
do tot satisfy the requirements of the times, and so long as the Hoard 
•*noohj which supersede them do not exceed these requirements, no 
lorrr of education can really regret thi tton, bal must 

Kjoiee to sec them 1 -tricked. 

Further change than this, however, can be thought desir- 

*bk; and the last and the two previous School Board elections 
COBplified the modi n <>f the 1 . their wish to hive 

London thoroughly with educational means, and their 

ngness to allow the voluntary schools to be distressed or 

It is unlikely that .1 Board would ever be elected for the express 

panose of destroying the voluntary iystem, and even if it were, it 

would find great d . carrying out its orders. Bycxtravagt 

expenditure it might do some injury, but il 1 ould neither lower [ts 

fees nor build a single school without the consent of the Fdu«*BfiftH 

Department. And here is the chief guarantee that the competing 

system will not be unfairly treated : namely, that the Board, before 

Id or enlarge a school, must obtain the consent of 

trtment t" the ichei 

the Board to sift all prn- providing 

threshed out by tl ■ 

tic. •, of the Board before 

th« >i its ippn e it 

:o|>osa!s of the Board, Sometimes, howevet," ^\>j 


The Gentlemaris Magazine. 

ft I« 

LoTds" consider Uiat loo much provision is being made, and rcfuK 
to sanction more than a pan of the scheme. Oi easionaUy tin 

it altogether ; more rarely they suggest an increase, or draw 

lion to districts that in their opinion require additional school 

In thfl c.rly day* of the Board — so great was the lack of; 
modation — there was little fear but that a school planted tl 
anywhere would be in the right place, and would not 
affect the neighbouring schools. But now arrears and di 
have to B Urge extent been overtaken ; and it is r* 
Board to exercise extreme caution in proposing new buildings, 
they shall wittingly or unwittingly permanently injure any of 
existing schools. 

All proposals for erecting schools in the overcrowded disti 
where the inhabitants are not likely to be able t 

' ts like the City, or parts of Westminster, where the j<o;n 
is actually diminishing in consequence of " improvement 
most jealously criticised. But in the suburbs, and the* 
where population is almost certain to increase, and where 
scarcely any voluntary schools, it is good economy to take j 
account the probable future needs of the neighliourhood, and 
schools larger than the actual existing requirements of die j 
might warrant 

Whether however the Board under-btiild or over-build, 
will be some complaint) and ;u . u , uions, for many managers 
BUppOrten Of the voluntary schools look with great jealousy 
the School Board and all its works, arc suspicious of its good 
and arc unable to hat it can possibly have a tender 

for any rival system or school. There arc other supporters > 
voluntary system who recognise the importance and necessity of 1 
work of the Hoard, and arc ready as far as they can to work at) 
with it for the cause of education. But these latter—as 
the former — complain, and complain justly, of the inert' 
that arc taken to prevent a new Board school, when first 
from being, often at once, almost completely filled by childrei i 
the neighbouring schools, while those for whom it was 
intended — tin t school at all— ar< 

extent, crowded out from the beginning. 

There can, 1 think, be no doubt that the grievance is a real 
serious one, both pecuniarily to the volunt Is, and free? 

educational point of view ; but effectual remedies are hard to 
The Board have refused to pass stringent measures to avert the 


Tlit London Srftool Board and Us Work. 207 

fearing lest the " liberty of the parent " should be infringed, and lest 
the Derations of the compulsory by mid be impeded. 

ek that was proposed would, for three months afte 
ng, have kept a new Board school closed to all children who 
Ktually and had been lately attending school ; and it w . 
hoped by these means that the •'neglected" children might obtain 
a firm footing before those from neighbouring schools could take 
e& This scheme was rejected, but the Board have lately 
adopted a resolution which provides that the uts of 

visitors in each division be ordered to obtain, previous to the open- 
ing of a school, the names and addresses of all the children in the 
locality who arc not attending any efficient school, or receiving proper 
instruction in some other manner, and placet are to be kept for 
ice of one month. We may hope that this 

It must not be forgotten that the evil arising from this form of 
migration is usually only temporary, for, as we have shown, no school 
sufficient children "on paper" to fill it with- 
out drawing upon existing schools. And as the requirement-; art 
very carefully calculated, as soon as the first shifting is over all the 
schools arc, as a rule, again filled with children. 

It is but natural that there should be a certain exodus of. hildren 
from an old to a new school when die latter is first ojHined. The 
old schools were probably overcrowded, and must expect to lose part 
of their surplus ; and the new school is nearer to the homes of many 
:idren. Then the fine l" the novelty 

and cleanliness, strike the imagination 1 the ch3d 

they love change, and think at all events they will try how they like 
the Board school. While, no doubt, the lower fee— if the fee be lower— 
and the exemption from contributing towards the cost of the school 
books, are temptations to the parents. Those of them who have been 
struggling on from month to month, paying with great difficulty the 
higher fee, and living in the hope of the Board school being soon 
opened, would greatly resent any arbitrary prolongation of the time ; 
and not posses owei of refusal for a specified time, 

the managers and teachers find it impossible to turn away the children 
who jwescnt themselves for ad 

The Bo. 1 he best means of preventing injustice, 

or undue rival scd towards the neighbouring s. i 

by handing over the care of their school to a body of managers— 
largely composed of friends to the voluntary system, and often with 
the clergyman of the parish as their chairman — who will certainly 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 


not be biassed in favour of the Board system. These managers fix 
the fee, choose the teachers, exam 

illy the working of the school in minur dc 
Unfortunately the tendency of all large public bodies is towards 
i-.r.ion, and ihc Hoard managers have unwillingly seen 
power grow less ami lea*, It is in this matter of moo 
I, that tin: voi; esse* their eh 

that which will tend largely to BU 
e. I must not be understood to depreciate for one 
the work or the zeal of the manager* of the Bi 
ratepayers and the Board lie under a . ■stion to tb< 

and y.< devote so much time and take so much Hi 

in the m.r of the school*, Mid I 

managers ft] intelligent, hardworking, and xcalous, 

but it is no: to feel the highest interest and pride 

in a school in which they have no actual or ultimate power. 

The Board S ROOls, being all on form system, arc 

necessarily worked to a large extent from the central on 
managers can only mi md their de> ■■ ■ 

liable at nr.y moment to be revised 1 by the School Manage- 

ment Committee, [fa serious rises between the manager* 

und a teacher, they i w into their own hands ami 

dismiss him ; th< mend The Committee to do vo, 

ne accused can appeal rvthing of the least 

• n-ported to one or other of the Board I 
.while ad Mthcrwords. commands— is of 

to the manager* from the Hoard. They have draw i their 

benefit, guid .n elaborate code of regalai 

and tfi . i . . onform to the rules thus enjoined 

: hem. 
Contrast these manage «d, confn 

owners and manager 

has a genuine individual pride ami .•» of 

ool , if it docs we: I ted glory illuminatea him nbo — 

whereas if a Board scboc the Board 

between them the honm d the managers are 

left in the cold shade of negli 
school managers are I 
the most eflec; 

id school managers. anj 

The Lotidon School Board and its Work 209 

mat rtspcct them and defer to them in a nay that probably no 
lacher in a Board school would do to his mauagi -r ■.. 

In this matte: I fear there is no remedy. It is inevitable, when 
ihepotrcrof the purse, and the responsibility for expenditure ovej a 
W network of schools is vested in one central body, that the work* 
ingand manageri>ent should also be largely directed from the same 
autre. All that can he done is to watch with care the privileges of 
lit manager .-. far as possible to prevent one jot M 

one tittle of th, Bt power from passing away. For if their 

itjf and responsibility were to I >t- liiminishcd, it would become 
nxmsingly difficult to attract intelligent men and women to the 
the schools would be more and more governed from the 
.J office. The consequence would be a system of management 
*wid of the humanising influences of personal contact, ntcfafill- 
«■, ami encouragement, that stimulate and largely conduce to the 
aoolweUare of the teachers and children. 

The chief novelty and experiment introduced by the Education 

Actcf 1870 was the application of compulsion to school attendance. 

Ussy and doleful were the predictions of failure — of worse than 

Wee— of evil consequences that would spring from the " slavery " 

dunes. They ■■■■ lalised as tyrannical clauses, and as gross 

■feiftjements of liberty. It was said that compulsion applied to 

ojucarion could and would not answer. Fortunately all these 

jewniads have been entirely falsified. The compulsory byc-iaws 

b»* worked smoothly and with wonderfully little friction. No doubt, 

*fcm first introduced, many of those affected by them kicked against 

4e pricks, and a certain amount of sullen resistance manifested 

SeH This was but natural, ignorance as much as obstiinu y being 

<*a the cause of neglect of the new regulations ; for the knowledge 

•n it «as the bounden duty of all parents to send their children 

•»»4ool for eight <>r nine yean of their lives made but slow progress 

^ighihc masses. However, even from the very first, few parents 

I 'nifhmcd of hardship or oppression ; while, on the other hand, in- 

•■co of defiance or insolence to the committees were of rare occur- 

**t,and it is very creditable to the body of the parents that the 

don of so novel an experiment, affecting them so closely, 

I have caused but little murmuring or resistance. 

The principle of compulsion has now been in force some years, 

*& his been making its way silently but surely. When the habit of 

totting the children regularly and punctually to school shall have 

*fan firm root in the minds and customs of the people, it may be 

ftotble to make some reduction in the extensive machinery now 

rtn. ccxtv. wa 1784. e 

210 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

empl loud in enforcing the bye-laws. This time is not 

yet. but it should be nearly approaching before many more years 

l>y. The excuse often given for neglecting to send a child 

i there is no school conveniently near, or no ro 
—will soon be obsolete, while other causes of al ■■ 

ntih. Then w rents conic to knot 

a child bom now enters the world with the inevitable 

•I school attendance from five years of age to thirteen, the-. 

mind* to his fate and send him without com; 

At unwnl the worst offenders arc chiefly those whose children 

nd growing up before anything was really known of the Educa- 
\. i\ They had ther. -i calculating on eking out 

own wages by the pi ir children might earn l> -age, 

tad now, finding their hopes blighted, consider the}' n de- 

tain, jhtful gains, and are proportionately 

•itgh the bye-laws work smoothly, the results so fin 

satisfactory. The percentage of average 
attendance on the numbers on the rol bar word 

regularity of attendance — which largely depends on the bye- laws 
II considerably below the 95 per cent, which it is hoped 
to attain, liaving as yet only reached v 

ir by year, however, a gradual though slow 

% bible, and the percentage has risen from the 

Bgun of 65 8, at which it stood in 187a, to the present 

1 I '.:: ■ ■'.: .1. the regularity of attendance in die Board 

l» has been progressing, the percentages of attendance in 

.tlunury schools have not been making the same N 

.; in 1871 the percentage sunk to 753 in 1873, 
ily 77-8. 
ws arc worked as much in the interest- dun- 

.ir percentage should be Jt least 
10 that of their rival, and it would probably apjiear lx 

Dikf way. In the Board schools the 
is nominally taken oil the register, a- 
ige attest nceroed. 

iry school* the diikl 
the attendance-average 1 cleft 

ige. It is pro- 
I ears the • 
iimtary vise 
in the latter, has lowered lb. go. 

-he children ia not nearly no regular m 

Tlu London School Board and its Work. 2 1 1 

it should be, it compotes favourably with that which prevailed under 
the purely voluntary system, before Board schools and compulsion 
became factors in the question. We must remember that in 1876 
6* children at school were really the pick of half ■ million— there 
we only some 174.0C0 in avenge attendance then — that those who 
vent to school went because they liked to go, or because their parents 
Paired it; and wc should naturally expect such rhildren to be regular 
itltndants. While now the children in average attendance amount to 
Wer 350,000, and the Hoard have reached the lowest classes, yet. 111 
spite of the decided tendency to irregular attendance must have 
been imported into the by the introduction of the least 

regular and punctual classes, the regularity and punctuality of attend- 
ance has on the whole increased, and is increasing slowly but 
%adily. The regularity of attendance in any particular school 
depends to a CO) lc extent also on the character of the teacher. 

He who is up to his work and has influence over the children will 
rapidly fill a half-empty school, and will marvellously improve its regu- 
hrity and punctuality. I believe that if the teachers had greater confi- 
dence in their powers of instilling regular habits into the children, 
*nd did not depend so much on the exertions of the visitors, they 

» "night, with little effort, considerably improve the average attendance. 
To enforce the bye-laws the Board employs a staff of 2to visitors 
•■d n superintendents, one to each of the divisions; die cost last 
year amounted to .£38,000. Bach visitor has, on nn average, about 
a >5<» children under his supervision. By .1 house-to house vi he 
Schedules his district and obtains the names of the children ; and, as 
*** is provided with duplicates of the attendance register of the 
*«^oc<b in his block, he is enabled to discover whether all the 
D "f school age are attending school, and whether they are 
***»fog the proper numbci ol attendances, if he finds that a child is 
**«tttending, or is irregular at school, he sees the parent if he can 
**d cannons him, and if this has no effect he serves a warning D 

ittcntion — or not sufficient attention — is paid to the notice, 
her form B," is served, which requires the reeal- 

*»« parent to appear before one of the numerous "Notice B 
^annittecs " which are dotted over London. 

In answer to this summons one of the parents usually appears to 

*pbin why his child has not been duly attending school, to 

^sewhy the child should be wholly or partially exempted from 

'"rrdmce, or to request remission of fees. The committee — which 

kof a member of the Board, the superintendent, and often an 

"eettide" lady or gentleman— give judgment as the case seems to 


2 1 2 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

inlet "full time or summon," "summons at onoe 

before Mull time," " hall ." "medi- 

i be produced," &c. If the parent fails to appear, the 

com U dealt with on the information detailed by the visitor, or else is 

adjourned to give him another chance. Wit en the parent DCglci 

. in him, ■ lummona is uken out, 
anj he has to tppe II before a magistrate. 

I ' show wltat great care tl taken not to proceed to the last 

tliout adequate cause, I may mention that hist year, out of 

the ewes in which summon : only 

were dismissed l>y the magi>; I several of these because it 

bund that the Child was over thirteen. The Board, while 

eye and firm band • of neglect, is 

the Willing and hardworking jurent every 

with the law before putting |l unst him. 

.-. are seldom made against any of the 

1 still more seldom is it found that the visitors I 

ionally tlie pnpeta seize on what they c 
IBMO and publish it forth to the world, but they rarely take 

fthe trouble to report the other side, and the Board generally have a 
sufficient answer to any accusation of injusti 
The scope of the bye-laws has been lately considerably enlarged 
by the additional powers given to the Board to caution and prosecute 
employers who infringe the employment clauses oi 
of 1876. The weapon thus placed in the hands of the School Board 
cannot fail to be of great use j an power of 

the tempter as well as at the tempted will before long | 
end to all illegal employment of children of school age. 

The case with which compulsion can be worked depends to a 

B extent on the amount of the weekly fees charged in the schools. 

it the Board schools in London, besides being low, are 

1 department in a school, though the second 

, often pays only half or | The 

: a school generally pay the same fee, and the infant* 

1 The following c*se — lo pre one Inilancr ly commented Ml bf 

«fcc |U|xn when they re[»rtc<t Ihe •• fini he»rln<." A n>ane»l 

•rndinghcr children— • buy of nine «»d » . 

Ircn were uisui 

I 01. and >l)oiit— d r 

the Kcmvi .luck pro! 

eTeniktu «.-. 
L !•»«>» « k «, wm ranting to., ind Mooter tea— said •! 

.cieupel) fined, Ifat 

The London School Board and its Work. 1 1 3 

somewhat less. There are schools at all fees between one penn 
nincpence— the jn'nny fees are chiefly in the infant*' department— 
and the average fee throughout I-ondon is :i little over tVOpi IN t 
week. Vet even at this low figure the Hoard were for 
remit the fee in 3,800 cases, and to renew remission In 1,300 1 

The Board has from time to time been attacked on the score of the 
uniformity and lowncss of its fees ; and it has been urged with con- 
siderable force, that those parents who can afford it should be forced to 
contribute more largely than they do now to the expense of their 
children's education. Let us examine the question to sec whether it 
or practicable at once to raise the fees to my 
appreciable cm 

It 1 !>c supposed that the Board fix the feei in an arbi rary 

or haphazard way. On the contrary, before a T!o;m<I school il 
opened the manag< mum of the fee that 

they think would best suit the needs of tin- neighbourhood ; and 
baring, as a rule, local knowledge of the district in v. chool 

itcd. they can give a shrewd gu< ige amount thai 

can be paid all the year round without any gnat hardship by the 
mass of tfiosc who will use the school. The managers send op their 
recoi 'ii to the School Management Committee, who almost 

invariably adopt tin ons without alteration, obtain the con- 

tent of the Board, and forward the proposed scale to the Education 
Deportment for their approval. 

Those who advocate the adoption of higher fees in Board si ! 
do so as a rah i the voluntary system. An I the 

plan which seems i. \ould fix the fa Board 

school "at least as high as the highest foe charged at anj 
neighbouring schools," and would graduate the fee in individual cases 
to the supposed ability Of the parents to pay, while giving inert 

caption t'i> 
There are strong objections to such a proposal. And Brat, it would 
largely increase the difficulties of carrying out the bye laws. Corny 
b not so popular, nor docs it work so easily, Aval *Jt CM aflbrd 
way to clog its wheel*. It is evident that if the tendency that tl 

art of many parents to avoid the schools were to be 

ised and extended — as it would be, if the fees were raised— the 

iff would have to be enlarged, and much of the 1 

drawn from the poor by the increased fees would merely pass into the 

ts of additional visitors. Again, there is little apparent hardship 

tn requiring a man to pay a penny or twopence a week for the schooling 

pf each of his children, when the total amount — say with flu* 

IV* I 



T/u Gentleman' s Maga 




■en — would only be some fourpence or sixpence ; while the que*- 
tion would assume a different aspect if the law were appealed to to force 
■ pay a shilling ox cightccnpcncc a week, or even more, out of 
the eighteen, or twenty-five shillings he may be earning, 
i The chief argument, however, against this scheme, and one well 
nigh insuperable, would be the difficulty of ascefl be amount 

of fee a parent could or ought to pay. Hon-, with s ce to 

accuracy, could cithcT the actual wage on of 

wages to necessary rent, the amount that Smith should pay as 
compared to Jones, be dl And th name 

al inquisitors would have to be 
employed to rout up the past hi ;ent recr: future 

prospects of all parents who professed themselves unable to pay the 
full fee clurged at the school. The result would be endless worry, 
ad ill feeling, scarcely relieved by the faintest prospect of 
Ilk enough at present for the " 
Committees" and the Bye-laws Committee to settle whether a parent 
CM pa] fee, or is incapable of payi: But 

with a graduated scale of fees, the committees would have peremptorily 
to decide whether the full fee or no fee at all, or some sum ranging 
between uinepence and one penny, was to be paid, and the 
information they would be able to obtain must in most cases 
necessarily be very " incomplete, and therefore unworthy of confi- 
dence 1 ith with three children, wages sex, future uncertain, 
rent 6x., to pay more or less than Jones with two children, wages iSs., 
certain future, rent +». ? Neither rent, wages, nor number of children 
can be taken separately as the basis on which to judge of the amount 
of ice to be demanded All these three and many other points must 
iwdcrrd if any apprcurinution to fairness is to be attempted. 
Then again, in many pans of London the sun of prosperity si 
on the wotting classes, the small shopkeepers, Sec. far six months in 
vr. and the; make their hay then, while in the ochc: 

>rxl earnings diminished. It is evident that in 
pass that every few months the par 
appear beferc his valuer* to be appraised afresh. Much of 
vak»Mc ume will thu* be Kin. and as the power of renunxi 
beoMrustcd to urcqvn**hJc persons, the work esmk-d an : 

wtD be aoHKthmg appattag. At preacnt their duties 
*cnUj eacsaa* m ruoBtrJam with ifcc bye4sw» pure sai 
Ml •<» the threw or fesst tVrnnrf cases of rcmi*> 
rvaac beta* iWm> Triple ot ftsasfcayic the fas, and t! 
■en *h»> *vi VI V awenl la araw? tx whole or 

The. London School /loan/ and its Work. 215 

ssion will be increased fifty or .1 hundred-fold, while the vei 
multitude of the cases would r .led hearing or 

careful consideration, and the justice would necessarily be 
ind r. 
But there is yet another aspect of the question— the effect 
ild have on the poorer classes. The poor 
possess at present sufficient just and sensible pride to pr 
from begging for remission of the fee when they can possibly avoid 
doing so. Though no application for ten appily docs not 

brand the mark ol m on the: applicant, still the request 

rs of bcggir.i;, the : I with < harity, and to disclose 

■■ always painful. Many therefore struggle on without 
complaint, though sore put to it to find the weekly pence , but if the 
fee w< t so high that it bc< "-ccssity for the 

majority, or foi Bomber of the . > to apply for partial 

remission, the Hood-gates of proper pride and right feeling would be 
swept away, and applications would flow in fast and furious. The 
feature would be tliat those with least sense of poverty, those 
with least ; mold be just <l uals to press their 1 

most clamorously, and probably those to obtain the greatest a: 
of relief ; the worse will seem the better case. 

Again, we must no that the poor have paid directly and 

indirectly large am'. irds the education of their < bildiCB. It 

cannot, of course, be pretended that the parents who send their 
children to Board schools contribute anything ng the full 

nit of the cost of education. Though they pay some ,£60,000 
a year in fees alone, this represents but a small fraction of the real 

1 before compulsory education was introduced, they wcTe free 

y and take, or refuse and save thi U they thought In. 

Now they must pay, whether they like it or no, and lose their 

children's earnings into the bargain. And it is thus iudire- try that 

have been mulcted most heavily by the Education 
Formerly a man, the father of three children, would have passed as 
a very respectable and .-.elf-denying parent, if he had kepi fa 
at school until they were ten or eleven years of age, and had then 
sent them to work; while now such a parent is forced to kc 
ran at school till a much later age, and is, directly for fee 
indirectly by loss of earnings, thirty or forty pounds the poorer than 
■ mgener. 

Apply some such calculation to the case of the majority of the 
parent nber that in 1871 not half the children in London were 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

at school ; and ii v. ill be seen that tlie poorer classes have 
m-.ickr.t!]!:' share of the burdens of education. 

i OtmpukOry education ■ still hi it) infancy, and until it has takes 
a firm root in tin- habit* of the people, the wisest policy 

must be, 1 think, to fix the fees at a low figure. When wages have 
adapted them ilvcs to the new state of things, and when the eyes of 
the ! '■■■ »< I -Hy Opened W the advantages of education, it may be 
possible gradually to raise the present low scale of fees without any 
injury resulting to the cause <>f education. 

The object of this paper has been to deal primarily with the 
liool provision, bye- laws, end fees, and I < 
but a few words to the important questions of school manage 
It is now generally recognised that the religious teaching given in tl: 
London Board Schools, though perhaps not so " thorough ■ as 
taught in the voluntary schools, and certainly not so dogmatic, I 
nevertheless sound, healthy, and essentially religious. The Boani 
Inspectors report favourably of the zeal and earnestness shown 
the teachers in imparting religious knowledge; and thcintcrc 
in the Bible teaching is indicated by the fact that this year 113,1 
children entered for the examination for the " Peck's prizes," giv 
each year by a member of the Board for proficiency in religious 
knowledge. It is satisfactory that the so-called " religious difficulty ' 
practically docs not exist ; not more than one child in a thou 
and those mostly Jewish children— being withdrawn from 
religious instruction. 

• ry of over-education is constantly being raised through 
the country ; and if the assertions that are advanced with resjwet | 
the amount and nature of the learning required in Board scl 
were correct, the complaints of over-education would be no roc 
than 1 

It seems to be thought that because a few children learn 
special and advanced subjects, every child in a Board school isc 
learning or will be required to learn the mysteries of latin, Frcnc 
German, Science, end 1 know not what. Bven if it were the 
that all children were expected to learn the*: and other sut 

Lilly alwtrtise, the Education Department and not the 
Boards should be taken to task. The former offer special grants I 
the advanced subjects, which the latter can scarcely be blamed fo 
seeking to gain. 
But what arc the real facts ? 
The subjects of instruction are divided into "Standard an 
Class ■ and " Special "; some of the schools do not attempt any 1 

The London School Board and Us Work. 2 1 7 

; Utter subjects. The Standard subjects arc : Religious Teaching 
ind tkt thru /ft ; while the Class include a very elementary know, 
ledge of English Grammar, History. Geography, and (in Girls' depart- 
ments) Plain Needlework ; and of these only two can be taken up by 
a child. To these arc added : Object Lessons, Drawing, Music, and 
Drill The infants are taught Bible Reading and the three R's, receive 
•bject- lessons of an elementary character, instruction in Singing and 
Sewing, and do Physical Exercises. 

The Special subjects- which are confined to children in the 

and higher standards, and of which only two can be taken 

jre those in :kc Government Code, and include 

!>tary English Literature, Domestic Economy with Simple 

r.inal physiology, Physical Geography, French, etc. The 

I two are by Mr 1 vourite subjects, and they are followed 

1 considerable distance by Animal Physiology and Physical Gco- 

>. while the other subject! ore taught to very few children. 
Last year only 10 per cent, of the children in average attendance 
! presented at the Govir.m: mations in special subjects, 

»Ue the amount of grant earned for these subjects was about 
(percent of the total gr u 
The subjects of instnu » ificd above make, no doubt, a 

[list, and some of the names arc high-sounding and alarming. 
1 if we define them, we shall find that they arc not so terrifying 
r alL " Domestic Economy," for example, simply means that plain 
itions and lessons arc given to the children on food, clothing, 
don, and other kindred points which it is of the utmost impor- 
ter the rising generation to know and to practise. If these 
i were designated " Hints lot 1 (earth and House," their useful- 
woold be more apparent. Then, "Drawing" means no more 
instruction in the simplest of simple freehand, memory, and 
i drawing ; and " Music " merely includes singing in unison 
learning the note* The other subjects, too, mostly resolve 
shrcs into equally elementary elements. 
yet, at all events, the upper .lasses are by no means over- 
I-ast year, but about 17 per cent, of the children in the 
I schools were in the fo-.irth, fifth, and sixth standards combined, 
but another 17 per cent, had risen even to the third, while the 
children were in the second, first, or no standard at all. 
I a third-standard boy is not a prodigy of learning ; he is only 
in read a short paragraph with intelligence, to write small 
capital letters and figures; notation, numeration up toa million, 
division, compound addition, and subtraction, are his antrum* 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

tical limits ; while for grammar he has to point out verbs, nouns, ai 
adjectives; and, in addition, he is expected to know the outlines 
the geography of England, with knowledge of his own com 
— and that is all. 

It may be that School Boards arc developing, or in the futu 
will develop, a tendency towards a conglomeration of learning, I 
the neglect of the simpler and more useful subjects ; and such a bo 
would require careful watching and checking. At present, howen 
the meagrcness of the numbers in die upper standards hard 
justifies the complaints of over-education, cramming, and aequisttk 
of useless knowledge, that are levelled at School Hoard education. 

To give some idea of the magnitude of the labour* o( the J-omk 
Sdii I may mention that last year 560 Hoard and Commitli 

meetings were held at the Central office, besides these divine* 
members' meetings, ffii 1 thousand Committee meetings I 

carrying out the bye-laws, were held in different ports of Londo 
Add to these, the innuim t ibk tchOOl manager bet mectinj 

and enquiries, attended to a large extent by the members, it 
some approximate idea is attained of the demands on the time si 
attention of the fifty members who compose the London 

Moreover, the amount of the work shows no tendency to 1 
but is continually enlarging, as new schools arc built, and as 
points spring up in connection with provision, compulsion 

The beneficial results of all this vast expenditure of time, mono, 
and thought, are not I actually apparent. Many, seeing an 

feeling that million', of money have been sunk in the educattoao 
London's children, and perceiving but a small apparent return » 
the capital, are inclined to grumble at the expense, and to doubt* 
wisdom or ex|»cdicncy of universal and compulsory education. The) 
forget that the tree has not been long planted ; that it is early yet t> 
expect ri|>e fruit : that the plantation of schools over London is *8 
incomplete, and that the majority of the Hoard schools arc butaje* 
or two old, many but a few months. 

I-et the gntmblers have yet a little patience. They have alreW] 
seen a diminution in the number of juvenile attested bj 

official returns ; and they should next Me the whole criminal eta* 
and then the pauper roll, steadily deer 

And as the rising generation grows up, wc believe they *nllW 
unable to avoid acknowledging the evidence of a vast increase • 
provident habits, intelligence at work, unproved health, happf 

B ns jromises. 

gh the London School Board has, no doubt, made some 
and though economy has not always been the order of 
the work that it has done is sufficient to redeem nutnp 
t has manfully grappled with the gigantic and nevcr-cnrling 
upplomcnting the education of London — if that can be 
upplcrnentary " which is to the full as large as the existing 
—and has raised London from the low estate to which she 
i to not far from her proper place in the education lists. 



The Gentleman s Magazine. 


THE question of how to keep an army in good health is qm 
as important as the supply of ammunition or food, but it « 
long before this fact was practically recognised, or received ll 
attention which the subject deserved. Yet the proportion of sick 
war is usually three times the number of the slain, and though da 
on the battle-field from the shot or shell of the enemy has Ixen sa 
by poets, and possesses almost an attraction to the romantic imagp 
tions of some youthful spirits, ■ death from cholera, typhoid fe* 
hospital fever, or any other of the insidious train which folio* t 
march of large armies, and arc likely to be particularly prevalent 
a winter campaign, is an unvarnished object of dread ; and if disci 
makes its presence felt early in the proceedings, it is certain to hi 
a more or less disastrous effect on the plans of the belligerents. 

The strict medical examination which a candidate for the on 
or navy is obliged to pass, speaks for the necessity of the sounJl 
health in both services, whether officers or men ; anil it is certti»<( 
the ill-health or death of a general in the held has caused deliyi 
the military operations he had undertaken, which proved fatal 
them. General Philippe de Segur, the author of " T) 
Campaign in Russia in 1811," remarks upon the "iron cm 
of Marshal Ney, "without which," he tells us, "no man can I 
hero." It was a theory which this military writer held very | 

1 An 0I1! KMhoninn v. bQoWt: — 

" GmM I tad ■ I «•- bl t!m war, 
I >ir in the war without sickness. 
Go off with the shot of the enemy. 
Without ihc weary pain, 
V, uliout the weakness of death, 

! 11 mi ihe wute of sicknoM, 
■Setter to fait asleep In the battle, 
To fall before the banners. 
To sell your life to the sword. 
To the arrows from the ero*s 
Tofifclu * 

War and ils Attendant Maiadus. 


1th. for almost 
tl the failures of every commander sril i he served, or to 

•Soci be was opposed. It is, in fact, when carried to thai extent, a 
jeculiarly French excuse — endurance of j«in not being a quality to 
•hich the French as a nation ever try to lay claim; but an luig- 
bshaan hardly thinks a severe toothache or a bilious attack a 
nffiaeni reason for neglect of duty, or of the welfare of many 
thouwuls of men: though Napoleon's mistakes have all been 
ucounted for by his admirers, and in their eyes satisfactorily, on the 
ska of alleged tempi cnts. At Lcipsic, they tell us, he was 

tufaing from having eaten too heartily of ill-cooked mutton seasoned 
•ith onion odino, from a cold ; and at i-'ontainebleau and 

Wiierioo, from other m&L hough these statements have been 

daicd on still better authority ; and we may filirly quote BUB as a 
?*&o/ of a hero with an iron constitution, if we believe the account 
fctgnc of his own health to the I dmiial who escorted him 

•oSt. Helena, and to l>r. Antomman hi, the phj noon who attended 
Hb jutt before I To the first he said he had never been 

re than twice in his life, and then only slightly; and to the 

'"v-.l, that he had a client health, and had never 

btv&whai i: was to have a heai "mal rtfestomac," and 

at be had onl iture of his last malady — an internal 

uact-- iv rapidly in the climate of St. Helena 

ut a month tx cath in May, i8ai, tliough it was the 

u«e complaint which had terminated his father's career.' In the 
tarn he wrote to tfa is Josephine from Poland, in 1807, be 

aadthat the extreme cold from which h was niffaing toiled 

te was growing stout in spite of it ; and again he wrote 

*ag the middle of the horrors of the retreat from Moscow, in i8«s, 
•8,3s if, he had never been in better health. His death at 

fctajjc of fifty- three was undoubtedly accelerated by the habits he fob 
tacd at St. Helena, which could nut In. :!n rwiK than most 

to a man who had previously led an active life. His 
Wnpanion 1 -as Cases, tells us that he was particularly well 

; the first six months h< there at - ; Thi " but 

feothc time he inhabited tongwood, he obstinately refused to take 
Ooose, on account ttions he was subjected to if he 

' Tiro ■ .fiicen on board Ibe Bellerophon, when Napoleon lurrendeced In 
•*•$. kin <laciit>rO him lo u. terms. They thought he looked 

'•»> 'Un W Bj{c, w i .en ; he Wtt a» active a» a sailor in springing 

Cite lUl of the vevsei, nu-!, (bough very coipulcut, ga 1 let of 

)*MMog great ttrength. Me wis particularly deep-chested, and hod not a 


The Gentleman's Magazine, 

proceeded beyond the grounds; and as the Governor 
directions that an English officer should sec him once a di 
tiicd to prevent this by repeatedly making himself ill with largi 
of medicine which compelled him to keep his room. 1 A 

Russian winter was not likely, at the age of I 
tropica] climate agree with him; and the sjxit where he 
not rendered more salubrious by the variation of very bill 
Even without the depression which must have been prod 
by exile, disappointed ambition, and frustrated revenge, 

just mentioned were sufficient to debilitate his system, and i 
it to hi attack from BS hereditary disease. He was also aocui 
to take nafftt such excess that, after his death, his in' 
were partly lined with it, and the unhealthy irritation this 
snuff caused probably fixed the seat of the complaint, 
therefore, regard his premature death as arising from artifici 
and himself as one of those whose success in life was partly 
excellent health. 

The inverse proposition certainly docs apply to 
generals who opposed Napoleon, and it is impossible to 
compassionate admiration of the brave but infirm old 
had aided in the victories of Frederick the Great, trying vain! 
the tide of French success at Jena. The aged Austrian General 
who, Segur in his " Mcmoires" tells us, was like a man troubk 
ill lirinm, when he was sent to negotiate with him, was !>-.. 
threat of Napoleon's that, unless be surrendered the fortress 
once to the French, the entire garrison, when it was at lost 
to capitulate, should be shot as they were at Jaffa, " for it 
right of war;" and he was thus forced into yielding the 
Austria without any further defence, though an army was 
its relief: while his Imperial master, a victim to dyspepsia, 
ject to epileptic fits, asked for an interview, after his first 
Austcrlitz, with Napoleon ; and in the space of half an hoar 
according to Segur, this unfortunate Emperor Francis could do 
but laugh nervously, he made a most burdensome peace and 
with his enemy, and threw over all his former allies. The 
General Benningscn, a Hanoverian by birth, and a man of 
kept the field at Eylau; but risked a battle against . 
and posted in the worst possible position, at Friedland, 
consequently defeated, when suffering greatly * from a painM 

• Tbc German ft ;n]xirnry, aaetts (kit 

years 1812 13-14, be had acq 11 ■■■■ iWt of drinking strong grw» 

■pints frequently In the day, to keep oft itrowtincM. 

■ Sir R. Wilson'* HiiUry cfiKt W*r ./ 1806-7. 

War and its Attendant Maladies. 223 

'.km, which shortly Is required ;u» operation. Marshal 

Rutuzov had lost an eye in battle, :;nd received two bullets through bis 
ic«l,yct at the age of seventy-four, when unable to ride, and afflicted 
■ith the infirmities common to old age, 1 he was called upon to corn- 
mod !: n armies, and drive the French from I ;cow. 
General Wilson, who was then in Russia, asserts that another attack 
<m the French, after the battle of Borodino (Sept. 7, 1S1 a), must have 
cmprilcd Napoleon to retire, and I '. Moscow. But Kutuzov 
hid only just accomplished a journey of 480 miles, "and the night 
tat cold : so pcrhai rgies of a septuagenarian were wanting 
«fle such a trying day." * It is not surprising; that in the depth of a 
Raoon winter, marching over a wasted country, and having therefore 
to amy all his sick and wounded with him, as wi II as fuel and 
jawusions, he was not speedy . I his nOVi -atiify the 
itiBponsitiU; !•'.! i.T.i I Wilson, who, seeing only 

.-,nd the wising of the 
CaRinentil which had paralysed our trade for six years, 

winly urged him to fall upon the meti hed n mnant of the French 
WB> and completely annihilate them before they crossed the 
Rawtsn froi u ho died before the end of 

a« Mr, had aim ng for the famished, half-clothed, 

poshing Frenc res, struggling through the snow. He MB 

•body unable to sh« I 1 men, and sin. 

kffiag men who would jnobably soon die of themselves, when he 
•» to follow them so quickly to the tomb. Hence, according to 
GeseraJ Wilson, he wilfully permitted 30,000 to escape, including 
fapotcon himself, thereby ■ another long war. Charles XII. 

^Sweden was afflicted with a suppurating wound in the foot when 
Wleat the battle of Pultowa, having never before had a day's illness ; 
•ad was carried to the field on a chair, though he fled from it on 
hxsciuck. ion prodiu in probably showed itself 

B ah n just before the battle, when the Russians forestalled 

twain posting 11 on the best ground, that he " now saw that 

had taught them the art of war." His adver 
the Great, did indeed conduct a succes ngn i:i Persia when 

caiRering from the painful malady whid his death.- 1 but some 

.y ccqiutenl and unwieldy that he w*» obliged ton 
tlawt, eten wlxii in the ueld, io a carriage." — Wibon's Camfaigm e/ iBlS. 

nyi th»t Kuiu/of had " | 

■J Titan •/ AL f A'muu), red. iL |Tintley 

ikt Gnat. 

224 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

yean earlier he had been compelled, by an epileptic attack, to I 
wife to make a treaty of peace for him with tflC (irand 
who commanded the Turks in the campaign on the l'nith, i 
the institution of his old enemy, Charles \ll.. [:w.y had lir 
truce with Russia and completely hemmed in her army ; and 
treaty the Russians lost the town and fortress of Axov, wh 
then their only port on the Black Sea. A hundred and fort 
I. iter, cholera and low fever, even more than the enemy, ruin 
plant of another Russian army in the same principality of Rov 
where it was defeated in several battles ; and on this occasioc 
commanded by old Marshal l'uskkvi:.-, who was suffcra] 
internal cancer of which he died in about a twelvemonth, 
battle of the Alma, quickly following this campaign, Prince Mc 
who was opposed to us, had been lame in both legs for tuent; 
years, from wounds received in the Turkish campaign in I 
These instances will prove that the tnith of the axiom, " Mens 
corporc sano," is especially shown in the commander of an art 
would probably also apply to naval warfare : but our navy h 
v*th no defeat in battle ' since the reign of Charles II., and the 
of the Continental powers form too small a proportion of their 
forces, and have been too little employed, to enable us to p< 
same moral, by bringing forward sufficient proofs of it. 

Yet, although age and sickness must seriously dimini 
mental power, physical endurance, and bodily vigour ncccs 
examine into all the details of a large araiy, to pore over mi 
plans, and to take a clear and unprejudiced view of the positi 
resources of the enemy, it must not for a mom* i I'pott 

an aged, sick, or infirm man may not be extremely brave, 
bys it down as a rule that deformed (and lame) persons 
very bold, and we may often see them proficients in manly 
while a man of splendid physical formation, it" he be much o 
feet in height, frequently possesses the sort of temperament 
nervous. The slow wits of a giant have become a proverb. Ll 
tells us that uncommonly large men arc particularly vatna 
royal guards, because they are by nature credulous, simple-m 
and incapable of keeping a secret, and consequently of 




' Unle» VI except the unfortunate attack liy the English and 
tampaakftdd '" Ncjiteniber 1854, where the melancholy filicide of 1 

, .n a tic of temporary insanity, seems to hare disconcerted or 
execution of the combined plan. The Allied loss was four oftccrs 1 
men killed, and six officer* and 1 1 wounded. The Ru 

the victory, lo»t forty killed and tcrcnly-fivv mrrcro<; 

' i'anJamiattt, 33. • Uvater's Nf 

War and its Attendant Maladies. 


ipirut their master. The greatest generals of ancient and modern 
tows have been men of moderate, and frequently of small, Stature, 
a Alexander the Great, Julius Cxsar, the Duke of Marlborough, 
William III., Marshal Luxembourg, Frederick the Great, Admiral 
the Duke of Wellington, Marshal Moltkc, Souvarov, and 
Xipolcon ; while wc have instances of successful valour, under 
jrett physical disadvantages, in the octogenarian Doge Daodolo,' 
Mw had been blinded in his youth ; Marshal Saxe, who was 
tarried to the battle of Fontcnoy in a litter, and gained the 
noory ; the Tartar conqueror, Timur, whose right arm and kg were 
crippled from an attack of paralysis * produced by a wound in fail 
fast engagement; Sir Thomas Picton, who fought at Waterloo with 
tioribs broken the previous day ; Nelson, who had lost as cyl and 
m arm; the Moorish Sultan, Muley Moloc, who was carried in a 
djrinj; date with his army to resist an invasion of the Portuguese, and 
t t;ccd before the battle was over, in which his enemy was defeated 
and the young King Sebastian of Portugal perished ; 3 Lord Raglan, 
rto had lost an arm at Waterloo, and commanded our army in the 
Crimea ; and many other gallant ofliccrs, who have not allowed the 
orij- loss of a limb in battle to be any impediment to their pro- 
fessional career ; but all these instances were of men accidentally 
injnred, and with naturally good constitutions : so in them wc have 
*e hero with the iron constitution still. It is often said that every 
OMwnt General has been a good sleeper. Napoleon xcquired eight 
Ions' sleep out of every twenty-four,* but could take it at intervals if 
accessary, and whenever he wished. This is a most valuable quality 
n a soldier ; the Duke of Wellington also possessed it ; and though 
way have done with less than eight hours, it must be sound if a 
nun is to endure protracted mental or physical fatigue. 

Having considered Use necessity of good health in a military 
ranmamkr, let us now turn to the men, and we shall see that not only 
itseir sanitary condition of the highest importance to the success 

I campaign, but that the epidemics which emanate from a large 

I of military sitk and wounded have been known to linger for 

j among the civil population in the districts over which they 

rbeen dispersed. 

Host of the fearful epidemics which extended throughout Europe 

toy of Venic*. ■ Shcrcfeddin All. 

' VaiM'i Kr.-etuiiem 9/ 'fbrtugal. 
Cemtfrndamt J* Pri«<t CtaritriM ova I Emfertur AUxumlrc 

tdt 7alityramd, Mlmtim Jc .Vj/V/.W, .tv. 
. CCXlv. KO. 1784. Q 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

in the Middle Ages had their origin in the gathering of Urge 
Eastern armies, and in the lavish waste of human life which charac- 
terised the Mongiil and Turkish conquests. "Our Europe." 
HTOte Gibbon in the last century, "arc petty skirmishes when com- 
pared with the myriads who have fought and fallen on the fie 
Asia ; " and as, even now, the Turks decline to bury their dead enc- 

preferring rather to suffer from the pestiferous air, we can easily 
imagine that this custom was universal among their ancestors. After 
the Tartar conquest of Russia in the 13th century. Roman Catlmlii 

mriet and merchants, who traversed that country on their way 
to Central Asia, have recorded that, more than once, they came on 
of whitening dec here there was no a j 

ance of an inhabited dwelling or of living humanity ; and when we 
remember the entire absence of sanitary precautions which charac- 
terise an Eastern army even at the present day, anil look at the foul- 
ness of a modern Kalmuc-Tartar or Crimea] dc, we can 
understand that the mustering of 80,000. 100,000 of their race, 
such as assembled under the banner of Zingis-Klun, Holagau, and 
Timur,' must have been fraught with great evil of this description to the 
countries which they overran. The Crusaders, in the time of Richanl 
Cceur dc lion, first introduced small- pox to Western 
is even now a complaint which invariably breaks our, more C 
besieged Eastern dry. The Crusaders from Norway and Iceland also 
carried back from U»e East the fearful scourge of leprosy, which has 
since boon i.scd in those countries In: 

l\u«u into Poland and Germany, in consequence of a Mongol 
iving laid waste the whole district between the Voty 
I m a subsequent year the 
loia, which produced a 
These savages were accuatonxd to ascen 

M, in i4cn ia Tun«i'» anay, .U 
■'in. at ■ natter ef 1 
•my Rttwtra viB*c» ■»!»»" KiJoouu. TV* old Mwahn- 
IW «»M .J •' UlkWt," Uu Vj Ikxi jwjJr. uJ mV«!> ■« iW 

mm lap luu. UK laufv cV*w» will b* Uatv mvji " hr ars "arm »■* Uwa Eatjarc ai 
%ttk> thru arid* . tW **»»>. ta» IIBJ laaaV 

tW mu nm*«n vyoO ct tatir dbaa, aa.) cmrr a*l 1 _W 

1 ii».W% AutKKa t±\. U*e* aUliai anj rrr, %n . .„ 

W tW Totarv ant annaa aatl yv«c « ■ »■ ■ rata. Uulira -aTrtnl to araJi 
MiWwtl •alkxUtmiviWaa.if lUrbm Turn, 
SaM »»« w m a u a u » n « U cusk. Mhl —111 III nf wobk 
ap% ^/ %uo4aW taaaw aa4 ko «A<( 

War and its Attendant Mah 


.Air i 

enemy's shin by outing off tltc right car of each of the dead, and in 

■239 they collected 170,000 of these ghastly trophies from the plains 

rf Russia alone, and after the battle of Leignitz in 1241, • 

defeated the united forces of the Poles, the Silesians, and the ( lrd< r 

«f the Teutonic Knights, they filled, with right nil IrODa 

Ac tnttle-fi'. «f the huge sacks which they were •ccutomed 

tonic the 

l«nb of the Danube carried which 

•P*CSx! -line Empire and into S 

*i been the same malady whi d by 

**Ma IX, against tl is in Egypt, in 1248. tween 

lot Sultan of Egypt on the one side, and the Tartar Khan of Kipzak, 

*°d lit vassal, the Christian King of Armenia, on the other, produced a 

"^h ol the plague in Syria, which spread to the north of 

. and again attacked a French army under Louis IX., who had 

knded at Tunis in 1270, and of which the king and the flower 

y perished. At the same time Edward I. had conducted an 
Klisli fan lh« Holy Land, and his army imated 

■ same plague, which induced him to sign a mice with the 
Saracens. This was the hist of the Crusades, not be* ante the 
*hi«=h prompted them had vanished, hoi because the plague which 
***£ prove treaded by 

"<2»tcm chivalry than the Mahometan swi 

u*ousjhout Europe, and carried off, it is estimated, at least a qu 

population, or people. ' This appears to have begun 

w China, where a civil war, ulcd in the expulsion of the 

Motjgul d] I the slaughter of a 

ssftBor and Monguls; and it was fed by a long war in 

il Asia, betwei a iscendnnt 1 in, and the 

Solum of the Turkomans. Before the Asiatic countries bordering 

nope were annex. rowing strength of 

Raswj, tin ncessantlyfl quenos we find 

iiul and Muscovy, and 
injure* as an embodied 

maids, or wood and wati in the stories which 

siren* nd Trance. In 1360 the 

iiianoplc, and their ravages were the cause of 

h spread to France, England, and 

g great mortality. In 1453 they captured Cor. 

nople, ire titan one league formed against them by the 

1 Koiwt to Pope dement VI. »t Avignon, 1352. 

228 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

Christian Powers of Europe was deterred G re measures by a 

dread of the plague, which was left in ever) - province in which the 
Turks had encamped. In 1480 the Turks pent' ■■> Italy, 

1 aural terror throughout Europe, .ind the pestilence, 
called the Sweating Sickness, which spread over the Continent and 
into England in 1485, was the direct result of ir con- 

quests, and the horrible slaughter and devastation they carried widi 
then— which ma illustrated by the familiar expression that "no 

le of grass would pom where a Turkish hoof had trod "—ex- 
tended over the Mediterranean till the 17th century, and as far as 
Vienna till 1 683 ; and our trade, which was then beginning to be 
r.uii the Levant, was a medium for spreading the 

- iigendered by tliese wars into England more frequently than 

ii their cii :rope liad been confined to Russia and Poland. 

There was a most terrible Plague in Russia in 1570, in consequence 
of two invasions of the Turks, who d»en owned the Crimea, and who 
penetrated on die second occasion with a large army to Moscow. 
The invaders set fire to the city, after closing and guarding the gates 
to prevent any of the inhabitants from escaping : and the British R< 
dent 1 wrote home that thirty persons were burned in the beer-cellar 
of the English factory alone, the factory itself being completely de- 
stroyed, and that although " every means and industry were used 
cleanse die river, it could not be freed from the corpses," and he 
thought that " 1 00,000 Russians were suffocated, d or 

burned." The Turks retired to avoid the winter, driving before them 
a ragged crowd of 500,000 Russian men, women, and children of 
every rank, collected all along their route. Many of the captives 
died of hunger and fatigue before they reached the Crimea, but those 
who survived were sold to slave merchants at Kaffa. in. 

vasion occurred at a time when Russia was suffering from famin 
pestilence was the certain 1 it it docs not appear to have 

spread beyond Poland, which was not a commercial coi ,- in 

die progress of these epidemic*, a wide peaceful district exhausted 

11 ; and on that occasion Poland was not the seat of 3 war : 
the] all times liab brought in mi 

and our intercourse with t": 
• ays carried on by sea. 

unknown q the 

and many Uwut-mds of insurgents, thougi. ncd 

as being at Moscow, in 1583, by an English ambaasa<: Ute 

Jwoiw. Uvncj. 4mb OftcUl Re; 

War and its Attendant Maladies. 229 

E Queen Elizabeth to that of Ivan IV., having been brought 
_l, where it has been a dreaded enemy for centuries ; for 
before the time of Peter the Great there was a more brisk trade and 
communication between India, Persia, and Russia than between 
Creu Britain and Russia. The native fairs and annual pilgrimages 
Hindoo sbrincs at Benares have often spread it to all parts of 
Saithem Asia ; but in 1819 it had already advanced from India to 
Ik Volga, whence the Russian recruits and provision-dealers carried 
it to the two belligerent camps, when in the crowded hospitals it 
found a fruitful field, and from that point it traversed Europe. 

If a war carried on exclusively in IVettcm Europe has never, ex- 
cept, perhaps, in the List years of Napoleon's reign, been productive of 
epidemics to the same extent as in the, it \-~ because smaller armies 
hire assembled, and in a more salubrious climate; corpses have been 
decently interred, not left to be eaten by domestic animals, which have 
afterwards become food for man; shorter distances have to be tm- 
*erseiL and under more favourable auspices for obtaining food and 
supplies, so that the armies have not Suffered from famine as much as 
from ktiguc and the enemy, which has often happened in the East ; 
»nd 1 hundred years ago Western armies suspended operations in 
the severest weather, which is always the most unfavourable for healing 
^Cunds, from the difficulty of giving the hospitals .1 proper supply of 
fresh air and warmth at the same time ; and without fresh air, wounds 
*ifl no* heal, and fever and gangrene are at once generated. War 
*»»bo made among civilised and more wealthy populations, and 
Innate benevolence, particularly that of the religious orders, stepped 
*u to supply the needs which were neglected by the State. Associa- 
tes of persons who devote their whole lives to charity and philan- 
thropy are unknown except in Christian countries, though here and 
tteteac may find a very benevolent and liberal Parscc, Hindoo, or 
katnknan, so that the Turkish and Tartar armies were without this 
*i to compensate for the shortcomings of their chiefs, who, able to 
l*ha- an unlimited number of recruits from the nations they had 
"oqucred, made no effort to assist their own wounded, and put those 
■fine enemy to death. The French Republic abolished the religious 
frders,' and for some time there were no associations in France to 
"ke op the charitable duties which they had hitherto fulfilled. 
Hence, during the later campaigns of Napoleon, when his armies 
t»ta exceeded those of the old Turkish and Tartar conquerors, a 
•eje from Eastern history might be read for that of Europe, in the 

1 TV Knights of Milt* were originally instituted for the succour of the 
•wnded in bwtlc. 


230 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

barbarous neglect of cither hit own or of the enemy's wounded, the 
starvation and even massacre of pri«:> recklessness of life as 

regarded his own soldiers, owing to the ease with which he could 
press recruits from conquered countries into his H ■', above 

all, by the epidemics which were the I consequences of this 

mode of making war. 

There was still a belief current, at the time of the Crimean 
campaign, that spirits were a safeguard a^ pad 

\<c owned that the causes which predispose to this disease are 
v. that nothing has since been satisfe< 
for or against ibis theory, as total abstainers and those accustomed 
to take spirit'; regularly, alike GUI victims to it when it 
But rally acknowledged that the use of sp 

as restoratives, whether by armies engaged in the open 
up in close inodorous quarters, as is often the cue for weeks together 
when a fortress is besieged, is fruitful in every other kir. «te. 

. at Jcllalabad in Afghanistan in i s j the 

great siege of Gibraltar, the garrison was cither destitute of alcoholic 
liquors, or prohibited from their use ; and in both instances the 
health and cheerfulness of the men were renwurkabte, " The COM of 
an army is intoxicating liquors," observed an Aroeri surgeon 

during the civil war in the United States ; " the spirit ration is the 
great source of all this mischief." 

A reason fiv rged for serving out spirits is that when 

good fu< '.'. .unable, spirits the most convenient and port- 

able substitute, and are cheaper and more easily procured than wine 
or beer; but even under these circuro te Dr. Parkes, one 

of the first authorities on military hygiene, doubts if they are not 
more hurtful than useful. Napoleon constd an 

essential part of a ration in i old 0t bad weather, but we have noticed 
the large amount of si 

neither before nor behind the current British 
medical theory of his day. In the army of the Duke of Marlbom 
we are told that "the sot and the drunkard were the object 
seen ed ideas i'! ich 

introduced with thi ml 1 1., and with itn 

in the tin age I. Dr. Parkes tell* tnt that the spedi 

a ' so frequent among sol. 

! cm o|AlhjJmu> ami" -w.1 in Hit 

Ciocuiu *ml Arm- uuUa, oemfcrrat Pr. t'achiV* wftom 

I n alb \m ■|«t»l 

v and its Attendant Maladies. 231 

r perhaps unknown, on the large scale in the wars of the eighteenth 
century. "The disease as vie now sec it," he writes, " is one "l the 
legacies which Napoleon left to the world. His system of making war 
r mission, rapid movements, the abandonment of the 
good old custom of winter quarters, and the intermixture of n ghneotJ 
from several nations, seem to have given a to the 

disease; and though the tent year* of peace have gi 

lessened it, it has prevailed mote or less ever since in the 1 1 
Ptuki run. Bavarian, Han< >, Belgian, 

Swedish, and Russian armies, an welj as in our own. It has also 

the civil population by th< 

and is one more heritage with which glorious WAX bos cursed the 
nations." The l»ad effect that spirits, even taken in very mod 

tre 00 the eyes or the sight is well known, 
and thi oay have predisposed the soldiers of Napoleon to an 

attack from this malady, wh ill 1 in one of Iks campaigns diss 
wiwiic cornpani heaUli of his troops can certainly no) be 

quoted in favour of the use of stimulants, though many 1 
combined to lower it, and they h id do vine ox brandy at all on the 
retreat from Moscow. The Duke of Wellington would have been 
unable, like Napoleon, to order a fresh levy ol recruits to fill up gaps 
in his ranks whenever they were thinned by disease ; and he pie- 
da marked contrast to his adversary in his attention to the 
health of his army. In the Peninsula he suggested improved ventila- 
I the hospitals, and Luscombc tells us that he never let a day 
pan without inquiring from the principal medical officer as to their 
sther there had been any appearance of fever 
among the men. The success of that campaign is too well known 
ed a description of it here, although the mean daily numbi t ol 
sick v bdOW twelve per cent., except for a short time in the 

lines of 'l dras, when it fell to nine or ten. Sometimes it 

:teen, twenty, or twenty- live per I FergUSSOn, the 

old Peninsula surge' think that this was caused principally 

by the spirit ration, and they must have been in many instance 
cases, to judge by the small propi rtlOO of deaths. At any rate, the 
medical aid the i, and the vigilance and forethought ol the 

cornrn >m being at any time a 

check on his operations in that v 

small armies nidi which Alexander the Great accomplished 
■ believed to ha 
il in the campaign on the Oxus, which was so far a failur. 
any allusion to it in nia was threatened with the punishment 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

of death ; and where probably the sol< red from the ci 

of drought in aimm W in winter, which is s::ll th 

:ulty in campaigning in that coun U were 

! Of k European Vsiatic barl';m>in, and in 

their | i eat much resembled our own in 

India. Qi that he frequendyd iping- 

ground, apparently H a mode of \ - the health of I 

OH prevailed, which wem to have 
l>ccn iily lust in Europe, and only revived during the last 

quarter of this century. The Pncfcctus-Castrorutu, an officer of 
rank in the Roman army, looked after the sick and provided 
nired by the surgeons. Both Livyan 
:kers used to visit • 
ore well taken care of; and 
wtites that great attention 10 

'ntcr supplied to the troops, to the . >f the ten: 

i| made of hides, and never pitched in ma 
ground, or in places too much exposed to the summer heat.-, 
also to the warmth of the men in winter, sufficient firewood and 
warm clothing lieing always provided. It was the duty of the 
Roman officers to see that the meals were regular, that the provisions 
were good, and that salt, light wine, and vinegar were supplied by 
the commissariat, the last being used, apparently, instead of vege- 
tables, to keep off scurvy. They were abo kept in constant exercise, 
and frequently changed their camping-ground. Yet with the Romans, 
as with the Creeks, the proportion of the wounded was so small 
compared to our modern battles, and the javelin and hand-to-hand 
fighting inflicted such simple wounds compared to our fire-arms, that 
the wounded can hardly hate been aa encumbrance to an advancing 
force, or a source of danger to one encamped, and the pra. i 
giving no quarter relieved the victors of the charge of wounded 
enem ks. We never hear of spirits being used in the Roman 
^torativc*. It may l< still an open question whctln 
are beoeftcial or not. administered in small doacs as a precaution m 
i imp., or malana- h au n t r d dssmcts. The Rut- 
« do not now deal them out aa a regular ration to their armies 
■•at they were ordered to be saved out twice 
• h»-n tkar armies entered the Pasobian I^Jmap sdibc-. 
Sad swaVsvtl gmdy turn chosen and typhoid 
^Hptu* nauijintai in these fwnx vorxc fact and 
•UVeh to ccsaav The Roasaneer. 
tbc Vracr Dantsbe as fc astre kg a penal 

and its Attendant Maladies. 


infect, ji wa*. their Sibet v Bay, and th«jf WOT particularly 

unfortunate in their wars aga barbarians of those parts, so 

ptrhaps no foreign army could avoid suffering to some degree ; but 

^ Russian spirit ration if it was regularly COZrti] 

•Moot, as intended, keep off typhoid fever, though this complaint 

doc« no* seem to have made its appearance among the troops to any 

*wat extent till the wounded began to increase upon them, and till 

tn *y had massed companies in unhealthy quarters, only In 

ty the Turks.' One division of the aim] Sd mudl VU 

*ho forsom tc Of the 

roads, in consequence of I port of bread 

OT biscu; ible that warm clothing, Iter, and 

* sufficient supply of I or vege- 

fhl c f 0)M i ; wouU be more beneficial than ipi ranting on* the 

■^ladies common to that district, and the diet of the natives is 
Indian com, milk, and Slewed plums, with little or DO meat. 7 In 
'ft* rice and .' mall amount of brandy, or in the last country 

"* sulwtitute of wine or beer, appears in the military dietary ; but 
j" 61 peace rate of mortality is higher in the Austrian army than even 
ian, and Eu ban in the German. In the Austrian 

. the meat ration is larger than with the last two, but there is 

1 Want of vegetables. Howard »"i> "i npiiiion that "herbs sad 

tatta will preserve our health, ami mi. tain nature far beyond the 

**»»« (bod," and the world is gradually COO ad to the; 

■ ■ c that, while the i tsi is not absolutely 

"fcasisary for the maintenance of perfect health in a wan .the 

nr M, in some form or other, undoubtedly is necessary in all climates. 

In the case of an active army, fresh vegetables, or fresh bread, is 

•ften most difficult to procure ; and biscuits and preserved vegetables 

*r« dm equally efficacious: else there can be little doubt that in the 

r°focmou* atmosphere of a closely besieged city like Sebastnpol, 

ferinjtani !,or even Paris, orinado sery 

fcked camp in an ii ius district, the ill-fed tainted meat which 

hire, troops i-- lets wholesome than good 

bread and fmit. Die conviction of so great an 

ig to tbe constant rain or mow, the RuSMoni al JmBMSlTH 

•4oiiu«m), arkes call* 

*«r ">J tliffieoll >A ventilation. "Inc 

"ikjum onttastly mod idem in mmrwigni in 

•WW on the Danube. Tney have, licm-erer, frequently suffered from typhus,"— 

■I liygitn*. 

bal colTee is an antidote to malarious air. It la 

"■*• beverage of the 1 • : of the Russians, who dtinY lea. 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

authority on this subject as Howard ' deserve* more attention t 
long received ; and the rules he bid down for regulating the diet of 
prUoncrs when deprived of exercise in close, unwholesome quarte**. 
ap|)ly in many instances to the strong, healthy nun just struck down 
in liaitlc, and removed to the crowded hospital. 

The famous pea-sausage obtained much credit during theFnnco- 
n War, and is composed of pork or beef, lard, pea-flour, and 
bread ; but the men grow disgusted with it if used too long e 
sivcly. The Russians tried a sausage of the same kind in some 0/ 
their long marches in Central Asia, but found a greater proportion of 
vegetable and bread than the Germans used was required to keep 
their men in good health ; yet the commonly-supposed voracious 
German has less meat than the French soldier or the Austrian, 
while all three (in the course of a week) hive more than the Russia* 
and less than the British, but the Russian has the largest ration 0/ 
bread. Butter, buckwheat, and pepper, herbs (possibly for makin{ 
tea), and I small portion of onion are ingredients in the Russian 
dietary, which are not found in those of other nations ; but i6ocbj» 
in the year are fast-days in Russia, when the soldier has neither melt 
nor butter served out to him, but in their place 5 oz. of lard aid 
5 or., of vegetable oil. Cabbage soup or gruel is also used on the Btt- 
days, made of some of the above ingredient, and an additional potties 
of peas and oats. On the march, biscuit is substituted for bread ;uA 
weak brandy is added twice a week in 5-0/.. rations during continued 
marching or campaigning in a malarious district. With all the other 
Continental armies wine is given, and brandy or beer in time ofWJ 
and with the Germans the quantity of meat is increased by three 
ounces per day when marching. The French soldier, like the KafUafet 
buys vegetables and extras from his pay, and in time of peace recent* 
only fuel, meat, and bread from the government. A diet of bre»A 
milk or coffee, and olives, makes the Turkish porters at Cobs** 
tinoplc some of the most muscular men in the world ; but die 

' The great philanthropist, u is well known, wis a vegetarian ttiauctf ; h* * 
bi* time cholera had not yet entered Western Europe, and it is now mppoceJif 
some Out among its predisposing causes is long abstinence from anient] SmL 1 
Russia there uied to be a long nutumn last, which was abolished by l*«. * 
account of the annual visitation from cholera when it had lasted a week <■* I"* 
This hlca may, hosnmr, prove eventually to be an error. Great fatigor, cerntfji 
predisposes lo It, and, doubtless, any animal food in a tainted or high caoliu* 
One of the newspaper corrcsponoV.ii ■ In Bulgaria, last year, declared that ere** 
the Emperor's table the meat was always tainted, and this is a very eoavmoa «**" 
fence in all hot-weather campaigns, under which conditions it must be ■* 
Injurious to men camping in a malarious district, or in the Stale of the atawphd 
in which cholera prevails. 

War ana its Attendant Maladies. 235 

'arhsb array is very liable to epidemics, though the sobriety of the 
*ak ad file 1 we well known. However, this liability to epidemics 
fcay be easily accounted for by the want of sanitary precautions 
£ **naeristic of Eastern armies. 

There is no doubt that a well-fed, healthy man is more able to 
bear up against the fatigues of a campaign than one already tried by 
hand Sting and fa it clothing or shelter, if cither conditions arc 

'hcHroc, which is one reason more for paying the greatest attention 
to the diet and general health of the army in a time of peace. It was 
(feared that the British officers of the regiments of the Guards in the 
Criacj supported the cold and hardships fully as well as, if not better 
thu. the privates of the line, and in all armies this has generally been 
4e case. Our wealth and our mechanical superiority have also put 
r armies in possession of very much better weapons than our ad- 
, particularly when we have been opposed to the Russians,-' 
: Abyssinians, Chinese, and Ashantcc. Our loss in killed and 
■. consequently been very much less than what we have 
t able to inflict upon our opponents. But we cannot always ex- 
5 this to be our fate, now that communication is so much easier and 
: rapid than before steamers and railways, and now that 
improvement in cannon and firearms is at once known to 
war offices in Europe, and steps taken to adopt it. Even 
s, behindhand as they have ever been in the quality of 
uns, must have learned by their tremendous losses at 
1 that ill-armed courage is of less avail in battle than a long- 
able- barrelled breech-loader, uudcr the protection of an 
In future wars we must therefore look for a larger num. 
wounded, and a consequent increase of the sickness com- 
f attendant upon it. The Crimea was not an exception to the 
•immunity than the armies of foreign Powers which we have 
vcti from the scourge accompanying war ; for great as 
r loss there by sickness, that of our enemy, and of our allies, 
1 French and Turks, was far greater, though it is true that the pre- 
1 causes of that mortality were so thoroughly sifted that it is 
kdy they should exist with as again to the same extent. Still, 
Vj future war with a European nation, .1 far more ample provision 
»c sick and wounded will have to be made than we have ever 
► supplied to our armies, if the campaign is to come to a rapid 

1 D». Parke* *»y* that an army without pay It * healthy nimy, for it cannot 
nimbut, which spplirt to the Turks. 

1 Tfce Turin in the mfcMIe «jes poueued cannon and gunpowder long before 
i known to the Ru 


236 The GentUmaris Magazine. 

and successful termination. Cholera alone appears to be an evil that 
it is impossible to forestall ; for robust health, temper . xufli. 

cicnt shelter, and ample food seem to be no safeguard against it* 
ravages in an Eastern campaign. Crowding, over-fatigue, bad iratcr, 
and unwholesome food, doubtless increase it, and in the n»:: 
space we were more liberal in the Crimean campaign, and suffered less, 
than the French, who packed just double the number of men that 
we did in the transports we lent to them for the voyage from 
seilles to Gallipolli, and also in the hospitals. Scurvy' in some form 
or other has shown itself in all campaigns in all countries during the 
present and last centuries, and greatly complicates other maladies, 
or the cure of wounds; but thii might probably be much reduced if 
the same precautions were taken with the army as with the fleet, and 
an ample supply of limejuice provided when there was I i V • 
be a lack a >its or vegetables. The fatigue, excitement, con- 

on of preserved or salt meat, and general want of variety 
of food, with close quarters, and a debilitated physical condition, 
all conduce to scurvy in a time of war; but the danger and 
its remedy once recognised, it may entirely cease to be a difficulty; 
for with our large pecuniary means for 1 

facilities of transport, which, wherever they may 1*, will always be 
afforded by our ]>ortablc railways and our Meet, there need nc»er be 
an ill-timed economy displayed in procuring BO] thing to the 

health of our troops; for the homely proverb, " Penny iri 
foolish," applies most especially to the medical and commissariat 
supplies during a campaign. 

The following table gives a comparison of the British lo« anil 
that of the enemy in some of our principal battles— as nearly as his 
been ascertained : — 

Blenheim (Aug. 3. 17' 

English and Genmni 1 4,000 kilted. 7,000 wounded, chiefly Gcxroasa. 

French: 13,000 BOH. 

Cullodcn (April 16. 17461— 

Knglith : **> killed and wounded. 

2, 500 killed (probably no «i*utor gircn). 
DcUlncen (J«| y 16, 17 

English, including HanorerUni and Hc**iani : 2,300. 

French : 5,000. 

' A aaili* c«i*i»cd eomUntly to pure tea nir U under mure faviv-raliU 
lions for neaping an epidemic than a soldier on a camruign. Vet, wlih' 
vtgotaiitet uf tunc 'nice, it is found that Kurry will alwayi in time attack a sUp 1 * 

1 cucntcnct a 1 mutant <Uct ot tol or 
isnalti. Ml water, and ill < ventilated »lccplng-«i«anen. 

War and its Attendant Maladm. 237 


Fjgbh and Spanioidt : 777 killed, 4,00a wouncldl and missing. 

trench : 10,000. 
Ubmo, 4c. tjmly », rSr;|- 

Eq0bh asd Spaniards : 1,990 killed, 3,600 wounded and missing. 

F.tach: 8.000 killed, 7,14a prisoners. 
<Mb*IToiImic (April, 1S14)- 

FjjUh and Spaniard" : 071 killed. 3.SOO wounded and milling. 

F«uh: 10,000. 
Mnot JA. 10, 1&46)— 

1,338 killed and wounded. 

SMli: 10,000. 
**A»aodQa»trc Bias (June 17-1S. 1S15)— 

Haglt^ : 1,829 killed, 5,000 wounded. 

Hircwun*. Belgians, 6rc., and Prussian's : lO.lSo killi-d ud 

Fsoch : 45,000 k . Hlng, or lied 10 th*b 0W» home*. 

,t so, 1854)- 

anisi : 1,002 killed and wounded. 

Froci: 560. (They look leu port in the tattle.) 

E***» : S-7*>9 to**- (Official statement, but thought to be more.) 
***W (Oct. 25. 1S54)— 

Frtach, English, and Turks : 600 killed and wounded. 

Koun : 6*7. 

""wr r ,i)— 

English: 2,573 killed and wounded. 

French : i.Soo killed and wonnded. |l'l« ■>■ tool, linlc pari in the battle.) 

Koauaas ; 11,959 killed, wounded, an, I prbOMH. 



The Gentleman s Magazine. 


NOW that the weapon of a naked savage has struck down in 
nameless skirmish the last of the eWcr branch <>f the Bonapartcs 
and the first of the race who mi fell upon a field of battle, men's 
eyes nrc not unnaturally turned again upon one *rho often 
manded then naze before, but who seemed of late da) 
passed from their notice for ever, the man whom strange i 
placed at the head of the Napoleon family. It seem 
with the pitiless irony of fate which has always pursued the Bo 
dynasty — a fete as stern as the fabled destiny of the IVloptds— i 
the death of 1'rince Louis Napoleon should place whatever 
of succession at the feet of the man whom neither he nor his 
loved overmuch, at the feet of the Esau or rather the Ishmael of tl 
House, Prince Napoleon Joseph Charles Paul Bonaparte (JiwtntV 
letter known as Prince Napoleon, better known still in the argil of 
ry as Plon-Plon. Prince Napoleon is the son of that somc«lnt 
feather-headed King of Westphalia who is chiefly conspicuous for 
his marriage with Miss Patcrson of Baltimore— she who died W 
the other day— and for his exclamation at the battle of Waterloo: 
" Brother, here should perish all who bear the name of Bonaparte ! ' * 
heroic exclamation which did not prevent him t aping &©• 

the field and living till i860. Westphalia Jerome was the younjt* 
brother of the first Napoleon ; but as the great Na[>oleon did »hit he 
liked with the ion, and set aside his other brothers when ihef 

displeased him, the year 1853 saw his son the hcir-presnnuwe w 
lbc Imperial Crown. The birth of the poor lad who died kst J"* 
in Zululand took away from him the succession to a great and iff*" 1 
rcntly firmly established empire : bis death has given him the hew" 
ship of a fallen house, and put him nominally in command of 1 
powerless party. 

Prince Napoleon is one of the stran. ml 

His career Has been one long ridd lained as yet. No mini 

Europe has been more misunderstood, and few have been more dif 
liked ; no man had better chances of success than he, and no ■* 
ever made less use of his chances. To-day finds him as ranch 1 

Prime Napoleon. 239 

pn4e *lik. and his enemies a* he was thirty years ago 

«*«l he first swore allegiance to ;•■ French Republic. Me has been 

dttct.' v, itty Critic u ■ CtMftT out of place, lint the epigram 

i have been much truer v ■■ ribed him as an unemployed 

Antony. The marvellous cnpability for doing the right thing at the 

•fcht tune which characterised Caw never was the property of Prince 

Napoleon. He lias rather been conspicuous all his life for doing the 

njht tiling at the wrong moment. And now, close to his sixtieth 

yrar. he, the strangest evolution of the race Bonaparte, remains just 

*»ere he was when he started, having succeeded in convincing the 

*t»rl<J first that he was a fool, then that he was a man of genius, 

•t!. any success ti 1 nil duly ur his intellect. 

Anaong the many witty and bitter tilings that Prince Napoleon has said 

*hout the inembi: jwn family, one Mjil nts espedil 

^rrxacrubrancc— his epigrammatic observation that his cousin the 

peror took in the world tti when he made the world 

that he was an idiot ; and secondly, when he made it 

he was a statesman. The epigram would apply almost as well 

10 in author as to its object. 

This is his portrait, drawn by the hand of a bitter enemy : — 
l l. is of a tall form, but with his neck linking between blfl 
*»osjlderi : his waist is fast d re the irruption ot 

eo»r- his gait is heavy and n t; he is short-sighted, 

«r>«4 his glance is an oblique one. His general a] :. -minds 

one whom MM. Thiers ami Marco 
. Troplong and Havin, and likewise M. Prudhommc, 
ind Homme,' but it reminds you still more of Otho or 
11, and somewhat also of the common mask of Pun b." Such 
'cicriptioti to real idea of the appearance of the man 

er to be inferred from a study of his face. 
it gave anothei and a truer trie* of his 
i*tuii was it, so like that it 

•wild have passed in the eye : ol most spectators as a picture of the 
oral. A 1 ntive observer would have assumed ft 

■ r Leipzig or Waterloo, 
ttous face a look of sullen discon- 
tent that did not often belong to the features of 
partes. It w fepoleon without suc- 

who had not found his chance, who had M 
ngo. It waa the face of a Napoleon con 
Strang Napoleon. So like 

cut Napoleon lit little story which I once 

240 Tlu Getitlcntan's Magazine. 

remember reading n -old how one of the 

survivors of Napoleon's Old Guard who returned to hi* | home 

after Waterloo always refused to bl "cror was dead, 

Wd insisted that In.- would return one to trance her 

>ry. The story went on to tell that years after it so chanced 
iolcon had for some reason to go thro'i,. wn at 

of the towDspe 10 play off a jest upon the 

old soldier, tame to liim and told him that his dream had come true, 
that the Km]«ror had indeed returned, and was at that 1 1 .ssing 

through the principal street. Wild with excitement, the veteran 
rushed off to the spot where the Imperial escort was slowly n 
its way through the shouting > rowd. The glare of torches shone 
upon the soldiers and upon a bareheaded man looking out of a car- 
riage window, a man face of the conqueror of Austcrliu. 
The old soldier ild ay of deli: e 1'Kmpcreur ' " and 
fell down (abating, When they came to raise him mad he was 
dead : he had died happy in tin: belief that he had once again looked 
upon the bet Of his Did commami 

It v, without interest to glan !v over this career, 

and see what can be made of it Pi poieefl was \xirn in 182J, 

at Trieste, and received a military education at the royal ml 
academy of Ludvigsburg, where he signalised himself by 1 
few quarrels with his comrades. In 1845 he and his father were 
allowed by Ixmis- I'hilippc to return 1 pJtC of '.i 

of banishment against all ions, Thi a sent 

him to the Assembly as the deputy for Corsica, and he declared him- 
self everywhere as a devoted republican, winning for himsel 
titles of "Prince Rouge" and "Prince de la Montague," although 
thai many of the made wliat I cannot 

but > unsider the mistake of not believing ii 

he was sincere enough in his republ hope 

that his cousin would keep true to his word, ''coo's 

character there seems to be a fatal slugg> 

to say, " I luve done my best to shape the course < 1 1ml if 

they won't take the course I wnsh, they D way." 

nforay of the .nd abet: 

but it was assumed by tl 

.1 tlut he erately helped to l>ctray 

that the Red l'rince came to him on the night ol I November, 

1851, and placed before il the 

threat meant no le- i-.tliate 

Prince Napokon. 241 

■president by the order and 
findt, headed ><iers the Had 

to plan been adopted and how 

nschof the fir. been avoi 

ncewithot tat and its Sedan se towto 

Bwginc, but such a thing night-havc- 

beenj I for the mo-i uity. Victor Hugo 

plan on the ground that one must not be illegal to prc- 

•. ; and the Prince, feeling doubtless that be had done 

(*OU^re(rred,eontentto]etthtngBtaketheircourse,and hut- 

«er of with them. 

*m mm nation, die knowledge of which now is Prim e 

Mapegleon from so much, he m cpeech which show 

■8*1* «m bit appreciation of the ritaadon iuse,and how true 

his view tv. "I bear the name of Bonaparte," he said, 

"'•'it 1 i.i-.^r i| without fanatici 1 a Bonaparte, but not a 

Borvanartist. I respect the name, but I can judge it. It bear* already 

""^ aain, that of the r8tli Brun 1 ootto endure another? 

"*« old Main has disappeared in glory. Aiwerlit/ eclipsea Biunial 

"■ 1 m k tiius. The people have k much ad- 

ed him that they have forgiven him. This glory of Napoleon's 

** sin second would kill it. 1 do not wnth this. 

it the second: I would hinder it-" 

'I^cttchI I'' ranee by teach.; ror had inherited 

■ oleonii name, a c nand was 

pv iitoi,. He went ouc to thi teat of war, stayed 

» few moniii orprise oi returned 

nsiblc re:i mies 

>t it was In the great 

Ircadcd thi it he was 

I foi 11". er the 

cowardice there on my side .Mr. King- 

to be a good judge of a man 1 
qualities as any of 1 s assailants who entin 

him from this unlucky charge, "I may say," states the hist 
of the Crimean 
to ua 1 nabled me to infer tl a man 

ittcr of personal courage 1 1 
ens, I olcoo that he 


242 The Gmtlematis Magazitu. 

so ingloric 1 the general who deserted ; still more 

onlacky that the scheming of his Imperial cousin during the Julian war 
sent him down with a command into Tuscan. .vavc, 

of the war, ever reached, and where he I from 

name of '• the Immortal," the man that docs not die. 
Ni it! ling clings so surely about a great a charge whir! 

It 01 impossible to disprove, and this charge of cowardice has 

about Prince Napoleon's name, never probably to be effaced 

minds of most persons. Som» . however, may be 

I of t!i.: \. due of sweeping charges like t> rccol- 

it< brought the sa: e of cow.'. 

t Napoleon, and that he found plenty of people ready 

to bi 

Up I ttd mrbl long after, Europe had made itsmind 

gardtothe -ins Bonaparte. Louis Napoleon, the 

Emperor, v m of genius, subtle as the Sphinx, the master-mind, 

:\clli and Richelieu rolled into one. in fact, 
Ul ind brain Ol Coi Prince Napoleon was 

the dull incapab ' the helpless, hopeless, degenerate bearer 

of a mighty U the angry epithets which poor Claud-, 

notte in his despair asb hii mother if he deserves were hurled most 
ie opinion upon Plon-Plon or Craint-PIomh, ascertain 
I to style him. In one thing alone did p 
icllcncc. Public opinion allowed that he 
■ 1 in profligacy. All the cm 
and the vim lent tongue of Cicero showered up 

credit of Prince Napoleon. Not Trimak c any 

of the infamous Athenians whose sins arc gibbeted in |] 
i boast a more repulsive repute' 
ime. For thi» reason In 
Primal CI 1 a deep and sincere feeling », and 

irtoon, which represented tl 

ing girl an 
uncle ted the feeling at the time of nine person 

often. Undoubtedly the union could K8J 

he indiroy 

How Cm :l>r i ■ 

• A the world . 

of our> 
his stupidity ma to I 

Prime Napoleon. 


: ;,-. took the world very 
much by surprise If some an IOWU 

for year* suddenly leaped in 1 lit ;k the gra 

tragic actor of his time, the effect could not be more startling, more 
bitarrr, than the revolution which converted the Clotcn of the Palais. 
Royal into one of France's greatest orators, the pea of Vergniaud 
and Bcnver. Never probal/. had 

m earned so unenviable a fame for i» it off 

ao suddenly, as suddenly a-, the matador llings off I li 

me for bin bo face t/ (<•'.<. The 

a 1 unphlei tod .1 challenge. The 
I the pamphlet of BgtUUk Pelit-fiis and declined his 
:cj rather, it was declined for bun by the Emperor. The old "f < in d, but all English politicians 

. the quarrels of h 
houses were not to be settled by the weapons which si 

Is of the C [Ui a I '■" p 1 

. now somewhat forgotten pamphlet which, however, den nn • 
be remembered as a manly d the King of the 

cades — described the chat.' 1 of the Bonapaiti race with 

a bilti iicss whic:h must have been strangely unpalatable to 

its Im[> head : — 

nd il t'agil Her, leur parole 

I ■ :. 1. 1 iace, de toutcs les promevsc- i i lea 

1 ou pouvi 
Fro > DOC Napoleon before tlie eyes 

rope was changed He was now pointed out as the subtle 
schemer, the man of vast ambition ami determined wilL The cap and 
verc taken nd he was inv-. . the cloak, the 

if the Conventional stage < ■ 
His house been 1 oiinentain 

Out finding 

who 1... I matk moui a at Plon-Plon tot .1 fool 

igerly wh >n had in the matter. He 

was now set on diploma i< U over the 

il ambassador for tin Empire 
c»cry» •■• 11 « little doubt that I 

. and his power of a] 1 aluea 

e made his assistance of great service to Napoleon 
; olcon the Third had seen fit to profit by it more 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

It is true that Prince Napoleon's political judgment generally led 
him to different Conclusion* from those evolved from the Tuileriw, 
and it must be admitted that his opinions generally ran counter to 
those of the majority upon most great questions ; but events have 
almost invariably justified Prince Napoleon, and showed th 
Imperial cousin would have done wiser in listening to his single 
than to any clamour of public opinion. When Prince Napoleon 
went over to America during the civil war, to judge the question on 
its native ground, hearing the cause discussed in New York silor* 
in reunions of Boston abolitionists, and in the not altogether impartial 
■imosphae of General Beauregard's tent, he had the sense to see 
that the North was sure to win in the end ; and he saw this at a time 
when tin linperor was moving heaven ami earth to indn. 
to Bid him in supporting by arms the cause of the S< ■ 'averjr. 

Prince Napoleon was also strongly opposed to the Mexican inter- 
vention. He knew the temper of the American people too well to 
that they would suffer Napoleon to carry out his deafly 
cherished infringement <>f what has come to be called the Mums 
doctrine, but which is really the doctrine suggested to and impresses 
upon President Munro by George Canning. The sequel of th* 
most disastrous undertaking thoroughly justified his views. Upon 
all the great European questions, too, he showed a shrewd asd 
foreseeing mind. He believed in Italy, he supported the cameo* 
Poland, he foresaw the downfall of Austria, and we have it oo his 
own authority that he strongly objected to the action of the Frcaca 
Government with regard to Rome, and attributed to I :he re- 

sult of the war with Prussia. Moreover, he was a free-trader Icing before J 
the Emperor could be induced to believe that the doctrine in' 
eesentisl law of political economy. It may be asked, then, why a ! 
who showed such capacity for statesmanship as to foresee the I 
of all the great political crises during his time, should yet have i 
mkH little honour for his prophecies, not only in his own counUy I 
everywhere else ? The truth doubtless is thai Prince Nape: 
acter i* marred not only by his l»ad temper and his proverbially I 
tongue, which make it impossible or next to -lefor hiral 

on with anyone or for anyone to get on with him— faults -■■ 
him to Bint] Dp the Algerian administration, and brought html 
France from so many important missions— but by a worse de/' 
than either of these, a fatal want of energy. 
patien< •:• ■ d essential to true success, and hi is disposed, 1 

people dei line to sec things as he sees them, to ^ dijf 

and let them learn by experience the wisdom of councils he bad 

Prince Napoleon. 


asawlf the energy to do battle for. There ll in him a great deal of 
*t nature of Byron's Sardanapalus, who, while having no small share 
of the stuff that heroes arc made of, fritters away his life in purposeless 
unction and aimless pleasures. In aimless pleasures, indeed, a good 
deal of Prince Napoleon's life has been passed Witness his pur- 
POkIcsj wanderings ii hi -ill OtO the world, wanderings which 

Bade wit* inquire if the prince was qualifying to be a teacher of 
pep j pected reverie to the Napoleon 1 

Witness too hi- ir to live the lift of a Roman in modem 

has. Hence the villa Dtomede, which most visitors to Perls have 
wen, and where, according to rumour, til ian walls saw scenes 

Jtoaan enough to have satisfied the taste ol the Artittr I 

■•.'. dwelling was not a success. The Prince attempted 
tabs after the Roman fashion, and they made the house too damp 
in; and gradually he got tired of his toy and of playing 
at being a Roman, and the villa Diomcdc was abandoned. Those 
»ho .uw the Palais-Royal when it was Prince Napoleon's might 
**• hare wondered why a man with such a house should want to 
be anything better than a Bonaparte prince in an Orlcanist palace. 
To do justice to the Prince, the 1 owed that its temporary 

°*aer «ns a man of refined taste and high culture both in art and 
tetn I quote an account of the Palais-Royal written while the 
Bcoapwte dynasty still swayed the fortunes of Prance : — 

.dais- Royal is one of the most tasteful and elegant abodes 

Woapng to a European prince. The stranger in I'atis who is 

fctiirutc enough to obtain admission to it— and, indeed, ■dmiawinfi 

» et\. I be sadly wanting in taste if he does not 

nhairc the treasures of .-in and vtrtu whii h are laid up there, and 

the easy, graceful manner of their arrangement. Nothing of the 

abm- place is breathed there ; no rules, no conditions, BO Wftj 

dogging lackeys or sentinels make the visitor uncomfortable. Once 

admitted, the stranger goes where he will, and admin r.incs 

that he pleases. Ii sitics and relics, medal 

Balnea, bronres and stones, from every land in which history or 

romance takes any interest ; he gazes on the latest artistic successes — 

Dorc'a magi Oiadows, (Jerome's audacious nudities; 


or sensa- 

that every i talking of, the play 

1 novel, R< ' 'line, 

ic'a frcOtcat critii is impressed everywhere with the 

conviction thai he is in the house of a man of high culture and 

246 The Gentleman's Magaz; 

intellect, who with the progress of the world in art». 

and letter*. •ics." 

icf i>criod Prince Napoleon was the acknowl 
hero of the hour, surprising everyone by 1 -is a statesman, 

by his charm as .1 cultivated ; -nan of the world. 

u a man of fortune. Then came the 1 \; actio 

speech, the sound of which, it may not unfairly tic ■• 
Europe and all the civilised world. The Emperor was away 
Algeria, and in his absence Prince Napoleon was 1 '.ookedK 

upon as the representative of the Empire and the Imperial prim It 
What, then, was the surprise of F.uro|>« to hear the Pi I "^B 

Austria, and all that Austrian policy repre '■ the irnpas^na 

atoned oratory <>t' which he bad proved himself already soco 

He must have known that this audacity could li- 

the sanction nf the Emperor, and it did not. The Emperor rcptaci 

the fiery utterances of his 
lieutenant, and immedLv -.ed all hisorli- 

mperor. From thai time he npfuomm 

inactivity of hi existence before 1S61. Up to that year he )» 
been the latlj I: of everybody ; btit he went back 

a wonder and Op ith the memory of a brief andf 

odid celeb ul him. Not unlike m^ 

been nil career >0 far, For years unseen and unknown, then for" 
one resplendent season seen nnd known of all tl ■ 
and then again unseen and unknown. Whatever has be 

pontheanai ;>ceca, 

his public life has been ibitJot-. 

to him. The fall o! 
no prominence, and he took the Republic t 

mcrly accepted the amf 
be National A > aillcs, 

and I of oratory, only proved to the ]» 

that he was really a capable debater. Where Lcdru Rolli 
succeeded. It is by no means cerl 

led jet, or that he is destined to pass into 

Ics, like tli. " The Man in die [no Mas*,* 

and such otter enigmatical n 

content with ha' the world 

genius, with the capacity for 

aloof (rot Isaeai 

'Ay to the 

Print* Napoleon. 


•ttointo the fight, clears everybody before him, and returns 
to his silent solitary attitude. This is just the part which Princ 
Xipoleon has played in the game of politics. 
Some slight solution of the enigma of the Prince's life a perhaps 
bond in the following lines, written by him in the AV.-v. 
iaxifttnUs a few years back: — 

"I hare always had for the Emperor, my cousin. .: ihOTOUj h 
dwecion, of which I think I have given him lufficienl proofs by the 
bnkness of my conduct, even by the very opposition I have shorn 
*Banr acts of his govt mmen -;i thanklesa rule, which rarely 
o»fers power and tafluei I which exposes iis supporter to 

(toy kind of calumny. I found my only satisfaction in the send 
■cot of duty accomplished. My personal rilt, sometimes effaced, 
wartimes preponderating, has always had the same aim— the gn 
tewof France, to be obtained by the alliance of the NopoteonS with 
tmocnuic ideas." 

Prince Napoleon has always been persistently disbelieved ; it 
«ttr seems to have entered into the minds of his enemies that be 
«nU possibly speak the truth. Yet the course of his life has been 
JBwallv in accordance with his own statements, and his declaration, 
tot the aim of his life has ever been the greatness of France, to be 
flkaned by the union of Bonapartism and democracy, has never been 
hfitd by any action of his career. Indeed, it is to this Eaiin 

ha impossible combination that his unsuccesa might very fairly be 
■sinned. His Bonapartism has injured him with the democrats, his 
fcnoency with the Bonapartes. The result has been that want of 
Jo«ct and influence over which his deeply disappointed ambition 
*u compelled to utter one cry in the confession of faith we have 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 


In that England receives fro >rs 

triliuu- 10 v.-irm and gTaccful as '■■ Mr. 

in Winter, the New York poet and j> 

ntod from the ! from 

ingtonlxvii us as motto on the title-page, 

■ stand eight lines selected from Joh-i 
in " Richard II." >— 

of kni|p. i : 
I Ml 1 'lit »c*t at i 

TIim fimrc**, l>uil: l.y S'»iuic fur hcnelf ; 
ii precious ilonc set in the silver tea ; 

:, this BUth , tiut Kim 


That these verses express the writer's feelings is shown throughout 
a volume that few 1 

the preface Mr. Winter speaks of meeting with great and " - 
-.-.*. In oil clex:ripiion : he declares til 

C saw the distant and dim coast of Britain lie felt, with a E 
Of loneliness, that he was a stronger ; > that 

t he behel'l it through a mist of teai lie 

parted from many ! friends, from many of the gent'' 

and from a land hen< lcar I 

him " England," he declares, " i 

sec i ot only is greener 

very roses arc redder, Everything, in ■• > h» 

been enchantment. Our very climate extort 'Odon 

is a dream of de lane*, 

people are approved with p 
this tribute for more than one reason. blc, doabt- 

10 '.'lie man ; that while 
ill barrel; 

den Mr. Winter must have L 

a nation I 

TabU Talk, 249 

experiences at times some hard rubs, to find so favourable a 
pissed upon things English, there is comfort in the thought 
tint this interchange of kindnesses between England and America 
awakens feelings the beneficial influence of which, as regards future 
relations between the two niutries, cannot easily be over-estimated. 
The tardier whose ject is lo produce " comic copy " is a 

" familiar nuisance " and a grievance also. It is as true of nations as 
'i individuals that a sneer is almost as unpleasant to bear ax a blow. 
: sure, even, that "American Notes," clever as these wen:, 
m nut do more to estrange, fur ■ tune, the two commies than the 
Aiibama difficulty. 

SOME amusing stories have been spread abroad of mistakes which 
have been made in the interpretation of passages in the plays 
performed by the French actors at the Gaiety. Of these, doubtless, 
tt« a few arc apocryphal, and all might fairly be matched by mistakes 
•hkh French writers have made in discussing the criticisms of the 
English press on the actors and the acting. By one of those strange 
k-aces which occur in the experience of all of us (insomuch that 
•key arc not in reality strange at all, though they seem so) it so hap- 
Praed that, as I was thinking of certain odd mistakes made on both 
■Jet, J was turning over the pages of an old French magazine, searching 
fr* paper in no way relating to such mistakes, when I lighted on the 
Storing amusing passage. It appears (but, my copy of the magazine 
*6m incomplete, I was unable to refer to the original query) that 
Wneonc had inquired of the editor what might be the meaning of 
the three words " Eta Beta l'i " in the well-known story of Hogarth's 
*»nic letter, and the editor had been unable to explain. But a 
professor, who, being resident in England, had better means 
"f oplaining the mystery, took pity on the editor and his readers, 
"& supplied the interpretation. The editor thus presents the 

• Invitation d'IIogartk. 
Ulpcfctteur ncn» enroic • ! la traduction Htteralc de troiu mot* 

"Wta (THojarth (f.l Stl.1 J'V [it;]) tjuc noun avion, iiiSitr di: traduirc : 

• • . . . thunday next, to Jit (»itgki» nodOTMi <•■.■•') •' 
. . ftwii prochain, pour manger un 

* W*e»Utioc de bttfiUak), PY (anglais modeme, /iV). 

•* frfttcut fie (pjtc au tiiftocW) c*t encore aujourd'hui un dc» met* favori* de* 

^*r all, however, if we consider that the French way of pro- 
toeing the names of the three Greek letters, Eta, Beta, and l'i, 

250 T/te Gentkmaris Magazine. 

would not sound in the least like the English words " Bal 
pie," we cannot much wonder at the joke (a mild one in any cue, 
and somewhat mouldy withal even in Hogarth's time) being misled. 
But thai : Tofcssor should have evolved tl*c above in 

pretatior., with its unauthor; out of the 

<>i his moral consciousness, is an excellent joke in its way. 

SLICING «d tthensioa, the writer of a lead ic in 

one of our evening papers fell in singularly 

illustrates how the most familiar passages, sayings quoted almost 
every day, arc often misunderstood. He was speaking of the chance 
that a certain potentate would adopt a merciful cow irticular 

JTBJtinre, winch Kemed, as he said, unlikely, because that ruler's 
quality of mercy was not such as falleth from h ned 

"as an exceedingly fine sieve indeed." I happen to know 

that many suppose the word "strained" in the fan; 
have this meaning, though one would imagine that cveryor.. 
perceive how Inap p ropriate such a meaning would be 
the- dew tailing BOO isonably cnoti; las 

contrasted with water 1 rough a sieve nor, 

but what an absurd image of forced mercy tbl bow 

commonplace and unpoetieal ! The expression is obviously used 
with direct reference to Shyk> 

ill 1 ? tell me that; I the kind h is 

«lone through a tl wrung from a nc 

dry clotli. 1 the 

lost,.> 1 lie word ' 

is so mbundci:.iiiii<l The matter is easily tested b> the 

appeal il poetry, though it may lose 

i'lootn, loses not all 

II I be forced to show tli 
you plea 1 answer, Mercy should not be like motn 

wrung with an effort from a cK uld be a* dew falling i: 

hca. : and though the words arc 

and pen: mild not be 

water Mi , is as at 

irrck \ 

A ND here I Jed of a still more familiar qui 

■1~\ alwa> 1 wrong and utterly abs 

well-known Timet Daiuus et <hm Jrrcnla. 

Table Talk. 251 

d, " I fear Greeks and those who bring gifts," which it, as 

>arks Readc would say in his forcible bin appropriate maimer, 

*«o cruel silly." It implies, and tonlj 'understood to imply 

(■^Ijch makes the absurdity of the mistake the greater), that the 

c »«-«b were in the habit of liringing gifts, and that they and all who 

iTethat habit arc to be feared ; but neither one nor the other of 

***<se things is intended in the saying, either as originally written or 

a* it i* understood by those who know anything about the matter. 

T*e true translation of the saying is, of course, " I fear the Greeks 

«wea *feen they bring gifts." (I would write, "I fear the Greeks 

c*eo bringing gifts," but that in English this admits of two meanings.) 

It ■ not merely this interpretation, being the only one which 

"Many point or sense, mint l>e preferred to the other, but that the 

other h inadmissible. Goo<l 1 ..itin for " I fear Creeks and those who 

beqg gifts" might be given in more ways than cm, especially in 

P*trr, but in whatever way it might be given, the relative pronoun 

"■a appear. But even if the common translation were admissible, 

ncfa sheer nonsense that that of itself would determine which 

be preferred. 

TT is a lihel on human intelligence to say that "every man is 
■I mad upon on-: : " but it is quite true that a good 

••aye/ us are in one direction > great ileal more foolish than in 
'"other. The question is, how great a fool a man is to be per- 
mitted to be in his own line, without disqualifying him for the 
*»wgement of the affairs of other people. A man may still 
hthere in the Claimant to the Ttchbome estates, and yet exercise the 
°*5ee of a trustee ; but is a man who believes that he has daily 
c oowr$ation with Sh.-.kespcare, Byron, George Washington, and 
ftwhn Pilate, fit to occupy the position of a manager of public 
*h»B? That is the question which is agitating the New York 
■Wdof Education, with respect to the superintendent, Mr. Kiddle, 
^ohis so recently given to the world his "spiritual communications." 
A* ongin of this great work wc are told was " a peculiar sensation 
^oienecd in his daughter's right shoulder," (not over the left, as 
«*Xwld imagine), "and the discovery that a pencil placed in her 
•ad was moved by a force external to herself." After this, of course, 
'•* tbe table-tipping, and the usual spiritual "phenomena" which 
k» the same proportion to what we generally understand by that 
it. Crummle's stage pump and washing tubs do to a scene 
*TTeIbin. But the amazing part of the business is that a superin- 
*»&at Of education could believe that, after deadi, and in the spirit 



252 Tlu GetUkmans Magazine. 

world, all the high/ intelligence* shouM It it 

true that Miss Kiddle is the " intermediary," And it is of counc 

]>ossible that Shakespeare may be "talking down ■ to the understanding 

of a scliool-girl, but the alternative supjwsition that the school 1 

may be talking lor herself is not to be altogether ■•. ■ I was • 

rth," says the Hard of Avon, "but how much I 

I -.1 have done if my powers of talent (tie) had been directed by 

the beacon-light of I !t must be said, however, 

.:, though his grammar has become shaky, and his 

jnphors be docs not indul Ion 

verbosity peculiar to fifth-) 1 writers into which poor 

Byron has fallen. "I am in a : of "I lilde 

ling the possesion of titles obtained upon the 

borders of mother earth, but v do not help my elevation 

here . . . except < N Jth according to my means 

of using these gifts of humanity." The beat part of tunable 

sentence appears to be the X .!■'... which is very neatly put, though 

hardly characteristic of the speal. My dear 

friends. 1 am Edgar Poe, do ember that I wrote the tales 

of woe?" — which, like Mr. Welter's a remark, is poetry 

without intention, ar... oly will not increase the literary 

of the author ■>." 

KK) and "in a black dress 
(a very , ), sends fer the interme- 

diary, an injun widowed Queen 

though without specifying tlic object ; white Columbus congrjtulat 
himself on " no longer being annoyed by unbelievers in thecxi 
of a piece of land." Among our own large and varied collc< I 
fools we have of course believers in spirit-rapping ; but so far as 
'.cm are superintendents of School Boards. 

IN .. the world is grow 

a the sewfl 
the » indrcd millions uf tons an hoar, 

a hundred and fiftj feet— may be m aroo-clectrical a»- 1 

.'. to all the mechanical forces of the 
work) -v. so long ago that the opinion c 

a couple 

all would make the finest a ipon earth.* 

i 1 

jX aw^vrutcor* called the * sik 1 


Table Talk. 


kely to form a higher estimate of the wealth and 

itutie of London, than will suggest itself to those who, after 

whirled anions the chimn of the Sumy villages, 

padu-i bed in the at Victoria, Lodgate HOI, or 

Charing Cross. IV certain thai the average 

traveller who 1 • at a satisfactory 

of some of our prim ipal institutions, and will be 
inap" extortion of certain sections 

of out 11 be more disgraceful than the 

state of I a BtCStrte Nark their 

passengers. 0|>ening on to streets in which there is no room for 
traffic, and in which there are consequently no cab-stands, the 
wharves constitute a hunting-ground for the worst species of ha 

I undon lias yet produced. Before the vessel arrives at her 

lation she is lioaided b> a crowd of porters, who sci/e every 

icce of luggage and walk it off out of the owner's sight An 

Englishman teanu by exp< rience to fee one of these men, sod to 

give hi ng the others at hay. A foreigner, hovr- 

1;, at the merry of these 
With dismay he sees package after package -Hatched 
gaze, ot, it in. ids. To add to 

Wl complications, comes the of passing the customs officer. 

When he is outside of the wharf, he Buy sit down on his baggage and 
nil till eternity for a cab. No other open to him than the 

eel, and his only chance is ton ntlybyhis property 

and pay some of the idlers about to letch him a vehicle. My own 
«x]<ricncc of the state of affairs on my return from 

ne that ■ ten it must be 

It is a matter of imperiout ty that 

change should great 

'barter smaller 
ers, 1 on the Thames 

Embankment, out of the way of thi traffic of the City, and 

if cabs ? It would add greatly to the 
■at voyagi tie such am nl could be 


- advantage w trend the, ado] 'lie course 

1 recommend is that it- intending travellers to 

reach of departure without 1 cnormou-. 

irlicr than thi in order to 

allow for the chance of blocks in the • om-of-th 

tituattun 1* tlwt in which 1 reside. It is, indeed, within three 


7 lie Gentleman's Magazine. 

radius of Charing Cross. Yet, when a cab was obn 

difficulty at Si m-'s Wharf, ihc driver rtftlKd Ml tnkc 

farther than the nearest station of t 

could of cour hosen to be ol 

have insisted on his taking me the whole way, at 

driving away nitho: eofnndir 

a second rchi 


THE wretch who, the oft 
obuincd access to >ra ol a dying clril I 

n rather feigned to do so i" with two 

m ed icos, read pn 

into the dining-room, and taking advantage of the carelessness 

wrought in the establishment 

and decamped with all the portable property he 

upon, has. I am glad to k >p< — ;>., condig 

punished. His opport' : that pas 

one of the servants rushing out for 
said " I mi ;i i! he would have said " I am a i 

man" (he carried l I'rayer-book in his pocket), had a moi 
line q elf. 

In comparison with toil 
•-■thrcn as 

1 lihcrwise, I 
with .» i • i o the good folks coming 

out, li .. at each contribution, and afterwards poi 

sum total, used to In; thought 

IT i i withhold rrora the Fr 

energy and entcquisc they di- ; 
term in its pi i compline 

bnuxii ce, or art is like! value 

edias, the collections of » ientific wo 

as ruli 

arc conccnvc'l 

Table TaUc. 


Mansel du Librairc ct dc "Amateur de Livrcs of M. J. Ch. Brunet. 

In appeared, there 

scarcel) ired 

by grievous and errors. One HUtU in 

•hich F.nglisli literature is treated Hw new edition 

of > gnd pub- 

hshed by M .■• ves and Turner, in 15 vols. 8vo., London, 

'*; described as being in 5 volumes, as edited by W. Cur.-. • 

HuiJiu and published by Rwtt and Turner. Sometimes I find a 

*c«Ucnce half French and half English, such as appears under the 

I AlcocJc, "Relation du bombardement el Quifbcc, par 

un Jt-suite du Canada; with an English tr.vdixtion; " and some- 

■<•«, as under the head Art of Illuminating. I am at a loss to know 

*hat the English is intended to convey. Now. the Manuel da I.ihraire 

■ » standard wotIc win rs on tin? shelves of every book-buyer 

pe, and Ul ' i- likely to bear it company. Is it 

da BS. I niiiin- 
*dot ct Cie., wl ■ to the Flre&ch Institute, to find 

""^e English si noe over their Sheet! and correct 

**«■ obvious error . alphabet^? 

l^^t rilll.F. praising the energy of the French publishers who 

^f supply us with such encyclopaedical collections as France 

■^^t- that England was similarly rich, I would 

**^a it remembered that the fault u not wholly oars. A French 
*~ X< of nr.| (Sen among Eng. 

he -ame class has a merely nominal 

ince. This difference i-> quite adequate to render 

Tc profitable in one country and quite unremunerative in others. 

*~* «fl educated Frenchmen pay as much attention to the literature of 

^teland as Englishmen pay to that of France, there will be a better 

"*^.nce of our wiping off til h of having so few encyclopaedias 

Why of the name, destitute of a General 

I not undergone as many changes as a kaleido- 

i scope, wd among a people leas inconstant thsn the FreiKh, 

th. the name of the Rue de Momy has been changed 

at Paris, into the Rue Pierre Chatroo, 

it to the mind to 

no! - " the whirligig of Time brings in his 

re v enge s." i ■ h the " Patriarche des esprils forts" 

>r his 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

was condemned by the Parliament and the University as well as 
the Jesuits, a street is now dedicated to his memory. It is like the 
transformation of which Hamlet speaks : " Mine uncle is king of 
Denmark, and those that would make mows at him while my fathcT 
lived, give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred d .his 

picture in little." As Charron was to KHOM extent the precursor < 
Rousseau and the Encyclopaedists in " naturalism. " and the 
friend and disciple of Montaigne, who, when dying in his cmbr 
urged him to adopt his family arms, it is bul Datum] that a body , 
advanced in opinions as the Municipality of Paris should seek to do 
him honour. Few of Charron's political Of social theories arc likely 
to find a trial. It is amusing to find him < ensuring the adoption of 
clothing, and demanding, " Why should he that is the lord of all 
other creatures, not daring to shew bunselfe naked unto the ma 
hide himselle under the spoiles of another, nay adorne himsclfc ? " I 
quote from the nld translation of Samson Lcnnord, London, i6<c 
the first edition of whi< h is erroneously assigned in the Hihliographc 
Manual of I OwttdOS t<> 1658. 

I HAVE heard it maintained with much zeal and eloquence, 
well-known IftttraUar, that among the few things proven 
demonstration in this world may be counted the fact that nations 1 
the exact op|x»ites of what they are generally assumed to be ; 
nothing is so misleading as generalisations concerning peoples. 
French, this lover of paradox maintains, are the most solid of natic 
the Teutons the flightiest, the English the most frolicsome. Re 
statistics show that one characteristic attached during many years 1 
Englishmen, does not appertain to them. So far as regards tende 
to suicide, Englishmen come behind French, Belgians, Pi 
Austrian*, Swiss, Danesmen, and Norwegians ; all nations, indc 
except the inhabitants of Southern Europe. The Danes dti 
recent years have had an unenviable precedency in sclfslau 
France comes second on the list. Nation il characteristics have) 
thing to do, doubtless, with the tendency to suicide. Still, influe 
of climate seem* to tell, since in the countries where the sun sh 
most, like Spain and Italy, suicide is comparatively unknown, 
seems certain that east winds and the like exercise a deprcr 
fluence. Certainly, if suicide was ever would be in the 1 
of men who have held on through winter and spring in the hope i 
summer, and have been rewarded by a June and July such as 1 
through which we hare passed. 




SKI'! I M!.l R I879. 




ALL. this disgraceful turmoil about Theresa Molyncux anil the 
Honourable and Reverend Launcclot Lascelles was perhaps 
more painful to Ringrovc Hardisty than to any other. He had the 
honctt Englishman's pride in the purity of the women who 

■were his friends ; and the fair fame of girls whom he had known from 
their infancy, and who were in a manner like his sisters — the only 
aon of sisters that lie had — was specially dear to him. 

il ilic harder for liiin now, a few yean ago there had 
been certain tentative little passages between him ami Theresa. She 
fancied herself in love with him when the cafloe home from 
I ; and she had shonn what she fell too clearly to In- mistaken. 
had been struck by her prcttiness, flattered by her preference ; and 
consequence had wandered round her for a short time, asking 
would do, and was she really his assigned half? Finally 
edded thai not ; ami that a temperament which gave 

being asked to give, was not that which he most desired in 
wife. Still, he always had for her that certain tenderness and secret 
1 of possession which a man feels for a woman of whom he has 
and his indignation was the more bitter now because of 
short time of hesitation and virtual ownership, when he had 
a few flowers of thought and fancy on the altar where the vicar 
lighted such a consuming fire. 

Like everyone else, he understood the true state of things, and 

the religion which expressed itself in hysterics and nervous 

tou ccaxv. BO, 1; $ 

» 5 8 

The Genilcmaris Magazine. 

exaltation was simply the passion of love under another name. Ar. 
also like everyone else not committed to Ritualism blindfold, 
knew that Theresa had been led into this state of semi-madness 
the spiritual phi) with which n celibate priesthood enforce 

dogmatic teaching, and that Mr. Lasccllcs had made love to lier aft« 
hi-. c..",ii manner. Whetha that manna had been i nfty and 
dated, or open and confessed, it had been love-making all the same ; 
and to Ringrovc and some others the vicar stood as the respoatit 
author of all the mischief. 

But this was too delicate a tiling for him to touch. Women, 
tenia 1 and other, may take >;ir!s to task for their folly; and £■! 
men may say a word in season, of not too direct a kind, agaii 
sleeve-wearing of the heart which attracts the daws ; but what can : 
young fellow do? especially if the lines are not laid in his o» 
country — if the one implicated is out ot hit Wat both forage: 
knowledge, so that he cannot drop hints about undesirable habit 
and knows nothing of any damnatory antecedents, both of whic 
well handled may be made useful as checks and refrigerators ? 
young man cannot go to a girl of his own age and say : " My dl 
you arc making a fool of yourself with the vicar or the curate — tl 
captain or the lieutenant, and all the world is laughing at JfOU." 
even straightforward Ringrove felt this, and knew that it w 
possible for him to lecture Theresa or advise her, to reprove or i 
enlighten her. 

But if he could not do this, he could speak to Hcrmione : 
Virginia; and under cover of deprecating their friend's foil). 
deploring the scandal that had occasioned, perhaps he mi| 
them some little good, and open to the hateful truth, as he saw i 
the dear eyes which were so last shut now. 

He saw very little of cither mother or daughter in these sad 
times ; only at the Sunday morning service. When he called at I 
Abbey as he still did — often— they were sure to lie out or eroj 
and he had to content himself with Richard's company ot 
two men indeed were discarded with impartial severity by the wcir 
to whom fanaticism was dearer than love ; and if Ki< I 
be the Man of Sin, Ringrove took tank as his younger DKM 

But a man's love bears a tremendous strain when put to it ; 
to Ringrovc as to Richard, these beloved ones were not so much i 
be blamed as pitied. It was to both as it would have been 
they believed in possession. A grievous thing truly, that those ! 
bodies should be made the strongholds of fiends ; but it was 
no fault that they had been so disastrously invested. It was on 


Under which Lord f 


i qacstion of relative strength and weakness ; and the livil One is 
It was just about noon when Ringrove entered the drawing i 
[ the Abbey, and sent in his nam [i . Fullerton and Virginia 

room upsi 

im? ' asked Hcrmione, looking perplexed 

:ed side by side on the couch at 
bot of the bed ; watching the maid who was packing a small 
t&m of Virginia' :h linen. No 

m childish times and sat red as the first beginnings 
property were added . tty trinkets noi personal 

• favourite books of poetry, nor photographs of home 
.- of finery: — only linen. The ciu< 

ers were said with so much holy 
plkation- motion and that queer 

sacred rubbish which <.■ . -. must no! tee Dot 

ice by Fathci '1 rusi ott — 
| that was ittli portmanteau which 

iven hertwi ago; everything else was renounced 

(kit like the old id the old life. 

mamma, " said rl pause: "let us see 

:n do no harm, ami 1 should like to say good-bye to him 
£Ood friends." 

be always good friends with him, in a way— unless 
I hope though we shall not be. It makes so 
the place win i) thii 2 to a public breakdown," 

of good si 
e ought not to mind 1! yx on the 

[of un 

r all, Ringrove i.s ;i How t" said Hcrmione, with a 

d he been a good Churchman he would 

; but il lia with a 

r and daughter were in an abnormal state to-day; and 
fter mood towards. . theii I Erectors 

Ives the;: ii no tears had 

v, ith each ; and had they 
., ! by the sense of sinfubjess and the carnal 

t, should they mourn for the joyful event that was now at 
jxy would have clung to each other weeping with the illogical 
.uw of women who have wilfully undertaken to tarry an un- 


260 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

necessary cross — by which they give pain to themselves and to other*, 
under the mistaken idea that what is unnatural and disagreeable it 
right, what i-- loving >tncl pleasant wrong. 

The maid, less controlled and on a lower level of holiness 
altogether, was weeping bit: I it dkl Dd matters 

hand on her shoulder, said in a low 
voice, while her fate was as it were illumined by B kind of inner 
light : 

"Don't cry, Man,-. Why should you? I am going away 
for tin i holiness. Th( I 

unhappy in tfai 

11 But the first time as you have left home alone, Iffss, and bo one 
to do your hair or see to your things I " said Mary, crying more because 
<<f the exhortation. " You will be lost, away by yourself. It seems 
as if you would never come hack again 

•■ la Ecu doing things for myself I shall not have much to di 
you know, Mary," answered \ hail— that 

ry easily done now 

" Yes, indeed it is I" sighed M con- 

version which had cost her young roisW >tic clalxa 

which would have made her -look so pretty." " As you say, t 
not so much to do now, the I till, 1 like to lu\ 

handling i 

"So you will, Mary! A in in ten 

daysr r with a 

but Virginia had turned away at that mon 
something on the table. 

" W i pose we must go down and sec K 

Hermione. "You : | to do, Mary. Coi 

getting nearly luncheon-time. Sliall I ask him to stay, dear? 1 
will do jusl 

" Yes. said \ " It will lie better I 

Her Up quivered as she said thi 

all feeling was controlled, all cx| 
iled ; and then ihcy went «l< 

and i. i*oi i 

day tli> 


going forn the root: 

Under which Lord? 

*&* with pleasure and his look and bearing that of old times, rather 
dm belonging to the new order of things. " I have seen *o little 
«f jwiof l.i: ldcd with the loving regret which is such sweet 

fcflny when received by love 1 

"That is not our fault,'' said llcrmionc gently, but with meaning 
nier reproach. 

" Nor mine," he answered. " I have called here so often!— but 
jw rm never at home." 

"Wchave so much to do out of doors." she relumed. 

4 1 wish I saw more of you — as I used in old times before I had 
tftndcd jou," said Ringrove, looking ;it Virginia. 

iu not?" asked Hermione. "It is your own 
^fi. Ringrove. You have < If off from us. If you had 

fcu> good and what you ought to have hcen, there would never 
k* been this separation. And if you had liked us as much as you 
**<J to say, you would m it have deserted us as you have done. 

dship been what [once believed it was, you would 

■t gone with us in our new life, and have heroine a good church- 
On ought. It would have given both Virginia and myself 
il happiness to have counted you as one of us. But you 
■o not enough friendship for us even to make the trial ! " 

"De»r Mrs. Fullerton, this is scarcely just ! You know how 
"ty I have always loved both you and Virginia ! " 
RingTove spoke with more agitation than he could i onceaL 
"Tnen why did you not come over to Anglicanism with us?" 
IHermione. "Wcdid not wish you to do anything wrong. We 
r*Wed you to become a good man and lend a religious life, as 
■*ght to da" 

"ft* how could I make one of a party which I look on as the 

■* of national liberty and intellectual progress?" he said. "I 

loot join the d tj here, dearest Mrs. Fullerton. All 

• minly conscience and English feeling that I have are dead 

VBB it I think and always have thought priestly domination the 

[disastrous of all the tyrannies that the world has ever seen. 

»W could I, as you say. go over to your side?" 

"Conscience .'—your pride and want of faith, your self-will and 

ill disobedience, you mean. Call things by their right names, 

cive. We shall understand each other better then." 

nc said (hi speech in the sweetest voice 

tendered lace and accent possible. It was an cstab- 
formula rather than a personal accusation — something that 
t had been taught rather than had reasoned out for herself •, «& 


262 The Gentleman's Magtuu 

when believers say generally that men become sceptics that the;, 
have freer license to do evil — that they may gi> i their pauion* 

without fear of ] it— banishing God wit of their wor 

ire afraid of Judgment. 
Re smiled. 

■1 as tliat ! " lie said gravely -. 

it any man who knows 
orld can 
thai «'t i ?" 

" Ah. [>oor 'I! '.villi 

opt " V. 

all, Ringrove, an hj 

like a sin ol m, and must not be laid to ll 

of the Church." 

•' No, but it 8U| if those who refuse ti 

Dew order of thin , . is vre do. these priests, as 

religion, you can 

He spiil 1'ienne he knew that I 

ing the shallows, s! sc to dan 

Virginia ■' 

of tenor, i 

" 1 : 

I and 
practice of holiness to be 'ling* 

in connexion with ihi I n icsts is ■<■ mefttl I 

Eki you give these unholy thoughts and motives to us all ? 
makes me weai 

clasping h to her forehead- leroun 

" I ascribe nothin 
and holi 
ways bol'l 

the in 

" Hath ' hul 

Under which Lord? 


s any other woman, and told so like any other? 
The faithful love of an honest man cannot be a sin, nor yet a 
degradati< n 

not care to hear it, dear, but there is no fin in poor 

ire for you. Superior himself did not say then was!" 

ii of her old self— her oil by with 

romance and human She wa herself 

knew by I. the moment thai 

nia would There was no harm in it, and there 

might be good. 

I "irginia with B kind of horror which 
lid not understand, and which to Ringrovc was 
lh I that 1 could clear your mind of all this terrible hallucina- 
-mA passionately. n in it, Virginia 1 it is 

<>rthy of your good I hal you do not love me, and do 

not care to 1 me, I can understand ; that ii ihouid be ■ sin to 

you my saying liow much I love you— ly is ih.- mere folly, 

jieduitry, of reserve I " 
"You ■ id, turning away in a hi 

rnanii r. '■ No one undcrel in Is ! 

" Perhaps only too well," he answered with a sigh. "But 
ii I have loved you too long and faithfully not 
it to speak, and you need not be 
of mc What 1 have borne - iH these years I can go on 

.ill;— for you have been the • 

central thought of my life for a longer time than you know of. I 
shall never forget you as I first saw you when 1 came home from 
the ( up the steps while I stood at the door, 

■ >ur blue frock back from your feet, your face a little 
rai»e»: 4 at mc with pleasure then ! — your shining hair 

spread on your shoulders— exactly like the little Virgin at \ 1 

.1 lovely womanhood yours would be; U pure 
and beautiful as bei 

shuddered and lias: 
" T ick voice 

lo you say that, dear? Whal makes 

her, was she not a woman like any other?" he asked. "What 

blasphemy is there in saying that an innocent little girl reminded 

I'ture of her own girlhood, or that a lovely womanhood is 

of lh 

re than woman," said Virginia in a ttvcTwft N<a\ct. 

264 The Gentleman s Magazine. 

"She was the Divine Mother, and it is a sin to liken anyone to 

work! of I. in you make fur your 

he said with manly pity. "There is no ham in this, at h 
my eyes 01 those of 

ncc. I would not My it if I thought i: wi 
again if it pains yon. I want only to 

mother, wlii : I nd thought for all these yeans. No ! 1! 

turn from me, Virginia ' Lei on :ht to the jioint, if for the 

last time 

" 1 >:\ hi a I rlermione in a low voice. " He is a 

good man, Virginia ; and if he does love you so much, you may yet 
win him over to the Church. " 

Virginia mentally repeated a prayer to the Holy Viij afe- 

guard against what she felt to be the sin of the moment, and 
du bad finished she raised her mild eyes with a half-weary 


•' You can say what you like, Ringrc. be feeling 

of om performing perjana 11 listen to yon patiently. l'crhaps, 

,1 ought." 
" I hank you!" Kingrove answered tend: seeing Mow 

|1m surface and only grateful for thi • speaking. Perhaps 

too — for who can limit the niir.i 1 love? — he 1 

turn her heart to him l>y tl. iree of his own lo\ 

••What you were as a young girl," he went on to say, me believe 

that when you were older you would be as you are, dear — 1 

true won I knew that ifyoi 

you as I do love you ; and I hoped, and 
would learn to love im-. I .itched you as you grew up, am 

truthful, will 
particle of vanity or | 

right; and I thought that if I win- not good enough for you- 
wouldbcl — I could -till u happy, and be a I 

husband to • >n my side, and so 

this dear mother ; and w , atcs it did ni 

me that the thing was h<i bould have been so hap: 

would have lived only for you, and to keep you from all »om • 
would have loved you so well ! And the faithful love of an lioncat 

incthing to a 1 
good< tint- 

of vclf-.i longs to 1 

power, and which for the moil part cli 

Under which Lord? 265 

" I would have been glad at the time— very glad," said Hermione 
softly ; ' 4 and I would be glad now, Ringrovc, if you were a good 
"I am a Churchman," uJd Ringrove ; "what d« CM you call 

I Protestant ! " rnurraured Hermione, in .1 voice of plait 

" Whether good or not, U I ua, 

I would have guarded her from every breath of CvB u carefully at 

1 would have kept her from all sorrow. She should never bflvi 

known more of the world's sins than she knows now, and less of 

artificial cviL You should have been surrounded by love and 

honour," he continued, turning again to Virginia, ''and all that ma 

: hould haw ly tribute to your purity. I would 

have been yourprotccto:. a should have been my good 

We should have done I that anyone can do for the 

.c made a perfect home and lived a noble life ; and we 

should have been happy in each other, and have done more good 

kind than we can fairly compute. You would have been at) 

iple to the whole iiiy excellence, 

1 woman in the quiet activities of home. Your 
influence would have been unbounded; (01 who can limit the in- 
flnenceof a pure woman living the honest Datum! life of wife and 
•r ? And I should have been a better man than 1 thaU ever 
be n- i you ' And all this hojic — all this grand lite— has 

been what? If you had been born a Roman Catholic 

I should not have wondered so much, however sorry I might have 
been. You would then have been, in all probability, .1 nun by 

.mcd !" murmured 
"- en one as beautiful, as perfect, 

I red I >y 1 1 
H would in my vocation to be a nun 

had I been a Catholic?" she asked, in ge voice. 

" Ye» ; and as a Catholic I would have respected your choir i ," 

■ iswercd ; "though as a Catholii I should have deplored the 

false view of goodness which takes from active life the purest and 

finest natures to shut them up in a In b where they can do 

" We .it.: irld to uphold the Romish Church 

aQ its errors of doctrine .' Hermione, s$e»!ux^ 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

as she bad been taught. " But you lainteM allow us Angli- 

cans the same vocation." 

lie shook his head. 

'• No, I do not," he said gently. "A woman can do better for 
herself and the world than by incarcerating herself and reno;: 
ing all practical u-ci'iilri.N. A ore value tlian a si 

For a moment \ liginia did :">t speak ; then she turned to 
Ringrove with a certain kind of dl lies* that 

was more convincing than her mere words. 

" Thank you lor ;cr voice 

low and calm without a quiver of faltering in it ; " but no roan could 
have ever hail my deepest love : — that belongs only to God and 
Chun h. I have always liked you, as you know, but I do not ill 
1 could have ever loved you had things even remained as they 
were ; and now «re are IS fir as the poles asunder." 

" Virginia, is it quite impossible?" said a moved voice. 

"This is your last deliberate word. I my 

love and nil that it would give you— all that you could do for 
and society t imitation 

ing at K :holicism?" asked B . -.landing like 

!> not a pale imitation, nor a mc he answered, 

i yes. 
'• lion- can it be anything else?" he said, with bis naive frank 

thulic, and what else but imitation am i • assumption 

<■! Roman Catholii liurchpan 

"Let that part of it rejuia answered again, speal 

more hurriedly than was usual with her. "You were talking of 
yourself not of me. All I have to say is, I do all tlut 

have offered mc, as all that the world could give mc an 
the greater gain of my choi' 

•• Forever, without hope of chau 
" I'or ever, and I can never change 
out her hand " We part as fnends, R i 
part. This is good-bye." 

rove did 
reverently to his lip*; then abruptly teA his seat ai 
window, looking out into the garden Cell among 

i) was ct) 

Under which Lord? 

Soon after this Ringrove left, though Hermione asked him to 

%, quim affectionately and like he* oW self, having Got the mo- 

Bait forgotten all her artificial displeasure with him, and Only sorry 

.;inia wax SO sit in her renunciation ; and though Virginia too 

aid," Will vou not ' kindly and at if she reaOy meant it. He felt 

■mi the strain would he more than hecould well bear, and one which 

ifnousc to bc3r ; so he put aside both entreaties, and took 

hi* ht from the table where he had laid it. 

other day, not now," he said huskily; but when he said this 
* did not look up, though her mother, glancing at her with 
'light surp;: as.i kind of entreaty to unbend for just this 

WXt, smiled in his face and repeated prettily: 

.mother day; after Virginia is confirmed." 

The luncheon [lightly less miserably dull than was 

Ihclfcrvith all the meals— that is, the meeting timet of the husband 

an: father with his wife and daughter. Certainly Virginia was 

aoBodyablc even to pretend to eat, bai ■-lie mi not to deadly cold 

•n htr manner to her father, and Hermione, secretly much disturbed 

ia spite of her Di wat more gentle and less reserved 

to bo husband than v.. te. Not much was said 

miem; only the spirit of the hour was different owing to that ccr- 

"apaturhation which somewhat marred the consciousness of triumph 

ai seccestful wilfulness— that weak feeling of natural compassion for 

"tiinotr for whom the thong had been so cleverly knotted. 

yOU inclined to come with me to Starton? I am riding 

**«; will yon come with mc?" asked Richard of Virginia. Keenly 

he was now to every change with these two beloved rebels, 

" Mt the softer mood of the moment : anil lie was weak enough to 

^nk he could profit by it. 

Mother and daughter exchanged looks. 

"Idonot think I can, papa, to day," said Virginia, not looking at 


"I want Virginia to come with me," said Hermione, also not 
*<*ingat him. 

*I am sorry. It is a line day, and a ride would do Virginia 
$"&,' he said. " Vou seldom use your horse now," he added to 
& daughter. "Seldom? — never, I should say." 

"Ido not care for riding," said Virginia evasively; "and 1 have 
to go*ith mamma." 

"Where arc you going ? " he asked. 

It wis. not suspicion which prompted this question ,; it was only 


The Gentkmaiis Magazine. 



'■ Wc have business that you would scarcely feci any sympathy 
for," said Hcrmionc, quite gently and amicably. 
He sighed. 

" I suppose not," he said ; " if it is the old thing." 
"When are you going to Starton?" his wife asked, as if xhc 

were merely interested is a Grieod'i movements. 

•• In ■bout half :m hour's time. I have first to go to Lane 
to see the new cottages, and then 1 shall ride over to the town. 
Is there any chance of meeting you and Virginia there? 

" I do not know yet ; we may," she answered, while Vir 
tumed pale, and crossed herself faintly. 

" Well, I must be off, I suppose," said Richard, rising reluct 
This small approach to a new spirit was very precious to 
He did not like to break up a meeting that h;id more of 
flavour of old time about it than had been the case for 
weeks now. 

"Ye-, it is time too that we were going," said Hcrmionc, look 
at the clock) and rising. "Good-bye till wc meet a;: 

She spoke quite softly, and Rii hard's face, which of late 
grown thin and worn and haggard, turned to her with a 
gladness that almost transformed it. 

*• Good-bye, my dear." he said : " till we meet again, Good*by 
my Virginia." 

" Goodbye, papa," answered Virginia. 

Impulsively he held out his hand to her. He had never 

able to reconcile hunst If t" ihe child's coldness, almost less than i 
llemiione's withdrawal 

Virginia went up to him and put lier band in his. 

ve yon come to give mc a kiss? r he asked, a little take 
out of him*-. ten surrender. He had lived so long i 

in such Strict excommunication by wife and daughter that tr 
gentk&ess to-day went near to unman him 

•■ 7e*j papa," she said, and held up her race as she used when i 

He caught her to his heart and kiwed her forehead tenderly. 

■ \U ladybird I my little darling!" he half whispered, 
then you have still some love left for your fathe: 

v prayers, jwjxa ! ' she answered, flinging herself into 
arms with a passionate pressure as strange as all the rest. 

• Your prayers ■ ill do me no harm, my darling," he said ; " but 
your love will give mc new life ! " 

Under u-hich Lord? 


" Papa ! say that you value my prayers for your soul '. " she 
pleaded, as if for very life. 

' As expressions of your love for rue ? yes, my darling : " he 

•'No' no! as possible means of grace and (rue enlightenment I " 
she siid. 

.iled a little sadly, and shook his head. 

B all I want, my Virginia— yours and your dear 
■ethers. That is the best means of grace that you can offer mc. 
Gere mc back all that you have taken from mc— or seemed to have 
ok«n from me of late— and you will do more for mc than any 
number of prayers could do ! ■ 

"1 do lore you, papa," said Virginia with strange solemnity. 
"But because I love yon, 1 must pray for you !" 
in moment J ones came into the room. 
"Please, sir, the horse is at the door, and John Graves is in the 
Had/ and wants to speak to you for n moment," he said. 

' I will come," returned Richard quietly; but he was sorry for 
«V ■lerruption ; and as the man began to clear the tabic, no more 
•as lo be said or done at that moment 
He turned his mild kind thoughtful face once more to his wife, 
I from her to their child 

■re meet again," he said smtli 
Yirpaia did not answer. 1 1 id she tried to speak her voice would 
ant fifed her : and Hennioni , whose eyes were full of tears, made 
1 kale inclination with her head, and mURD mething that stood 

fcraftcndly farewell— till they all should meet again. And then in a 
itiiur. John ( . iness being ended, they watched 

tpoor unconscious victim of coming sorrow mount his hen 
' slowly down thi 

oor papa: I hope he will not be very angry," said Hemiione 
ttely. '" I am afraid he will ; but it is only for a short 
You will be home in eight days from this. 11 
■ I noi* it will not be \ery sad for you, mamma," said Virginia, 

her mother's hand with a close nervous pressure. 
'I will do my In *iid her mother; '"and you will be 

rk *o soon I It is not north making a fuss about ; but, of course, 
«hall miss you and the Sister terribly. Still— a week soon passes, 
docs it not ? '* 

aid Virginia constrainedly. 

it was what Superior so much desired," continued 
I soon as your confirmation was decided on he had 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

his heart 00 your going into Retreat- 'rus» 

" V. lore cons; 

" So now let us \ 
Starton too to-day ; but we wil 

the high; and perhaps ' bcawkwi 

if we did." 

"Let us go now I He will not have finished at Lane End] 

" And <:ott arc 

; US." 

r"Vety well! v»id Hermione bi .; to 

shake off th nion which we 

'I hey went uj 
The small portmanteau n .-■ already packed 
time the carriage would Come round 
•■ hrperioi wished rlerrn one, 

Doming into he* daw 1 in her hand. 

Virginia ing earnestly, 

but like one in the very extremity of pain. Had 
luring the worst • le agony for the trull 

aid not have looked more 1, more pitifully 

"Don\ Virginia : don't look like that 1" i ried Hermioi 
into a sudden passion of tears. "It ii only for a w 
. . : ' Think how soon a week will jwss 1 an 

tual good you C ." 

to help me : " rrkd 
to her mother convul-ivily, 
" Yes, let us both ask for help!" was die 

sent her, 

tepofol; tor and db 

afal >a creed -.>tion to I 

was . 
they both 
and entered I 

" To the nun. 

"Co by die It 

>rd was si the wholi 

keep up her i ourage and to 
maki card only 

that had dune so much to • ilae* 

Under which Lordf 271 

hood, deceit, treachery was abhorrent ; yet at this both wen 

dealing deceitfully, both were false and treacherous alike. Taught 

1) fatal school v. justifies the me 

that the faithful must perfect their work at all cost of morality, of 
humanity— that infidels and atheists arc accursed and to be dealt 
is the enemies of Cod alike — that honesty is sinful, 

crooked dealing is holiness if that hbo old check 

station and that crooked dealing [e it— both had become 

warp-. lives ; and now when they 

stood (ace sorrowful and 

secretly ashamed. Hera ng ber bu 

her ; but the Director of eoi h had 
assured hi* penitent that sht- ig well, and thai God and the 

Church approved ; an<l with this now striving to 

and content her soul — and finding the 

The time passed, and the Station was at last reached, without 

[>of undi 1 at the station they 

found Mr. l^asceUcs and Sister Agnes, Father Tru9cott and Cuthbert 

Mnlyncux wailing to receive them and to ensure the carrying oat of 

the design on liand. 

" )■ lid the courtly n Ota two pale, 

n the platform astli 
curve. " But a near thing I " 

■ Liod-byc, dear Virginia ! " said hex mother, kissing hei hastily. 
She dared not show any feeling bd 

tocloK'ty. " In a neck's time, remember nil till 

you come back I " 

" But you do not grudge her? " asked Si ■•■• slowly 


I ideed not I but she must come back in a week's 
il Ilcrmionc, finding comfort in the defmitcness of 
the time allotted. 

Vi:_ icd her mother, but neither spoke nor wept The 

cold hand firmly, all 

: ercd in her ear: "For the Blessed Virgin and 
honour 1" 

On. he had,.; d hergood-b) 

to her mother as if to speak to her — to k> 
tcr, ever watchful, drew her with a firm band 
carriage. " No looking back, child I " she said ; wl 
)lt, under guise of help, lifted her bodily from the ground and 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

set her in the carriage. Then the door- m rung, 

the whistle sounded, and the train moved wit of the 

' i Kir Mother's chosen child ! " said Sister Agues with her silky 

" Child, you have left the darkness of error and arc now gi 
into the light and the truth I ither Truscott with mot. 

il hei heart would break, 
carried hn in : . atOK sorrow as a sin, and asked to be 

Supported through the one and forgiven for the oil raa for 

the good of souls — her own and others — and for live glory of God 
the thing had been done. The Father of Lies was draped in 
shining garments for the occasion ; and the life of deceit through 
irhjt i she had been led for so long now was, according to her in- 
structors, a pious fraud which the wickedness of others had neces- 
sitated and the holiness of the end Justified 

Chapter XXVI. 


" Anli the child— where is Virginia?" asked Richard, as his wife 
came into the room aloni 

•v onkr of tilings mother and daughter kept always 
together, v, of mutual support and coi 

against this soul-destroying infidel of lose influ. i 

irith the fear of old time love and indestructible 

■ one without the 01 '^C 

•'She is with Si>ier A tmione, trying to S| 


She was very pale, and little to 

accentuated to be n 

he returned slowly. " Will she be tab 
" 1 do not know exactly," answered 
music-booi. taking-believe to search for ■ut»c(hirj|t, 

so that her face should not I 

be somewhat veiled by distance, 
lhat ber huUxind n 
sooner or later , hut, as she and Mr. 1 hue? 

the better. If becc I gi*« 

looi runaways a still longer start should he dc 

Under which Lord? 2"]$ 

; foT by the time he could reach London Virginia would 

homed in the House of Retreat at C , whence she must 

by main force and the police, if taken at all ; and Richard 
ly think twice before he made such a scandal M this. 
"Are you sure that Virginia is quite well?" he asked after ;i 
riience and when Hcrmione, thinking the times now safe and 
subject dropped, had come back from turning over the music- 

Dor me, yes!" she answered, still trying to speak with 

To my eyes not. She is as changed in body as in mind," he 
■dwh a deep sigh. " Her new friends and their absurd practices, 
■liich I probably know less than half, have had a disastrous 
■hence on her." 

He looked at his wife with some reproach She did not answer. 
&e w* thinking with dread of the time when he would have to 
that other half of the truth. 
" Whu is she doing to-night ? " he asked. " Any new vag.n 
* Nee that I know of," said Hermione, not resenting the phrase 
•he would have done had her conscience been clear. Hut her 
ebetnyed the trouble of her mind, an.! seemed to show that 
*» hidden than had been expressed. 
Willi a sudden flash of what was real terror Richard remembered 
VgSMii strange emotion, Hcrmionc's unwonted softness of this 
eaoon; and now this studied indifference, which of itself con- 
«n>barraasment. What did it all mean? What new disgrace 
iattore for him? what further sorrowful perversion for them? 
'Something is wrong with you and the child," he said suddenly, 
^el me what it 
"There is nothing wrong," she answered with a deep blush. 
'look at me, Hermione," he said gravely and sternly. 
Re oiscd her eyes .ir.d tried to meet his, but she could not. 
^fleoked just up to the knot of his cravat 
"How can you be so silly, Richard?" she said with a nervous 
'hngb, her delicate lips strained and quivering. 
Deceitful as she had become through the fatal doctrine of 
**er»t," she was still candid at heart ; and when closely pressed, as 
- nature asserted itself. 
'There is something wrong," said Richard again. "You ran- 

• leek in my face, Hermione, and I know yours. Tell me the 
frankly. This double-dealing is so strange in you who were 

* the very soul of honour and sincerity, I cannot reconcile 
Touoaav. ko. 178s. t 

274 Tf' e Gentleman's Magazine. 

myself lo it. Come, 8|>eak to me honestly. What is thU aboot 
Virginia? Why is site not here to-tiitlu ? " 

" I suppose I hail better toll you now at once," returned Her- 
mione, her confusion deepening, and her inability to stand examina- 
tion overcoming her promise to " It is all the same 
•bather I tell you now or aftCT," she continued, argii Batter 
aloud ; "and really there is nothing so H to tell. Virginia 
has only gone away with Sister Agnes for a week's Retreat at C— ; 
that is alL Nothing so very formidable, you sec." 

Again she laughed affectedly, and again her small sweet lips were 
Bed Bid '|iir, i-ring 

For the first time in his life Richard felt something like com. 
for this dearly loved wife of his. Hitherto hi en of 

that quiet unobservant kind which is ch of a constant 

temperament and an occupied mind. He loved her ; and there he 
stopped. He asked himself why, no more than he asked himself 
why the sunshine was delightful to him or the flowers wctc beat 
She was part of his life, her perfect beaut)' of mind and body p 
the existing order of things; and not to lose her, no 

iihout Ritth ination, not to imagine her free from fault 

or blemish, would have b worth and 

menl loveliness were as absolutely settled, as arbitrarily pro* 
his mind, as the revelations of the spei 

to debate about ; it was a question clo: t now 

uotseni tweet aero ind a bitter kind of dis- 

dainrol pity for her weakness and dl id one time 

I have be '.<• for him to feel as that he should 

have deliberately injured or publii 

■- seemed to be almost some one else Was she indee< 
mione, the beloved of his youth, the trusted of his ;. She 

who could not look in his fcu uld not even lie bi 

who dared not tell the truth ? — she who had lent hcrsc 
faree of kindly pretence at the very moment when she 
was doing that which would stab him to the heart ? 
know which was the more painful— hi 
.fe's falsehood 
" So '. this was the meaning of the little comedy played ofT on me 
to-day," he said with a bitter laugh, as strange fri 
Hermione' y from her. "I n 

blind for something worse 

and Ifaj id come back to your better tel 

Under which Lord* 

feel something of the tenderness you were pretending. Well ! you 
have had your laugh against me ; and I bear the sling of the dis- 
appointment and the shame of the insult" 

" You have no right to speak like this," said Hcrmionc half in 
tears, and as much pained that he should doubt her when she had 
been sincere as if she had never betrayed him when he had trusted 
her. " Both Virginia and I were really grieved to be obliged to 
deceive you, though only for a few hours. But we knew that you 
would not have given your consent had we asked it. so we thought it 
better to say nothing about it till it was done." 

"And the knowledge tliat you were offending me counted for 
nothing with you ? You never stopped to ask yourselves whether 
you were doing right or wrong in thus defying as well as deceiving 
roc? You, my wife, had no scruples in belpiQg my child to disobey 

Never in her life before had Hermione been spoken to by her 
hmband in th-.s tone and manner. If the sudden revelation of her 
duplicity hod transformed her to him, this bewildering severity did 
the line for him to 

for the good of her own soul and in the service of the 
Church. That makes everything lawful," said Hermumc. looking 

•• You are right, Hermione ! In the service of a lie, falsehood — 
in the service of tyranny, cruelty— in the service of superstition, 
ignorance. You arc q I see you understand your formula 

and car with admirable precision. You do credit to your 

teacher I" 

lo not understand yon," said Hermione with a curious mixture 
• r and anger. 
■' H he answered with the same manner of 

corn. "You undo Ir. Lascell* - 

and I «an scarcely credit you widt such i .r.holicity of synr. 
VOUl you i" of'daUBJ ttt 

not undn o dose sympathy 

wit! that. Andiflregn inge in your feeling* 1 do 

not i ni. Wh may be I am at 

t man, and scarcely i 
esteem with Btli mate lie as Mr. Lasccll 

" Richard ! " she < with indignation in her tone, her look, 

was indignation at hearing Superior 
•no! at being told, for her own part, that 

not care , \v.u\ mtitf. 




Tlu Gentleman's Magazine. 

affection — it would have been hard for her to say. She only knew 
that she was indignant and that Richard was very disagreeable ; how 
much she wished thai lie could have added "unjust 

"Where has Virginia gone?" he then asked suddenly, still 
cold and contemptuous as well as stem. "Can I 1 to tell 

me the truth in your answer ? It seems strange to me to have 10 
say this to you. Hcrmionc I Not so very long ago I would have 
staked my life on your perfect sincerity; now I find myself doubting 
whether you can grve u straight an answer to a simple question as 
might be expected from a Jesuit, or even Mr. Liscclles himself," 

•' If you think so ill of me, it is scarcely worth while my answering 
at all," returned Hcrmionc, wavering between math and tears. 

" I think you will answer," he said sternly. " The child is under 
age, and I have a right to know where she is and what she is 
doing I " 

" I have told you. She has gone for a week's Retreat to C 

with Sister Agnes, before her confirmation." 

Hcrmionc tried to speak with offended dignity, but »he found it 
hard. She had never respected her husband so much as when he 
made her understand that he did not respect her. Though 
happiness lay in 1 i'.ic love to — in being courted, 

flattered, petted, and all the rest of it — she was a woman who needed 
a master and with whom a certain amount of fear was wholesome, 

•' Where is this Retreat ?" he asked :>. 

"At C ." 

•• Not (u from London?* 

" Mo, DOt far." 

ioked at the < < 

"There is time to catch the op train I I all bring ber 

• to-morrow." 

" No, Richard, you will do nothing so shameful ! " rising toon 
agitation. What would Sister Agnes say, what would Superior th 
if she let him go on such an en.' rxr she had promised tint 

she would hold him as a blood -hound in leash to have set I 
so prematurely loose on their traces ! " Why should you make all 
this horrible fuss and confu ,-? Such a mrrc trifle ai 

it is ! Virginia has gone only for a week's quiet prayer and contempla- 
tion before the solemn rite of confirm re iafe * 

e r Agnes, who is also i n retreat ; and you cannot go to a house fu I 
holy women and 1 if you were tearchinR fo 

thief! It will be too disgra< 1 scanda! 

>:i should have thought of th 

Under to-hick Lord? 277 

:«n patient and forbearing with you up to a certain point, but now 
till point is passed and I will bear no more- You have proved 
jound/ an unfit guardian for your daughter. You have sacrificed her 
» your infatuation, as the mothers of old sacrificed their daughters 
• Moloch. She has no true friend but mc her father, from whom 
wand your advisers have done your best to separate her ; and it is 
»r duty to snatch her from destruction." 

To snatch her from salvation, you mean,'* put in Hennione, a 
fete below her breath and more as a formal protest than a real 
•ROiition. Her soft sou! was impressed by hi* unwonted energy, 
»i though at all times a godless infidel, yet, after .ill, he was the 
tttgnucd head of the house, the rightful controller and manager of 
tap, and to themselves the husband of the one, and the father of 
He other. 

For all answer Richard rang the bell; and when Jones came in 
■lend the carriage hastily, peremptorily, in a manner so unlike his 
wa, with such an odd return on the young officer commanding his 
•jud, that the man looked at him curiously and as if he too found 
fc general aspect of life changed. 

"Good-bye, Hcrmionc," lie said, not even shaking hands with 
•■-standing at »ome distance from her. 

"Good-bye, Richard," she answered humbly. "Then you arc 
**% going ? " 

made a step towards him. This was their first separation 
«« they married. 

"Yes. I will bring her home tomorrow." 

She made another little step forward. 

"I shall be very lonely till you return," she said, and looked into 

not She had forgotten Mr l.asccllcs for the instant, and 
her husband to kiss her before he went — if indeed he must 

UuL— In her heart she wanted to cajole him to stay. 

* J scarcely think so," he said; " I am so little to you now, others 

"You arc always Richard," she said with the sweetest air, the 
Nenst voice. 

Re caught her lo his heart, but put her from him as suddenly as 
fciid taken her. 

P* I must save my child," he said in an altered voice, and turned 
*>v abruptly as if he distrusted himself as well as her; and in 
1 ikon time was on his way to Starton, to just miss the train, the 
** tain that night, which steamed out of the station as he drove 


278 The Gentleman's Magazine, 

Thus the religious runaways had a yet longer start, and picma- 
lure detection was made so much the more difficult. 

Telegraphing to London and to C brought no good results. 

No one answering to the description of any of the four fugitiws had 

got out at either place. To be nine, a Sister had alighted at C , 

but she was well known at the Home there, and she was moTco 

1; ; so that her arrival only occupied the telegraph wires for 
a short time U 1 a still further delay. Foreseeing all chani 

the little party had diyji '.wo couples, and had changed the 

!;•. While being looked for in 1-ondon they were making for 

pton ; while tl- C they were 

turning (be Needles on their way to St. Molo. tag had l>cen 

arranged with the most consummate skill ; and Richard was again 
bcr than hi. adversaries— craft and cm. : more 

t-i.iuil i.nit nvcr love and liher.ihty. 

e thing r ^hudyalike. Ri< 

went up to l/>ndon by the first train in the morning, not retunung to 
the Ahli ud the detectives d 

but the ■■ nd the four had disappeared as complete!'. 

if they had vanished into space. No endeavours couW hit on ti 
traces, and by the end of five days Hermione's courage and en- 
durance failed She had never been left id spite 
of Superior's attentions she was too unhappy to bear her hde 
and anxiety together broke down her >trcngth 

ibs ; and, half in h *be 

drove over to Starton on the and telegraphed to her i 

•in c. She was ill. she said, ami . *o 

Richard had nothing foe i: btu .ibandon the 

the wife who 
tef part to blame for all th y that had I 

It was a curi. made 

her hnsliainl unknown to Mr. I-nscclles. Not ex.-.. 
of her love, it was yet that 

into marriage -u old forms BO that eve. !c»d 

. look like life. tomed to have Richard o» part 

.1 her "I lily life— < i>ivot of the whole and now the otataclc 

which it was part of the play to circumvent — :' 
death had token place and she was surro 
sludows. Even I " liberty ',;■. 

the charm Of her pious naughtin 
It vulgn. 

Under which Lord? 279 

the house, now pui lie absence of its agnostic master, and 

made a new place of master for himself. Then aha did not like to 
have those lonely mornings, those solitary meals those long dull 
ings ; BOt tn know that she slept alone in the house, with only the 
servants to trust to in case of danger. If Sister Agnes had been at 
home it would have I lie thought. She could have gone 

to th. mid have liked better than that Superior 

should come to the Abbey— and at the Vicarage she always felt homed 
and happy - she was miserable; and poor Ri> hard tun 

• hum be :■■ d in London alone, and in Rich anxiety] And 

igtiin she thought twenty times in the hour : What on earth 
--•come of Virginia : 

She was not afraid of a Cer. She vat sure that tin child 

was safe; four people do not come to grief without some <"»' I* 
something about it ; — bir. be? what . done 

with her? why t hanged, and why had they not gene to 

C as arranged from the fir*:? The mastery of it all per 

up rague and uneasy suspicions as 
she remembered Virginia's look of pain when she found her kneel- 
ing at her faldstool, her almost passionate farewell to her father ; 
and again her excess of emotion and diltretJ at leaving home 
which had been visible all through, though so well controlled. 
It was a horrible fear that came across her every now and then ; and 
Sujtcrior, to whom . 1 I it, though he laughed it down for 

dm moment, looked grave afterwards, and seemed to be secretly as 
much i as herself. A not able to hear the sii 

longer. Iter husband to come borne; and 


If only Mr. LasceUcj had the noble lives that 

arc taken and the worthless ones that arc left !— the peace 
would come were these gone, the ruin that follows on the loss of 
those : — the enemies tliat cling far into old age, the friends drop 
the early years !— what a tangle it all is-, and what a hopeless 
f.onfu ustanoc and providential design ! If only Mi 

ljuccllc* had died . now so fearfully estranged, would 

gone back to their old places and one victim at the least «©uld have 
been spate thing was changed. The tremendous 

power practice of confession made Mr. Lascclles 

absoln situation all round, because dte supreme 

bis hands — 
her soul and ess — her essential virtue and her 

husband's essential honour. He knew her every thought and regit- 

280 Tiu Gentleman 's Magazine. 

lated, jr punished, her every action. If the gave the reins 
moment to her natural affection, and allowed herself to be even 
compassionate to the man whom the priest had set himself to crush, 
she was frightened back again to her assigned attitude by all the terrors 
of wrath and judgment of which he had the irresponsible dispensation. 
She was his, not Richard's; and he made her fed this when : 
her that long [list of penitential tasks to purge her soul of the 
disobedience which she had committed in sending for her husband 
lie she wearied for him. 
"This man of sin, this accursed intidcl ! " said Mr. I^scclles, 
flaming with holy wrath; "and that you, a good Churchwoinan, 
should have tukett him to come back I Why did you not let hi. 
for ever — and why, when he was 01 ..way, did you not keep 

Mm in; ' " 

Hut when he said this, HeanioOC turned so while — was in • 
deadly terror lest indeed this should be imposed on her as her next 
act of renunciation and obedience— that Mr. Lascellcs, in hi> turn, 
was afraid of going too far and too fast. He laughed off his sug- 
gestion so pleasantly, so playfully, that he soothed her and made her 
forget what he had said. But he lteld her to her penance all doe 
same, and made her feel that she had been both unrighteous and 

nwhile a letter came from Lgnes to her brother — 

enclosing a few wor : irginia to her mother, saying simply : 

" Do not be uneasy. We axe all well, and will write in a few days.' 
The two letters were identical in the wording, and the postmark was 

This note was something to show to Richard, who was will 
keeping Scotland Yard and the telegraph wires busy; and to far was 
a comfort. For though it brought no help to him on the y 
most nearly touched him — the Sister's influence and ''■ 
tic-ism — it proved that the child was at least alive and not yet made 
the victim of ecclesiastical foul play, though she was still that of 
ecclesiastical superstition. He could not hear more tlum what these 
few unsatisfactory words told him ; not even what the postmark 
letter had been, nor what the postage-stamp. 

" Mr. Lascellcs had burnt the envelope," said Hermionc when 
she was questioned ; " and she had not taken any notice ol 

or the postmark ; " and Richard had to content himself with 
this in the best way he could, and to wait on the further u 
the page where tiful family history wag being wri: 1 

imc at last, and tftcn they knew alL In a long letter wi 

Under vjltith Lord? 


by Virginia to her mother the mystery was revealed, the seal of 
secresy broken. She had carried out her intention to its honest 
logical < I become in name the Roman Catholic 

which she hud been taught to be in fact. She and Sister Agnes, 
ihbcrt Molyncux and leather Tmscott, had all gone Ova puNn-ly, 
and had been received as acknowledged members of the Church to 
ch they had cither gravitated by force of direction from without, or 
IO which, like Father Truscott, they had already for fOBM time aeattiy 
belonged, doing its work while seeming to be devoted to a rival 

It was a letter full of the stock arguments put forward at such 
times. Authority and tradition ; the validity of these orders with the 
:y of those; historical evidences; the divine mark of miracles; 
absolute 3nd perfect organization of the Romish communion ; 
value of belonging to a Church the dominion of whi< b extended 
earth, nnd was supreme both in heaven and hell ; the 
loveliness of the conventual life, and the joy found in following the 
example of those holy men and women, the cloud of witnesses who 
liad lived for the truth and died for its glory ; the rest found in un- 
qualified submission to authority and in the total destruction of all 
independent judgment ; — all the reasonings which had been so 
craftily instilled into her by Father Truscott were reproduced in her 
letter; and she ended by beseeching her mother to reconsider her 
present position and to make one of the True Church. Anglicanism, 
alio said according to her Director's direction, was a fair kind of 
gateway to those born worshipping under its shadow. It note than 
! not made the gateway to the true Temple, then was ii I 
prt%on-house for the soul. The letter went on to say that she, 

was now with Sister Agnes at the convent of the I' 
where she had entered as a postulant to be received as a member 
when her novitutc should be ended. She had found her true sphere 
at last, she said, and had never known so much happiness as she knew 
now. She was to be one of those perpetual adorers of the Blessed 
Sacrament whose lives she had vaguely imagined before she knew 

the reality or what led up to it ; and she was more than ei 

grateful to the Sister who had first set her in the right way and carried 

step by step to the end. Then she sent her love to papa, and told 

l . that she would pray for him without ceasing and in full faith that her 

pra ' be heard and his heart turned, before too late, to God. 

The letter was an exact counterpart of the one written bf Sister 

Agnes 10 her brother, save in the personal paragraphs. For these 

Sister substituted a few sharp stinging sarcasms on Theresa's 


282 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

shameless passion and Hermione's sinful infatuation ; on the heat and 
excitement and individual flavour of all that w. done at 

Crosshoiuie, and that revolted her now when she thought of il ax 
much as at the time. Anil at the time how much she had suffer 

ii.ii! lometknea Be -tood up in them 

of t' ritual odalisques, and have repn 

criminal self-deception, their hideous sac; masking Uicir love 

for a man under the guise of devotion to the Church. And 

mg this of then), she wished to add mnation 

of him, her brother, who, instead of putting <!ov\n this unwholesome 

itement among the women, 1 
:i 1 arty to the sin. SI. i- ih.mked God i 1 reached 

1)1.1 Liven of absolute purity where mm iliil i.d where 

with the vanity and G 
the 1 ■ ity, that had spoilt the work down 


This then was the end of it a!! .kiwnfall of t> 

houses than one. To Mr. IjsccIIcs the blow was cspeciall, 
The sum of money which he had hoped to get for the 1 | om 

the Molyncux estate was now an impossibi! 
Aunt Catherine without Cutlibert could do no; 
perversion also had destroyed his hope of future re 
Abbey; tad e of "Anj ." which was hit own— : 

podeaml .■! hi nek 

!>, the desertion of these two young people, and of h. 
Father Thucott If this mu where an advanced ritual md 

then 1 knew so many would think-H id to dot 

u. and the 1 loser they clung to their barren Pn 1 1, the better. 

If indeed Ritualism is only :i bridge to R v would 

let us break it down before more hiivc gone over ; and «f wlwit tM 
to be the endeavour to obtain free dew utinaitl 

Churdi is only fighting for our old enemy the I 
these masked foes to marshal themselves under their rw< 
and let our own flag be -and Lutheran. r*e 

arguments so well ; and felt some of the pai t» 

rolled the stone to the top only to 

Then x r \. in which Hermionc was lev 

e of her daugl< id, inasmuch as si 

•. hnsbaad ; ;nd the i'.iir.. nliv o) 
intercourse with her, through tin . <-t as the madcM 

of the 
iilg to him Official 

Under which Lord" 


1 decidedly illtreated; and then, more than all this, 
had gone into deadly error and left llic true for the false. 

nothing is fit titer from the thoughts of certain of the ritualistic 
school than to go over t<> which they are the min 

to take aer h they arc the irregular. Roman- 

ism U ohi< - for the 1 priest who dl 

the bUhujM, breaks lite law of the land, flouts the courts, 

igc of individual power for the 
arativc scl of an organization where he is mil)' •' 

like any little curate of his own, 

11 whoic aim is to be irresponsible ruler, neither 

tg superiority; but the honest and 

dogoovci of all things, and so far justify 

is not one who would ever leave the 

) thing, for Rome where he would 

be only a unit He loved pcM cell to give it up for die sake 

and he lud reasoned himself into the belief that the 

>n is logically sound ami honestly tenahle. 

thought, to fce| sore and ilUreaied and to hold 
e recreant four as perverts Sow the truth and ti to the 

Tlve whole neighbourhood fell the n-. 1 une ; 

ve it was m if Virginia hftd committed KV-flnffdeCi 
1 ].!:. life had given him 10 bum fa 
sin, i"d rather thai ihe girl whom he loved had died 

. thing; and he mourned her m one 
. hut dead •■•■ obscure Main of sin on her toaots 


To Lad] however it was the brightest bit of news that 

..ard for many a long day. It was just what it should have 

. she said with jubilant condemnation. The cloven hoof had at 

If; and if those poor wrt re sinful they were at 

least self-confessed. It was what she had prophesied all along; and 

ras right? and ought r.ut thai popish vicar of Crosabobne to 

bednu 1 like the rogue he was? Proi 

had a tremendous lift by this secession t 
ng been wanting to compkU 0r*»" anno 

Beans which 
the »'■ iturc. 

what was tiic 
hard, whom indeed it struck on ever As a landowner 

bad lioi>cd to leave this imj>ortant estate in pro] is, and 


754* Gentlematis Magazine. 

to die knowing that his daughter was canning on the traditions of 
Other, and that Ringrove was as faithful a steward, as devoted 
a husband, and as true a liberal as he himself had been ; as a father, 
great part of whose happiness had been bound D hild; 

as a philosopher working for the good of his kin 
and falsehood, and living only to extend knowledge and give 1 
light and liberty;— on all sides he was wounded to the heart, and — 
he scarcely acknowledged this to himself— found himself unable to 
forgive Hermione. Her own defection, horrible to him u it was, 
maddening, humiliating in every sense, was more specially a personal 
offence, therefore easier to l>e home ; but that she should have \ I 
herself such a bad care-taker child was a crime; and he could 

not pardon her the destruction of the life which it was her assigned 
duty to protect 

" It is the logical outcome of all this pitiful mummery in * I 
you have wilfully indulged," he said bitterly, when Hermione handed 
him the letter and he read in it Virginia's painful announcement. 
" The child is the only honest person among y©r 

" No ! it is a dreadful mistake ! " said Hermione. " To go into 
the Roman Church, so loaded with error, is a s u 

'• What matters a few grains more or less of dust to those who 
arc in the sandstorm?" he said. "You arc blinded, choked, de- 
stroyed, one as well as the other, and the details arc of reijf little 
moment. The Pope's infallibility or Mr. Lasccllcs' ! For my own |;art 
I should prefer the former if 1 must have one. I lie child is d>- 
ua now for all time, and you, her mother, who should have proi 
her " 

He checked himself, got up and went to the fireplace, where bo 
I, leaning his face on his arm. 

" I am so sorry, Richard," she sail! penili 
to him as she spoke : and indeed she was very sorry and ashamed 
as well. 

He did not answer. 1 le could not comfort her, and he did not 
wish to reproach her. 

" I had no idea of what was going on," she continued after a 
short pause, wondering at his silence. " I never could have bclicted 
that Sister Agnes could have been so deceitful or that Father Truseoti 
was such a hypocrite. You believe me, don': y : J ? " 

She laid her hand on his shoulder and intent: : iwed her 

fingers to touch his hair. She would turn and take 

her to him as he had done on the night when he went away. Judging 
of the present by the past she thought that he would be overjoyed, 

Under which Lord? 


■ pec 

I with gratitude, for this flight circus, this half-timid act of 

lity— that he would be responsive even beyond what she 

I haw dared to encourage. But he did not move. His face 

I downwards on his arm, and his hands were clasped in 

'Richard," she said softly, trying to unclasp his hands. " I 

r nothing of it all I " she pleaded. " I had no suspicion of what 
ijoing on, and would not have believed it if I had been told , 
1 bd Mr. I jscelles. I am so sorry, dear ! so grieved ! what am 

I to help you ? I know how much you suffer ; and I am so un- 

7, too — so lonely ! so wretched ! " 

Here she broke down and burst into tears. She was indeed at 
laooent most unhappy, and scarcely knew what would give her 

Her husband raised his head, and in his turn laid his hand on 

- There is only one thing that you can do," he said, in an unsteady 
"renounce all this present folly, and come back to your 
idf and your true duty. We have lost our child, but we can 
together our own live* so that they shall be honourable tad 
It depends only on you, Hermione. I am what I was, tad 
I was — it is you who have moved from the old ground. Come 
to mc and right reason, wife, and let us forget this miserable 
of estrangement in a new and happier union." 
I cannot give up the Church nor make myself an atheist," said 
iC with a frightened look ; " 1 will do anything else for you, 
but I must keep to my own religion." 
Then you cannot keep mc," he said, taking his hand from her 
Religion with you means being the subservient creature 
Lascclles ; and while you arc that you can be no comfort to 
you can be no more to me than what you are, and that is — 

Am I really nothing to you, Richard? no comfort? no help?" 
lifting her blue eyes to him softly, tenderly, full of reproach 
harshness unmerited. " Do you say that 1 am nothing to you 
f she repeated. 

Whai should you be ? " he answered slowly. " Neither 
friend, neither companion nor sympathizer, what are 
icoc, but the witness of another man's triumph and my own 

Do not speak of Superior as a man — he is a priest and my 
lor : " said Hermione. 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

He turned his eyes on her with a flash of scorn and indignation, 
ilve over your conscience with parent pretence, if 

you will : " he said contemptuously ; " hut leave me the- bitter and 
humiliating truth I " 

look and tone made her tremble. She was a woman whom 
a man's anger terrified ; and like all long-suffering people, Richard's 
wrath when roused was terrible. And then, sophisticate as she 
would, her conscience was inwardly uneasy ; for. thoufc 
cclles was a priest, Richard was her husband ; and a husband is, or 
ought to be, a sacred circumstance in a woman's life, not to be 
removed at another man's biddiv by side with »: 

was the tremendous fact of confession, whereby she was indeed made 
Mr. I. steelier' creature and slave by her belief in his spiritual jw 
and alxjve all, there was Richard's hideous agnc 

" Then you will not gffe up that mock jiapist priest for me? " he 
asked again, after ■ short silence. " It is one or • fj you 

must choose between 111 

" It is not Mr. i whom I will not give up; it is the 


" Confession .1 to 

come between husband and wife— to rob the parents of tr* 
to another man, call him priest or what you will 
sacred feelings of your heart, t 
you, a wife, submitting to the indelicacy of inqui- ns, to 

■hgnity of regulations — is all this part of tr 
Herraione? — all this necessary to your church life?" 

onfession is necessary," she said faltering. " Without con. 
fession there is no absolution, and without the absolution 'of the 
Church no pardon or salvation." 

" My poor child I " be said with sudden softness. " And they 
have brou, b pittfal i I U nothing be 

done for you? I us botb 

you arc more deserving of con 

ot for my faith— that is adon," ». 


" Then we need say no more," he returned .-fag 

::h as you call it — 1 y< remain as we were, 

divided. I do not care to share your love I 
miserable fragments as he allows ; and until yoi 
•ctter that you should stand 
The lo- ly the natural coru- f the 

loss of the-, own will- 

Under which Lord? 


She stood as if irrcv tea he turned to go to his soli- 

tary study, the scene of his present anguish as it had once h< 

rest pleasures. As he posed through the doorway, she made 
a few steps forward. 

fine back I " s! rod softly. 

Hut he did not hear her ; and when he had fairly gone, and the 
door wa* shut between them, Hermionc gasped, as at a danger 
ttfeiy got over ; — What would Superior have said had she become 
reconciled to Iter infidel husband, and consequently false to him, her 
i*l director ? When the thought of the confession which would 
have had to be made she literally trembled ; but when she r> 
the »t which she had suffered her home to be brought she 

cried ; and between the two irreconcilable opposite* felt herself tin- 
most miserable woman in the world. 

Chapter XXVI I. 

Tiif times were hard for Mr. Laacelles, but he kept a firm front 

through his difficulties and gave the enemy no cause to rejoice by 

any : weakness or even of dismay. I I iiulig- 

'<* roue to the height ol and on tl ly follow- 

lection ol iple, and the 

preached against the errors 

M her communion as strongly as 

d been preaching ai 1 inllerton's infidelity and 

prcsumi ' rcrs in general. The only one 

whom he spare d id her he excused under the guise 

the inn Big seduced by the false guides in whom they 

ad placed their mist But for the mature who had known the 

•leased truth of Anglicanism, and now had gone over to the R01 

• od, he had no strictures that were too sev. : 

The personal application of hi* fiery disc ourse was of course easy 

gh to make ; unded outspoken and sincere ; but it clid 

1 oncile the Protestant part of the community to the easting 

l of things. As they persisted in seeing in Ritualism the first step to 

am, and the vicar as nothing but ajesnil in disguise, they could 

nal, and do 
.0 well. The f the more 

sober : 'overt papistry of their 

parson— as thej d it to be— had never threatened to be so 



288 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

severe as now when he was fulminating against the 
these three iniporcin: erf hi- own community had seceded, 

and of which he dcnoinx ed '!"• deadly error* while running his own 
ecclesiastical lines exactly parallel. 

Hut they could dn little or nothing now. Wait till the church 
should be opened and the services conducted therein according 
tew code, and then see what they wwili 

Undoubtedly the times were unpleasant ; and the Honourable 
and Reverent! Lninc.tlor I .isrclles needed all ! ■■• to tide I 

over the did oojfofl oi the boor. 

What ". ■■'• bit loss the urn nod 

the lOtofthe • ;• the N\ bought thfa 

good opportunity I or "inm; iermionc Fullcrton to safety and 

common '"*t tlie i 

pure if mistakes they thought she must have lost the 

main impulse to her own rel fc. They I believe that 

she had suffered the inlluenee of Mr to become the main* 

spring of her anions, Religini sm was bad enough, i 

personal fascination was worse. The one was a folly but the other 
was a crime; and they would not charge her with tl now 

whei 1 proved by sad experk: illy 

vould surely be frightened and tain refuge 
self and her dangers in the society of ha 
the iiitual staff was broken, and the beginning of the end at 


" 1 1 ifl nidi a pity, dear ! I am so sorry for it all I *' said 
Neshitt with friendly sympathy, when she went to pay i| of 

condolence to the bereaved mother, whose case she . d worse 

than that of one who had lost her child by death. 

The words might be trivial enough . bui the kind and 

softened voice of her who uttered them gave them a charm w'i 
med them from their intl 

<aid Hermtone, her eye* full of tear". an awful 


" But wl have been expected," said Mrs, N< 

" Sorry as 1 was to hear it, I cannot say I 

•• 1 was," returned Hcrmione. "And I e of Virgmia 

than anyone else." 

hose who stand nearest sec k 
sanl " and to us who do not go all the * 

Ritualism should lead to Romanism seems just as n.' 

Under which Lord? 


acdrdiould bring forth flowers. Volts is the seed; and the Romish 
Qurcn blows that as well as wc do. ■ 

"If you understood our faith you would not say such a thing as 

lia.' uid Hermione. " We abhor the error* of Rome ; and while 

•trtcognire the good thai is in her, and Ac measure of grace which 

ccoottins, we hate hex perversions and refuse her traditions. Wt 

back 10 the truth in its purity, and she has gone aside 

and error. 3 

do not see much difference between ytM," persisted Mrs. 

with a woman's pertinacity of assertion and a passing 

Hermiom v. " The great difference is 

Rome is consistent anil you are not ; and that those who have 

1 bom into the Romish Church have excuses for their supersti- 

t which you have not. But do not let us talk of all this, dear; 

nhill never agree, and it is not necessary that we should. \\ bat 

I do to help you ? You and I were young wives and mothers 

and I feel as if you were my sister. If such a thing 

:to happen to one of my children, I think it would break my 


"It would break mine but for the help that I get through the 
hbnd Church," said Hcrmionc courage 

See must not let them think her less than dutiful because 
^"nnu had been seduced from the right way. She must still hold 
fcto the truth and Mr. Laseelles: — was she not his penitent, and 
hdsbe not given him in of her very soul ? 

"Ireh I beard you say, dear, that you got help from that dear 
husband of > '•Irs. Ncsbitt's characteristic :c- 

"Poor Richard! he can do nothing forme, and nothing for himself, 

r he thinks as he does," she answered, a CI rl h/ softness 

! through the hard spiritual superiority of her tone " I The did 
Ktdsuch dreadful opinions .is he doe* perhaps this would never 
! happened. Virginia would have been able then to have con- 
m, when she ■ in to waver; and he would have 

her and have saved her." 
"She did not confide in you, her mother," N'csbitt 

I am only a woman," said llermionc simply. 
1 Bin now that you are alone at home, and, as Miss Laseelles is not 
vou cannot be so much at the Vicarage, I do hope that you 
I come and see us, and that wc may come and see roil as in old 
nes,- said >ch old f e, we ought to 

r more of each other than wedo, and our friendship should not be 

CCXLV. So. I-Sj. U 

290 Th< Gentleman s : nc. 

allowed lo die OHt 

for a i>i' 

that the coolness h. 

with the world is <• 

it 1 am not thi med Mr 

am only x quiet, easy-going, \v 

your old friend. < 1 on, It 

has lasted too long already. btcft reason for it. 

Come to us as you used. Come to di 1 old days— you and your husba: 
! affliction for you, still we 1 
painfully: unci, at all events, there is noth 
of poor \ dreadful At live 

tlie Molyneuu, you must ) led al every turn ' .ig» 

" You are very, very ki': I icrmionc 

She knew thai would he ill-pleast' 


this kind 

hoi: (tatcd.fchcad '.aacdks 

hi* < 
saic-tl exck 

b, and we 1, her 

ii ni 

1 1 * .lie- wa 

Ncs : 

ntorv would j 
!iat you j-S.> 1 hurch-peopk, 

' ' " ' ..••■i'.. -• 1 •■ ■ '-• I what i-.c »as uyinti .1.: 

'ii»»l what &!■ 

'• li w^'> tltr !{■■• 


Under which Lord? 


it lying. H< . very sad, very much changed iu 

itocUitfcv weeks ; for not even Richard himself had grieved more 

linn be hid done for that which was substantially the death of Virginia. 

Tkwgh he did not feel it 3 sin yet he did hold it for shame that Vir- 

boold have done this thing, and done it with so much duplicity 

ud nut of candour. Lost to them forever as she had become by her 

Kt,hc»oulcl rather that she had died in reality. It would have been less 

teaWetfan the knowledge of this living entombment ia the heart of 

dreary 1 ulmination of falsehood and fnaatii ism. 

"And;.' me too, Ringrovc ? " .. 1 1< 1 M;-. \i sbttt with in- 

teooiul abruptness as he came 

She guessed how things were with him and Hermione, and that 

I meeting would be painful. 
"Where?" he asked, holding Hcrmione's hand but looking at Mrs. 


"Todinewidi us to-morrow. This darling here and Mr. PulIcttOO 
"teeming," was Mrs. Nesbilt's positive assertion of R v.i u ■ po 

pleasure. Mis. I'ullcrton knows how much I value her 
J, and nowhere more than at your house/' said Ringr» 
Injje hastiness in his voice as he pressed the soft hand held in 
*.ad looked at her with his frank bloc eves.'softer and darker than 

Hermione turned aside her head. 

cry good to us," she said with a little sob. 

1, i<iittii»fi; hi: comfortable anai about net, mure 
.- than a woman not much older than hem If, believed 
*« the conqut-s suied, and thai Mr* I ullertOB was now 

*rffrom Ritualism and Mi. 1 

Bribe look oi belief was tint quite 80 wild 

*a#ithave been thought. For nothing Stirs a woman 10 much as 
*feence— except it is oppo Virginia's Bight, and 

"tut attempt at fall reconi part, Richard had 

'lid that he 
their pr. and would not again 

to disturb them. Always courteous he had ceased to be 
Jways gentle he was never tender. Now that she was alone 
,s adc it a matter of duty to be much with her ; to go out with her — 
>kis presence was not too patently displease with bet 

tercning ; to t.ilk to her durin butallthi try as a 

Xo word, no look betraj id mi 1 ious good 

of a pleasant acquaintance ; while running through it all 


The Gentletnan's Magazine. 

was a curious thread of manly d if what he did wan at ranch 

i i the ■' t of a gentleman in the fulfilment of hit duty, as 

from affection for the woman whom he had once loved better than 
his pride or his life. He never touched or. > termed 

ionhSsgin indite never 

alluded to Virginia noi :use he wished to focg-r 

to banish her, but bee -iding reproach ag.. 

his wife ; and to speak of his daugh*. i.i, to condemn 

mother. It was the dullest life that could be imagined, and the 
noel . clory ; but H had studied how best i 

his wife and incline her to him again, he could rtcr 

inied, sorry, lonely, her life shorn of its former full inlc- 
and the natural pride of her womanhood |>i m in earnest 

where formerly much had been made up and more ima- 

gined, she felt the indifference of her discard .md almost as 

acutely as if she had never transferred her allegiance from him to Mr 
Ltti A never found the excitement of i romance 

more satisfying than the monotony of married security. Hts secu- 

<lUt; on tented and uncomfortable ; his acqu 
in the severance v. mV had decreed, made her long to 

briQg ..eras of old. 

" I suppose Ri re no objection," she - 

to tl»e question of that din I I beOS 

' in .ivk bint," she added with her old manner o- 
» the days when only one will was between them, and that 
was his. 

" I Him." sjid Ringrosc, also in the 

ise— that place which had ever boa 
undcr-.un.lmg, and which, curiously enoi . i as 

*>as now restored i -sa. 

" y/hm a good dear fcDow thv 
youn, was heard clanking through the hall. 

<aid Herotioi w ardent 

at this moment that Virginia had 

former calm rejWK. rngedto. adoos 

rac now : 
>rd showed oris w» plainly how dec 

'<■•. sodden pain when she lookr 
* he wvs ; and how latterly mh 

Under which Lord? 293 

the whole school to which he belonged, for the mischief and misery 

'• Dine with you to-morrow? no, I thank you," he said in a 
weary way. arcely in tone i<>r ■ dinner." 

1 >nly your two selves and Ringrove Hardisty," urged Mr*. 
itt " I: is like your own home, you know, Mr. I '.:ii< -rti.n, and 
jroti have not been for so long." 

" Will you not go. Richard?" said Hcrmionc. halt" timidly. 
" If you wish it, >;» by all means," he said with a slight air of 

" Not without you," she returned. " 1 should like to k° very 

much, but only with K r pretty eves with ■ 

reision that once womV. ECO the heart out 

rove lookedat him anxiously ; Ml t fan of compassion. 

" If you would like it, certainly I will go with yon, he said 

gravely, after a moment's pause; but no light came into his face, no 

nto his eyes j he yielded out of respect for her wishes, bul only 

as a gentleman yield* to a lady— not as a loving man to a beloved 


Hen shed painfully. She foil the difference which both 

iitt divined ; and thought her husband cruel 

and unkind to be so cold when she would been on more 

friend She had all the modem woman's belief that it 

belongs to her alone to set the lines between herself and thl 

whose name she bears; and that hers is the commanding voice 

its only the echo. She had discarded him when 

pressed by Mr. Lasccllc* to do *o ; now, when she would have 

drawn nearer to him in ,, she was to her own mind an 

1 wife in that he kept in the place which she had assigned to 

gained the day so far however, that they both went to the 
house of Lsodicea as if they had been the friends they were long 
ago ; and Hermione, carried back to her former self by a sudden 
»wcep of old-time emotions, said when she left that she had not 
been SO happy for years. This was a long pull on the |»rt of the 
woman ; but it was the truth in substance if beyond the mark 

When Mr Laxcellcs heard of this act of virtual, if not In 
disobedience, he showed so much manly pathos of personal sorrow, 
and he expressed so much righteous indignation at the falling away 
from grace of one whom he had believed secure, that Hermione was 

294 The GentUmatCs Magazine. 

partly softened and partly frc »nd made to feci that the was 

a backslider who had to be contrite ami I she woi:i 

red to favour and fo; r offences. Mr. Lascclles 

fulminated against that dinni had been the unpardonable 

sin ; and that quiet moral wholesome English family a mere Sni 
of witches, in whose unholy re i vessel o 

paled. II • a child asking forgiveness ; 

when he I out the i 

and put the rod lui corner. 

\z for the futm irt of 

cobodied in an Aeto! Contrition, was to ^ve for the 
use of the bi five hundr 

rather more thai 'ssigncd allowance ; and 

for t: is in debt to the bank. 

'I lie effect Of thai cheque was to make the I 

by that ami 
ing a renewal of depo lid be 

time certain i i 
settled months ago began now to i nd Hcnnu 

not add up a day-book correctly, for the fu 
herself in a financial difBci dared not 

husband, and could by herself; and wherein Saperia 

ither help nor comfort. It was part of his play to gel her int" 
this i -it, that h< ud hold oj 

through her rear. 

scelles tii 
with tl %uhUc r. 

a certain 
B ni" her husl 
Director, had done his bi n and 

it i 
Things could not y too weak :<> 

to herself, and wot 
Iter husband it" ..ruin fo: 

icnt unless she «■ 

weaken. must r 

iur»c. V 4ded, 

Under -chick Lord? 


I hfrr heart was to her husband. He s.iw ii. lelt 

*,bewii, in every line and movement of her body, every look of 
fcrnes, every word of her mouth. The shock of Virginia's deter- 
*■ had set the pendulum swinging to the other side, and he knew 
*>t, units* he Ik days of power wen- numbered. 

fore he drew out Ml ' in of attack, and laid it on his 

:y precious friend "i mine," he said to her one day 
*>puy afn Rood Churthvoma&j and I need 

lostvalnal rough — Mr;. Everett j 

Everett— want ne here 1 told ha thai yon would 

her at the Abl>ey. She knows all aboat your trials and 
, and I shall be glad for you to b I i She will bfl 

"Nimble to you, lor. ceding coo potion ' 

"Thanl: iiit 1 1 •.•r:n mne, with feigned cordi- 

: thai be had BQt made this arr. i 


i deal fit whom she could not help loving in 

Swterfber wari id Ringrovc and 13cc were almost 

•* Corn it the Abbey as they used to bfl 1 more ago. And 

'heaihcwas sure that this Mrs. Everett would not be congenial to 
WdanJ— poor Richard ! he had suffered so much already, she really 
^Mtlfte to give him any more pain. 

Mr. lasccllcs looked at her sharply. He evidently expected her 
Btt rmorc than that mere bald word of thanks, and he seemed to 
■teaand her thougr 

"nl» is she like?" asked l and with a 

""•an'* instil.. looey. 

'She is beautiful," replied Mr. 1 iceiles with fervour. 

The pretty woman's soft pink eheei I tned into a luddefl I id, 

^ >le held her slender neck a trifle stiffly. 

"I* mind if not in person," continued her Director. "Spiritually, 

e is as near perfection as a sinful mortal can be : and when you 

** her you will say so and love ha Ifl I do." 

"Iimsure I shall," she returned in a 1 onstrained voice, looking 

•"Jod feeling that she should hate her instead. And after all, 

^•Superior was — Superior — it her a liberty that he had 

»*as it not ? seeing that now — Whal ? — Seeing that deep down 

■h heart of her; was the unacknowledged wbh to become 

I to her husband, and the mora] < rrtarnty that if left alone 

■^•wild become thus reconciled. But she did not put this into m 

•W« ill that had been between her and Superior — after the holy 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

love thai I mlually confessed, a love so lwly as to be without 

sin or shame— after the authority that he had claimed and the 


obedience that she had paid- isMgnnvent to him of her con- 

science and th. h she had mad 

;in arrangement proposed for to do 

otherthonaoceptit with apparent gratitude nod real. mitt 

up into his face while saying to herself with 
" How shall I ei reak it to Ri. 

•• if you will be guided by me," 
Bothia led— "will you, my child?"— he put in imiliD; 

as if heplayfully doubted and seriously trusted. 

, red, also smiling, but wi 
an odd little quiver of affectation in her eagerness. 

" Well, then, | [vice. Say nothing to Mr. Fullcrton un 

the bow of nfxa Everett's arrh 11 him tlut she is cotnS 

and that you arc going to Starton 1 .r — as of course you will 


" And you do not think this will be too abrupt ? " she asked 

"Ob I if you wish to spare tags so vei 

bettC 1 onsent, and abide by his. decision," said Mr. I -astcll 

with rough contempt. " I thought you had regained enough sel 

t by now to be able to ask a lady friend to stay with yotl 
short time without going on your knees to yout husband for his per- 
minion. And 'uisband !— to whom all things godly and of 

good repute arc abhorrent. But I do not wish to guide you against 
your i you think best. I have but one desire— 

your temporal happiness and spiritual well-being. And wbctl 
desire oppresses you I will withdraw in 

" No, I do not wish you to withdraw your care. You arc my best 
friend," said Hermkmc, humbled to the point where lie wished 
be brought. " I will do as you tell me, and say nothing abou 
•tt till I go to bring tier from the station." 

milcd and leaned forward to look the better into bcr eyes. 
" Sweet child I " he murmured tend. • world would be 

blank to me, if, after having known the truth, you were to bee 
backslider and lapse into error. But you will keep firm, wi 
not ? You will not give the enemy of souls power over you 

i weakness for the infidel to whom the law ha* givm the name 
iisbond ? Remember again what I ha 1 
I Or man, salvation : destroctioi 

or Satan and your husband. You cannot ha isuha 

Under which Lord? 297 

«w dun yon can breathe pure air in a foul pit. You must make 
P" Action— as you have — and abide by your decision — as you 

°»es," said Hermione. " I will always be guided by you." 
He took her hand. 

''You vow that on the Cross?" he said at once sternly and 
"Pfy " You will always be guided by me ? " 
"Yes," she said, trembling. 

"I will soon put you to the test," he said, letting her hand fall 
■ddenly. " When I do, remember your oath, your vow of obedience 
*urn on the Cross ! " 

(To be continued.) 

2 98 

The Gentleman's Maga 



II i:N the Da theory of the origin of living specks 

and other theories of evolution were yet in lhcir infancy, 
of the pn cd notor. 

not fame. The cm l ! :lic hypotheses of evolution w 

slow to fix upon" miss i and their nature, their assumed 

titt of 
ijainst «i< 
in which [] 

phrase found favour in the eyes oj of an tinsciem 

Did ladies of: > ' 

lerDani in n of Spcci tdedly dangerous l 

and who regard ma the literal 

works of darkness in the most literal sense 01 '» worn 

who would have Ik en a»kc<! 

ol a i 
nevenheK nth much 

the gaps in •_ nd I 

orgumu early days < we 

Where are the missing links? rwini 

and i, not to s] 

It is inn too much '•!) with the lapse o 

tl*e letter understanding by cultured persons at Ian 

i rfa tly understood 

tnds, the i 

lerefore matters for car 

aid the solution ol 

Missing Link 299 

■deuoui in oik- phase to solve — the how and why of living Nature 

The widespread recognition, even in the popular mind, of the 
Ofomnce of the discovery of " missing 1; ting 

ipcciesof animals, in so far as the welfare of cvolution-ii 
tonol. i.iciilt to trace or account for. Taking for grant 

lb* nay reasonable and obi theory of i 

■wt rest uj*on the idea of tl •■■• by the 

Mdifcuinn of the a . lhal in oai examination of lit 

Mine re should inneetion between 

of life in d np to man, 

tbcctoruxk many 

■ppow, a one straight as rafter the idea of 

*hs*. I in their lower & Now, 

BMpemiMc. wh< . round el of animal 

•ndpti H ii,re, 

«nd connected rclationahip? The common tttlre, 

■** Ut of 

■*■*?' i at on© 

• *cf6fM»n! !i into groups and 

of varying ri lc in the scale of creation. In 

eath targe group we bet Of l ower divisions, the 

nunber* of which arc uni itain common cliaracters. Hut 

the smallest of ott rders, the gaps betwbrt the 

form-, are in.. .erve her pro- 

doe* not ap]>ear to supply • 'in the existing 

In that ; torn of the animal world 

% the Vhiehraia,—ox the ten 
'*weii iirds and 

I estates and ranks, and 
""ft toad*, the lower or<J of vette- 

• in te i g between the various classes are very 

ftfltand clear to the merest tyro in natural history. Not even the 
PtoWrl'. marked T in the n 

•tfctts lory, oi towards a literal interpretation of the 

100 : i ertain wondrous btttt 

rought to enti riously the idea of the 

of an urinal half-rcpti ird ; and, still less, of a 

between the bird and th< 
jokers — a rat 
matters. • extinct— might tx > sale in chal- 


The GentUmaiCs Maga 



Icnging zoologists at large to produce the iwccn 

man and his nearest animal relations ; or to show on 1 •■ 
hypothesis the various stages in the < >dagc, 

upon the disappearance of which that ed to 

rounded n's physical and moral 

Amongst lower forms of life the gaps are equal n, and the 

■mued distinctness of each species would seem to argue po 
n favour of the "special creation" of lite van© 
of animals and plants, and against th< 

species on< Bother. The arguin visible? 

between even nearly-related h crefore too 

apparent to be overlooked by popular critics of < 
was also too important to be made light of by c 

ict now, distinct always, 
duly expressed regarding the nature of sp 
the historical controversy regarding their origin. i>e vat- 

I, therefore, to find Mr. Darwin, in speaking of tin 

ion to his theory, " namely, the distinctness: of sj 
and then not bein| blended together by innumerable 
sitional inks, is a very obvious difficulty ;" and agai 
all nature in d "I" the S| la wc sec 

d ? " Alike grave, then, to 'menu 

Let us endeavour to examine this 
i 00 in the light of !■ Ictcmuning 

to which side the balance of evidence duly weighed will lead 

Amongst the procedures rommonls d in our courts of 

law then is one which i : . uking 

an objection to the relevancy of the rect The 

essential feature of that procedure iiercatl 

parties showing that certain parts of the M ode 

live opposing side involve items y be abs 

incorrect, and which thcrcfot' \punged from 

of matters involving litigation, In this way the details of a lawsuit 
become simplified, and the chariot-wheels of justice are enabled to roll 
easily onwards in that glorious case and uncertainty of movement 
which is one of the most ancient if also ur 
of legal science and practice. The contention befor. esent 

one respect admits of its issues being amended throu 
to their relevancy. I points for discus :ho*e 

cerning the need for "missing links" o« ne theory 

and the ability or 
l-ct us SUpp06i 


Missing Links, 


moves the relevancy of these point*. The following v. ill be Mi Hue. 
of argument :- ' duce die links,' 

or transitional forms between v the 

.id in fun. i| dear wc must 

in the existing world, or in the I 

life-systems of the 

|ast. We shall I try to demonstrate that whatever 

nccgcolof ill in our favour, and that where a 

■-, such deficiency i- no fault of ours, but 

depends on the ' imperfection of the geological record." But there 

an equally important consideration for our opponent-, in the 

ea in which at <luced 

lently obviate the necessity for the • ■ link-. 

and transitional forms. This latter contention can be supported by 

n this preliminary point— namely, the 
and natural absence of i 

h i' •••.then, til ilil, by the lav a the very 

nature of : of sjiccict by evolution, or bj Mr. Dvwm'a 

PWXSpkf: ction "- 1c to be discussed on a 

ftasre occasion— 3b tional forms conn 

«wfaig ipccics ? Mr Da eply to this question is a negative. 

TV >ii a or species which appear will tend, by the 

dioon* nf evolution, to present improvements on the spec its 

•led litem . and, on the principle that "the weakest JO to the 
"H" ll itors of existing many case* hi 

i fd ih. in 
'•wik i.e." The pan 

will fail in the with its 

unproved con- 
■station, wc may na the parent-form and the ti 

il links to have become exterminated, tarwin rem 

the very process of on of the. new 

But extinct anin able to lie preserved as "fossili ' 

Its compot crust of the earth, and yet *mi 

tab "arc onions. Thi 1 

mentioned and the reason assigned in the 
fragmentary condition od im Neglecting the 

jeofail' the nonce, it might still be contended that 

• ited by us to-day should lie more closely con- 
nected rh-i re their creation by evolution and descent a 


The GcniUmaiCs Mago 

N<>. th of the evoluti •■ < showing th_ 

such connecting s] 

a nutter of course, and tl absence i: 

able- to his views and opinions. < -*■ 

case of the origin of tfo< — r k, 

that of tl: •_-.' 

The various brei OUT hot knows 

are the pouters, fantails, can d tumblers, may b< 

regarded as having descended from the Rock-pigeon (C^/umim 

so markc<! OB an: 

state and I , they would iuve been 

l% mere '•varieties" 
of one species — K i arc the different 

in feather . 

•. therefore, U a mi ngin of nci 

of new specie I .oj 

will show us the futility oft' d that the original storl 

resemble the dew ■ gin. Thai 

no ni 

two of the four breeds just mentioned, or that any I 
races— say the •. I pouters— should 

lions of thechi 

ons and 
II the pigeons which h.. 
lime of tl. .to the i 

group them in I i verging from the 

en by so:: i 

have hear : 

. i 

pensaicd?— for loroeauc- 

Missing Links. 


1 be noticed ; but its gradual and lodifica- 

ough uncoiu- .ergence, 

r in the sai< distant, countries into two 

strains, and their gradual conv to sub-breeds, and 

into well-marked ttt urely be 

The death ts (tained gigantic dimensions 

ded ; the slow growth of smaller trees and t ii •_• : r increase 111 

•cite no attention.'" 

The true view of the matter really consists in our recognising 

! the likeness and relation of new species or races to their parent- 

1 depend* on the circumstances of human observation and on 

euct lines alon^ which the lias proceeded Occa- 

>•, each likeness is appat • 

Joproent of the new species, it is non- existent. Nor must wc 
fi 00c all-important consideration, which, according to Professor 
Mr. Darwin hai (looked it 11 

nt fact, hereafter to be nole<l f that, despi 1 innxan 

Nature may and sometimes 
(take not merely l>ut ■ running leap from one species 

What would be thought of the history of the Aneot 
tiheep, which about the close of last century was born < 

1 ewe as the progeny of an equally CO e male parent, 

, along with fourteen other ewe?, th • certain Seth 

1 a Massachusetts farmer? This Ancon sheep differ 1 d 

roin its parents and from the ovine race at large, in posscss- 
lUrgc body and proportionally short legs. For sundry reasons con- 
I with the over-live!. 1 long-legged sheep in leaping 

t their fences, W right from ihi due time, 

I a whole flock nf pure Otter sheep ; the breed being allowed to 
out on the introduction ■ of the Merino sheep. Presuming 
, in ignorance of it'- true and "rigin, the history of the 

breed had been made the subject of biological speculation, 
I the demand for " missing links," and the evolutionist's 
to reply to the demani been ronstrucd? Simply as 

the transmutation cf th< ipeciea or race, and as against 

origin of the Ancon by the variation and modification of the 
' sheep. And yet the Ancon race had certainly uning 

modification, such as utterly precluded the possibility Of 
'connecting links" having been developed or required 
. considci unit, will tend to weaken therein- 

teinand t iks" and transitional forms, Hut it 

be worth our while to hear a little further testimony 01 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 




point Taking Mr. Darwin's own example*, we find him citi 
instance of a journey from north to so ::ne«« 

in the course of which we meet with closely related or represcntati i 
species which represent each other in their respective region* <J 
habitats. Such species are found to meet and interlock, and there- 
after, as our journey proceeds, one species is found to become lew 
frequent, until it is completely replaced by the other, Kven in i 
nion or middle region where these two species intermingle, 
icnt of the one group are as absolutely distinct from the other, 
as if had been selected for comparison from the head' 

quarters of m ; Vet, nys Darwin, " by my theory, these 

altered species arc descended from a common parent ;" each in the 
process of descent having exterminated the parent species and also 
the transitional forms. Once again— leaving the extinct and fo-, 
species out of consideration for the present—: dofi crop* •• 

why do the species not intermingle in the middle region, with inter- 
module renditions of life ? Here geology steps in to reconcile the 
I>ancy. Because your continent is continuous from north to 
south to-day, it is not lawful to infer that this continuity of land- 
surface alv i d. Changes of land, and the separation of even 
our great continents into detached portions of territory, arc not theo- 
ts of geology. And, admitting the existence of separate 
da or disconnected portions of land-surface, tl 

h separation, and the absence of intermediate 
accounted for. Nor must it be lost sight of that the 
neutral territory Or "No Man's land" common to two spec 
'v small and ill-defined as compared with the wider tcrri: 
area of the distribution of each group. And again, t!i 
n of a species, and its power of con 

<l by the range of moo 

md already well-defined groups. The species will be preyed upon 
bytbeM Utter groups, and the tendt: 
nearest allies is thus lessened and limited ; v, fact has 

y noted that the narrow and limited character of t! 
area is bv ,s favourable to a I 

Conversely, in a larger area, with 
• ompetition from oi 
5 the maximum of i 
mben alone, attaining a marked and 
■ do the reprv- 

irface. Each tu*» 
- hand," and 

Missing Links. 


by surrounding conditio ays, without mixing with 

neighbouring group- 

e preliminary observations on the theory 
inks " .ire by no means so necessary on a fair showing of 
Nature's ways and polity as might be supposed, wc may submit, 
firstly, that the favourable variation of a q occss, 

depending not merely on changes in the constitution of the included 
animals or plants, but on many other external causes, IDCfa as <:hanges 
of cli. id the like. Secondly, in connection with thi . 

discouragement to the mixing of specific cluracters, wc must re- 
member that detachment of land-surfaces will account for the 
absence of intermediate forms, and in cases where such forms have 
existed, they would be developed, as wc have seen, in fewer numbers 
than the species they would tend to connect ; lesser numbers imply 
ing few cliances of either actual or geological preservation. 

But wc may not forget that up to the present stage wc ha* e I 
mcrcK iing for the relevant y of the indictment. 

our ol 10 the invariable necessity for "missing links" have 

<!, there •.■■ tany instances n 

.1 freely admit 

j or actually, for the support The 

hich the evoluii .plies the 

ence of numerous links; the chief question relating to the exact 

gCCCM ided and I rJOD 

mother, What is or was the exact sequence and 

potent? Suppose Mr, Browning to be as correct in 

of the " Descent of Man " as he is— judged by 

Unary rion— absolutely incorrect, when he 

1 hwangau "— 

Thit maw man spring from wai 1 jelly lump 

( 1 kept .hi lAei course 

Thr\iu(;h fiili uid betel, reptile, bird, 

10 be Jin ape at lost 

Or I < ,— 

to thi 1 tlioa, hu 

ily connecting link 
stage of :> lhe"aftei .md also 

en the si -.i tagcaof which that" oft< ileged 

. an 

avalu. I 1 in 

to remark that the sequence and succession 

-iicd by the n hological of modern poets, are 

a >;8j. x 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

certainly not those held by Mr. Darwin, or by any other 
biologist. Man's descent from the gorilla — the chief clement in ttj 
evolutionist's creed .is propounded by popular notions and by a dakj 
m.uic but unlearned theology — is, after .ill, but " the baseless fabric • 
a vision, from which a better acquaintance with the facts of nature a^ 
with theories explanatory of tin i ill most effectually awaken xi 

unconvinced. The knowledge of what evolution really teaches sum 
reasonably demands constitutes, therefore, the first condition for asctr. 
tuning what" missing links "arc required. To bridge over the gulf bo 
tween the gorilla or any other anthropoid ape and the human type, nay 
be the mental banc and lifelong worry of unscientific minds contorti^r 
the demands of evolution — such a task is certainly no business or lib©* 
of Mr. Darwin and his followers, or of any other school of erolurioo. 
And Mr. Darwin, writing in his " Descent of Man," and after t 
(.view of man's theoretical origin, is careful to add. " bat we roast I 
fall into the error of supposing that the early progenitor of the 
in (or ape-like) stock, including man, was identical with, or < 
ij resembled, any existing ape or monkey." We must, inl 
look backward* along the " files of rune " to the point whence, I 
a common origin, e branch to 

its own peculiar line of growth and development on the great trod 

Thus much by my of caution in alleging how or what "i 
links " are to be supplied. The contention that, cren on the sho 
of i! :. the connecting links between distinct groups < 

living beings are nut supplied even to the extent he himself i 

n uf Mr. Darwin already quoted, i 
"the imperfection of the geological record." No I colqpi 

more patent than Uiat, to use Sir Cliarles I .yell's words, "it HI 
part of the phtn of Nature to write everywhere, and at all times, I 
autobiographical memoirs. On the con this 

distinguished scienti t, "her annals arc local U lioiul 

the first, and portions of the) r wards ground into mud, i 

and pebbles, to furnish materials for new strata." The very | 
Ol rock formation consists in the rc-arrangcmcnt of the 
previously formed materials, and the manufacture of new 
implies the destruction of the old with the included "loss. 
; iitec The geological series is thus certainly a detached and i 
tinuous collection of formations, interrupted by gaps of coo 
and often undeterminable extent Of the contemporaneous lii 
tory of the globe, during the periods of time repi , such 4 

we have no record whatever. But even when the materials for I 

Missing Links. 


■■ of any past period of our globe are found in 

tolerable plenty, the record is never complete. " V7e COO never hope," 

i yell in a roost emphat* is the sequence of 

rock-form it history by gatnerin 

gcthcr monuments which were origins]!) I and scattered over 

i' .; specks of organic beings contcmporaii' 
inhabiting remote regions are distinct, the fossils of the first of seven] 
periods which may be pn in any 0:1c country, as in America, 

•ample, will have no ccfrvicution frith those of a second period 
found in India, and will, therefore, no more enable us to Mi 
signs of a gradual change in the 1 ition, than a fragment of 

Chinese history will blank in the political annals of Europe." 

Add to these considerations the brief chronic le of :i long and 
Lptet of geolcr. namely, that soft bodied 

b It kmd-.innn.i!, 

formations u com] 1.1 red with 
marin n " Mi 1 itnoT] bisni," or the alteration "l 

. ■ find reasons of I 


But direction does the positive evidence we have been abia 

io ol ale of en wards thi 

: even the most san 
ii« of scientific ardour could scarcely have hoped 

: 5 of rock-formation 
aluicly unexplored een to be one to which 

carh year .a of new and strange ;• . And at 

the most, any on plying 

" mia. I and to serve 

but as a] - 

•f the 


eases in a very 

t«> becon med of 

. rocks ol rka, to 

.; (ions concern. Btvreen 

existing K' lammabor ^hthc 

iches of 1 dded to the conquests of 

is to be said of the zoological position 

1 1 and it ' features as large as 

i, from the tion of their skeletal 

.•. j 


The Gentleman's Maga 

remains, can at the best be regarded U intermediate bctwiv 
elephants themselves, and the odd oofed 

rhinoccrose- mc 

! two 
large canioc tec: 
aid four horn-cores 
' ), besides a pair of 
similar WiuUui tSi in front 
of the upper jaw. < Ira 
which r 
an inten 
1 an'' 

i >thee»tini 

the l/nit. "«M 

inimalswith great front teeth like the / 
grim •• n *' 

skeleton : of the Carnivore n OCt 

mo i 

rodents are united to those of 1 
being a group of animals represented 

iters? N 

no i 


as in the rei ent deposits of the New World, we And 

the cxth> t M 


' tlic teal* and 

Missing Links. 


,5) of the Eocene Tertiary dep cars to coi iwine- 

race with I id-chewenor Kun:i.!.m:-, joat as tb 

-one of the first 
animals whose remains were 
disinterred from Montmartre — 
the pigs and tapirs 
the apparently for -removed 
rhinoceros. The case for the 
existence of " missing link*," 
rhercwith the at present ditl 
orders and sub-orders of QQld 
<ls may be connected, would 
tern to be very strong. There would appear to be more than 
'•nt cause to account for the hopeful spirit of the evolutionist, 
whose 9Ch I'hecy. that ph 

nanisms— begun by Cuvier. in ilu ries of 

nartrc— is destined to powerfully aid his cause, seems likely to 
iiscd. When it lies in the power <>( the notunUisl to point, as 
well he may, with pride, to the pi •• of fori 

which connect the one-toed horse of to-day with tl thxi e, 

rnd fivc-tocd steeds of the post, 1 one M 10k the 

M»e of the evolutionist in the more silent .ind deeper satisfaction 
rith which mankind at large is given to welcome the dcmonsn 
of a great truth. It is of such a demonstration that Hun: 
'On the evidence of palrcontolo, volution of many exi 

forms of animal life from their predecessors is no longer an hypo- 
, but an I it is only," he adds, "the nature of the 

physiological factors to which that evolution is due which 1. .nil open 
to discussion.* 

But not merely in the highest class of the animal world have 
"intermediate forms" been discovered. The case for evolution 
in interest when we Icam that in lower ranks of Vertebrate life, 
groups of animals, separated apparently by tic widest of intervals, 
: now being linked together by the discovery of intermediate fossil 
The best-known example of the latter facts is found in the 
relationship which may be now regarded as being clearly proved to 
exist between reptiles and birds. Were we to search the whole 
animal kingdom through for examples of creatures of thoroughly 
different appcatran< 1 , and general conformation, no two 

sups would fall more familiarly to hand than birds and reptiles. 
There would, indeed, appear to be no similarity or likeness between 

1 8<* Gftiimeit'i Mw-ine for Much 1879, article on " Clues ar.-l Tares 
to N«u«l »i»K .. 


T/w Gentleman's M 

the Secretary Bird, which daily devours its quota of 
iI.l- prey upon which it 

the unfortunate bird • »tony gaze has 

it literally to :i livil 

. would be oj other 

beauty of form an groteviu 

and often, in popul&i i ttimarjon at "rh> 

contr .oukl be complete 

Uld i rpect Birds are warm-blooded, 

a font heart : rq 

blood-ten lambered heart, which, howi 

the crocodiles becomes four-chambcrcd. The form 

. the latter with seal. The fori 

limbs, modified for flight in the bird, ai ihususcd i 

the so-called "ilyin/ '-powers of lligb 

Dg enable 
•like an their 

front ribs to take living i 
from tree to tri • ' Is, as 
well know, want 
although in tortoises and 
astypicalcnou Icottl 

tilian character tend 

A closer ins] id co: 

i of the skeletons of the 
groups, such as may be made i 
a very general review i 
bony possessions, would reveal 
al interesting points of likeness and also of divi 
. lasses have a lower jaw n 
unlike the simple two-h.' 

composed of numcrc 
single bone. Then. i lower jan 

itself l ' tupeds, but liy a special 

named the won 

process of alteration b» 
man and quadrupeds by one (th- 
ear. Such, among otlv few pointa ol 

ea nd birds Bi i 


Missing Links. 

flaw fingers — (th tad two next digits (J.t.f) — in its "hand" 

w»ing(fig. 5); and the supporting bones of these fingers, corre- 
9"mding to our " palm." arc united together, 
lie reptile's fingers are never so few as three, 
»d their palm-bones, moreover, are not ossi- 
togcther. The "merrythought" of the 
\ indissolubly associated with 
: forebodings of hymeneal nature, consists 
I tie two united "collar-bones ; " such a dis ■ f j 
of the colhr-boncs being mrim 
e more pm- and tin- 

:i the bird's breast-bone ( 
aingonthat of K :il«. Next in or' 

that the siuritm, or l»nc wedged in 
en the huinch-bo ists, in birds, 

1 goodly number of vertebrae or joints of 
, whereas, in the reptile, one or Me 
! form the sacrum. In .ill birds, mie the ostrich tribe, the 
ach-bones (Fig. 6, 
i not united I 
nt in the middle 
reptiles such 
n does take | 
union, indeed, being 
seen in man and 
upedx In birds, 
Uil terminates 

e-bone " (F|g. 
^ VI. giving support to 

the secretion of 
I in preening 
In reptiles 
00 wch l»nc exists, and 
** joints of the tail sua- 
% rtpcr towards th 
**najr of the appendage. 
^"otitis of the thigh-bone 
'Om the bird, like that of 
^■frnpeds, lies par. 
> the median plane or 
of the body ; but in Ktc - '' 

the axis of the thigh makes an open angle of varying dimen- 


The Gentleman s Magazine 

ben tar 

sions with the median plane. The ankle of the bird (Fig. 
liarly formed, inasmuch as tlic upper half of the ankle, or "tarsus^*' 
becomes united to the lower end of the shi*,. 
bone or leg ; whilst the lower half of the ankl e 
unites with the bones corresponding to those to- 
man's instep, the union producing the so-callcrf 
'• tarso-metatarsal " bone (Fig. 6, «>). It is in 
bone which Incomes so greatly elongated 
the w;i..U ; | the storks and ifaa 

seen in the young fowl (Fig. 7) the shin, or I 
bone (/), bears at its lower extremity the "/ 

ulus" (a) of the ankle, shortly to be 
united to the leg by bony union. The IsrW 
condition is seen in die left hand figure, where tl* 
astragalus («) i me united to the tibia, or chief leg-bow 

the other bone of the leg, or fibula (/), being rudiments 
complete union of ankle-bones with the leg is not seen in 
(sec Fig 15 c). Whilst the latter have four toes as their least eon 
ment, bird! have never more than four, the till I. 
wanting. And whilst in birds the bones of the instep uni 
lower half of the ankle, in reptiles the instep-bones (or metaiamljl 
(Fig. 15, 1, 3, 3, 4) are distinct from those of the ankle 

Thus much for dry details. The reader who has taken the trouble 
to follow this category of the personal characters of birds is corojurrf 
with those of reptiles, will probably find that the somewhat extended 
examination will assist his comprehension of certain abnerrauhnri 
in the structure of several extinct forms of bird and reptilian 
since many of the characteristic features of each class just 
will be found to have been curiously modified and often united 1 
the "mitring liskl ' which bind I hete two groups of animals to 
It may be firstly asserted that the ostriches, cassowaries, and 
relatives, differ from all other birds in possessing a flat sh 
breastbone instead of the normal " keeled " structure (I 
ptopa to the class. Their " merrythought " is likewise inc 
and their haunch-bones arc united below or in front, instead I 
remaining open as in other birds. Hut he would be worse than 1 
over-bold zoologist who would venture to maintain that 1 
of difference meant more than the merest tendency reptilewards ; xf 
the ostriches and their neighbours can hardly be denominated kri 
which appreciably narrow the gulf betwixt reptiles and their avis- 
kith and kin. But presuming that the zoologist, dealing with 4 
birds of to-day, refuses assent to the idea that he can suppij ■ 

Missing Links. 


:ween reptiles and birds, can the contents of the 
Ik: shown to be better adapted to supply the 
! may p roc eed in two directions, Either wc may try to 
extinct birds arc nearer reptiles than their living 
' add, if any fossil reptiles exhibit a closer relation- 
1 the reptiles of to-day. We may very profitably 
■ricf detail, both aspects of the case, 
ink make their first appearance in the Upper Oolite 
atiorss lying in their natural order just below the chalk. 
Dolitic epoch, howcser.and in Triassic rocks, certain luge 

Fl... Sk 

Fu.. 9. 

■"igs. S and 9), supposed by some authorities to be those 
found- But these footprints, at the same time, may be 
tiles, and it is safer at present to hold their exact nature 
ined, and to assert that the first unmistakable 
he < >■ nod. The Lithographic Slates of Solen- 

avaria, are rocks resulting from the consolidation of 
►wdcrcd mud which once coated an ancient Oolitic sca- 
»is finegrained deposit, belonging to the Upper Oolite 
nerest traces and most delicate impressions of living 
ire been preserved— the impress of even a filmy jellyfish 
been brought to light. In 1861 the impression of a 
•r was found, and later on in the same year a Dr. 
rought to light the fragments of a skeleton which was 


Tht Ge> 

soon discovered to be of a thoro.; entile 

treasure nti duly purchased I and was urate 

the..' xofusp-i 

■: innately naming, but the leg, foot, | loukl 

of the fcatl i 

i reature no doubt exists. I n the 
it it is a ; 
rally from all known birds, i'hv |K>sscs*cd 

long tail, exactly re-eniUingthatof a lizard, consisting of some I 

ich of which supported a pair i 
seconi! bone was developed. 'I 

bony union in 

r their number may ha^ 
irovided with reptile-like claw ■-> arc 

ly meagre i hand. 


all bctw 

» nil. m vtiic-likc i on w 

Missing Links. 


wics of fossils obtained from the Chalk of Western America by Pro- 
fawr Marsh. Aboii- covered in 

Ac Upper Chalk of Western K.insn This bud evidently resembled 
ouilirinjfdivew, and was duly christened Ifesperornit rtgaiis. Like 
living ostriches, emeus, and thi . this extinct bird pos- 

ed no keel on its breast-bone. It had the merest rudiments of 
wings; and certain reptile-like resemblances seen 
in its haunch.boncs made geologists naturally 
anxious for the realisation of their hopes in the 
discovery of a complete skeleton. In 1872 fresh 
discoveries rewarded the patienl and indefatigable 
search of Professor Marsh. Not only were the 
missing parts of the Hespcrornis duly obtained, 
but the remain* of another and still more remark- 
able species (fcMAjwrms 
;>■) of extinct buds 
were lught to light 

nis were found to possess 
teeth: the former (Fig n) 
having its curved teeth <») 
set in a common groove 
in the jaw-bones, whilst 
Ichlhyonus(Fig. is) makes 
a further advance towards 
l>erfcclion in dental ap- 
that its twenty or so teeth of eft h 
•we lodged in distinct sockets. The im- 
"fcooe of these fact* a on new 

like characters in birds may be 
N'u li?ing bi 
semblance of teeth, if we except the 
of the Merganser's bill. Prior 
s discoveries, no fossil bird was 
to have been provided with true teeth 
igh indeed, in certain bird-remains, described by Owen, from 
don clay (Eocene)"!' Shcppey, under the name of Odentoptayx 
the jaws were provided with bony projections. These pro- 
however, are not true teeth— which, as many reader 
not resemble bones, either in development or structure, being 
from the "gum" or lining membrane of the mouth, and not 

Ik. n 

Via. if. 



Tlu Genilematis Magazine. 

from cartilage, as true bones usually arc. Doubtless these pro} 
aided Odontoptcryx to catch its finny prey, as the homy 

of the Mergansers 
enable them to 
retain tbe foots 
}: ^*\ they so deiter- 

^ously apture 
One curious bird. 
(PAytptom\ ■ 
Pta .1 South Ameriaa 

Leaf-cutter, certainly possesses a double row of bony projection* on 
its palftte, Hut even this novel and unusual addition to the list i< 
possessions bears but .1 fatal resemblance to the bony teeth of Octal- 
opteryx, as these tatter in turn arc an entirely different and rcUmdj 
modern feature of the bird type, when comrx-ired with the true IK* 
of their " American Cousins " of the Western Chalk. 

The Ichthyornis, moreover, diminishes the distance bctwiit twfa 
and reptiles in yet another fashion— the joints of its spine (Fig. is.*) 
were concave at cither end (r), a conformation familiar to us in tbe joint! 
of the fish-backbone, utterly unknown in living birds, but eoonwa 
enough in reptiles. This character alone, in the eyes of the natural*, 
becomes invested with an importance hardly to be ovcr-cstimaud ■ 
regards its reptilian relationships ; and in Hc*peromis also, certJB 
features in addition t<> those already noted, show unmistakable nark* 
of affinity to the reptile type. The teeth of this latter bird, set,* 
already remarked, in a common groove, strongly remind one of * 
manner in which the teeth of certain lirards arc fixed in the p« 
Some of the teeth of this curious bird exhibit the manner in ■!■<* 
one series of teeth was replaced by another— for, as moss read* 
know, reptiles and fishes possess an unlimited supply and corrtinsd 
succession of teeth. The old teeth are ousted from their sofitf» 
by new teeth which arc developed at their bases, and in the jr* 1 
of Hesperornis such a manner of looth-formation, exactly imitttiaj 
a common reptilian mode of renewal, is to be plainly seen. Therf 
uf this great diver of the Chalk Seas was lastly, like that ti "* 
Archxopteryx of the Oolite epoch, very different from the caw 
appendage of existing and of other fossil birds. At its middle *»» 
under parts the joints of the tail present long projections of lattewl 
shape, which strongly suggest the idea of the tail having been a ng« 
unyielding member in so far as a side movement was concerned, M» 
like that of the beaver, being probably mobile in a vertical directttV 
and being thus of use in the diving movements of its possessor. Tht 

Missing Links. 


t joint* of the tail were touted together, but in -.: fashion different 

ithtt in which the "ploughshare- bone" of living birds is formed. 

Inso far as the birds themselves have rendered an account of their 

P*S history, it is clearly seen that their affinities to reptiles] tocome very 

«nnglr marked in various directions, • apti ully in the structure of the 

?i«,and in the possession of true teeth. Ichthyomis, in the mutter 

ollowcd spinc-boncs (Kig. 1?, R, (), and in that of its socket- 

aiplintcd teeth, is a more modified and more truly rejitilc-likc bird 

•fcs Htsperornis. This fetter again approaches much ne a rer rept i les 

*»o Odontoptcryx (Fig. ij) of the London Clay, which latter, as 

nts its nearer approach to the existing order of affairs, presents 

1 marked relationship with ■ the dragons of the prime." 

But what evidence, we may lastly ask, do the reptiles afford on 

rside of any tendency towards the bird type? Have the reptiles 

ncd as passive to advance and evolution, as they would appeal 

first sight to remain to day : or does their history but repeat the 

land variations exhibited by their bird-neighbours? Let the 

of the reptile -class in the past answer these emeries. A con- 

: number of fossil n ptiles are ranked to form a distinct unlet 

lion, marked bjr various near approaches to the structure of 

A single example of this curious group will suffice to show 

ncdiatc nature of its included Conns. Once again the Litho- 

: Slates of Solcnhofen yield a rich reward to geological invtttb 

n, and present us this time with the fossil skeleton of an animal, 

in the flesh attained a length of 
I two feet. This is the Cmfsognat/mt 
ibe geologist — a lon^-nccked 
sing a small head, the j 
, however, were armed with teeth. 
:-limbs were short, its hind-limbs 
(long and bird-like. Like that of birds, 
) bone (Fig. 15,11,/r) is shorter than 
[•bone. As in bird- (Fig. 15 a), die 
raalf of the ankle bone (Fig. 15 \\,as, 
nites with the lower put of the leg ; 
tthe lower half of the ankle (id) was not, 
1 birds, united with the instep-boaes l or 
, which are three ( i* a, 3, 4) in 
3, long and slender, to support the 
nd, third, and fourth toes. A mere trace 
: instep-bone of the fifth toe exists, and the first or great toe is 
1 sue. Looking at the structure of Compsognathus, little or no 


The GmtlematCs Magazine. 

doubt can be entertained that this reptile was capable of resting 
its hind-limbs, in bird like fashion, and of walking, or hopping, 
the fashion of the feathered bipeds, to which indeed, by a use ol 

imagination, sit idly scientific, we may regard this re] 
due time give !i is unquestionably to the -truthiousl 

thai Is, to the ostriches and th that this eptfie 

the closest r. , , and a comparative glance at the hind 

extremities of the ■ bird, and its reptilian neighbour, 

suffice to show the marked resemblances and gradation which i 
'■«■■■;. .in.i at : rime distinguish, this curious series of 

The Compsognathus-limb stands intermediate betwixt 

1 5 c) and the bird (a) ; and, strictly judged, is corop 
Beady to that of the unborn chick. A glance at Fig. 15, En l 
the hind-limbs of the bird (a) Compsognathus and its allies 1 
and the crocodile (c) arc rcprcsc- 

nesxes, and differences which exist between the three groups, 
"dragons of the prime," known as Igiianodon ami 
from the Chalk and (' near relations of 1 

And when we think of I 

length of from forty to ud of the probability il 

their diminutive neighbour, they may have walked on two Ic 
origin of the giant footprints (Figs. S and y) of the Tri 
stones would appear to present ial difficulties in the 1 

of satisfactory solution. 

ntion must here be made of 1 us Pu-roda-. 

extinct reptile* of the Lias, Oolite, and Chalk, in which a wing-in 

Aiming Li tils. 


I or fold of tkn 1 m bats, wretched from an 

outer ami enormously elongated finger of each hand to the forc-Iimb, 
ndo of the body and hind limbs, U n the I and 

Bll. By aid of this ibmne these lil 

mart lave winged their • ugh the mi with and speed. 

bird (Fi| their 

bird like, and tin irbone-s, as in birds, were hollow 

^""Wereii ir in place of marrow. The I'terodactyl-brain 

* M « but the hind limbs and pelvis wet 

^tand unlike those of i: ig dragons possessed 

P*°*iocnt ;aws, usually furnished with gockcujmphntcd teeth. The 
t **od»ctyls are thus not markedly bitd-lik -ense. T 

&° not lie in the direct line or scries of links between bird-, and rep- 
&*,\. .1 bird-like but indepeadeni 

^ lie rqmlian branch. In any \ ten ol 
*We 1 lainly and forcibly the modification of the reptiban 

it requires 
jhiloeophy I the belii lodificatkmjnu 

direction, and certainly at an appearani 

lifted biro li our 

ting omitholag 

1 the endeavour to describe 
1 whi' cir anomalous str; 

ig forms, ntion of such fishes as 

md Ctrtst ■ Ivcreaftcr de sci ibed) linking their 1 

ibians ; or of such a quadruped as the 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

Ornithorhynchu: niu ■ Duck-billed Water Mole" of Australia)* 
its bird like skeleton and other structures of avian nature, 
to the naturalist the idea that such anomalies arc after all only to tx 
accounted for by a theory of nature which postulates the necessity foi 
" links "' binding together groups at first sight of widely varied kind. 
Summit^ up the results of this rather ill investigation in 

search of "missing links," what maybe regarded as the results of oar 
labours ? and to which side dots the weight of evidence lead ?— W> 
evolution and modification «s the parent of all that is in living nature, 
or to rigidity and fixity of type and form as the rule ami way of lire 
at large ? Judged by a very ordinary standard of value, the evidace 
II overwhelming in favour of the former vie*. The J 
demand for "missing links," as necessary features of the twtt 
iionist's scheme ol c ration, is not left unanswered where 
il shown for the production of these connections between the lifetf 
the past and thai of (he present There is neither wUdnen 

absurdity in the idOS thai the bird-stock began in animals re 
Compsognatbus and its rs, and that through modified 

forms — most nearly resembling the lu 

the further and higher developmenl of our existing bird-life 1 
gradually evolved. The exact stages of such developrm 
unable to picture. The sketch is as yet in meagre outline; but I 
outlines foreshadow tolerably well the actual details of the 
work. And what is true of the relations between rcptdes and I 
or of those between the various races of crocodiles — which, I 
important to note, living and extinct, are bound together in a I 
almost as graduated and complete as are the In their 

genitors -what is true of the connecting links betwixt iniadruptdl^ 
to-day appear distinct and separate, must by c .tion, i 

of logic and common sense, be held to apply with equal force I 
entire world ol animal and plant life. There is no law ol 
for one group, and of special creation for anoil lormit; 

sequence exist wholly, or not at all. "II licsof i 

says Huxley, " has come in) • the operation | 

.. it seems folly to deny may have arisen in 

way." On this view we obtain new and higher ideas of that i 
creation which evolution was long thought to destroy— a 
nature which it onl, rate anew and more for 

whether in picturing for us the di •■ leaf," 

fashioning out thoughts to behold the unfolding of a wui 




y Stale in the American Union has a law against carrying 
concealed wea|>ons, and every pair of pants manufactured 
from Maine to California, and from the lakes to the Mexican Gulf, 
has a pistol pocket. A rowdy Fletcher of S.Utoun (if such ft phe- 
nomenon could be) might My, " 1 Can not who makes a nation's 
laws, so that I may order its trousers.'* Buy those indispensable 
articles of attire ready made, and you arc sure to find on the right 
hip — where it is hidden by the skirt of your coat, but ready for your 
hand — a deep, narrow pocket, for ycur pislei. Get the garment made 
to order, and unless you arc more than ordinarily emphatic in your 
directions to the contrary, you will find a pistol-pocket when the 
e* come home. If you be a stranger, you will see no necessity 
to forbid this arrangement — if you be to the manner born, you will 
accept it. Do people carry pistols because they have pistol pockets ? 
Upon my word I think nine-tenths of them do. Nature abhors a 
vacuum, and there is this extra reason. The Constitution of the 
United States provides that every citizen may carry arms for self- 
defence, but the majority is ashamed (and the shame is a creditable 
one) to carry them openly. The laws against carrying concealed 
weapons are administered in ft half-hearted manner. They have a 
smack of unconstitutionality, therefore society revolts against their 
enforcement. The police cannot arrest a whole city full of delin- 
quents. District attorneys have a fellow feeling (just over the rif;ht 
hip) which makes them lenient. Juries will not convict their fellow 
men for doing what they habitually do themselves. I verily believe 
if the law were changed, and it were made a crime to have a 
pistol fetJut, we should get on a great deal better. There is nothing 
in the Constitution of the United States about pockets! Any 
Legislature could KW up every slit in every pair of pants without 
infringing even the fifteenth amendment. 

Throughout! I xal literature is sold are 

public loafing-nclds. In this respect they arc pretty much what the 

old second-hand bookstalls in EogSttd used to be — and may be now, 

knows. You can go in and read and turn over 

toj. ccxtv. no. 1785. v 


The Gentletnarii Magazine. 

volume after volume, and look at the pictures, and no one asks youan 
what you want to buy, or, indeed, if you arc going to buy anything 
at all. The illustrated periodical literature of America is extensive., 
various, and, in point of manner, exceedingly well got ' '"IT 

high and low alike, the drawing and the woodcuts which multiply it 
are far ahead of what we have at home. There is no Ixmdon maga- 
zine that can compete for die beauty and elegance of its vignette* 
and other engravings with Harptr's and Stribntr's ; but when wr 
come to the less respectable journals, the pre-eminence b m 
whelming, and the moral reflection thereupon most lamentable. In- 
stead of the badly drawn, bleared, blotchy abominations which you 
may sec — 1 hope, only through the shop windows — in your publica- 
tions of the " Police Gazette " and " Fast life " order, we have 
things quite as abominable, but designed in faultless draughtsman 
and perfectly rendered on the wood— large, dear, full Ol and 

abomination. And in seventy-five per cent of them there u the 
pistol in full action I Kven in the sheets especially directed to boys 
and girls, you will find battle, murder, and sudden death raging. 
Last week I noticed a story in one of these, the date of which 
laid in the times of Charles II. of England. The costumes were 
accordance with the epoch, but t/urt had to bt a tr.vivtr in it. 
went to his desk and drew a revolver," is the letterpress under an 
illustration of two gentlemen in the conventional cavalier dress, 
were unfortunately involved in a "difficulty." 

In the unillustratcd press, when diffn our own time are 

recorded, you read that " Mr. A. then drev " or thai 

" made as though he were going to draw his pistol" or " a < 
opon tltis, handed Mr. C his pistol" — as though such a weapon were 
part of a gentleman's usual attire, like a pocket-handkerchief, or a 
natural adjunct thereto, such as a watch or an eyeglass. Yon also 
read that Officer X. found certain dangerous and w 
at Umj comer of 1 1 1 1U1 and Coco Nutt Streets, and on their {riving 
him leg-bail " fired several shots at diem ; " or that a pickpocket ran 
away down such-and-such an avenue " pursued by a policeman and 
some cituens, who fired several shots ai it " our esteemed 

and high-toned fellow-townsman Mr. D., awakened by the scream* of 
his poultry. coloured man getting over the fence 

several shots at I a k<y 

of escaping from c the pun law 

at a few months' imprison But this is Dot 

suspicious and dangt 

very rarely hurt— a respcctublu rnci 

The Pistol in America. 


home after his day's work, or a servant girl who opens the window to 
sec what is the matter, are the usual sufferers. This accustoms the 
people to ihooti 

It is very seldom lh:i: newspaper gives a dry and 

verbatim account of an ordinary criminal trial, but they rejoice in 
comic law reports. Two— the Dtlroit Frtt Prat and the Danbury 
News — have made themselves famous and rich by turning the ad- 
ration of justice into ridicule. Others follow suit by such items 
as these, the raw material for which is gathered up by the re; 
from the books of the police stations. " Annie D — , having reason 
to believe that the affections ol lu I -■••vain were in peril owing to the 
fascinations of Amelia PI, sailed into that damsel with a hatchet, for 
which amusement she was walued into the Third " (meaning the link- 
up of the Third District) ; or " Washington P. I', (coloured) 
game of cards with Jell'erson Davis G., and desiring a new deal. 
tor it with a white-handled razor, with which he badly carved his 
adversary's face. Me now languishes in the 1 subsequent 

trial is never reported. It might not be funny, you KG The public 
does nc. care towatch bowita I.; •,-.-.; .ire administered. It is only when 
•Otoe clergyman is involved in a scandal, or some infamous woman 
u suddenly arrested in hex long and well-known career, that interest 
in legal proceedings is shown. Then the most trilling details are 
seized upon, droscd up, and spiced by the press, and eagerly read 
by the public Then the enterprising journal not only prints the 
nee verbatim, but describes the dress of the witnesses ; gives us 
a sketch of their birth, parentage, and education : tells ai how the 
Iioom: of the defendant (or prisoner) is furnished and by whom, and 
what it cost, and how many cigars the jud, a day, and of 

whom he buys them, and where his sister's children are at school. 
In the grcil American drama the Gospel of the Pistol is cxtcn- 
ly preached. Mere the moral is pointed with revolvers, and the 
tale adorned with the bowie-l> 

C curtain comes down upon a free fight, and shooting all round 
at the conclusion of every act but the last, and that ends without 
gunpowder smoke simply because virtue is triumphant, the hero his 
been shot as much as is convenient, and there arc no more bad people 
to kill. This sort of thing goes round the country, north and south, 
east and west, and round and round again. I have, in my mind's eye a 
"great American drama " which has been going round and round in 
this way for six years. If the | '.»ould not 

ran a week anyv. hething— not Thcrewas 

s great American drama here (whete I write) last month, and W$a 


324 Tfo Gentleman's Magazine. 

posters, illustrating its most attractive scenes, may still be found on 
our dead walls and hoardings. Six " situations " are grouped around 
a smirking portrait of the great American 
tittt rUt, as he appears fresh from the barber's hands, and in these 
half-dozen cuts there arc tltrtn piitds, all on active service. He also 
is going round and round and round rcvolv(cr)ing. 

The law bearing upon homicide in self-defence i* founded upon 
our own, but has been emasculated by judicial decisions made in 
unsettled places, in wild times, and for lawless people— by which I 
mean people who had not organised systems for the prevention and 
punishment of crime, to which they had surrendered the rights of 
ncc and self-assertion. The broad rule is that "a person 
hiring reasonable apprehension of peat jiersonal violence involving 
imminent peril to life or limb, may protect himself even at the 
expense of hi nt's life, if necessary." It mutt appear that 

the slayer had no other possible or at least probable means of 
escaping, and that his act was one of necessity. And this is sound 
enough, but it will be readily understood that there will be wide 
differences of opinion in so wide a CO 10 what circumstances 

may create reasonable apprehension of great personal violence. For 
example, if in New York two merchants have a md use 

warm language, and one of them put 
supposed Uiat he is seeking 
probably be no bloodshed. But should tl 
in New Orleans 'he Other man would instantly draw hi 
shoot. It is the CQStOm ntry to g md 

to inllic! trivial affront, or foe perhaps wlut was 

intended as an affront at all, and so the 
of " great personal violence." 

A recently published biography of a Carolina family known as the 
"fighting Alstons," whose n iberawcre 

," sounds a keynote whii more or ! t 

out the South. The Alstons arc ! to us as types 0/ - 

and patterns of all that high toned gentlemen sho 

••upon a time one of th, 
I a person 
who apologised CO r« 


U full of men who. if tl 

<dcd, would not apologise for . 

The Pistol in America. 325 

bought afraid would seal their lips. They would rather be taken 

Vasmdj than run the risk of having their manhood tarnished l>y a 

fank apology. This fighting Alston was afraid that some one might 

•tytocreaftcr. "He has been struck with a whip, and the striker lives ! " 

This particular trouble was settled, according to •' the code," in cold 

Hood; but the South is full of men who would not endure the delays 

> through the preliminaries of the regular duel. The " difficulty " 

I pass into the gunpowder stage there ami then. 

last fighting Alston was in all respects a gentleman. He 

bttw not fear, but shrank from bloodshed and hoped to die with his 

ion. Chairman of a committee Appointed by the Legislature of 

■ to investigate the condition of its Penitentiary, lie showed the 

I and courage of his heart by making a report in the interests 

wetched felons consigned to forced labour in that institution ; 

1 doing so he had to blame a political ally (one of its far;. 

» Mr. Cos. It is not every Southern politician who would do an act 

litUe to " hurt the party, - ' out of pure benevolence to a set of 

*elc*cs who have not even a vote. Now, this report was cither 

•at, partly true, or false. Reason would say to the inculpated, 

"Set yourself right with your friends and neighbours by showing that 

J<w art slandered, and llien punish the slanderer." Chivalry, as it is 

ndentoed in the South, will have nothing to do with argument. 

Soctcbody must be killed, and then it is all right. Mr. Cox wrote to 

Vr. Alston that he would kill him if he came to Atlanta. Thus 

dnttcnged, of course he went there, and after a good deal of shooting 

04e treasurer's yffice in the State House he was killed. I have 

ftljct heard what effect this has had upon the treatment of convicts 

• the Penitentiary. The Sooth is full of men who think that, as their 

abootc has been shot because he was their advocate, there is no 

for further trouble in the premises. 

Tie idea that every' sort of affront is to be washed out with 

appears to take root at a very early age. When Southern 

boys quarrel, you never hear the formula so common clsc- 

-" I'll punch your head," or "I'll go and tell my mar:" "I'll rip 

I up," or " I'll plug (put a ball into) you," is the threat, and it must 

be taken as an idle one. I .ast week 1 read of a coloured boy, 

•jed eleven, who went home welling with rage under some affront, 

*d confided to his sister, aged thirteen, his intention of hitting the 

•eject of his wrath with a brick .is Boon as might be. She recom- 

"leaded shooting a£ preferable, and their father's gun being at hand, 

«ad loaded, it was placed in position on the window sill, and fired at 

fte enemy as he passed. 

326 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

In the sober state of Massachusetts, in the proper city of Boston, 
a child quarrelled with another child, went home for his father's 
pistol, returned with it, and deliberately killed his playfellow. 

With such a spirit abroad, it is natural that angry people should not 
trust each other. I believe that in the days of chivalry a knight who 
struck his foe before he had time todraw was deemed guilty of a " felon 
blow," for which, even if it were not fatal, he was liable to lose his 
spurs and his right hand at the gallows. The pistol knows do men 
courtesy. " Fire first and fire low "is the order of the day. Mi. A. 
and Mr. B., old schoolmates and partners in business, had a dispute 
about money matters, and said A., " If that's your idea of business, 
it isn't mine." In saying this he raised his hands as though to put 
his thumbs in the arm holes of his waistcoat, whereujwn B. shot and 
I: ill" I him. B. was tried for murder and acquitted. He was, so the 
jury thought, in reasonable apprehension of great personal violence. 
He had been so for many years, as he proved in his defence that be 
always carried loaded Derringers. 

C. and D. , both youths under age, had a difficulty on the door- 
steps of the tatter's house. IX, threatened with personal chastise- 
ment, ran into the hall and came back armed with a cane. C drew 
•ol, took steady aim, and blew I. out. He, too, was 

acquitted. If anyone had told him the day before that he would 
ever, under any circumstances, profess him id of a cane, he 

would probably have called him out for such an insult to his manhood. 
But he pleaded his fear before a jury, and it saved him. 

The safety of the person under apprehension of great personal vio- 
lence is, it appears, to be assured not only at the expense of the life of 
h« assailant, but at the risk of bystanders and all others within range. 

Magazine Street is one of the principal wholesale business 
thoroughfares in New Orleans. The foot pavement is thronged with 
receiving goods, clerks despatching goods, i rking 

goods, country customers looking after sales, making purchases, got- 
: draymen and mules at their chronic differences ; drummers 
(bagmen), loafers, and the inevitable street i More- 

over, down Magazine Street runs a car track by w* 
children from the most fashionable part of the cky nuke their way to 
the happy hunting grounds of Canal Street— the Vanity Fair of the 
Crescent City. Well, close to and Magarine 

Streets, and consequently where th 
upon Mr. F. on a B i| business. They each hav 

A an ear, of course, and— at naturally— a pistol in the usual 
flank pocket. " Call on a man of business at his place of bwRDtas 

The Pistol in America. 327 

in the hours of business," &c &c, is all very well so far as it goes, 
but " take your pistol with you ■ appears to be a proper addition in 
this civilisation. 

1 settle that business with Mr. F., so he slaps his face, 
and then they "open fire" (as the papers have it) — F. from his store, 
under cover of a breastwork of boxes, E. from the open ban- 
quette. According to one account, these tactics do not suit E. He 
thinks the crowded street is the proper battlefield, and, " Come out, 
you coward," R appears to have aecqited the invitation, 

for he is shot down on the sidewalk whilst in the act of firing his 
fourth discharge. Two other balls ping into a gutter pipe and plough 
up a case within a few inches of the head of a respected citizen 
seated in tl>c doorway of his store opposite. This one member of 
the local press publishes as a "duel" and it may be taken as a sample 
case in all but one particular. Usually the belligerents don't hurt 
each other, but some innocent passer-by — an old woman selling pea- 
nuts, or a newspaper boy shouting "Picayune! Timet/— full account 
of the murder of yesterday," receive the errant lead. Mr. E. has been 
honourably acquitted I 

On Mardi Gras, in an equally thronged locality, there was another 
fusiladc. and again a principal was killed, but not until a peaceable 
doctor had got a shot through his foot This is certainly an im- 
provement ; for if people must go shooting in the street, it is as well 
that they should shoot each other. Some time ago, two young 
persons in the l>est society, having had the misfortune to fall out, 
chose the staircase of the Opera House as the place, and tntr'ad* — 
when there were plenty of people coming up and down — as the 
time, for using their pistol,. Wonderful to relate, no one was hurt 
More wonderful still, the majesty of the law was satisfied with a fine 
of ten dollars. 

In to-day's newspaper 1 find a paragraph headed "A Brave 
Action.*' It relates how some boys jeered at a carter, whereupon lie 
drew " his pistol " and fired into the crowd. He did not kill or 
wound anyone, and so nothing will be done to him, although it is 
an offence to discharge firearms within the city limits. In your poor 
! wom-out country he would probably go to the assizes for shooting 
with intent to do grievous bodily harm. 

It must not be supposed that the reckless use of the pistol is 
confined to the South. This section of the country has, indeed, an 
enviable notoriety in the premises, but does not by any means enjoy 
a monopoly. 

At the once decorous University of Princeton, where young 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

gentlemen arc educated for the ministry in the Presbyterian Ch 
there was trouble between the Sophomore and Freshman 
arising out of what is called " hazing " (Anglic*, bullying). 
soon got into the pistol stage, and a Sophomore was killed 
friend of the slayer thus deposed at the coroner'* inquest: 
advised him (the slayer) to cut the lining out of his pocket, to 
his pistol there, cocked, in his right hand, and to slap •— { 
slain) with his left." In other words, one fully armed and n 
and seeking life, was to provoke a gesture which might give 
thereafter the excuse of pretending that he thought himself in 
Having provoked anger, he was to profit by the provocation and k 
I cannot imagine anything more dastardly ; but the witness had 
brought up in another school. He is said to have told his 
glibly, and without the slightest sense of shame. I do not 
that either of these promising youths has been convicted of 
There certainly has not been any hanging : and here it has to 
admitted thai they do hang for murder in the North, live 
being that most of the homicide there is of an unemotional 
In the South the execution of a white man is very' rare for the 
cause. Dove la Donnal is usually the first question to be asked 

When this Mtrrima tatua belli docs not exist, another fertile eai 
of strife— /W/V/in — supplies the quarrel and pulls the 
Whisky also is a prolific producer of difficulties, and here again 
Prest and the Stage hasten to glorify the drunkard. Drub 
to the American funny writer what breaches of the Seventh 
mandmeni are to a French caricaturist. Nine-tenths of the 
law reports above mentioned turn upon drink. The accused 
drunk, or the judge, or the principal witness, and the honours 
always scored to the holder of the most liquor. 'l"hc other night 
saw a burlesque on //.M.S. /'ina/ere, the fun in which 
of making Sir J. I'ortcr, K.C.H., a drunken German, and in 
several uUu.iens to drinking and being drunk. The beery 
Lord gets sea-sick, and instead of seeking the solace which his 
grants, he goes through all the motions over the taffraiL This 
anement upon Mr. Gilbert's arrangement was greeted with shouts 
applause, and I am told that the version, of which it is one of 
gems, is much better than the original. 

Refusing to drink with even a casual acquaintance is an a 
for which pistols are commonly drawn, and in many cities I 
name no commercial transaction is complete without a drink 
tween the parties- They go to a bar as though it were a notari- 
office, and the bargain is sealed with whisky. Under these co 

The Pistol in America. 


tiora one may be unsteady in the public street at midday without 
any detriment to tal or professional position ; and conse- 

quently when such unsteadiness leads to the use of pistols it is not 
considered that raw offences have been committed, but, on the con. 
trai 10 harm has been done. The argument runs somewhat 

"He was tight" — " he shot because he was tight"— he 
bad a right to be "tight" — trgff, "he had a right to shoot." 

One of tbc excuses usually given for carrying concealed weapons 
; -icncyof the police ; and the common justification offered 
for violent self-assertion is the difficulty, amounting often to impos- 
sibility, of obtaining legal redress for personal wrongs. A case of 
assault, which in England would be disposed of the next morning 
before a police magistrate, would in most of the States drag over a 
week in its preliminary stage, be sent to a jury, and if the ixuiies 
(or either of them) were well off, two or three trials might be had, 

S"d a year be wasted before a final verdict could be arrived :it. There 
indications abroad the American people arc becoming dis- 
sfied with the manner in which tlu-ir criminal law is administered, 
D this dissatisfaction iroin causes too numerous to be dis. 

cussed at the end of an article. There arc also indications abroad 
that they arc getting tired of the pistol as an article of dress. In 
* Orleans a City Ordinance has been passed, under which every 
man visiting a place of public resort must submit to be searched for 
concealed weapons by the police. At a recent third-rate public ball 
nintty-lhrte deadly wcaj>ons were taken care of under this enactment ! 
I n the Slate of Georgia an almost prohibitory licence tax is imposed 
upon the vendors of pocket instruments of destruction by lire or 
slecL The cry all over the South and West is. fof severe* laws and 
firmer judges. This, I think, is a mistake. When society has not 
made up its mind to consider an action a* odious, severity of the 
law merely leads to evasion of justice. When you hanged for sheep- 
stealing, juries would not convict. Of two evils, they preferred 
perjury to what they thought was murder. 

icty must be educated upon this subject, beginning at the 

Kj A* soon as the man who calls himself a gentleman is taught 
1 nil tire- low" is the act of a coward, and to 
rrel places the mark of a ruffian, the common rowdy can 

l»c very lit with, l-ct it once be considered " bad tone" to 

carry a pistol, and the end is near. 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 


Part II. 

BUT if for a moment we may fancy that here and there we have 
caught such an echo of Marlowe as may have (alien from the 
lips of Shakespeare in his salad days, in his period of poetic pupilage, 
we have but a very little way to go forward before we come upon 
.putable proof that the pupil was one of feebler hand and fainter 
voice than Shakesj>e.ire. Let us take the passage on poetry, be- 

Now, Lodowick, inrocatc • some golden Mote 
To bring thee hither >n enchuiied pea ; 

and so forth. No scholar in English poetry but will recognise M 
once the flat and futile imitation of Marlowe; not of his great 
general style alone, but of one special and transcendent passage 
which can never be too often quoted : — 

I f all the pens (hat ever poets held 
Had fed the feeling of their masters' thoughts. 
And every sweetness that inspired Iheir hearts. 
Their minds, and mates on admired themes ; 
If all the heavenly quaWaesenee they <iill 
From their jnunoctsl nower* of poor. 
Wherein, as in a mirror, we perceive 
The highest reaches of ■ human wit ; 
If these had made one poem's period. 
And all combined in beauty's worthiness, 
Yet Oii.uM there hover in their test less heads 
One thought, one grace, one wonder, at the least, 
Which Into wot e can digest, « 

Infinite as is the distance between the long roll of these mighty 
lines and the thin tinkle of their feeble imitator'*, yet we cannot 

1 A ]>rc' Shakespearean woid, and proper to the academic « In- > W 

• T)u h, ■ r*mi*,!„i*r ttu Crmt, Act , 

The Historical Play of King Edward III. 33 1 

but catch the ineffectual note of a would-be echo in the 
of the King to his parasite — 

For so mocb inuring hath a poet's pen, etc. etc. 

It is really not worth while to transcribe the poor meagre versicles 
at length : but :i glance at the text will show how much fitter was 
their author to continue the tradition of Peek than to emulate the 
innovations of Marlowe- In the speeches that follow there is much 
pretty verbiage alter the gcncTal manner of EUxabethon sonncttcers, 
touched here and there with something of a higher tone ; but the 
whole scene drags, flags, halt* onward at such a languid rate, that to 
pick out all the prettiest lines by way of sample would give a favour- 
able impression but too likely to be reversed on further and fuller 

How henn-iick. and ho* fall "i" tagaWtmeflt, 

Her beauty makes me 

Write on, while I peruse her in my thoughts. 

Her toiea to music, or the nightingale ; 
"•r-lcapmg n 

Comparr. Ui mnbura ka ; 

And why should I ipesJc .if ili<- Dl 

The nightingale sings of adulterate wrong ; 
ircd, is too satirical : 

1 it 11 . though tin, would not he so esteemed ; 

But t..' it -. irtnc deemed. 

.lir, fir softer than the silkworm's twi-i, 
ai a flattering gttta, 1 tWn make more fair 
tJU tk r i iti glut 

Comes in too soon . for, « r t' ing of her eyes. 

1 No Shun Shakespearean Society will ymtliw tlii- (ftigbl "I 

evidence here supplied for iclcniity o( authorship between the two cemtcraporary 
plays of h'ing Edx-arJ ///. am! King KiiktrJ //. Compare the Identity of 
phrase — and of a phrase so remarkably important, so daringly original between 
this passage and one fa enc (Act iv. Scene i.) of the latter play, pub- 

lished two years later (1598) than thii on which wc arc engaged. 

O fiatUrmg {If 11, 
Lit r- -.JMrrity. 

Than dou. beguile m 

Crsotd any loul want further witness In support of his theory t or any dunce 
(Xsstpus— Swellfoot the Swaggerer — misbegotten by impudence her bad Ml M 
Ignorance hb mother l«e Carl) lc) -hesitate to claim is his meed the crown of 
thistles due a* fodder to the gullet Of ai garl the ears of the 

foundling who after tssaoy days was thus to read ihe riddle of the Sham 
1 Spl 



in >li.ikc- 

332 The Gentleman s Magazine. 

I'll jay like a gb» ifcey catch the »un. 
And thence the hoi rcrVeti. 
Agaitut my breast, aoJ burns the heart wrthio, 
Ab, what a world of <lev:ant makes my »oul 
'iry ground of >■■■ 

"Pretty enough, very pretty ! but "exactly as like and as near the 
style of Shakespeare's early plays 3S is • of Constable's 

sonnets to of Shakespeare's. Unless fen to the 

Master every unaccredited song, sonm I 

farce of his period, which bears the same marks laic— 

a date, like our own, of too prolific and imitative prod as we 

find inscribed on the greater pan of his own early work; unless we 
arc to carry even as far as this the audacity and nrrogancc of our 
TO, we must somewhere make a halt — an be on the 

near side of such an attribution as that of A ■'//. to the 

hand of Sliakcspeare, 

With the disappearance of the apand the entrain 

the unsuspecting Countess, the style rise* yet again — and really, thin 

time, much to the author's credit- It would need a 

from a rerj powerful band to improve on d 

of the prelude or OYi >wal of adulterous love. 

Hut when all is said, though rout, il « 

not forcible work ; I dn not mean by fori ible 

spasmodic, emphatic beyond the modesty of a is of 

course only to be commended, and that heartily, for 

• uind ; but he is not to be commended for coming 
This whole scene is full of mild and I 'I yet 

earnest simplicity : but the note of it, the expression, the dominant 
key of the style, is less appropriate to the i p and 

dcadl;, it —of what modern tongues might 

call a strong and rather dangerous flirtation. Passion, so 
ii quite out of thi-. ■niter's call ; the depths and heights of snai 
(if womanly emotion are alike beyond his reach. 

Thought aad affliction, r»- 

He HUM to favour and lo |wctlinc»a. 

1 favour and to prcttin 

complete and 

work whir i : from a S' 

style of ancient pastoral. 

The Historical Play of King Edward III. 333 

E4iKirJ. Thou hcar'st me say that 1 do dote on thee. 

Cttmlas. If on my beauty, take U If the* C4I 
Though little, I do it!.-. ten !:«:•■■ |0M| 
If on my tirtue, take it if il 
POT virtue** store by giving doth augment ; 

: mi what it vill that I can give 
And Ifcofl canst Mice away, inherit it. 

EJusf •■ benttv- thai I would enjoy. 

Om u U I, I would wipe it ofT, 

And dispossess myself to give it thee : 
But, sovereign, it is soldefed to my Q( 
Take one and loth ; for like an humble shadow 
It haunt* the sun»hinc <<t my summer's lifr. 

£'' lend it me to sport withal. 

Ow- intellectual soul 

lie lent away, and yet my body II 
A* lend my body, palace to my 
Away from her, and yet rclain my soul. 

My body il htl bower, be* rt, her abbey. 

And the an angel, pure, divine, Iffitpol 
If I riwuM b id I • thee, 

I ay poor soul, and nt) mc. 

Once more, this last couplet is very much in the style of Shake- 
speare it wholly unlike even the dramatic style of 
Shakcspe- -and some doien other poets or poeticules 
of the time. lhit throughout this port of the play the recurrence of 
a faint and intermittent resemblance to SI in is none frc- 
blc than elsewhere,' A student of Lmporfei I memory 
live intuition might pardonably assign such COO] 
ID cited, to the md itself; but such a .student 
would be likcikf to refer ihera to the sonncttcer than to the dram.-m it 
And a casual likeness to the style of Shakespeare's sonnets is not 
exactly sufficient evidence to warrant such an otherwise unwarrant- 
able addition or appendage to the list of Shakes; 'ays. 

A little further on we ( in the first ..:id l.-i-i passage wlii< h 

does actually recaU by its wording a famous instance of the full and 
ripened style of Shakespeare. 

di clip or counterfeit yonr stamp 

h jh treason ' 
np his image in forbi.i 


In violating marriage' sacred law 

may he worth a remark that the word /Vuvr b constantly used as a 
dteyllablc > another note oi archaic debility or lust*! (Juicy in uictrc. 

334 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

You break a great** bonosr than yourself j 
To lie a king U of a younger haute 
Than to be married : your progenitor. 
Sole reigning Adam on the uoivene. 
By Cod vac honoured for a married man, 
Hut not 1 ■■■ '■ r a ting. 

Ever)- possible reader, I suppose, will at once bethink himself of 
the famous passage in Measure for Measure which here may seem to 

be faintly prefigured : 

It were o» good 
To pardon him that hath from nature stolen 
A nun already made, a> to remit 
Their uucy aweetnen, that do coin heaven'' image 
In stamp* that arc fori 

and the very difference nf style is not wid hicJi gapes 

between the first style of Shakespeare and the last. But men of 
Shakespeare's stamp, I venture to think, do not thus repeat them- 
selves. The echo of the passage in A Midsum ft Dream, 
describing the girlish friendship of Hcrmia and Helena, which m find 
in die first act of The Two NoNe Kinsmen, describing the like girlish 
friendship of Emilia and Flavina, is an echo of another sort Both, 
I need hardly say, arc unquestionably Shakespeare's ; but the fashion 
in which the matured poet retouches and completes the sketch of his 
earlier years — composes an oil painting, as it were, from the hints and 
suggestions of a water-colour sketch long since designed an J 
since half forgotten — is essentially different from the mere verbal and 
literal trick of repetition which sciolists might think to detect in the 
present instance. Again we must needs fall back on the inevitable 
and indefinable test of style ; a test which could be of no avail if we 
were foolish enough to appeal to scholiasts attendant 
dunces, but which should be of some avail if we appeal to experts 
and their attentive sch' 

that neither the passage in . imer Nighfs Dream n. 

corre-i .usage in Tkt : -If Kinsmen could have been 

written by I known to us but Shakespeare's ; whereas the 

passage in King Edward ///. might as certainly ha*c l>cen written 
by any one out of a dozen poets ibi wcring passage 

in Measure /or Measure could assuredly have been wi -hake- 

spcarc alone. 

As on a first reading of the . we feel that, 

for all the grace and 
the claim of the poem to oui 
needs depend on the success or failure of the first interview between 

Tfu Historical Play of King Edward III. 335 

Theseus and his calumniated son ; and as 00 finding that scene to be 
fctble aod futile and prosaic and verbose we feel that the poet who 
tod a woman's spite against women has here effectually and finally 
shown himself powerless to handle the simplest elements of masculine 
Juhoq, of manly character and instinct ; so in this less important 
ax we fed that the writer, having ventured on such a subject as the 
ecnpulscry temptation of a daughter by a father, who has been en- 
topped into so shameful an undertaking through the treacherous 
euction of an equivocal promise unwarily confirmed by an incon- 
oath, must be judged by the result of his own enterprise; 
nil or stand as a poet by its failure or success. And his failure 
only not complete; he is but just redeemed from utter discomfiture 
the fluency and simplicity of his equable but inadequate style. 
Here as before we find plentiful examples of the gracefully conven- 
tual tone current among the lesser writers of the hour. 

Wttni'itk. 1 low shall I enter on this graceless errand ? 
I roust not call her child ; for where'* the father 
That will in such a wit seduce his child t 
Then. Wife of .SaHilmry, — shall I so begin? 
No, he's my friend ; fad IfbWt ia found the friend 
That will .!•■ Iru-inWiip mu-Ii rmiaiii.-igcmcnt ? ' 
Nei'.hrr my daughter, nor my deft! frknd'l (rife, 
I am not SVarwiclc, as thou think' it I am. 
Bat on attorney from the court of hell ; 
That thus have housed my spirit in his form 
To do a message to thee from the king. 

This beginning is fair enough, if not specially fruitful in promise ; 
tot lie verses following are of the flattest order of commonplace. 
■l and grass and the spear of Achilles— of which tradition 

the moral it, 
What mighty men misilo, they can amend — 

■ are the fresh and original types on which our little poet is com- 
*Ded to Ml back for support and illustration to a scene so full of 
>le suggestion and pathetic possibility. 

The king will in his glory hide thy ibJUDC ; 
And those that gaze on him to find out thee 
WiB lose their eyesight, looking on the sun. 
What can one drt>| ■ < ■: |«.i-.mi harm the sea, 
Whose hugy va- .getl the ill 

Aod make n lose its operation? 

' Vet another non-Shakespearean word ; this, time a Gallicism. 


Tlte Gentleman's Magasitu. 

And so forth, and SO forth ; ad libitum if not ad nauuam. h 
us take but one or two more instances of the better sort 

CtmnUu. Unnatural bcalegc ! Woe me unhappy, 1 
To haie escaped the danger of my foe*, 
Ami to l«e len times worse invir'd by friends ! 

(Here we come upon two more words unknown to Shakespeare;' 
bttkgr, ■•■■• I noun mbsttntive, and invired lor miiniud.) 

Balk he »<> mean* to stain my honest blood 
Hut to corrupt the author of my blood 
To be his scandalous ami vil 
No in . i In- branches lie infected, 

When p li OB htftl encompassed the root* ; 
No maml though the leprous infant die, 
When the stern dam envenomcth (he dog. 
Whyll .'i a pawport toorit "-I. 

An.! y,mi!i ihc rlaageroai (da of Mx-ny ; 
Hint ■ iut ilic ling of the Uw ; 

And cancel every canon that prescribes 
A shame for shame or prn.v < >ce. 


Will : before I will o.nscat 

C an actor in his crscclcst lust. 

Wamkk. Why, now than speak'sl as I would hasc Uice speak ; 
And marie how I unsay my words again. 
Aa honour ■ more ertc 

Than th , losct of a I 

The greater man, the peat, i ug. 

Be it good or bad, that he shall urnlcrt 
An nnjcputcd mole. ll)i"K in the son, 
/eater tabttanoe than il 

uer'n day doth soonest taint 
The loathed carrion thai it seenv 
Deep arc the blows made with a n 
That sin doth ten times aggravate itself 
That is coma) i" -y place ; 

1 An ingenious aspirant to the honour of admission Into the Shan Shalr- 
apcare Society would bent luggest aa a conclusive proof of (Shaw) SJiakevpnut* 
authorship the occurrence of an equally uncommon awl exactly paralM tap u nli 
in the last scene of the 7*ov Gtnlltmm c/ I' .— 

» It may obvute any chance of mistake if I observe that here aa ctnrwaoc. 
1 1 rnention the name that i* above every name in Engl 

Shakespeare, and not to the "new Shakapcic " i a nous* A#w 
I hsve no acquaintance, and with wbnm (if we may judge nf a gn ■ 
little— unknown al hearing nf those nho select mo as 

i nxtal sponsor fot i iicuuetvea and their literary oatechuaacnt) I can nana alnctnl| 
- ttM i datiR M n*ti mm 

The Historical Play of King Edtoard III. 337 

An evil deed, done by authority, 

I- mi (a I 

• >=e. and the !>eauly •>' 

. but ihc greater worn unto the beast. 

ire four passably goo«l lines, which vaguely remind the reader 

f Jomtthing better read elsewhere ; a common case enough with the 

! tolerable work of small mutative poets.) 

A tpxions field of reasons could I urge 
between hi* glory, daughter, and thy shame : 
Thai poison %how» «OfM i" a jpc>l<i< :i CUp . 
Dark night vx ■ ing Huh ; 

/jvi-r tktf fntrr imAl far tt'Orte than ivteiii ; 
And every glory tba* inclines, to sin. 
Tin- \haroe is treble by the opp" 
So leave I, with my blessing in thy bosom ; 

I d\ then convert to a most heavy curse. 
When thou convert'st (ton hoOOOl'l golden name 
To the black factim. "( l..-.|-l>l..:iiii ;: ihttM I [£jiV. 

Cevnt/ii. I'll follow thee : — ' And when my mind turns so, 
My body sink my soul in endless woe ! [Exit. 

So much for the central and crowning scene, the test, the climax, 

! hinge on which the first part of this play turns; and seems to me 

taming, to emit hut a feeble and rusty squeak. No probable 

I win need to be reminded that the line which I have perhaps 

ily italicised appears also as the last verse in the ninety- 

1 of those ■ sugared sonnets " which we know were in circulation 

t time of this play's first appearance among Shakespeare's " private 

in other wonls, which enjoyed such a kind of public privacy 

r private publicity as one or two among the most eminent English 

i of our own day have occasionally chosen for some part of their 

, to screen it for a while as under the shelter and the shade of 

laurels, till ripe for the sunshine or the storm of public 

at. In the present case, this debateable verse looks to me 

like a loan or maybe n theft from Shakespeare's private store of 

atic verse than a misapplication by its own author to dramatic 

of a line too apt and exquisite to endure without injury the 

ifcrence from its original setting. 

Here is another windfall for the Sham SfakMpWMlM. Compare will. 
(parallel passages. 

Go on, M foliate thtt. [[famlrt. Act i. Sc. $. 

Master, go on ; and / vtll frUm* Ihte, &c [Ai You Likt It, i, 1, 

•• I hop* bene be proof*-" 
VOL ccxtv. so. 178S- 2 


The GentUmaris Magazine. 

The scene ensuing wind* up the fir»t part of thi» composite (or 
rather, in one sense of the word, incompositc) poem. It may, on the 
whole, be classed as something more -sably good: it is 

elegant, lively, even spirited in style ; showing at all events a marked 
advance upon the scene which I have already stigmatised as a failure 
— that which attempts to render the interview between Warwick and 
the King. It is hardly, however, I should say, above the hi 
read) of Greene or Peelc at die smoothest and straighten of his 
flight. At n a line which inevitably 

i much 1 more 

popular historical drama. On being informed by I'crby that 

The ting is in his closet, mnJcootcnl, 

For what I know not, but be gore in charge, 

'cr dinner, none tbouM inleimp' h 
The Ccunlevs Salisbury, »t*l her father Warwick, 
thtllS brow* ; 

on red ition, the prompt and states- 

!,•::'■ : ,.i..i:v Di' Vudley leads him at onc« as by intuit. mm in t 1 .. 
inference thus eloquently expreuet ! ling and exalted 

iwctry ; 

L'nJoutricdly, then unset hing i» amiss. 

Who can read this without a reminiscence of Sir Christ' 
Hatton's characteristically cautious conclusion al 
tary preparations arrayed against the immediate advent of the 

I caruvil but MjimUc— furtive, i 

ic oiojrx lino's rash— I cannot bul 
isc the stale some ihn^cr jppretc 

entrance of the Ki , rises— 

"in good icw with 

lease and aru'maii 

y *owr»h*o all any aovcrtljn'* wl 
F.JnsvJ Ah. ■ to make I' 

•*r- Thewne^n i rim. 

£Ji. otawawl 


AV V koifcV 



Ac- >rga. aatt brought ih; 

/.•fVni rrf Then bo "pun Itrutv I 

Tkt Historical Play of King Edxvard III. 339 

Daby, 111 look upon the counter" «««! 

Dtriy. The count e*»' mmd, my liege? 

Ed&ant. I moo, llie emperor : — Leave me atone. 

AttMty. What's in his mind ? 

Drriy. Let's, leave him tO Ui llUUMUf, 

[Emu/ Dr.mrt and Ai'dlkv. 

EJstard. Thus from the heart's abundance speaks the tongue ; 
Countess foe erojicror : And indeed, why not ? 
She a as imfirater crret DM 
And I to her 

As a* a kneeling vxual, ihai obsrt n ■■■ 
The pleasure or displeasure of her eye. 

fa this little scene there is perhaps on the whole more general 

ess to Shakespeare's earliest manner than we can trace in any 

passage of the play. But how much of Shakespeare's earliest 

may be accounted the special and exclusive property of 

Bpcarc ? 

After this dismissal of the two nobles, the pimping pocticule, 

manque' or (whom shall we tall him ? ) re'ussi, reappears with a 

to Ca3ar(asthc King it pleased to style himself) from "the 

than Cleopatra's match " (as he d 1 the Countess), to 

that " ere night she will resolve his majesty." Hereupon an 

"drum within" provokes Edward to the following 

-a me : 

What ■■■<■"■ Ins tibst thunders forth this, march, 
1 1 in my bosom? 
hccfaldn, ban it brawl-, with hiin that bcatcth it ! 
Go, break the thundering parchment bottom out, 
And I will leach it to conduct sweet lines 

(- That'* bad ; conduct steal bad.") 

-qui of a heavenly nymph : 
For 1 will use it as my writing-paper ; 
Aad to reduce him, from a scolding drum, 
To be the herald, and dear courwcl-bi-jicr, 
Betwixt a god<Je%s and r. mighty kinj;. 
Go, bid the drummer lenm to touch the lute. 
Or hanj: Mi" '" ■ 1 1 » - bniri- . i.l in- 'li 

following phrase OCCOI /'**•"», Act v. Sc a ; 

And even at hand :i liunn is ready braced 
Thai :UI as lou<l a-; thine : 

according to Dcgbeny minor. Elbow junior, and I Stan Sh ahs) 

, aberp who ooBpxnc the critical flock of Pacu jy was necessarily 

written bj the aathor of that play. Q- K. 1 >. 

i a 


The Gentleman 's Magazine. 

For now we think it an uncivil tiling 

To trouble hcivcn with Mich har»h resounds. 

Away 1 [£xH Lam 

The quarrel that I have require* no arms 

liul these of mine ; ud these -h.\U meet my foe 

In a dtap mud) "f ptMtnVbl 

My !■)■!■'. lh<ll bt in y BTOW1 ; md my »ighi 

Shall serve me as the vantage of the vfad 

To whirl away my swcel'st ' artillery : 

Ah, but. all*, »hc wins the sun of me. 

1 n thai it the hendfi and thence it comes 

That poMl term llic waiitiin wnrrk-r Win<l ; 
i:m luvi- hilh '•>•'■• U hsdgmeni ■., In, -.|i| ... 
Till 100 much IotM K'oij- il:ir.-les Hum. 

Hereupon Lodowick introduces the Black Prince (that is to 
and " retires to the door." The following scene opens well, wit 
tone of frank and direct simplicity. 

/ iwiinJ. I sec the l»y. O, how hli mother's face, 
M.nlilo:! in hit, corrects my strayed desire, 
.\:.-\ rates my heart, and chides my thievish cjr ; 
Who, being rich enough in seeing her. 
Yet seek* elsewhere : and basest theft is that 
Which cannot check itself on poverty.— 
Now, boy, what news? 

Mm I hxvi- I— rabltd, R>y dear lord and father, 
,. of all nur hriglish blood. 
For our aftUl [a I ranoe ; ud here we come 
To take direction from your majesty. 

AVtt'./r./. Siill him ilelineate 

Hi. mother's visage ; those his eye* are hen. 
Who, looking wistly * on me, made me blush ; 
For faults against themselves gise evidence : 
l.ust is a fire ; and men, like lanterns, show 
light lust within themselves even through themselves 
Away, loOM ttflcl of mowing (I 
Shall the Urge limit of fair Brittany* 
lly me be overthrown ? and shall I not 
Master this little mansion of myself? 
Give me an armour of eternal steel ; 

: Surely, for neM'tt we tfcooj :'/>'//. 

* This word occurs but once In Sriak<-.iK.ire— 

And sjKaking n. lie *btl] looked on me; <A7<f- SitMmxl It. Act ». Sc.4.) 

and in such a case a mete fraf Xtiipt mr can carry no weight of evidence 
worth any Under) 

■ TWt fom !■■ M d ' "it lime" by Shakespeare as the equivalent of j 
once only, in MM gym for Britain. 

The Historital Play of King Edward III. 34 1 

Ifl) to conquer kings. And shall I then 

SaMuc myself, and be my enemy's friend ? 

fl Butt nol be. — Come, boy. forward, advance • 

Let's with our colour* sweep (he air of France. 

Here Lodowick announce* the approach of the Countess "with 
smiling cheer." 

EAcard. Why. theft it ^' <y smile of hen 

Hath ransomed captive Pram X ; Kod M the king, 
The dauphin, mil the |>octs, ni liU-riy. — 
Go, leave me, Ned, and revel wn.'i 1 1 • > friends. 

[Exit Pxinck. 
Thy mother is but block ; and thou, like- her, 
I>"»t put into my mind how foul she is. 

untess hither In thy hand, 
And let her chase away these winter clouds j 
For she gives beauty Ix >i Is to heaven and earth. 

[Exit LonowicK. 
The sin is more, to hack ind hew pOOI 
Than to embrace In an unlawful bid 
The register of all nuletfa ' 
Sioce leathern Adam till this youngest hour. 

Rt^Kttr LouowiLK -.villi ihi Countess. 

Go, Lodarrick, put thy hand into my purse, 
Play, spend, give, riot, waste ; do what Hum »:ii, 
So thou wilt hence awhile, and leave me heft. 

[Exit IX>DOWtCK. 

laving already, out of a desire and determination to do no possible 
injustice to trie actual merits of this play in the eyes of any reader 
»ho might never have gone over the text on which I had to comment, 
Jed in no small degree the limits I had intended to impose 
>n my task in the way of citation, I shall not give so full a tran- 
ipt from the next and last scene between the Countess and the 

• <";-•• 

SJwiixr./. Nnw, my sonli playfellow ! art thou come 
To speak ■ . .r.i-uly wi.i.l of yea 

To my object! n ihy beauteous love ? 

this singular use of the word objection in the sense of offer 
has no parallel in the plays of Shakespeare.) 

Ceunt/u. My fathei on his blessing hath commanded— 
EJustrJ. That thou shall yield to me, 

1 Another word indiscovcrablc in any genuine play of Shakespeare's, though 
t (I beuevc) unused on occasion by sonic among the poets contemporary with 
hu cubes yean. 

342 The Gentleman s Magazine. 

Countrts. Ay, dear my liege, your due. 

Edward. And that, my dearest love, can be no less 
Than right for right, and render ' love for love. 

Ci'unteii. Than wrong for wrong, and endless hate for ha 
But, sith I ice your majesty so bent, 
I l:.i! my un» illin^ii! By my husband's love, 
Y'oui lii^-li <-.i.uc, net BO R -p'-cl respected. 
Can !>c my b«lp, bill thai yotn ml£lllllsss%i 
Will overbear and awe these dear reganl., 
I bind my discontent to my content. 
And what I would not I'll compel I will ; 
Provided that yourself remove those lets 
Thai Hand between your highness' love and mine. 

/ Name them, f.iir countess, and by heaven I will 

Cou $ Hm li b il"i' UvOJ, that Hand between rrai love. 
Tlut I would have choked up, my sovereign. 

Edward. Whose lives, my lady ? 

Countess. My thrice lovin; 

YOUI ipucii, and Saltatory my wedded husband ; 
WIiii living have that title in our love 
That wi- can ii'H beaTOw bat by their death. 

Edward. Ity opposition sMT. 

C t M H fftt . So is your il.>ir.- : [| i!:- law ■ 
Can hinder you to execute the one. 
Let it forbid you to attempt the other : 
1 iiiiinni think you love me as you say 
Unlr— vim di i make good what you have swum. 

■ ..wn/. No ii- 
Fairer thou ait by Bu thaa 1 1 I 

ii IH.I M. -... 

He r.wom an easy can i.-ic- ; 

..if blood,' 
Arrive that Sestos where my Hero lie*. 

' That word vv.i- jm-iIi:i|.,ii, . nir good r, , 

1 Vet another ami x Mnguhu ml I so used or mien 


■ Qu. Why, so is your desire : If that the law, etc. ? 

• Sir. I should once have thought it Impossible that any mortal ear 
endure the shock of this unspeakable and incomparable verse, and find 
passage which oontarni it .in echo or a trace of the *'m«sic, wit, and ocad 
ipeava, Hut in those days I had yet to leam what manner of ru 
pricked ep to listen "when rank Thmitca ope* hit mastic jsws " El 
Hoaner or of Shakespeare. [a a corner ol the preface to on cilitionof" 

•pete * which beat name {correctly (pelt) of Qacen Vk* 

youngest son prefixed to the name I have just transcriber 1 , a small pellet 
dirt was flung upwards at me from behind by the " able editor " Una id 
impalieat (0 Ggmrc in public as the volunteer valet or literary lackey nf 
Leopold. Hcace I gathered the edifying assurance that ttiU mraras* 
Isonowrsof literal. lad bora reminded of my bamlJei attempt* in 

tare without a livery by the congenial music of certain foar-footed feilow-cntics 

The Historical Play of King Edward III. 343 

(Shakespeare, wc may observe, does once — but once only — make 
use of the woid atrnt in this obsolete active sense. 

But, en; we conld arrive the point proposed, 
Cxsar cried, Help nc, Cassius, 01 I sink. 

\Jh1ius Catur, Act i. Sc. 3.) 

CoHMtru. Nay, j\y.. : : I make the river too 

With their that keep 001 low .; -.under ; 
Of which mjr husbaii in. 

EJmird. Thy beauty make* them gultty of ■ :. 
And gives in evidence the] 
Upon which verdict I their judge condemn Ihcm. 

Cetoitfti, idge I 

Wit, i Mli heads, 

Thit pack it i.i k 

EthtrarJ. What I U she rev 

ComUeii. Resolute to be dissolved :' tod, thc r efop ti thl 
Keep but iliv word, great king, ind I am ihine. 
Stand where thou dost ; I'll pan » little from thee ; 
And »cc DOW I will yi.;M me In thy hands. 
H< . Iisng my wedding knives ; 

TV- DC, -in- 1 with it kill iliy ,|ucen. 

And Icam by m. 
And with the other I'll Jc-^atch my I- 

i now lie* fast asleep within my heart ; 

H (hey are gone, tea I'll consent to ll 

Soch genuinely good wine as this needs no bush, Bat from this 

onwards I au thing especially cotnmcndtblc in the 

"Jituinder of the scene exo revitjr. The King of course 

Wow-lodger* of hU r/» n in the neighbotaliooc' tad Heath. E-i i 

<k|moK IWtttfnUy )il<l Iheii nail-,,' wiKHlnolo wdil MCaUod I" : biped 

fwhuw partial nature had ■■ MtonlltV 

■est and the due disgust with which he had discovered the uirfntcll tbal 

to men to ignorant of music or the laws of music in verse, as my pretumpl 
pitiable self ih* lest of metrical harmony lay not in an the fingers but 

Mill ; • ■ bich hi ' "in writer) 

"nuke* »<i n ■ Shake- 

• . ret li nut M but )i 

bnl kilo* intig enoi that a capi • (he 

r e a r * menu of word-music was not to be gauged by length of ear, by hairiness of 

•Id a* soon have 
lit of HKaavring my own poor human organs againM those of the preside i 

! .-id a u! qunUuning i :hc law to 



•lo pin, or rather a punning Latiniun, no) altogether out of Shake- 
lint. Uut see the note preo 

344 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

abjures his purpose, and of course con e Countetw * 

Lucrctia to the disadvantage of the Roman matte 
son, Warwick, and the attendant lords; appoints >- iiis post 

by sea or land; and starts for Flanders in a duly moral and military 
state of mind 

Here ends the first paxt of lite play; and with it all possible in- 
dication, though never so shadowy, of the possible shadowy presence 
of Shakespeare. At the opening of the third act we are thrown 
among a wholly new set of characters and events, all utterly out of 
all harmony and keeping with all that has gone before. Edward 
alone survives as nominal protagonist; hut this survival — assuredly 
not of the fittest— is merely the survival of the shadow of a name. 
Anything more pitifully crude and feeble, more helplessly inartistic 
and inrompo-sitc, than this procesi or pretence of juncture where 
there is no juncture, this infantine shifting and shuffling of the 
scenes and figures, it is impossible to find among the rudest and 
weakest attempts of the dawning or declining drama in its first or 
second childhood. 

It is the less necessary to analyse at any length the three remain- 
ing acts of this play, that the work has already been done to my hand, 
and well done, by Charles Knight ; who, though no professed c: i 
or esoteric expert in Shakei|>eurean letters, approved himself by dint 
of sheer honesty and conscience worth rooie than the whole rotten 
body of a Sham Shakespeare Society from loggerhead to trui ■■ 
tail. To his edition uf Shakespeare I r all readers 

hus of further excerptl than I care t<> , 

The first scene of the third act is a storehouse of contemporary 
commonplace. Nothing fresher lhan such si 

following is to be gathered up in thin sprinklings from off the dry 
Hat soil. A messenger informs the French king that he has i 


The jiroud armndo (»V) of King Kdw«fd"« *V 


Soato "« of with 

glorious bright »i|«c<. 
Their urcaimng ensigns wrought i 
like lo .1 II of sundry flowers 

Adorns tbc ruVcd howm of 

and so on after the exacted and therefore feeblest fash 

Maxlowitcs; with equal r 

sense in the con 

ensuing on this is , l pity and coi 


The Historieal Play of King Edward III. 345 

the next scene we have a flying view of peasants in flight, 
description of five cities on fire not undeserving of its place in 
fcphy. immediately after the preceding sea-piece: but relieved by 
»ci wealth of pleasantry as marks the following jest, in which the 
w>* purblind eye will be the quickest to discover a touch of the 
gmuinc Shakespearean humour. 

lil Frnukman. What. i» it quarter-day. lint you remove, 

And carry \k% tad I <uKK*i>c "*>? 
mi Frrmiman. tjuaitr; da) > ay, and ■ piattering-day, I fear. (Huge I) 

The scene of debate before Crcssy is equally flat and futile, vulgar 
lad verbose; a scolding-match worthy of some pscudocritical Society 
*hen assembled in conclave (or incarnate in type) for the demolition 
tfin absent and unconscious antagonist, till one or two presiding 
ipirits, enkindled by the fiery fray, plunge headlong or rise rapidly to 
Ik point where blockhead melts in blackguard or blackguard sub- 
mits into blockhead. Yet in this Sham Shakespearean scene of our 
Jfcicnt pocticule's I have noted one genuine Shakespearean word, 
lolely singular for its singlcm'.- 

So may thy templet with Bcllona's hand 
Be still adorned with laurel victory ! 

Id this notably inelegant expression of goodwill we find the same 
of the word "laurel" as an adjective and epithet of victory 
which ibus confronts us in the penultimate speech of the third scene 
the first act of Antony and i Ytt>patra. 

Upi-ti yum sword 
Sit laiin-l ■ 
Be Mrewcd before your feet ! 

There is something more (as less there could not be) nf spirit and 

•wemcnt in the bottl * CM wh( re Edward refuses to send relief to 

«on, wishing the prince to win his spurs unaided, and earn the 

■Sfruits of his fame single-hamlet 1 against the heaviest odds; but 

forcible feebleness of a minor poet's f.incy shows itself amusingly 

the mock stoicism and braggart philosophy of the King's rcassur- 

retketion, ■ We have more sons than one." 

e first and third scenes of the fourth act wc may concede 

;ht merit to the picture of a chivalrous emulation in magnani- 

between the Duke of Burgundy and his former fellow-student, 

refusal to break his parole as a prisoner extorts from his friend 

concession refused to his importunity as an envoy : but the 

is by no means worthy of the subject. 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

The limp loquacity of long-winded rhetoric, so natural to sBffl 
and soldiers in an hour of emergency, which distinguishes the o» 
loguc between the Black Prince and Audley on the verge of batik 
is relieved by this one last touch of quasi Srnhwpowa thought** 
style discoverable in the play of which 1 must presently take a short 
— and a long — farewell. 

Death's name U much mote mighty than hi« deed* r 
Thy parcelling this power hath madt il more, 
A-> many onils as lhr«c iny bands hold 

Ate but >iiy ii.iniiiui of to Bang audi ; 

Then all the world— am) call it lnu a power — 

Easily ta'en up, anil ' quickly thrown away ; 

But il" I stand to count them sand by sami 

The number would confound my memory 

And make a v ..f»ta*k 

Which bru-i'ly i- ii" more indeed than urn:, 

These quartered squadrons .mil 1 In- ■• regiment* 

Before, behind us, and on cither hand. 

Are but a power : When wc name a man, 

His hand, his foot, his head, have several strengths ; 

And being all but one self instant strength. 

Why, nil this many, Audley, is bat one) 

Ai 'ih. 

He that hath fat m go ti-lN it by n 

ii in- ihooM irii i in- Heps, ii 1.1IK bit hi 

The dm] ■ t llmd, 

And yet, thou km . ill it hut x rain. 

There is but one France, one king of France,* 
That France hnth no more kings ; and that same king 
Hath km I'm- puiaml lepon of oat Ling; 

And ivr have OOt i Then 
For one to CM Uty. 

liien emifi, mat ' eousti . Rich is the timi.t fitVOtml lict I 

pass on this voluminous effusion of • Spirit smacking rather of 
schools than of the field. The first six lines or so might pass mux 
as the early handiwork of Shakespeare; the rest has as litt! 
manner as his matter, his metre as his 1! 

The poet can hardly again aftcT this cal 

collapse. We find in the rest of this scene nothing better 
remark than such poor catches at a word as this; 

And Id I ho*; milkwhite messengers 0/ tine 
Show il.j 1 ihii dangerous lime j 

1 The simple substitution of the woril 
the grammar bere— were that worth wfid 
' Qu. So Uiere U but one France, etc ? 

id " wn 

1751* Historical Play of King Edward III. 347 
^Bu'noas trick of verbiage which went nigh now and then to affect 
^f adolescent style of Shakespeare, and which happens to fad iiscll 
** admirably as unconsciously burlesqued in two lines of this very 
I wiU not five a penny for a life. 
Not half a halfpenny 
(Haifa halfpenny, I presume, is Sham Shakespearean for a farthing.) 
tO ihun grim drain. 
The verses intervening arc smooth, simple, and passably well 
worded; indeed the force of elegant commonplace cannot well go 
farther than in such lines as these. 

Thyself art bruited and beni with many broil*. 
And 'Uslagerus forepart with iron pens 
Are teaed ' in thine honourable face ; 
Tbou art a married man in this distress, 
But danger wom me at a hluthinr; maid ; 
Teach rac an answer to this perilous time. 
Audlty. To die b all as common as to live ; 
DC 11 choice, the other holds in chaw ; 
1 ■ . ■ m begin 10 live 

We tin purxuc ami Imnt tin- liSM 10 dSt : 

: bud we, then wc blow, tad alto iced : 
Then prcscotl] v, id »s a shade 

Follows the body, so we follow death. 
If then we hunt for denth, way do we fear it? 
If we fear it, why do »c follow it ? 

me intimate a doubt in passing, whether Shakespeare would ever 
ire put by the mouth of any but a farcical mask a query so pro- 
bative of response from an Irish echo— "Because we can't help.") 

If we do fear, with fear ue do but aid 
The thing we fear to aeiic on us the sooner ; 
ii >.<• hen ao PMotTcd proffa 

Can i.v.-nlin m iIh- 1 1 ixi it i if our fate : 

so forth. Again the hastiest reader will have been reminded of 
a passage in the transcendent central scenes of Measure for Measure .- 

Merely, thou art death's fool ; 
For him thou labour's! by thy flight to shun, 
And yet runn'rt toward bin still ; 

and hence also some may infer that this pitiful penny-whistle was 
blown by the same breath which in time gained power to fill that 
archangelic trumpet. Credat Zoilus Shakespearomastix, non ego. 

1 N n-Shakctpcarean. 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

The next scene is something better than passable, but demand 
no special analysis and affords no necessary extract We may ju« 
observe as examples of style the play on words between the flight ol 
hovering ravens and the flight of routed soldiers, and the I 
of the sudden fog 

Which now hath hid the airy floor of heaven, 
And made at noon a night unnatural 
U|hi" the quaking and dismayed world. 

The interest rises again with the reappearance and 
Salisbury, and lifts the style for a moment to its own level 
seigneur tout honneur; the author deserves some dole of 
approbation for his tribute to the national chivalry of a Fr 
as here exemplified in the person of Prince Charles. 

Of the two next scenes, in which the battle of Poitiers is ! 
adequately " staged to the show," I can only say that if any i 
believes them to be the possible work of the same hand which «• 
before all men's eyes for all time the field of Agincourt, he ni 
doubtless die in that belief, and go to his own place in the limbo of 

But a yet more flagrant effect of contrast is thruat upon oir 
notice at the opening of the fifth act If in all the historial 
groundwork of this play there is one point of attraction which *e 
might have thought certain to stimulate the utmost enterprise ad 
evoke the utmost capacities of an aspiring dramatist, it must sadf 
be sought in the crowning scene of the story; in the scene of Qtt& 
Philippa's intercession for the burgesses of Calais. We know ho* 
Shakespeare on the like occasion was wont to transmute into goM* 
verse the silver speech supplied to him by North's version of Amy"*"* 
Plutarch.' With the text of Lord Bcrncrs before him, the author e* 
King Edxvani III. has given us for the gold of Froissan n« cwn 
adulterated copper, but unadulterated lead. Incredible as h ■*}* 
seem to readers of the historian, the pocticulc has actually ccotrirw 
so far to transfigure by dint of disfiguring him that this moit ook* 
and pathetic scene in all the annals of chivalry, when passed thmp 
the alembic of his incompetence, appears in a garb of transform^ 
verse under a guise at once weak and wordy, coarse and uncfciralrc* 
The whole scene is at all points alike in its unlikene» to the*** 
manship of Shakespeare. 

1 I chooac for a parallel Shakeitieare't uk of Plutarch if) tb« eoapoM* • 
hia Roman plara wilier than hla UK 0* Hall and Ilaliuthcd 1b lite coapaitf* • 
hi« English historic*, became Froiasul ia a model more properly to be act ap** 
Plutarch than ipta Rotmtfatd ■-•< HalL 

Tht Hislorital Play of King Edward III. 349 

Here then I think wc may finally draw bridle ; for the rest of 
the course is not worth running; there is nothing in the residue 
of this last act which deserves analysis or calls for commentary. 
We have now examined the whole main body of the work with 
somewhat more than necessary care; and our conclusion is simply 
this : that if any man of common reading, common modesty, 
common judgment, and common sense, can be found to maintain 
the theory of Shakespeare's possible partnership in the con 
tion of this play, such a man will assuredly admit that the only 
niblc or imaginable touches of his hand arc very slight, very 
few, and very early, l-'or myself, I am and have always been per- 
fectly satisfied with one single and simple piece of evidence that 
Shakespeare had not a fingcT in the concoction of King Edward III. 
He was the author of King Ilttiry V. 


350 The Gentleman t Magazine. 


THERK i BUldl diversity of opinion in this country about 
tobacco-smoking, and very weak arguments arc used both for 
and against the habit, by partisans on cither side. In other countries 
tobacco-snioking has a more definite place. In Germany it is 
jiiitc an institution; and nearly the same maybe said of France, 
Austria, Italy, and Turkey. In America also it is the custom of the 
country for men to smoke, and there is scarcely any difference of 
opinion, cither among men or women, in any class of society, as to 
the practice. Now, in England, . wc had the u 

thesis of this. Then it was the exception here for men. and especially 
for gentlemen, to smoke. Naval and military n ; hen smoked, 

more or less, according as they had seen foreign service, but it was 
quite the exception for gentlemen to smoki now 

changed, the social position of the practice is altogctl 
and in every class, to smoke is b ihc rule, just as it was the 


It is remarkable how a habit, which the beginr 'ind* 

nauseating and unpleasant, has extended over i i ..• globe. 

Taking the United Kingdom, we find that in the year i ofl- 

sumption of tobacco was 23,096,381 pounds, or equal to 13} ounces 
per head; while in 1875 it had incr 19,051,830 pound", 

one pound seven and-ahalf ounces luume, 

therefore, that smoking is rapidly on I ind 

it will be interesting ant n c-dmly and 

judicially. There are several as 
subject, anil I wi! 

1 us as can 
remember a quarter of a en ,ior 

parents used to discourage the |> is too so 

•he poor smoker. It was the fa* I ig as a 

low vulgar habit, ' gentleman would 

a chimney ol :.$. 

I well rcmeir 1 

marking a cl 

Tobacco-Smoking. 351 

m the estimate in which tobacco-smoking was held by respect- 
ive middle-aged people some twenty yean; link, and 1 have no 
that the present tolerance, not to say sanction, which society 
to the smoker, would have been indefinitely postponed, but 
increased facilities of travelling, which have, so *o speak, 
ic our insularity, and brought us into closer union with the Con- 
America. Notwithstanding all this, wc have still, in this 
eccntry, a great deal of difference of opinion as to smoking, and 
society may be regarded as divided into two hostile camps, the 
■nkers and the anti-smokers. Of course there is a large mass of 
PKfte having no opinion about the matter, but this may be said of 
werjr subject from religion downwards. The two great divisions 
•fcich I have assunv tokea and anti-smokers, must be again 

d: each class consists of two groups or subclasses. 
The class anti-smoki ri consists of ( i ) reasonable men, (2) fanatics, 
(he same subdivision applies to smokers. 

In the class ami-smokers, the reasonable men of course do not 

they have a strong dislike to the habit, believe it to be 

serious to health and l o ngevi ty , think it a waste Of time, and one 

jnOsbly leading to drinking habits. Such men really object to the 

of the weed. They know something about the subject, and, 

•»ing thought it out according to their lights, have come to the 

seclusion that the disadvani of smoking largely over-balance 

idrintages. Probably at one time they may have smoked a little, 

tncrer took kindly to the habit ; in fact, cither from idiosyncrasy 

torn some dyspeptic stale, could not enjoy it, but on the contrary 

hasd it increasingly unpleasant and decidedly injurious to appetite 

•4 health, and therefore very wisely discontinued the practice, and 

»fter ranged the:- a the class of non-smokers. If the 

•fcect of smoking be raised during after-dinner conversation, these 

•kavill declare oracularly that the habit is injurious, that they tried 

•ftemsdves, and found it so. You cannot convince these men that, 

their case, some special state of constitution may exist to which 

totocco was inimical, or that perhaps the habit was not persevered in 

a BtSciently lengthened period, so as to acquire first the toler- 

*and then the enjoyment of smoking. The wives, sisters, and 

iters of these men, as a rule, hold the same moderate views as 

vmale relations. I believe that tobacco-smoking is, in a certain 

ft, a ladies' question. There can be no doubt that the odour of 

breath is not improved by tobacco-smoking, and that the female 

jwion of our establishments, with whom we arc on osculatory 

terns, are entitled to be heard on this matter. Again, it is quite 


The Gcntlemaris Magazine. 

certain that the smell of a room is not improved by the odour* 
stale tobacco-smoke, and this applies with double force if dgU 
have been smoked; even the most inveterate smoker will 
a room unpleasant in the morning where cigars hive 
smoked over-night. If only good tobacco be smoked in 
dining-room during the evening, the smell is immediately 
by opening the windows for half an hour in the 
on the contrary, if cigars be smoked, it will take days before I 
room lose* the odour of stale cigar-smoke, which is sickening 10 1 
people. Now, as we all do not possess smoking- or billiard-rooms i 
our houses, it is certainly a matter upon which our wives should 
heard, when we render our dining or other rooms, used by 
female part of our households, unpleasant by smoking in therm 
the evening. In this matter, however, as in most others, a good) 
sensible wife will accommodate her taste to that of her husband; 
she will be wise to do so, because if a man be really a smoker, J 
his enjoyment of the weed be interfered with at home, he will 
probably take to indulging in his luxury away from home, and i 
club, the billiard-room, the music-hall, or the public-house will I 
him a frequent guest, banished from his fireside by an inju 
wife. I repeat, then, that tobacco-smoking, in its seven] aspects, i 
worthy of the attention of women. I said that the class anti-smoke 
had a second division, tiiafamatia. Now, tobacco is not peculiar i 
this respect. I believe there are few subjects without fanatics, i 
as a rule we find them the most ignorant portion of the class to i 
hey belong, and especially ignorant, as well as blindly preju 
about the subject on which they rave. But this is a very general I 
We find, for instance, the fierce religious polemist 10 be ofiea 
shallowest divine and the poorest scholar ; and if one were to | 
such an uninviting study as an investigation of the mental calibre i 
the fanatics in the various doxus and elogUs, they would be found t 
least intelligent and the most conceited. The fanatics, 
continue to make a great deal of noise about any subject 
affect, and often by their persistency get a following. I do 
think that the fanatic anti-smoker is to be beard as against I 
smoker ; the former will shriek out axainst tobacco, but then 

no personal experience, and th evidence of tb 

from his personal experience, completely outweighs the 
evidence of the fanatic. It is curious to what lengths prejudice i 
carry an otherwise sensible person. I know a man who is so viokntly 
hostile to smoking, that he < anyone he sees with a pips i» 

his mouth little better than a blackguard. IJkc the bull and I 

the id 

Tcbacco-Smoking. 353 

cloth, tobacco-smoke will always .1 this man BOO 

outburst of unreason. Again, 1 have met with tin- most hospitable 
people, who spare nn trouble <>r expense to make you happy an<l 
comfortable at their houses, ami yd allow rOtahct 

against smoking so to warp their belter feelings, that they refuse tlte 
smoker tltc opportunity of enjoying his weed ; ami thus destroy the 
•ure of what would otherwise have been an agreeable 

noxe illustration of the ■ ad I have tfa them. A 

lady whom I know 1 D inveter..: ; how ranch, she dis- 

my poor friend never discovered before marri.i 
he was soon informed on the lubjecl after l! ting ceremony 

had taken place. His wife refused to remain in the house if he 
smoked indoors. My friend ited, argued, insisted j hi 

weak, poor fellow, and he yielded ; but he must have his smoke. 
Von might see him on a cold, or wet, or snowy winter's evening, 
walking up and down his with great coal and umbrella, 

enjoying his pipe l*forc bedtime. Bcf' in kg on to the next part 

of my 1 will give an of the ignorance of smoking 

habits which prevailed some twenty years back. A friend of mine, 
having taken his degree at C n ordained, went tu 

two maiden aunts in the country, who looked forward with 
pleasure to the young clergyman':, visit 1I<: had one fault in their 
eyes, he smoked ; but the old ladies were goodnaturcd, so they asked 

illagc surgeon, who they knew was a smoker, to meet their 
ncphi 1 er the first day of his vi r consideration 

diil not even stop here, for 1 hated two spittoons, ami, in 

their ignorance of smoking habits, din ir old servant to lay 

one to each gentleman with his finger-glass at dessert. 

I spoke of the smokers being divisible into two subdivisions also 

— the moderate smokers, and the fanatics, or slaves to tobacco. The 

fbrma sees, 1 imagine, the greater part of the adult 

lation in this country, Th< use tobacro withmu 

:. and arc tempera t B ,.f thi 

Me men ought to be in all thi 

l, sleeps, and takes exercise or enjoyment in moderation ; and 

into excess, I do 
inch fear that a careful man v. too much. 

verondulgc I will presently 1 

recognised, and, like the fatigue conscquc: 1 walk, are 

toon reco leave no permanent evil results. Our 

legislature cent years exhibited its consideration for the 

smoker by compelling the railway companies to run sraokit, 

, s i A A 


The GcniUtnatis Magazine. 

riagcs to their trains, and the House of Commons itself is 
with its smoking-room, and so now is every good-class hotel 
we see how public opinion supports the moderate smoker, of 
I shall have more to say when speaking of the action of tobacco 
must now pass on to consider that class of men — and their 
is by no means inconsiderable — who are slaves to the habit of 
ing. As a medical man, I am constantly coming in contact 
men who arc perfect victims to the abuse of tobacco, whose 
and body arc alike suffering from this excess. Such men 
nuisance to society, and take no enjoyment in anything 
tobacco play a part in the performance. These men think a dii 
party a martyrdom, because it means some hours' deprivation 
tobacco ; a ball is not to be tolerated ; a lecture or scientific m 
is an abomination ; anything, in short, which may in the lea* 
i l lt C lftl t wiflj the craved-for pipe, is looked upon with a 1 
These men begin to smoke immediately after breakfast, often 
and lose no opportunity during the day of indtilg 
of place, company, or consideration for others ; frequently, 
sitting up late into the night to continue their practice. I 
met with some strange instances of this bondage to tobacco, 
city man that I know gets half an hour for his luncheon of 
in the middle of the day ; but he manages to cat a few bi 
; office hours, and spends his half-hour walkin; down 

the quays smoking. This man walks to the city every 
am his home, the distance being three miles ; he also walks 
every evening; and he smokes incessantly during the wall: 
He dines at six o'clock, and then smokes without ceasing unBl 
time. On Sunday he smokes all day. ar,].! during meals : hr 
never attend a place of worship, because it would curtail his 
He will never go into society with his wife, and, indeed, will 
illy talk to hcT at home, as it di iking. In 

ects this man is a good husband and father. Another aoji 
ancc of mine, who is a highly intellectual and deeply-read man, 
tolerate nothing that D me his smoke. At dinner 

a perpetual drive to get done, so I i his pipe ; he want! 

pudding, cheese, or dessert ; taking these would involve loss of 
and put off the smoking period a few minutes longer. He Gki 
requires no tea or supper, protesting he is not hungry, 
docs not wish to be disturbed in his smoke. Another man tl 
know is in a government office, and when the usual pui 
occur, such as the Queen's birthday, his treat is to lie in l>ed ill 
and smoke. The genUcman is married, and ahraya smokes hrj 

Tobacco-Smoking. 355 

pipe in bed Such are a few of the social phases of tobacco- 

[ have divided smokers into four groups. Of course I know the 
division is artificial, and that each group runs into the other ; it was 

I necessary, however, to make some classification, and the above 
swered the object I had in view; but I shall now proceed to consider 
what I have chosen to call the health aspect c>f tobacco- smohing. Phy- 
Jogbtt tell us alarming things about the action of nicotine, or the 
active principle of tobacco, on the animal functions. I will quote a 
fe». upon this subject, not because 1 think that the 

aspect of smoking can be settled in the laboratory of the physiologist, 
but in order that my readers who arc inclined towards excess in 
tobacco may clearly understand that they arc using a well-known 
poison ; and although this may be said, in a degree, of many other 

I think it well to point out that tobacco 
• :-.t dradh Dr. Milncr Fi v.niingon 

ta sedan, says, "Tobacco is a deadly poison,* ting powerfully upon the 
heart. No very large dose of it is requisite tokill — quite an infinite 

indeed, compai ! harmless!; led. This 

is due to the fact that nicoti usendal principle of tobacco, 

finds its way out of the blood by the kidneys very quickly, and thus 
Bated as 1 Dr. Sydney 

Ringer, one of the highest authorities in this >n the action of 

drags, writes thus of tobacco in his //am/A-vh t>f Therapeutics : — 
'• When introduced into the body in any quantity, it produces nausea 
ticss, with great muscular weakness, and trcm! 

ideas are confused, the sight may be dimmed, 
ilcc is weak and feeble is covered with a 

clammy perspiration j it also paralyses the heart." "S111 
daces in those unaccustomed to it many of the effects above en 

Is no doubt a very harmful habit, 
distort* lion, and greatly lessens the appetite, and incapa< 

those ilmsc for both mental and bodily occu- 

1 1 smoker has generally 
>ated tongue." "The habit has also 

idness. Dr. K; rhesympti 

..ccss soon cease when the habit is d 
work on the Action sf 
\.m smoke of tobat 

•11. If it were allowed to accuffitl- 
of smoking would probably be taVai. \v Vs> 



The Gentleman i Magazine. 

certainly absorbed to some extent, but il ly iato the 

urine, where it may be detected by simple chemical •- .alhe 

vnall quantity at any one time in the system will prod 
marked intoxication in some persons. It is only not a porno, 
because slowly taken into the system in small amounts, and ekw 
natcd pari paisu" " It exerts an influence on the heart and cm*- 
lation, tad it may lead to syncope ami death S- !ewo( 

the opinions of our best authoiitu upon ! action <>( tobacrooo 
the animal economy, :iwl possibly some ofmy t< i think me 

inconsistent when I say that, not v. ■ of the 

above opinions, I am by no Ac tobacco- 

smoking in adult men. I do not think it inimical to a high order of 
health, or to longevity, and certainly not to the very highest flights of 
intellectual success. With Hyron 1 am inclined to think, 

Sublime lobaco ■ ' ■ hi i-l to wd 

( been the inr't labour or the Turkman's -•> 

Now, it is well to consider the question apart from prejudice. 
Is tobacco-sm. detrimental to health? 

The non-smoker declares the practice injurious, the tmokc: 
contrary, and the formrr calls up the physiologist in sup, 
case, and no doubt he Is a rehab! But this same witnest 

will tell you that aji too, and y Id invokes, 

and drinks and lives! Facts must previ « and 

arguments, and w* cannot deny the Gat illions of men unokc 

more or less, and yet maintain the high of health, 

perform the most fatiguing bodily labour, and are capable of the 
highest intellectual efforts. As 1 said above, the scientific physiolo- 
gist cannot settle this question. It will help us in this investigation 
if we reflect upon the general effects of smoking an nations, 

such as Germany, America, France or England : . if «*r take 

certain classes of men in these countries, such as soldiers; and thirdly, 
if wc examine educated intelligent individuals. 
do nations gards the average duration ol 

life of smokers am! Vers. It is tt 

of man has not altered since tob 
speaking generally, we do not find the aver-: Sorter 

Germany ox America, where smoking is almost in 

this conn B still a la (the papulation do 

not smoke. Then again, if smoking wo 

poison some assert, wc should fit moke, 

had a decided and easily rccogn ; c aa compared 

Tobcuco-Smoking. 357 

n. But such is not the case. The anti-smoker will here 
xt you by saying, if the average duration of life be not cur- 
r tobacco, you cannot deny that it is slightly injurious to 
hat it gives rise to a little dyspepsia in all cases, which lowers 
ral tone of the system, and thus interferes with the highest 
1 of national health. I do deny this. If it were the case, 
ibeovers would, ere this, have demonstrated that the life of 
;ei is not so good as that of the non-smoker. It would be 
lpossible for a man day by day, and year by year, to continue 
rcr slight a degree any injurious practice, without ultimately 
he penalty in the shape of injured health and shortened life ; 
tea were the case, our assurance offices would have recognised 
and wc should have one more question added to their long 
{ueries for the proposing assurer, viz. "Do you smoke?" 
i one can form an opinion, there is no difference in the 
o( adult male life in any country in Europe, which can in 
litest degree be traced to smoking ; and if we take our 
try, where we find smoking habits increasing year by year, 
any decline in die male longevity, I ljelicve the very 
to be the fact. Secondly, if we take groups of men in this 
ther country, such as soldiers or sailors, and most carefully 
te their state of health, we shall be unable to discover anything 
Id lead us to believe that smoking is injurious. Now, it is noto- 
u nearly all sailors and soldiers smoke, yet wc do not find 
y suffer mora from amaurosis, or blindness, than an equal 
of the civil population who do not smoke. Nor have I 
e to learn that the so-called smoker's heart — a form of palpi- 
is more common in the army or navy than among the general 
The same may be xaid about tremor of the hands, and other 

r\ which arise from excess in tobacco ; while as to any 
the moral qualities, the German soldiers, who fought and 
Franco-German war, were smokers almost to a man, and 
can question their remarkable courage and endurance. 
take individuals, and ask sensible, thoughtful men who arc 
whether they have experienced any appreciable injury from 
and I l«lievc the answer will be a negative. They 
you that smoking conduces to the maintenance of MW 
tor/ore saw. I am aware that men are liable to deceive 
es on such a matter, but I am speaking of men not given 
Weption. Medical men, for instance, smoke very generally, 
te been informed by several that they can do their work 
fly, and feel better, if they smoke moderately ; but if, from 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

some accidental circumstance, this moderation should, on occanta, 
degenerate into excess, injurious > follow. Let ree qoete 

one or two opinions on the subject. Sir Robert Chhsliaon wnet, 
"No well-ascertained ill effi been shown to result froo 

the habitual practice of tobacco.smoking ; Dr. Ridurd*» 

says, " Perhaps it is the only luxury no* injurious.'* And !*• 

(a, one of the greatest writers on therapeutics, remarks, "Is 
habitual smokers the practice, when moderately indulged in, pro- 
duces that remarkably soothing and tranquil ■ ibe mind 

which has caused it to be so much adopted by all ctetlfl of society." 
The study of individual smokers must convince any reasotuWt 
mind that the pr.-.i lice is not destructive to body and mind, as sow 
assert. Look, for instance, at Prince Bismarck and Count Moitkc. 
They smoke continually, and yet they arc two of tlie most remarkable 
men in Europe. I know that some of our greatest physicians and 
surgeons smoke, and also that at the Bar some of the most i 
guished men enjoy their cigars. How, then, can tobacco poison 
mind and body ? I am, of course, asking this question with regard 
to moderate smoking. No one can be more I u to adnui 

that excess in tobacco is a great cviL E> may be asked, 

what is excess ? This is, I must say, an extremely difficult question 
to answer. What may be excess in one man is only modenu 
another. There is the greatest difference as to the Bm> 
men smoke Just as some men can eat a heavy meat meal three 
times a day, and feci no symptom of indigestion, so there are many 
men who can smoke large quantities ol injury. I 

repeat that wc cannot exactly define the nan may 

smoke without deleterious res- and as the 

result of considerable observation, I bel nay smoke 

a couple of ounces of tobacco a • he « not 

overs! the boundary of moderation <%a of 

■ ng is lest this moderation should dcgener.i 
in this risk to I rie» or 

indulgences. If this argument is to Ik* used against tobat • 
must also apply it about every habit of nu idily adn 

■ seen many cases of v .1 cxecMffe 

smoking ; but I must also add that ! l which 

moderate smok t bene6< i I jy, however, be 

asked, How can tobacco possibly be any advantage t ' The 

answer to this question it, tl 
nervous system. Medical men v the u 

■fcohoJ iftea fatigue, 01 erere menial cii'nrt. lust in die amir *..i 

Tobaeco-Smoking. 359 

j acts on some people, bat not on all. Sir James Paget, one of 
I grt-.i MOpben in the medical profession, in a recent paper 

writo, " Considering how largely our nature has been changed from 
I it. M ivagc state) "by the gradual developments of society, 

id by the various habits, dispositions, and capacities therewith asso- 
ciated, it is in the highest degree probable that with these changes 
we should have beneficial adjustments of different foods or other 
means of sustaining us in our work. Among thc-.c we may reckon 
: greater part of the comforts, and of what now seem to be the 
necessities o: i ed, that is, out Batumi --taie — such as wheaten 

bread, potatoes, cultivated traits, and veil-fed meat, and similarly 
among these we may reckon, unless there be dear reason to the con- 
trary, such drinks as tea, coffee, alcoholic drinks, and, I even venture 
(0 think, tobacco, though probably for only much smaller groups of 
men." I have known men so fatigued after a severe day's work as to 
be unable to cat food ; but only let them smoke for a short while, 
and then they can eat awl enjoy a hearty meat Again, ask the 
sportsman who has missed his luncheon, and he will tell you how a 
pipe of tobacco will lessen the sense of fatigue, and enable him to 
continue his sport without food for a long time. The power of 
tobacco to compensate, to a certain extent, the want of food is well 
known. Tobacco has also some special advantages for some in 
dividuals. For some it acts as an expectorant, and enables many ID 
asthmatic to breathe more comfortably. It is also well known to be 
of great use in cases of habitual constipation. But I believe it is its 
qua soother of the over-wrought, tired, and worried brain, 

thai hacco-smoking so universal in this age of competi- 

tion and excitement. 1 have no doubt that mental equilibrium has 
often be the soothing influence of smoking ; excitement 

and tr mil teat of brain tissue 

has been diminished, «en rescued from insanity, 

men smoke ; tl • health aspect of tobacco. It 

is not for the taste or the odour that we smoke, but because of 
' t of tobacco on our nervous system ; and 
hence the good of smoking after the day's work is over, mind and 
body being benefited by a moderate use of tobacco in the even- 
'•'ith the constant pi its aroma around him, tho 

ian philosopher works out the profoundest of his works of 
thought." I think that smoking, like alcohol, is much more bene- 
ficial und worry of 
the 1 .ruing, immediately after Uiak- 
fast, is curtail Dus. The meal has not been du&etved, \.Yvc 




The Gentleman's Magazine. 

system is still unnourished by the food, and is practically (utiag . 
therefore the heart is very liable to be depressed seriously by tbe 
a of the nicotine. I know that smokers say the morning fift 
nicest of .ill. It maybe so; but all I it is certainty 

the one most calculated to hurt the a • moniy. As lo o 

being the most eoji this is purely a matter of habit; 

UStaSWel appetite in the morning, bccaoK 

med tn li.i-.x: that meal lag e day, so with 

this morning smoke : if we postpone smoking until the evening, « 
oon lose the appetite for it in the- And here I woold 

enter ray strongest protest against smoking amoi daring 

adolescence. I agree with Dr, Fothcrgill, that " totocco, though a 
ess associate for grown men, is a dangerous and seductive ac- 
quaintance for I Ml opinions agree that smol. 
before the fhwx red. The growing lad should be aware that 
by his indulgence he may interfere with his development as a robust 
man. is quite soon enough for people to begtn 
smoking, if they wish in after years to derive benefit and not harm 
from the practice. And for mere boys, between fourteen and t 
to indulge much in tobacco is complete folly. I watch, with regret, 
the number of youths who pass my house each morning smoking. 
They have just breakfasted, and are hurrying to thecity. They smoke 
while going to town, and, as I explained above, are still Casting, 
as far as having received due nourishment from the morning meal a 
concerned. What happens ? Why this. When, they arrive in town 
they feel depressed, and begin the day with a glass of " bitter " or one 
of dry sherry. Disastrous result* to the health of these foolish youths 
follow sooner or later, and I promise thetn they will not be able to 
say in after life with Shakesjxiare :— 

Though 1 look old. yet I am Strang ami lattjr, 

< ver did apply 
Hot imi rcbcltiou* liquor* in cay : 

On the other hand, 1 do not think it well tbi 
men, who have long been habitual smokers, to di> il>c j 

tice. I believe 1 ba< evil results ensue. I 

agree in the ad eminent com ; .oca 

friend of mine i ntted him, and said he was a great smoker, 

(vised ban to beg 


ii9 one point more wli. 

Tobacco-Smoking. 36 1 

aisihi»: Does smoking lead to drunkenness? Now, if the answer 
to ihij question be in the affirmative, tobacco deserves to be at 
once banished from the list of our luxuries : and every good citizen 
flight to endeavour to limit the use of a substance destructive alike 
to the health and htppinex of the nation. It is chiefly to this 
phase of the question that the anti-tobacconist addresses himself, 
ud for which he reserves his most violent diatribes. He avers that 
moling always leads to drinking. But if we regard the matter 
jndirislly, I think the evidence is quite the other way. In the first 
jhee, women, who are unfortunately too often drunkards, do not 
unoke ; and the vice of excessive drinking is, in proportion, more 
• the increase among women than among men, while smoking 
» Uxgcly increasing among the male sex. Again, it is well known 
that the confirmed drunkard will invariably give up smoking as 
son as drink enslaves him. When he becomes a drunkard he 
•ill cease to be a smoker. Hut it may be argued that here the harm 
ttdone long since, and that, although the confirmed drunkard may be 
nuble to enjoy tobacco, yet it was smoking which in the first instance 
led him on to drink. This is pure- assumption, and is contrary to the 
(pinion and experience <>f thoughtful men who have studied the 
natter. I have now, for several years, closely analysed tobacco- 
Holing from this point of view, and I am convinced that there is 
no tvidence to prove that smoking leads to drunkenness. That the 
Feat majority of drinking men smoke is no proof, because the larger 
number of the adult male population in this country now smoke. It 
8,00 the contrary, well known that the thorough smoker prefers what is 
tailed a dry pip*. I readily admit that to many men a little stimulant 
•coders the pipe more enjoyable ; some prefer coffee or tea, others a glass 
of ale 01 claret, while to many a glass of spirit and water is most agree- 
able And why not ? We do the same with our meals. I can sec 
■0 hum whatever in the moderate glass being taken with the evening 
pipe by such as like it, any more than I can see harm in taking a 
( of sherry with fish or soup at dinner. We do not object to the 
nbination of lobster sauce and cucumber with our salmon, or to 
with our whitebait ; why, then, cry out against the smoker 
his combination ? The glutton and the drunkard must not 
with the nun who is temperate in all things. Further, it is 
l&ct that, while the Turks are great smokers, they are the most ab- 
nious of nations. Again, the Italians are inveterate smokers, but 
, taking them as a nation, they are most abstemious. On the other 
the Scotch perhaps drink more spirit than any other people, 
ud yet we do not find smoking nearly so general in Scotland as in 

The Gentleman's Maga 


Italy. In short, a man who is a drunkard is so independently, 
often in spile of being a smoker. Excessive smoking and drinking 
together, not as cause and effect, but as the consequence of a 
and vicious nature, easily yielding to every indulgence and temp] 
and rushing headlong into excess in all things. Lastly, it may 
urged that at least smoking excites thirst, and in this way encourages- 
ilrinking habits. But so docs playing cricket or eating York ham 
This argument may equally be used against all our out-door amuse 
merits, and many of our ordinary articles of food I myself do n 
believe that smoking fen take sometimes a stir 

with their pipe, not because they arc thirsty, but because the two — I 
bmd and cheese, or bread and butter — go n 1 M all tb 

things we may say with Virgil, 

Dcus nobis hoc otk fecit 


FIJI is the youngest of our colonies. It was as recently as 1874 
that Thakombau, the titular king of that group of islands, 
«ded his dominions to the Queen of England, and MM her his club 
m token of submission. Thakombau's petrel Ml by no means un- 
tndbi. There were other chief* in the country almost as influential 
» himself whose consent to the act of cession had to be obtained. 
Among these was M.i;iiu, a prince of Tongan extraction, who reigned 
supreme over the eastern islands of the Fijian archipelago. He 
*u Thakombau's most formidable rival, and was known to be averse 
'o the project of cession, though his consent thereto — it need hardly 
tw* be said — was given in the end. 

Negotiation* on this subject were still in progress when I pro- 
tttded from LevtJca to Loma Lonia on board one of Her Majesty's 
Aips. Ixima l.oma is the principal place in the island of Vanua 
IWavu, and the headquarters of Maafu. 

It was a delightful trip of nineteen hours, at first among islands 
tftarious sixes ; but afterwards through a calm expanse of open sea. 
^unrig and after dinner the ship':; band played a selection of music, 
^ when this was over wc remained on deck smoking and talking. 
% degrees, my companions, except those who were on duty on 
■fish, went below and turned in. Feeling indisposed for sleep, I 
"*;td on deck to enjoy the balmy night, and, as the houTS wore on, 
' ^solved to continue there and see the sun rise. I certainly was 

On the sky in the far east, streaks of pale saffron deepened till a 
■*iwr glow anoke and overspread them. The extreme rim of the 
■^dark yet clearly defined, was as a ridge beyond which a mighty 
ktttce lad been kindled. Overtopping this, presently, one blazing 
°t*mshot out over the opaque Surface of waters heaving expectant. 
«» followed another, and another. Heaven Hushed and flamed. 
the sun arose in glorious majesty. Soon after, the ocean was all 
•Be sparkle. A merry radiance — a KVpArvr MfiSpa* yiXaf /in, 
**/Esehylus has it —was diffused abroad. 

And still the screw which impelled us spun round ; and still our 


364 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

trick of seething foam kept rushing horizon wards ; and over it there 
still skimmed, rose, and hovrcrcd birds of whitest plumage. The eye 
is fascinated by their restlessness. As they descend swiftly with out- 
stretched wing, so close as to brush bubbles from the surge, one 
waits to see them alight fluttering!)- and snatch a brief repose 
amid those watery valleys. But they never pause : they never seem 
to tire. 

Land had been long in sight, at first dim, bathed in faint lilac 
mists ; but now, with swelling outline and rich colour, plainly per- 
ceptible. A coral reef, twenty-four miles around, encircles Vanua 
Balavu, and other smaller windward islands of the Fijian group. To 
the south-cast is one of those openings, distinct but none too wide, 
which those laborious little zoophytes — the coral worms — would 
I seem to have left as a passage for ships. As we entered, the 
scene was brilliant and new to my eyes. The long sweeping rollers 
were hurling themselves on the unyielding barrier, which, checking 
them in mid career, sent them spurting high into the air, to fall again 
in showers of rainbow-tinted spray. Once within the reef, the 
water was of glassy smoothness. Yet our progress was slow, and 
p'.i/^lingly tortuous— at least, to me it seemed so. But caution was 
necessary. The lake-like expanse through which we were gliding 
was in places of a dimpled oilincss that indicated the presence 
of coral patches beneath ; besides, from the position of the sun 
just then, and the blinding reflection from his rays on the water, 
the danger of grounding was increased. No such calamity, however, 
befell us. 

Wc were off Loma Loma. Our speed slackened and ceased. 
There came the whir of letting go the anchor, with the splash 
commotion of its entry into the water. When the fuss 
on deck incidental to this operation had subsided, we swung 
broadside on to a short jetty of loose stones which does duty as a 

How still it all seemed ! Wondering whetl.> were any 

movement on shore, I borrowed a glass, ami with n\ aid, soon 
perceived that there were figures, single and grouped, standing 
motionless, noting our approach. The land near the beach was flat, 
almost on a level with the water ; off it, a canoe or two rocked 
gently. There were habitations to be seen through openings in the 
trees — some mere huts, so green themselves as to be hardly dis- 
tinguishable from the surrounding vegetation, others neat cdi6cet, 
in the erection of which the hand of civilised man had cvi. 
a share. The natives at Loma Loma arc now well ai customed to 

A Day at Loma Lotna, 365 

the appearance of Her Majesty's ships. Not so very long ago, the 
ifihtof roch purling wonders would have scared and enraged them 
too. They would have sought to prevent the landing of the intruders, 
« fled to the depths of their woods, there to consult as to measures 
of defence, and look to their clubs and poisoned anows. But these 
day« are gone. 'ITiey tender a ready welcome to the kai fapalagi 

» (white man) now. 
The canoes I have mentioned were approaching us from the 
*Hcrc. They were six feet long, or less, very narrow and of the 
rudest construction, being simply stout logs of wood scooped into boat- 
kkc form. In the stern of each sat a naked brown boy, paddling 
*ith all his might, and piloting his craft dexterously enough. One 
had a little cargo of pineapples, shaddocks, and bananas on board. 
The other had nothing to sell, but was desirous of exhibiting his skill 
*n diving ; and in reply to his urgent entreaties, a fourpenny-piece 
wai cast into the water beyond him, where it circled slowly as it 
s *ik. In an instant, the young diver had dropped in head foremost 
*ft*r it, almost without a splash, kicking his canoe topsy-turvy, and 
■ending his [Kiddle adrift in his eagerness. He was up again, with 
*"* prize in his mouth, immediately. Then he had to right his ship, 
8<t himself in again, and bale out the water which had collected at 
"•* bottom — all which feats he performed in a surprisingly short 
$ P*ccof time. But ere he had finished, an old uniform button, or 
Perhaps another coin, had been flung in, and over he went again in 
* **ice. This time, the vendor of fruit was tempted to try what 
*** could do in the same way, and in he plunged as well. The divers 
^Ust hare knocked heads pretty sharply under water, and I know 
n ot which got the button, but they rose panting and still struggling 
*° the surface, and there floundered, to the infinite amusement of 

Before this aquatic diversion had terminated, I went on shore with 

l ***"ee companions, one of whom was acquainted with the enterprising 

^^mer of a "store," which was an object conspicuous from our 

***«horage. Thither he conducted us. I found the place, as I ex- 

fc^eted. an emporium of every variety of merchandise, a mart where all 

***«diwning wants which come with civilisation can be gratified. An 

^Iderbng, in his shirt sleeves, was displaying the glories of a printed 

^^lieo to two Tongan damsels, difficult to please ; and a little savage, 

^no had just purchased a broom three times his own length, seemed 

**ttious to test its quality by brushing our faces with it as we entered. 

**V owner was at the receipt of custom. He met us courteously, 

**ok us into his house hard by, and allowed us to sit a bit in easy 

366 The GentUmans Magazine. 

chain in his deep dark verandah. The sun's force was waxing fierce 
outside, but here it could not reach us. What an clysium of coolness 
vras this dim, draughty retreat, from which, through a veil of drooping 
branches, we saw our good ship riding peacefully at anchor t A atrip 
of garden lay in front of us. i Here bloomed the scarlet hibitcut, 
here were crofans and dracanat in plenty ;. up the posts, and over 
the roof of the verandali, the granadilla clambered or hung festooned. 
Next the strip of garden came a strip, about as wide, of sparkling 
sand shcli-sprinkled, moistened by wavelets which strove to crash, 
but only prattled, as though mimicking the hurly-burly on the 
reef beyond. These influences were soothing. Hut we had not 
landed to sit and dream. So wc took leave and started forth on a 

Imagine a woodland avenue from fifteen to twenty feet in * 
carpeted with soft turf, and bordered on each side li 
reed palisade, within which bread-fruit trees, cocoa-nut palms, and 
li;manas flourish in tropical abundance. I arc 

•.e branches meet and mingle overhead, above y. 

path a l< tug Upon v,!iu 

In places where the scret ikea, or less denv? m» 

indeed pierce through, and r of gold across the sward, or 

k its breadth with blotches of ardent light Ilut this is seldom. 
The green vista stretching away and narrowing to no: the 

far distance, is for the most part in deepest shade. Along this we 

Dusky figures, almost nude, issuing from openings in the fence of 
reeds, crossed the avenue on ahead from time to lime, an 
pearcd in an opposite enclosure parlicd and passed 

carrying baskets of fruit or loads of yams and sugarcane*. 
clothing was of the scantiest certainly, bn : vantage 

r lithe and graceful figures. Their bea ulepcndcni <k ■ 

■ bold, humble without being •<■)• iteppet 

to one side as wc passed, and did • Hh 

presently, if «re looked bel were sun I aa 

And no wonder ! •.•arnncc of th e 

B be strangely droll 

I heard neither ^ng . air was 

silent, except thai me, from tar and near. I 

sound of wood meeting wood. was not unpleaair 

car, lias been noticed, 1 find, by 

recorded their experiences in these regions. ■■ 

A Day at Loma Loma. 367 

the sound. Now I am not attempting the feeblest play on a word 
when I state that this was caused by the fact that divers women 
in the surrounding enclosures were occupied in making tafia, such 
being the name given to the native cloth. As we advanced this 
tapping became still more frequent. We heard it on all sides. We 
passed before an enclosure of greater dimensions than the others. 
Ita bamboo paling was higher, its belt of trees more stately and 
umbrageous. From the opening which gave access to it we saw that 
the domain within looked inviting, for oranges and pineapples were 
ripening there, and the trim, undulating greensward was dotted with 
cocoanut palms ni trees, and aloes. Ruff-coloured houses and 
sheds occupied the background. The making of tafia was pro- 
ceeding briskly, to judge by the noise. Now, we had a fancy to see 
how this fabric is made, so we entered We were in fact now in 
Maafu's own particular territory, the enclosure within which dwell 
his immediate retainers and domestics, not to mention the soldiers 
forming his. body-guard. 

Beneath, .1 leafy tamarind sat a girl as busy as a bee over her tafia, 
hammering hi • : linst another tree, watching her 

movements, and exchanging a word with her now and then, stood 
a youth. We, in our customary free-and-easy way, seated ourselves 
on the trunk of a felled tree, which lay close by, and watched her 

Tafia is made from the bark of the paper mulberry, a quantity of 

is peeled from the tree in long strips and deposited in a 

: g stream, until this soaking process lias reduced its fibres to a 

pulpy mass. It is then spread in layers on a smooth surface of 

. and beaten out flat with a wooden mallet, thi ■Mob 

are grooved horizontally. Owing to the glutinous nature of the sap 

of tfu be pieces are joined together with ease. The edge of 

one having been wetted, and placed so as to overlap the edge of the 

the seam thus formed is also beaten with the mallet, till it 

becomes as Jrtout and strong as the : ul make it. 

After being left to bleach in the sun, it is glazed with a solution of 

e its borders arc stained in fanciful patterns. Fijian 

gentlemen, disposed to be dandies, appear with fathoms of this cloth 

twixtcd around their loins. None Oi K seems to be spared for the 

poor ladies who make it, but never have the satisfaction of putting 

it oo. They nay weal linen or calico, but not . _".. Many years 

ago — before the weda of Christianity had been sown in these islands 

ijries — a woman who dared to wear tafia 

waa held to have committed a dire offence, inasmuch as she -«*& 

368 The Gentleman's 

infringing a custom, and then of self- adornment 

from which others of her sex, by general consent, abstained. The 

tort of treatment which such a one had to expect is described 

thrilling anecdote given us by Captain Wilkes in his hi 

the United States Exploring Expedition. " At Lcvuka," he say*, 

"an old woman was {minted out to me who once took it 

her head to wear a small piece of tafia, with which she showed 

herself in the village, whereupon the other women fell upon her, 

and, after beating her almost to death, bit off her nose, and left her 

a monument of her own vanity and of the ferocity of the fair «ex of 


Our young fo/a-maker was not ill-favoured. Both she and the 
youth wore far more clothing than anylwdy we had met during our 
stroll. She was clad in white. Her feet and nnkk-s were barr, and 
very pretty ones they were — so one 

pertinence to tell her, by way of beginnings conversation. Bn 
course she did not understand him. The colour of her skin may be 
described as cafc-au-lait trtuirt; her eyes were brown, in sockets long 
and narrow ; her nose was flattish, her cheek-bones were high, and 
her lips were thin. In her sleek black hair, cut short at her neck, she 
had fastened a scarlet hibiscus llower. I n her left ear, by way of earring, 
she wore a gardenia blossom, pale, waxy, and odorous. We poiri 
to this floral ornament with admiration, and the threw us the sprig, 
from which she had plucked it, to smell. Wc tried to complhnem 
her in broken Fijian (very broken indeed) on her bai but she 

was puzzled, and looked up at the youth for an explanation. \ 
youth was better looking than she was. The hue c>: bu 'kin was the 
same, but there was more expression in his eyes . the contour of 
visage was less angular ; he smiled when he spoke— which she 
peared incapable of doing— and displayed a row of sound white teeth. 
Hi wore a white shirt, and nether garments of blue cloth, tescml 
knickcrhorkers, reaching to the knee His head »> 
were his legs and feet. He had a g of English, jrul 

gathered from wlvat he said that he was an oflii a >n Muafu's house* 

■ .de. " Me soldier I " he exclaim. 
to the centre of his ch I 

We looked dr hed at this information .;c«- 

•d, evidently pleas , " tnc bu 

—and he pretended to present and fire a musket, taking my right ■ 
asatarg. .stood-- i , and then at ease. ■ 

headstnekon • other. 

an exhibition of dnll, it was open to criticism ; but at a fanctftil 

A Day at Loma Loma. 309 

imitation thereof, it was perfect in its way. There was ■ naivtt/ 
of conceit, too, in the whole performance quite refreshing to witness. 
We all laughed heartily, and the cause of our mirth joined in it 
readily, but the fa/v-maker never relaxed a muscle of her face. 
She laid her hammer down at moments, either to tuck back a 
stray tress which had fallen over her eye*, or to take a bite 
at a piece of cocoanut which she kept beside her, or else to dip 
her fingers in a mug of water, and sprinkle the scam on which she 
was engaged. 

When silence had been restored, she renewed her conversation 
with the sole it can they have been saying? He seemed 

amused, but she continued sober as a judge. They were pro- 
bably discussing us. However, we broke in on their colloquy with 
the request for a pineapple. The youth went and fetched one, 
and also produced a knife which he polished on his leg. This 
last attention he might, I thought, have omitted. Wc all got a 
good big slice, and the girl, while eating hers, condescended to 
ask, through the youth acting as interpreter, whether we came from 
ance (Britain). On learning that we did, she further inquired 
whetlur Viti (Fiji) in general, and Varna Balavu in particular, 
were to be added to -sessions of the Queen of Pritanee. 

We stated, in reply, that such a change in the future of entire Yiti 
was ii 

She received the hout flinching, and finished her pine- 

apple. It was doubtless a matter of perfect indifference to her how, 
or by whom, she was to be ruled, if only she were left to cat, drink, 
and sleep unmolested. 

! of my friends recollected then that he had a photograph in 
his pocket which might interest our new acquaintance*. It WB the 
likeness of no relative dm even friend of his own, )>ut a portrait 

which he had espied in a shop window in London, and straightway 
purchased, since he conceived that it approached his beau idial of 
female loveliness. The original appeared a comely person, a bit 
brazen, perhaps, and was arrayed with extravagance. A bunch of 
fluffy hair, clipped to a level with her eyebrows, descended over her 
forehead. Above this rose a tower of plaits, crowned by a cap. 
Enormous earrings dangled by either check. Around her neck 
a rutl -like CO d chain, with a locket, resembling a 

■nail gong, attached; also rows upon rows of onyx beads. A 
buttons, bugles, Rnd bows completed her list of 



Tkt Gmtlemaiis Magazine. 

It was indeed a most striking picture, and one calculated I 
the savage mind with amaxe. 

The youth pressed forward to examine it, and holding i 
him at inns length, remained gazing at it for five minutes in i 
The girl demanded to have it shown her too ; but growing impatient, 
she rose to her feet, and peeped at it over hix shoulder. Ho '*r 
spection did not last long. She inquired if this were a countrywmxa 
of ours. We bowed assent. I would have subjoined, if I cocM. 
that all the Pritanec women were not cut on the ]>altcrn under soda. 
But it was all the same. She went back quietly to her tap* «iih 
perfect seriousness, resumed her hammer, struck three stroke! *4k 
it, then put it down, then struck three more strokes, and then— fnt 
vent to an explosion of laughter I 

It was plain that she had had difficulty in taking in the detatbef 
this picture : its meaning had dawned on her understanding by »lw 
degrees. At length she had perceived all clearly. And \ t-t (listen, 
ye daughters of Albion, and be astonished !) — yet, I say, it waiM 
seem that this " thing of beauty " excited not her admiration, t« 
her derision. 

What a noise she made ! Men, women, and children 
running from out of the bufT-colourcd houses and sbc ; 
what was the matter. They wanted to have a look at the 
as well. Bat my friend, rather nettled at the effect it had 
replaced it in his pocket, and motioned them off 

We spent some time in examining Maafu's double canoe, t 
feet in length, which wa» drawn up on the beach ready for its < 
use. Hut its owner's ideas of locomotion by water have long I 
gone beyond canoes. More recent additions to his navy 
included a neat little yacht and a steam-launch. Fijian canotsJ 
marvels of skilful carpentering, when one considers the rudena*' 
the tools which their builders were formerly obliged to use. 
knives, and nails were, not so long ago, unknown to thcot 
metal was to be seen in their constructions. Where we, with I 
and nails, should have joined plank to plank, they, with 
labour, infinite pains, bored holes, v. iih instruments made of s 
bone, in each plank, and tied them firmly togetl nnct. 

nicely arc the different pieces measured, that il .ireful a 

spection to find where the joinings are. A double canoe, it of 
ly be necessary to explain, consists of two single ones )«"* 
Kethcr at the waist, like the late lamented Siamese twins. T*" 
joining, in the case of the canoes, is effected by strong beams, otd 

A Day at Loma Loma. 


a deck is superadded. A broad wooden frame, or outrigger, 
stretching far on one side, gives balance to the whole when under 
sail. There is but one mast, and this can be fixed at one or other 
end of the deck at pleasure. Perhaps the most remarkable thing in 
the whole affair is the large triangular sail of matting, extended to 
the winds by a yard of prodigious length. These canoes arc awk- 

things to travel in. If not properly managed, a puff of wind 
will capsixe them ; if the sail has to be lowered, mast and all must 
come down ; if the course has to be changed, the mast has to be 
lugged out of the front hole and i. BtO the bade one. While 

at sea, so much water is shipped inevitably that two men are kept 
baling assiduously fore and aft, to avoid being swamped. Under 
these conditions all must be well in fair weathn ; bill should i hur- 
ricane sweep down, the peril is great. It i o common ;m 

occurrence for canoes to be wrecked, tad all bonds drowned, that 
the tale of su< h ■ neither surprise nor ruth in the 

Fijian breast. 

I thought I liad never seen SO brave a sight as on one bri 
evening when we lay off Levuka, Rounding B rar*projecdng pro- 
montory, there suddenly burst on our view two double canoes in full 
career, moving, mayhap, at a speed of ten miles an hour. The 
slanting sunlight struck RiU on bellying sail and streaming pain. uit 
In fact, as they bore down on us, they seemed all sail : no canoes 
were visible. Smoothly and swiftly they sped over the calm DO on 
of the sea, growing on the sight with magical rapidity. Their nearer 
approach somewhat disenchanted us. They swerved up out of the 
wind ; ; t shrank 3nd were lowered ; the ugliness of their out- 

riggers was apparent. They were no fairy galleys then. If they 
really bore "youth on the prow and pleasure at the helm " it was a 
black youth and a chattering pleasure, with which wc felt but faint 

Thakombau's father, Tanao, had a remarkably splendid single 
canoe, decorated with innuroerah' wlm 1>, some forty years 

ago, excited the admiration, I find, of the American Captain Wilkes. 
As such vessels, in those days, took about three years to bui 

• Id Snuff," as he was irreverently named by the white residents in 
his dominions, must have had to exercise some pati< D tching 

its completion. It is quite possible that his subjects were lew eager 
in the matter, considering his way of celebrating 
Whenever he launched a new canoe ten or more men were slaugh- 
tered on the deck, in order that it might be washed with human 
blood. liut this was not all. The only fit mode of marking the 

n S3 


Tlu GentUmaris Magazine. 

occasion was by a cannibal feast. Ill-advised indeed were those ' 
stirred abroad that day, for the very first person encountered 
the launch, was seized, forced struggling into an oven, roosted, snd 
then served up as a banquet for "Old Snuff" and his shipbuflden. 
Once in possession of hi* new plaything, Tanoa used to dirert 
himself by going out sailing in it, and running down iil tie 
canoes he met during the cruise, leaving those upset to rtcorer 
their property as best they might. This afforded him much amuse- 
ment. The powi&ility of the people thus suddenly immersed basj 
drowned or devoured by sharks doubtless lent a peculiar piquucf 
to the sport. 

Maafu had been so busy during the early part of the 
that we had not wished to intrude on him ; but seeing him now \ 
alone on a chair drawn halfway across his threshold, we ventured I 
approach. His house is simply a long cottage with a narrow i 
flanked on the left by two small windows, on the right by one. The 
high sloping roof is thickly thatched with reeds. The ddrf 
was lolling backward .-.. Even chiefs can loll sometimes. Onekf 
was crossed over the other ; his arms hung idle ; his head bad sosk 
on his breast. He was snoozing, possibly; or rather let us suppose 
that he was pondering on affairs of much moment to himself, 
inasmuch as this was an anxious time for him. Changes which 
affected him deeply were in progress— changes which, beo| 
powerless to control, he was wise enough to endure with seenwij 

He raised his head on hearing our footsteps, and adjusting ho 
dress with due attention to chiefly decorum, rose to his feet, ml 
retreated indoors, pulling his chair after him. We followed imme- 
diately, and on entering found him squatting on the ground 
tailor at work, and quite ready to receive us. He shook hands with 
us in turn, more Brilannieo, and then showed by a gesture UuS I 
wished us seated. Chairs being at hand, we each sat down on < 
though I fancy now that we should have done well had we I 
on the ground too. Had we l>cen better acquainted ». 
etiquette we should have known for guests to stand or I 
while their host iqui ivil A host, out' 

deference i itors (welcome ones, of course), places himself 

as low a level as he can, short of crawling on his stomach. The> 
indicates that he docs not suspect them of ill intentions Id 
himself, and that he desires to converse with them in a fheadjT 
manner. It is incorrect, therefore, for those thus graciously recB«d 
to plant themselves at a higher level. But all this has to be ks* 

A Day at Loma Loma. 


by experience. As yet no Fijian guide to the drawing-room has 
been published Moreover, Maafu is, people assert, such a thorough 
man of the world, i: prepared to make the fullest allowance 

for the boorishncss of his white gin 

Maafu is certainly a man of stately presence, with an inimitable 

dignity of carriage and gait, though in this respect he does not excel 

Thakombau. He is now about fifty-eight years old, and stands over 

six feet high. His body is mUfCUhl and well proportioned, tad DO 

\\ twenty stone. His oleaginous skin [s in colour a 

light ; The ihapelben of his small roaod bead i^ the better 

shown by his thick hair, now slightly grir/led, being shorn close. 
null and : l smooth. It is 

WOtlk) be impossible, to guess his thoughts by i 
■-age as a guide. 1 read thereon an indifference slightly con- 
temptuous, and nothing more. Singularly arched eyebrows, and 
eyelids drooping heavily may cause this, together with the fact that 
the corners of his mouth turn downwards. But the countenance of 
a Fijian chief is but a mask after all. He thinks it diief-like to 
ie a stolid air. Once his ire is aroused, the mask Jail.-., ami his 
true sentiments come uppermost; but at other times you have a fine 
f>eld for speculation in wondering what hit inner feelings may really 

The room in which we were was lofty and cooL The cross- 
beams overhead were covered with sinnct braided in pretty patterns. 
The floor was carpeted with matting scrupulously clean, while the 
particular mat on which our host squatted WtJ ornamented at the 
edges with beads and a broad fringe. British genius n u .'i eralble 
m the furniture, which was of the sort that you see at any cheap 
mart in a town at home. There was a curtained bed, a table 
covered with a red cloth, a chest of drawers, a harmonium (on which 
I afterwards heard its owner producing anything but a " concord of 
;, and sundry chairs with straight backs. I observed 
four very common clocks, each recording a different hour, dispersed 
about the room. On the walls were coloured prints in «W 
frames, such as one often sees above a pea*.int's chimney-piece, 
very startling, very staring, representing generals loaded with orders 
galloping across lurid battle fields— pictures in which the scarlet of 
the riders' coats has melted and merged into their own cheeks, the 
tails of their horses, and the background of blood and thunder 
acrots which they fly. 

Our conversation with Maafu was not interesting. The one of us 
who undertook to be spokesman, started with tne aW-aXwotViMv^ 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

though to our host the distasteful, topic of annexation. But a mono- 
syllabic reply 01 two was .ill he got back. Inquiries were nnt made 
after the chief's eldest son, Charles by name; but Charles, like many 
other eldest sons, had chosen to be a rake, and had incurred the 
paternal wrath in consequence, A protracted course of muconduct 
Ii.mI ended, some time before our visit, by hit being banished totke 
neighbouring island of Lakembu, where, wo heard it asserted : 
wards, he amused himself far better than at borne. Hit most] 
nounced wcaktu || i | said to be for gin. At the mention of j 
hopeful's name, MaahYs expression became a little stonier, »l 
more inscrutable, than it had been before. Happily the aniwl i 
fresh visitors put an end to an interview about which there** I 
certain awkwardness from first to last. 

On leaving the chiefs presence we passed through a bock door, 
down some steps, on to a green lawn which stretched broad, opas 
and level, for some two hundred yards behind his house, and ! 
broke into glades which, winding amid single trees, lost themato 
in a thicker forest screen. The soil was sandy, and the pas ; 
close and fine, as it does on sandy soil. Here, too, the in 
sound of /iiy*£i-making reached us, but faintly, a* from a 
Corning upon some of Maafu's retainers who were occupied in | 
paring the celebrated beverage iava, we stopped to watch the i 
tion. Six men WB in a circle, in the centre of 

wooden bowl. Some of the pepper-plant root, which at a du 
looked like a withered twig, lay beside them. From this tbtyoM 
small pieces, which, having pared, they put in their mouths and 
chewed. Each man reduced his mouthful to pulp by vigorous a* 
tication, and tlun spat it in the howl. These contributions repealed 
often, produced a goodly mass of crunched matter, to wk&s * 
measure of water was added. The whole was then strained thw<fc 
cocoanut fibre, the liquid which resulted resembling weak to •"■ 
milk in it, in appearance. This is kava, the nectar of South $• 
islanders. To me the notion of tasting this stuff wa» dipaWI 
beyond expression ; but, the same evening, when Maafu, after lorsf 
off a cup of it, pressed us to do the same, I felt it would be uncof 
teous to refuse. I actually managed to swallow some drofs of * 
and found it quite as nauseous as I had expected. The taste of*" 
is said to be the same as that of magnesia and soapsuds, i 

We were now weary of wandering. We sat down beneath i 
and while my friends essayed to doze, I mused. There wM « 
languor in the atmosphere ttait invited to repose and rncdkuk* 

i Ml 


A Day at Loma Lonia. 


the day waned, the air became very close. The light breeze, 
►lu'ch had prevailed before, died away completely. The western 
horizon was flooded with orange and gold, and the crimson sun wA 
swiftly. Over the shore a brief and brilliant transformation was 
passing. The dense tropical . vibrr.uit, was 

steeped in soft yellowish vapour. Not a spray stirred. The sea 

ii-di attest. 

The foci my irince of eventide 

ng Rtdtlag '•'«•' lbs to 
On leaf and bloom there »tole apace 

That rated, ihone, and fled away — 
The lost tmile of the dying day. 

The day had indeed faded ; golden gleams had fast yielded to purple 
dusk. Darknc- eending. 

iat a mora mike, or native dance, should be 
be lawn at the back of his house that night There 
no moon. The darkness was intense. The sound of a drum 
imoncd people from far and near, and shadowy figures emerging 
the wood, through which lights twinkled like fireflies here and 
:, trooped noiselessly on to the lawn. Flaming banana brandies 
ield aloft instead of torches, and i swell of cocoanut oil set 
■. ealing to us a crowd of mustering natives, 
performers now proceed to pttl themselves in position. In 
the centre is. a group of men, to whose vocal accompaniment the 
dancers are to keep time. Around these the dancers, who are all 
men, form a ring. Tlwy have decked themselves for the occasion in 
tutus • r girdles of stained grasses and glistening li 

Most of them have painted their faces with cross-bars of red and 
and anoi nsclvcs freely with cocoanut oil. Some 

fuse daubed their heads with lime ; some weal a prodigious mop of 
t hair, curled, crisped, extended. There arc among them tall 
and short, crooked and straight, old and young. The chant begins, 
and begins well, with a fine major harmony, as might some solemn 
hymn. The bass voice (it is difficnll in this light to distinguish tin- 
owner) is particularly rich, the others are quite in tune, and the car, 
i-asantly saluted, awaits something belter. Hut nothing better 
come» 'ices sweep upwards in u nd dwindle away in 

in the minor b iat bray— far coarser than any 

donkey's — which follows from the throat of the bsjBj indicates a 
depth of despondency hardly fitted, 1 should liavc thought, to inspire 




The Gentleman's Magazine. 

the votaries of the Fijian Terpsichore. To this succeeds a sqneai 
— no pigling hung by its tail could have sent out a shriller. A I 
lugubrious response of Gregorian severity is returned by the I 
and the measure commences. 

Sec ! the dancers arc bending down and springing tip i§bb, 
stamping, and clapping their hands in time. Working away tim, 
shoulder to shoulder, they have all the appearance of moving gra- 
dually from right to left. But to ascertain whether they do or oot, 
I leave my place by Maafu's side, and descending into the iron, 
plant myself behind one of them. In this way I observe his conMC- 
lions, but cannot sec that he budges an inch from his own ground; 
nor, in fact, docs he. The singeis stop their chant and retie* it at 
intervals ; but on their all clapping their hands simultaneously, oV 
dancing ceases. 

Then come loud cries of maii, malt! from the audience- 
words which have the same mraninj; U tiuore when tittered in 
case with us. Nevertheless, a brief interval follows, during wbil 
the magic circle is broken, and the general herd mingles with 
performers. The demand for an ttuore is then complied with ; 
when the ring has been rc-formed, I find myself, to my surpris 
I may add, my annoyance — in its very centre, among the ho*l«*; 
and here I am constrained to wait imprisoned, with care tortured by 

The dance this time is fiercer than before. The dancers |W 
excited : they sway their bodies from side to side, as though in throe* 
from some grievous inward ache. They stoop forw ar d till their tig** 
ears touch the ground, as if listening for an expected wartrawf'i 
then up they all bob again with a screech, and make believe lo ho* 
javelins or il.irt SHOWS at phantom foes. What yelling, captfwj 
demons ! They laugh and jabber, their skins arc streaming *•" 
sweat and cocoanut oil. And thus they continue till the cu»K<nJiy 
signal permits them to cease, panting and exhausted, from &* 
labours. I effect my escape from amongst them with all speed, t* 
they can recommence their gambols, for the merciless on-looW* 
unsatisfied, are again calling out m,u'i, mali. 

Maafu looks on apathetically at the scene, and keeps lookng* 
till the entertainment ends. 

Then lights die out, torches are extinguished, flaming oJ • 
quenched, and the demons disperse as noiselessly as they appciftd, 
while we, still rather bewildered, find our way back lo the bcs» 
awaiting us at the jetty. 

A Day at Loma Loma, 377 

w, how soothing is the hush of night 1 The calm heaven 
with lustrous stars; the water through which we shoot 
sically by prow and keel, as we are rowed with firm and 
: back to our ship and our rest 



The Gentleman s Magazine. 



HEN the false shepherd in Ida-built pinnace 
Helen, his hostess, was dragging o'er seas ; 
Ncrcus stilled, swift but recusant the bree«, 
To chant a fierce menace. 

" Home as thou leadest her, fatal the omen ! 

II, r whom tli'- warriors of Greece shall rcscck. 
Sworn to break in on thy nuptials, and break 
The realm of the foemen. 

"Sweat on the horses, the men, ah, the clangour ! 
Thou dost the race of the Dardans o'crwh; 
Pallas make; ready her leg) im, 

Her and her anger. 

" Vainly thou boastcst that Venus upholds tlicc, 
Combing thy love-locks, and tuning a lute 
Woman-like, mdea . still, still the pursuit 
Though bride-bed enfolds thec 1 

•' Spears and the darts which the Gnossians fling ! yet 
Din of the battle, and Ajax the iwifl 
Follow; and soon in the war dust will drift 
Thine amorous ringlet. 

" Follows the son of Laertes, and sic now ' 
i oc i" tin ii' e, IbUows Nestot the i 
I ecu r ■ ■!' Saltmis, Sthenelus bold 
In the fight ; should there be now 

" Need that the steeds should be driven so fcatly, 
Well can he guide; follows Merion liarri. 
With lyili u>' great son, who in battle's award 
Is the better: how fleetly 

" Thou, as the stag that sees wolf in the valleys, 
Careless of pasture, with labouring breath, 
Flicst, a craven, the pursuant death ; 
But feebly this tallies, 

" This, with thy vow to thy leman : the ire 
Swift from the fleet of Achilla will come ; 
Troy and her matrons, enwrapped in her doom, 

Shall sink in the lire." 


I ? umstances tend men to a t hose who wish to see 

tlie true principles of science spread abroad, considering the value 
■cif I of culture t0 1 I even the intrinsic value 

itific discoveries, than thi soa with which vulgar errors 

cn <>Urc, despite all the care with which the teachers of science have 
*">owri their baselessness. It is amazing how many who ought to 
^fiow better have been alarmed by the report that " the perihelia 
four giant planets would l>e togethec between «88o and 1885," 
^txl that as a consequence a most terrible disasters would 

•ppen to the human race. Combining this utterly preposterous 
Jtsiement (fur the statement 1 > as preposterous as the de- 

duced < ■ 1 with the absurd doctrine of the Astronomer Royal 

for Scotland that the interior passages of the Great Pyramid indicate 
prophetically (by certain proportions of length and peculiarities of 
position) the end of the world b 1 88z, and with Mother Shipton's 
equally trustworthy predicts 

. ..iu KorM ball coom 

la eighteen hundred ind cightyonc. 

many foolish folk infer that there must be something in these coinci- 
dent predictions, and that (to put the matter practically) a dan 
per annum during the next three or four years would be better worth 
having than an annuity of five hundred per annum, where the mere 
prospect of life (judged ajart from revelations, whether in book or 
stone) amounts, say, tu twenty or thirty years. It is worth while to 
point out that Mother Shipton, assuming for a moment that she ever 
existed, most certainly never made the prophecy attributed to her, 
the date il been altered many times within the last 

century ; that the pyramid prophecy is one of the wildest theories 
ever advanced by man ; and that the planetary troubles must 
have been concocted by some one as ignorant as dishonest. The 
four planets in question have not coincided for the 
last ten millions ol incide for the hundred 

m of years next to come. If they did coincide, no harm would 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

come or could come of the coincidence. Between 1880 and iSSj, 
deed, as every astronomer has known for the last quarter of a 
the four giant planets will be, each in its turn, in perihelion Bat 
four terrestrial planets — Mereury, Venus, the Earth, and Mars— ore 
in perihelion, some of them more than once (Mercury, for 
seven times) every 690 days, and no harm comes of it to the earth, 
these four inner or terrestrial planets disturb the sun — it is in this 
the mischief is to be brought about, according to the preposterous 
dictions in question— much more than the four outer, though they 
the four giant planets, can possibly do, always assuming (which 
any astronomer now believes) that the planets disturb the sun all 
in the sense of affecting the processes on which the formation of 
spots depends. The influence of a planet in this way, if it exi: 
all, although it cannot be measured absolutely, can be most e 
compared with the influence of any other planet When the 
son is made, we find Mercury and Venus together have more 
turbing power than Jupiter, the Earth much more disturbing 
th;m Saturn and Uranus together, Mars more disturbing power 
Neptune. Hut, to say the truth, it becomes more and more donl 
whether the planets have anything whatever to do with the 
spots ; it is still more unlikely that the variations of planetary 
tance can seriously affect the sun's condition ; and lastly, the 
ence between the Earth's condition when there are most spots 
when there are fewest, may be just discoverable (most 
now deny even that), but assuredly it is not such as to suggest 
under any conceivable conditions the inhabitants of Earth need 
ccrn themselves about the solar maculations, and still less that 
Earth would be ruined even though the perihelia of all the 
great and small, were coincident 

AMONG the subjects discussed in George Eliot'sncw volume " 
phrastus Such" is the question of the extent of hui 
Is there not as much cause to say that vanity is the root of all I 
action as to say that selfishness is? Few things strike one more I 
as increasing years bring sharper powers of observation, than the 1 
anxiety of men to be in some sense observed of their fellows. That I 
thousands who would rather be ridiculous or criminal than hop 
Our very sympathies seem to be influenced by this pitiable' 
and we listen to 3 friend's story with a sort of implied proviso 1 
shall hear us in turn. In one of Mussel's sparkling prevtrhts ho I 
s»ys : " Nous causerons sans nous ccouter ; e'esi Ie meilleur moytai 
s'entendre." It would seem to anyone listening to what b called 1 

Table Talk. 


general conversation, that these views are universally entertained, 
since the majority of men listen the least they can and arc continu- 
al to take the words out of another's mouth. It is 

ng to watch the absolute cunning a man will — unconsciously, 
as I believe— betray in his efforts to get an audience. Having once 
got it, he will, if he is superlatively greedy, be at no less pains to 

the beginning of a new 6l on to the end of the last 

so as not to lose his advantage. I have no new illustration of this 
to offer, neither has George Eliot, since all phases of this rei 
egoism must be familiar to any observer. It is, however, worth 
while to notice that the possession even of a great sorrow is resented 
by some minds, and that after a man has once expressed, sincerely 
enough, I dare say, nil companion, he commences the process of 
dethroning you from a sort of imaginary pedestal, and hunts up cases 
of a similar loss, though lew for the purpose of proving that you 
are the victim of a C ilamtty than lor that of preventing you 

from arrogating any special importance. Weakness of this kind is a 
matter to pity rather than to condemn, and il '-lie more readily par- 
doned as the censor finds generally a corresponding infirmity in his 
own bosom. Still, it is difficult to avoid echoing with a sigh the 
laureate's line : 

I" However we brare it out, we men are a Utile breed." 
Tl 1 1 N' K the following story is new; I am assured it is true. A 
! of mine, travelling afoot with a companion through the 
n lanes of the Midland Counties, came unexpectedly upon a 
country racecourse, and found in one portion of the ground a thimble- 
rig establishment in full work. In spite of remonstrances, his 
companion, a thorough madcap, whom I will call A, insisted on 
observing the game. "Would the gent like to bet a crown he could 
find the little pea ?" said the expert Agreed," was the answer. The 
money on both sides was deposited, and A, lifting up the thimble, 
the required pea and took the stakes. A second bet, 
"double 01 nded, to the olfl ious surprise of the officiator at 

the board, in the same result. A third bet, ";i pound or nothing," 
steadied the nerves of the loser, and the trii k w 1 I hod ■■■■ ■.&. 

great 1 0, Agai: . up a thimble and showed 

the pea, taking at the same time the stake. " S* help me," etc., said 
artist, " I didn't put it there." " No," said the 
, retreating with the spoil of, ys (any my ou-i. 

I am not answerable for the, morality of this story, but I think it 
amusing enough to be worth preserving. 

382 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

" T)EACE has her victories not lc$s renowned than war," says 

JL Milton, in lines with which every reader is now fan 
The exploits of engineering are now the most renowned of these 
triumphs. It seems likely th:tt A: c of the most 

extraordinary natural phenomena, will witness tl 
engineering feats. As completely as the canal through the Isthmus 
of Panama will, when accomplished, eclipse that through the Isthmus 
of Suez, will the railway through the .' lipte European feats 

among the Alps. A railway across the Andes is nearly completed— 
the tunnel which pierces the summit of a mounts: ^rapli- 

mentanly than euphoniously called Mount Mciggs, doing so at an 
altitude of 15,583 feet above the level of the sea, or aoo feet 
lower than the summit of Mont Blanc. It used to be thought, and 
ia still held in some quarters, that the beat barrier between Stal 
a range of impassable mountains. I I ; in the influence of 

contact, and fancy that when the Himalayas are tunnelled like the 
Alps (I ipexk robjeot to correction, since the task may be impossible) 
we shall strengthen our Indian empire instead of weaken 1. 
When once we get face 10 face with Russia there is a cliance that wc 
in*y understand one another. It is only while we . mat of 

men thai we assume them to be of a nature « 
and much worse than, our own. 

THE story of" Keep on thi icntioncd in the Antiqwiryip 

true story, be it remembered), and the stories based 00 it, u 
PraHorium episode in the •/•'. and the " Hill Sun 1 .ark," 

story in PtdtxmA, may be matched by some of 
kind. For instance, there U the wonderful case of Dr. T.; 
Young, who discovered a wt.' uis in a collection sent 

him by Sir C V. ('•rev, which turn nn of 

a hieroglyphic inscription which he and CI 1 partially 

deciphered only a few hours before. 

was a most extraordinary chance which had thus brought in' 
possession a document not likely, in the ■ ever 

existed, still less to b. preserved fbi Itis infomuuioo throu 
two thousand y ordinary tranaation 

i have been br 1 me,* 

he adds, '• at the very moment « 1 

me to possu ition ui an 01 ibts 

studying, but withou cr rcasoi :idim 

it — this combination wouli 
affording ample evidence of my having become an Egyptian tun 

Table. Talk. 


Professor Skeat recently instanced a case almost as striking — in fact, in 
one respect even more remarkable. The stone pillar at Ruthwell, near 
Gretna-grccn, had long interested antiquarians on account of the Rum. 
inscriptions on its n ;nd southern sides, which they had vainly 

attempted to decipher as Pktish 01 Danish. In 1840 Mr. J. M. 
Kimble of Trinity College ed that the inscriptions are in 

the Old English language, and transcribed and explained the whole. 
, years afterwards his attention was drawn to a poem which had 
been printed from an Anglo-Saxon MS. found at Verc.elli, in the 
Milanese district ; and he found, to his surprise and delight, that this 
poem — The Dream of the Holy Rood — contained the very passage 
which he had deciphered. The 1 1 was absolutely tri- 

umphant. Only three letters in his transcription required altering. 
"A lesson truly," as Professor Skeat remarked, " as to the value 
of patience and careful ; 

"pROFESSOR SK.EA I' also mentioned sonic derivations, or rather 
X. analogies, as remarkable,;:' Qfl logy between the 

Greek "anax," a king or chief, and our 1 r," or between the 

words " prize "and " hand." We have, by the way, been often struck by 
the circumstance that the connection between such words as " prize " 
and " land " should not, long since, have suggested that the study of 
Teutonic tongues il le fur the illustration of Latin, Greek, 

and Sanskrit, as the study of theee for the illustration "f the Teutonic 
tongues. Professor Skeat remarks that this has only recently been 
taken into account, whereas the study of Sanskrit, I 1 and Latin, 
for assistance in the investigation of modern languages, has been in 
progress for many ye. * To return, hi |ect One 

. hardly suppose that there could be any association between 
. "Billiter" (preserved in Uillitcr Lane, Lonxj 
•■chyle," and "geyser." Yet the association is simple 
enough when explained, 1 gnise the reality of the 

connection between "priie" and "hand" when we note the 

/>-., prendre, /■>., prehendo, Lai., henden, 'fait., 

. and the possibility of the connection between " Sir " and 

low the series, Sir, sire, /•>., seigneur, />., senior, 

/^/,Mi.i\, Lai., nd anax (the l t step being die doubtful one, 

becau' i ' n Latin "s " is often found as thi 

h in Greek begin with an aspirated vowel, we 
nut so readily accept the syllable tt ui sencx as corresponding 
to the ur.aspirated " a " of anax). There is a root gftu, 
We find that in Greek the sound gk is represented by ch (h 


The Gentleman t Magazine. 

sotting by these letters the consonant sound of the Greek *). 
In I Jtin gk b represented by " (," which seems j till wc 

remember how in our words "enough,* "rough rnic 

relation is indicated. In Icelandic gk becomes simply g. In Gothic 
and Anglo-Saxon we find for it both g and y. Thus our root gk* 
appears in Greek in the words "chuein " and "thecin," to pour, 
and the derivatives chyle and chyme. In I-atin it appear. 
the root syllable "fu," seen in fudi, past tense of fundere to poor, 
and thence in English in such words as fusion, futf, futile, foundry, 
founder, and fountain (the three last coming to us the 

French). In Icelandic we have thegvs, to pour, represented in English 
by the Scandinavian word "gush." A gey ply a "gl- 

and is equivalent to "fountain." n Gothic wc have "gut," 

to pour, in Anglo-Saxon gedtan (doubtless the latins obtained giii/.i, 
a drop, gultur, the throat, gusto, to sip, in the «rac way; whenre the 
French goutte, go&ttr, gout, the English gout, a drop — as in Shake- 
speare, " gouts of blood," and gout the disease, attributed of okl I 
drop of morbid humour in the part affected). From gedtan a 
the middle English yeteii to pour. A bell-founder was ■ :cr. 

And lastly, Billiter-lanc is Bcllc-yctcr's Lane. Nothing is left of the 
original root but the short vowel " i," identical with the 
"yeten." Students of language may rejoice that the phonetic prin- 
ciple was not thought of and forcibly introduced a thousand year* 
ago; for if it had been, an enormous mass of evidence (trustworthy 
when properly sifted) would have been lost. Pronunciation changed 
and continues to change, but modem philology would have suffered 
grievously if written language had been deall with by " such fanatical 
phantasms, such insociable and point-devisc companions'* as the 
phonctists, " such rackers of orthography." Holoferncs had only to 
complain of the racker of Orthography in gpe 1 says "c!i 

fine, when he should say doubt; dct, when he should ttrono-.n 
debt,— d c b t, not dct; he clepeth a calf, cauf; haN 
neighbour tvea/ur nebour; neigh abbreviated ne." If he lud lived 
to see the FnuHA A'us, he would have had better cause to lay, 
"This is abhominable (which he would call al 
sinuateth me of insanic, ne .• :el to make fra<i 





October 1879. 





A I >Y is coming to stay with mc for a few weeks. I am 
'he station to meet her." 
Hcrmionc mai 11 mouncement with u attempt at ease that 

ably a failure, her eyes looking just about her huabt 
scarf-pin, and her voice husky for all its artificial carelessness. 

Richard looked at her with sur it mu the meaning Of 

this announcement ? Why was the coming of this stranger so sud- 
denly sprung on h : 

" Who is she ? Where have you met her?" he asked. 

Mrs. Everett and I have not seen her yet," was the 

" Her name tells nothing. Who and what is this Mrs. Everett? 
—a.-, coining here?" he returned 

ad of die vicar's, and wants to come u ilme 

to see the work," iaid Hermione. " As she could not go to the 
Vicarage now, unfortunately ! "—sighing — " I offered to take her in 
here 1 " — with a characteristic little fib 10 ttve Superior and .ippc.u.u-i ■■:, 
"I hope she will approve of the work and like her quarters," said 
Richard, a slight touch of sarcasm in Ml voi 

Too do not object to her coming, do you?" she asked, tempi 

She was one of those women who arc not satisfied with hi 
their own way, but demand also that others should appn>. 



:(lctttaris Afaga. 

" That has nothing to d; 

. has. I should be very sorry to & 
ll.niiionc impulsiv 

"I fear you went beyond your rcc . hi* grave re- 

joinder. " Unhappily, sorrow for my disj I ong ceased 

to be a restraining inff' i you, rlerml 

Tears of genuine feeling came to her eyes. 
" Vou misjudge me cruelly," she said ; and at tl < il she 

honestly believed in her own words. 

'• No, I ;im not u . ■ i only on my p 

I do not care to fall into auo 

ltd | ifirhaps ) ou arc more mistaken now than you were bef • 
said Hermione, holding out her hand and looking up at him with 
sutl> teas. 

He took her hand and held it without speaking. What indeed 

. >u M be I -iy ? He knew that all this was only a passing mood, not 

of feeling ; and that to-day in one form, to-morrow 

Dirtd be in another, according as the influence of Mr. I.asccll*« 

or her own natural instinct had the upper hand. These passing 

changes, were not to be nu 
;o draw a little closer to him which she had 
-i's departure was as fallacious as the rest. It 
DO real reconciliation that was offered. There «U I 
for ill •; -to renounce I '■ Mr. I-iseelles and return 

her wifehood in tin past— that 

love ••■ ide obedience unity. Failm bet halM; 

efforts at a {partial peace were in vain. They were due rather u> 
weariness of herself than to ng of love f< I 

Ik thought with the straightforward courage of a man who pre* 
pain to self-deception — because she was lonely, not becauvc >hc wa» 

"Of course," H went on to say, womanlike, (riviti* 

reasons that should exonerate her when she had 
— "< lonely foi 


v whose :. 

uman can own 

and was now forced tQ association of a strari i 

her d< 

1 dare aay wi 
I ing rapid . bee was in 

iui and uncumfon. 

Under xuhick Lord? 387 

very well, and says that she is charming ; and beautiful as well. That 
il pleasant for you, Richard I" she added, attempting a 
playfulness that tailed as much as her composure had failed a short 
time since. 

,ouare sal ' lie said. 

: -it you mutt be t insisted, sincere at the 


"I have no part in Uu.- Em Uttd " It is idle to talk of 

th your actions. Hermiune 1" 
" li .J you are! 7 ' she said, raising her big blue 1 

: \ tO lii 111 . Hi' WOllld 
rather have bei bo principles 

.i was substantially coq 
It jancd on every feeling 

more than bei petulance and ill-U':. 1 ever 


•' Well !" said Hermioi ply ill-used, " 1 

hope 1 'ill not dislike her, Rjchard, and t Ii;it she may make 

than you haw :ite. " 

•■ 'i mot possibly make me 

he ss back my lost child nor my wife's 


" It is very hard on me— you are vexed and irritated with 

>ok of angry sorrow. "The 
1 please ye !" 

•■ I .mi never vexed norirriutcd n iermionc,"said RJi hard; 

" 1 h ., learnt a new reading and the U do i pautfuL 

5 not the 1 I thing before you to-day is 

: ; and n is lime yo I Iting out " 

. i roc] ! " < ricd Hci d to fling 

if she had done so and been re- 
He •• th a Imi 
land left her to 

had proni 
with a cl( 
handsome, got out of the train at Starton, set all the officials astir in 

itteodam lokcd about her curiously. Shet 

wotn-i «ed manner, but as gentle as she 

was comi -oman who bi -."manhood as at once a 

.ind who held hetself as a kind of 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

creature whom the world was honoured in respecting. She had light, 
almost flaxen hair without the faintest tinge of gold or red to redeem 
it from insipidity; her eyes were a greenish haxel ; her skin was of c\ 
site colour and clearness; her nose was short, blunt and kid-like. Her 
address was good ; as artificial in its own way as had been that of Sister 
Agnes, but less sanctimonious. She was evidently a woman of die world 
who had added religion as an extra ornament ; a Ritualist on the out- 
side of her and a woman of the world all through. She was also one 
who, while appearing to be frank, held all lier real self in absolute 
reserve, and while »oft and supple and caressing in <1 a 

will of iron and a gra>p of steel. The velvet glove was never mote 
fully exemplified than with Mrs. Edith Everett ; and the current 
verdict of those who knew i ixially was : "What a sweet 

woman she is I "—but her children feared her, and her servants never 
stayed beyond the conventional year. 

Forewarned, she took Hcrmione from the first as on 
compassionated, coerced, scourged, encouraged and praised all 
one. Backsliding to the extent of making even the hollowest kind 
of peace with her infidel husband was a sin of which the postit 
was not to be contemplated ; and Mrs. Fullerton was to be 
to feel that in Mr;. Edith Everett she had a jailor of godliness 
would stand no paltering with evil, however craftily disgui 
jugal affection or womanly tenderness. The renunciation which had 
been ordained and carried out so far was not to be repented of; 
and in the drive home Mrs. Everett touched without disguise on tbc 
sorrow which so faithful a i 

through the companionship of a godless and depraved husban 
Mr. Fullerton. It was public property in the sect to which both 
belonged, and there was no indelicacy in si f it — so at least 

her manner seemed to say. 

•• Superior has told me all al>out you, and explained how I 
comfort you and be of use to you," she rangtn 

>ne as joint allies 
las t' Id me Of your heavy trial, and how m 
" I do my best," answered Hcrmionc com 
" V'es ; Superior says you arc grand ; and understand so 
how impossible it is in your case to be both a good 
and a fond wife I It is hard on you, poor lady; b snoot 

serve I 'i<-- devil 

•' My husband isgoc*; 
Hermione, shrinking at the un< 


Under which Lord? 389 

more kindly, and with whom she been trying to establish a little 
of closer relationshi]». It was painful enough sometimes to hear 
poor Richard so harshly judged by Superior ; but by this stranger, 
Supc rfect woman, it was unendurai 

. Everett smiled. What a babe in the world of truth the 
> creature was after all ! 

•• Why ! that is ju*t the heart of everything," »be '-'''l- " Whal El 
anything without ri,;ht doctrine? Superior would tell you the same, 

[one, like a catechixed child 
M I tare often heard Supcrioi pr< that very subject," coo- 

led Mrs. Everett ;.— '"The nothingness, ol natural virtue nod the 
cesnty of right doctrine.' I do DOt think Superior holds 
anything m< • iry to salvation than this belief. I* 

vride door di 'Irs. Fullerton — the door whti h leads 10 eternal 

<a ! is this your place?" suddenly changing her voice as 
they dr igb the lodge gate pretty it is! What a 

tag, as she added a little below her breath but 
idibly, "with the serpent here ai ".. :i u |rj I .,!•:, | " 
1 introduction to the serpent, which tool: place jtttt before 
dinner, was rather awkward in more than one direction. Hcnnioac, 
conscious that she had brought into his house an enemy to her 
husband as declared as Mr. Lascelles himself, and sorry that she had 
licen forced to do so, was neither natural nor at case. Mrs. Everett, 
hful to her programme, was cold and scarcely courteous to this 
tested son of i the roaster of the house himself, 

catching the tone of the moment, on mere skeleton ofbospi- 

•y— no more. When introduced to Mr. Fullerton, Mrs. Everett 
made a cold bow, and, afflicted with sudden myopy, did not sec the 
•ut in conventional welcome. When dinner was an- 
nounced, she refused Richard's arm, saying with a smile as she took 
Hcrmionc's hand: " You and I will go together, and then then will be 
no distinction ; " and all through dinner she kept to the same rdlt. 
She never let the talk Hag for a moment; but she spoke exclusively to 
Hcrmionc, and when Richard put in his word, answered him only 
wife. She never looked at him save when he was not 
looking at her, and then by stealth as it were ; -< inning him with the 
same kind of curiosity as she would have had in looking at some 
mo: 01a him she turned her eyes slowly to Hcrmionc; and 

then she changed from the curiosity of horror to pit) and teodenx 
And Hcrmionc saw all th'u facial byplay, as it was intended she 
should. Wbatevei kidurd said Edith Everett contradicted, and 


The Gentleman 's Magazine, 

peflrfsteaUy turned the tronvcrsalion on theolo^- 

poke of themselves the Anglicans or i -as persecuted 

ing ones of the earth "— who*c wicked- 

':>■)■ must endai >n the 

end. To lu-ir 

thumb.-' n w the scavenger's daughter, wen 
and tl n Richard 

and the law. Their St truth VS :icr, a 

service of peril I ;ladly ; while infidelity lad all 

the go 'idde- 

iv of the isabk 


but her manner, taken by itself, was free from activt be wa» 

lib- .i calm sup- 

cd in this his frank 

and unconditional condemnation made Hcnn II Richard, 

■ challenges ilung one al other into his face, let all 

l«ss withov or comment. lie was. did 

it signify to him if . by railed at him? 

care to argue as to the wood of < .tor est 

the name of the forge where the nails which held him were made. 
But the quiet i which hi Do be roused did not 

to make Mrs. Everett more his friend, less his appointed aad 
willing enemy. 

For her own part, Hcrmione soon found :. lo to 

. her agnostic husband when she and h 

'Superior iwasroot' 

and unjust ; but Mrs. Everett, looking at hct 
penetrating eyes — e; neither flashed i i .other 

droojtcd nor dilated, but that i they 

1 and do i very soul — answered in her aoft and 

er monotonoii 

001 make excuses for hhx 
" What docs Superior with a half 

1 look. 

«hould Call from grace and b 

1 she were spcakin. 


Under which Lara 391 

nun. Von might as n-cll the calm 


-. No one < nn these 

I. I only say that he is not bad b," replied 

nionc with the courage of irritation. 
'■y poor soul ! not bad all through! " said M- Everett sweetly, 
v can an infidel be anything bin : i rough? You 

as well say tlut a man dying of cancer is not diseased all tin. 
Mr. Fulkrton's infidelity is the cancer y port <>f him, 

and you make yourself one with bl u even 

apologixe * g ,fan, >' ou lt l!i natural," she went on to say 

with a generous concession to human weak; ■■.■■•■ 
regrettable anu ire that yi tor him, I con understand 

your wanting i :!ic fairest light possible. Bat il 

right There arc times when even the love of ■ wife for her husband 
is unholy : and in your case, dear, yours is undoubtedly unholy, and 
at all costs must be subdued. It is ■ terrible trial to you; but you 
must 6utTcr and resist." 

s was the tone taken by Mrs. Everett, under direction. She 
assumed on the part of Hcrmionc an -ill devouring passion for her 
husband which brought the blood into the ice for 

shame, and made her afraid to show the smallest kindness to this 
infidel wli urch had given her md BCormUBted to taki I 

Whenevej she spoke to bin 1 clear hazel eyes 

I on he steadily until she had i 
made to I iioke to him when not 

aliso.' jed He was the outcast, and she t i . gainst 

ly when she recognised that he had human > I 
rig were carefully curtailed 
she went, Mrs. Everett » t side — wbatem she said ot did, 

Mm. tor, witness and judge. Her life 

gradually | y one, quietly, 

■:ily— never oil. i 

took into her 0* which 


;. with Siijicriiir, l igB as 

possji cangu. 

egoal ; and 
5 tly baa a 


Tlie Gentleman's Magazine. 

Yet for all this Hcrmionc was unhappy. Flattering ha 
i, protecting her in appearance, coercing her in reality, Mn 
Everett seemed somehow to stand between her and Superior i 
■\u- one 1 1 . 1 1 1 < 1 . tad between her and her husband on the other ; I 
husband with whom, now that she was prevented, she longed i 
to make peace. She was too much her interpreter ; and Hermit) 
would rather have beet) allowed to interpret for herself. She > 
not like to hear her thoughts and feelings and desires explained I 
Superior, and her soul made M it were into a set of 
headings which Mrs. Everett wrote out and she had only to 
But she was powerless. Mr. Lascclles had established a 
"mousetrap," after the manner of the great spy; and HcrmiooM 
not only watched and reported on, but was made to feci that 
Everett was but another name for Superior, while Superior himself" 
the consecrated interpreter of the Mind of God. Between the wot 
soft, weak tool bid DOt the thinnest fibre of independence left be,! 
was bent hither and thither just as they most desired. If that strong I 
which held her with 10 firm a grasp was the Crutch for her weakne 
it was also the band and buckle of restraint, the lash and the go 
that coerced ; and nothing but the superstitious dread of 
Superior, and, through him, Eternal Justice, kept her in the 
moral thraldom from which one word to Richard would haw i 
bee But that one word ! It was just that which she dared not I 
For would it not have been calling on Satan to deliver her from I 
. of God i 
And all this while both Mr. Lascclles and Mrs. Everett despised I 
weakness of which they made their account and to Hcrmionc 
lied a* grace. 

A clever woman with a keen sense of the ridiculous 
strong love of power — also with very deal and decided view i 
what she wanted out of life and meant tliat it should give 
Everett found much in the state of things at Crossholme to 
: mom tO condemn. The feminine worship paid in 
revolted her for more reasons than one ; and she satirized it jo* 
sparingly th:it Mr. LuceUe* himself became ashamed, and tboafk 
(hit perhaps it was after all .i little in excess of his njM* 
itual due. To those whose love for the man ran into to" 
reverence for the priest she was as bitter as she was unscrupulos** 
her denunciations ; and she did not even spare Theresa, dying *• 
she was. Miss Pryor and all the humbler sisterhood who fed * 
Superior's words and looks as the hungry Chosen fed on manns. •<* 
never so sharply rallied as by this tall, smiling, blunt-nosed i 

d w«u» 

Under which Lord ' 


voice and the keen wit, who said the cruellest 
tilings in the bl. I nner, and made them all cry in S6CTO sad 

What her 01 ; were for this man who stood 

AS the target fur so many feminine arrows no one could divine. Surely, 
said some, she was too clever to in t be would many he — 

a widow without bea tune -though the had all those social 

qualities by which s wife gets her husband on in the world. Yet she 
was evidently a power with him, ami had mon OVCX bin 

nyonc else. She had the oddest way possible of laying down 
the law oo matters; when she would look over to Mr. fjurotlkl 
and say : "Superior, I am SON that you see it as I do," and Superior 
would invariably see it U she did, and say so. In any controversy 
or dispute that might be on hand between her and anyone else, 

;ave her reason " though she had none ; and said she was 
right when she was manifestly wrong. People talked of it, as of 
course. In small communities where there is but one masculine sun 
of any account and a great many feminine satellites, a few rays of 
benevolence more or less arc jealously weighed and measured; and 
what was no one's business became everyone's, like a riddle given to 
the public to guess. But whatever Mrs. Everett's own thoughts 
might be, or wherever Superior's inclinations tended, the ffork 
undertaken by the one after the design of the other was plain and 
clear enough— the absolute prevention of anything like relapse in 
Hcrmionc's relations with her husband, and the serration between 
them widened not narrowed. Richard was an infidel to be crushed, 
and his wife should be made to crush him. It was infamous that 
an atheist should hold this large property which was DM bit own ; 
a scandal to justice and Christianity both, that he should apply to the 
spread of infidelity funds rightful!] Church audit 

must be put an end to now as speed3y M might be. Though the 
great hope of permanent restitution had been frustrated through 
Virginia's i I, pretty pickings might yet be gathered from 

' the present proprietor if only that wretched ob 
-, then, was th point -Richard must be ousted from 

his place of power and Hcrmionc must take on herself the adffl 

i of her own affairs. The train had been well laid ; now was 
lor prudent firing. 

Everett smiled as she listened to .Superiur declaiming with 
such scathing irony on the weakness of women and the folly of love, 
while trading on the one and living by the breath of the other. Hut 
she understood her lesson ami practised it faithfully. From the day 

394 The Gentleman's ■"•. 

on which she entered the AW 1 statu* in 

his own house ; and, in spite of his evident d 

notion alternated beti d the Ablx 

")',.'■ house, 90UT fields, I lo say with 

ine, of whom she icstions i 

Old that, to which rfl< -ildgiver. ■ 

a helpless appeal to her husband. 

" l>o not you know your own i rctt one 

day. " How dreadful ' ■ 

,; \\'hy?" said Richard gravely " What mace b needed than 
that the husband should act for the wife?" 

'• You ban what Mr. Fullciton says," rcuirncd Mi -till 

■peaking t" H« rmiose she never addressed Richard dire' 

h ink that marriage merges a woman's individuality *oc 
make her no km ;ionsible for what may l>e done in her 

name with her means? i not ; and the docttfae seems 

to me as dangerous as the practice is indelicate. Wc are 
responsible for the use or abuse of our powers and privileges ; and to 
say, ' . nd <lid this or that, - ■ lorhadc ' 

commanded that,' will n arc done whi- 

against the glory of God and the influence of the 

I [i -in.!, ne colourc<I anil looked dowa K med fron. 

to the other, his sad fact- set into a certain proud sternness which, 
m expression entirely strange to him, was now becoming only 
nouinTulry fiunOI 

rent from your 
" When «e married our wills, our hearts, our interests were the came, 
and one interpreter was siiffki 

" -Shifting one's responsibilities docs not lessen the guill of 
id Mn I 
to, dear ? " to Hcrmionc. lot afraid to speak openly, 

"U ? " in a low, sympathc 
" No, shi icason to be afraid," said Ridiard ; and, " No, 

1 am not afraid," said 

" Then, ■ ally think that he is mar 

'»uing the 
The 0] curia of 

conjugal.^ DO good to 

rmione answer' 

1 lermionc laughed nervou 

'• Wc all do that at time*. I fancy," "he said with affect- 

r/<rr which Lord? 395 

Mrj, Everett smiled. 

" Thjrt will be but a poor excuse at the Last Day," was the reply 
mdf with perfect urbanity. " Bone of my bone and flesh of my Beth 
*il! hue x bad time of it, I fear, if the one bone has taken service 
under Satan, and the other lets itself be dragged into the same ranks 

: i.iy must be* ruthless kind of .spiritual butchery, if a 
pour soul is punished f<»r not hiving learnt, when in the body, what 
km b ret* let, ami for LOW touch and to whom," 

uid R. " How you Christians Can imagine such a Divine 

Bern; xs He whom you wors hi p I cannot conceive. Your God of 

re cruel than Moloch — your Divine Reason fl 
■lun Juggernaut. 

"Richard! don ' Hermione In despair. 

Why would he say such dreadful things at the my lime when 
Ac ms doing her best to defend him against Mrs. Everett; and 
•wodv trying to think a little less ill of Mm than she had done of 
b*! ' 

"I do nut wonder at your husband's smtiuieuts, detestable U 

fcyaw,* said Mrs. Everett, still addressing Hermione. "If I held 

'i of his rile opinions, I should the other. Naughty children 

^"tys think tin frig parent cruel and the punishment hard. 

Jndso it is with limn 

"If I had compared the action of your God to that of a man, 
•ouucild have called it blasphemous," said Richard, who was deter- 
to have it out with her. 

Mr*. Everett turned on hira. 

"And so it would have been." she said passionately. " What 
*> I blasphemer be but blasph It is a sin to discuss such 

"bjects with you !" she added, rising in an agitation that was partly 
^ and partly feigned. Then, as if she had recovered her serenity 
tytttefbrt, led bltClt from the window where she lun I gone 

far refuge, and said to Hermione amiably: "I am going out 
•Wfi dear, though it is raining. Shall I tell Superior that you were 

i of the weather?" 

"No," said Hermione, rising also in agitation. M I will go with 
J "- I am not afraid of the weathi 

* I wish you would not go out, Hermione. It is not fit for you 
Said Richard, coming up to where she stood, and laying his 
•"M on her shoulder. 

Mrs. Everett averted her eyes as at something unholy : Hermione 
"topped hers, and her lips quivered with nervous shyness. What 


a frightful 
as Rii bar 
She dared nottt 

" I can tak- 
Edith Everett 
can tell hi 
that you wi 
but that is 

" How silly 
will go ; I am 
false play! 
engagements w • 

" Do not be I 
said Mrs. Evert 
myself for the 1 
feelings, and forJ 
so hard to me fl 
wliom every gooal 
Faith would have^ 
and earnest — I 
and the truth I " 

"1 sec my In..! 
from them more," I 
' Yet you go > i 
his hands ! You give ] 
it to make men infidcls/V 
vation and the belief o^ 
his faults, and are a loyal dan. ' 

She spoke severely ; Hernul 
of grievous peril to her mind. 
Richard as he was, had less harnH 
which kept the conjugal tic, thou 

" My position is difficult," said Hi 

Kdith Everett smiled. 

" He who would save his life shall k> 
know, my dear, we cannot carry our darih 
would enter in at the strait gate. Your bu 
and you will not free yourself from him ; In 
afraid — that strait gate is terribly narrow I " 

" What ought I to do ? " asked I Icrmionc, with 

Mr*. Everett came close to her, and took hei 

Under which Lord? 



"Shall I tell you?" she said in a clear metallic voice. "Take 
bid the management of your own affairs ; forbid him to use your 
money as he docs for the spread of infidelity ; make him an allow- 
■imc, and have a deed of separation. You will never be a true 
.in or a good churchwoman, Hermione, until you do all this ; 
Jnd Superior knows this as well as I do." 
" No, I cannot do all this. Poor Richard ! " said Hermione. 
Mrs. Everett let her hands fall 

"Then you can never hope to go to heaven," she said. " You 
pRfer the creature to the Creator, and sensual passion to holiness 
lod uuth. Your love for your husband is simply sensuality and a 
tameful sin, call it what you will." 

" You do not know what you are saying," cried Hermione, strongly 

" I think I do." said Mrs. Everett in a superior kind of way. 
" It is you, poor thing, who do not know what you feci ! Neither I 
nor Superior will ever think differently until you take your courage 
a both hands and do as I say— and as he says too : — rid the place of 
tt*s infamous atheism which your husband teaches, and free yourself 
faun the declared enemy of the Church and your priest. There is 
«o second way. It is this, or consenting with sinners and making 
yourself responsible for their sin. There ! don't cry ! Tears do no 
jood unless they are tears of repentance; and you arc only crying 
because you arc weak and worried and cannot make up your mind 
to do bravely what is right." 

She went to her and kissed the grieving woman as if she had 
been a child. 

- I liave said enough for the present," she thought, watching hi r. 
Things must go gently." 

- a moment she spoke again. 
"You poor darling!" she said; "I am so sorry to make you 
unhappy. But I must, until I make you good. Don't fret any 
more just now. Put on your bonnet and come with me to see dear 
Superior. He will comfort you and tell you that I am right." 

"I don't sec how that will comfort me," said Hermione irritably. 
At this moment Mrs. Everett was the most hateful person in all 
lion to her whom she had been appointed to guide and be- 

The Gentleman's Magazine. 

Chapter XXIX. 


Mr. Lascelles and Mis. Edith Everett stood by the parting of the 
ways, she to return to the tedium of her duennaship at the Abbey, 
he to the discomfort of his bereaved Vicarage ; both a little raped 
liy the unpleasant conditions of the present moment, but <b»« 

r together by the common need of sympathy rather than 
apart into unfriendliness because of irritated nerves and ruffled 
er. They had been talking of many things connected «ith the 
h, .iiul had touched at last on the rel ie»l 

her husband, and how far she might be counted on in ! 
struggle which Mr. Lascclh •> make. liuth kne* 

that thf was profoundly impressed with faith and i --he be- 

lieved in the truth of Christianity and was afraid of the power of the 
Chinch ; but both knew also that her love for her husband wa dm 
dead, and that since Virginia's defei tion i: ha I mean nndf- 

niable revival ; and both were anxiously watching the alternate ri* 
and fall of these two antagonistic forces, and speculating as tu«W 
would finally overcome. 

" Do you think she will be permanently influenced for good?— 
you sec so much more of her than I do ! " said Mr. Lasce'les, careM 
not to show too much personal interest in Herm 

" Well, you sec, she is so weak ! " replied the pretty womwrs 
friend and guide, speaking with tranquil contempt "There*** 
certainty with su< h people j and as for her, you never know where i» 
have her. You think you have brought her to a right view of thop 
one day, and the next she has taken a new Man and L» as far 
ever, Shi ibly fatiguing. I hope she is worth all the rrouUe 

taken about her ! " 

"She is very impressionable," said Mr. I Jtscelles, steering bet** 

e and blame. 

"That is a meek way of putting it, Superior. I should call If 

miserably weak," return Everett, still with that same nhs. 

contempt It was her method of asserting her own on*- 


1 Her will has been crushed so long. It is the paralyse of 
aid the vicar, wishing to be charitable if just, yet nat 
; to champion Hermione Fullerton too warmly to Mrs. 
hazel eyes of hers were not pleasant to meet 

Under which Lord? 


looked as if they were reading tlte secret writing of the soul ;— and 
somewhat despising the literatim-. 

IC need not have been crushed. She need not have given in 
to that vile husband of hers if she had not liked it," she said. 
Ijr, no excuses arc to be made for her, Superior t She is Just a 
child «nli Bice mumen and a pretty face and nothing whatever in 
her. When yo-.i have said tha. m! I.i ..r:<<! vim have said all 

for hcT that you can. Of mind trx ■ trace." 

" Yn'.i. at least, will not Stnu'n the truth for charity. [ honour 
your uncomproinisiii laid Mr. I i courtly 

•' N-.,' she a n swered, I poring the in : an ting the bland- 

ishment. " It is never my way to strain the truth ib 
I like to see things : hem." 

" Vet submi&siveness 1 1 aid plea- 


" I I B) DOI dew r enough to see them in the case of Mrs, Fill- 
lerton," she answered "Jelly-fish and that dreadful protoplasm 
have their uses too, I suppose j but 1 confess I do not know what 
they I 

" \s an agent inspired byothai Mr. l-ascclles. "The 

docility which has made Mrs l-'ullcrton submit so readily to her 
husband will make her as obedient to the Church." 

Mrs. Everett looked into vacancy and put on, as she could do at 
will, a perfectly stolid, stupid, mindless look. 

"She believes— that is the great thing gained," continued Mr. 
Lascclles, and then waited for an answer. 

" But she is one of those emotional people who require so mm i. 
personal influence ! " she said. " It is not as if she h Meet, 

any will, any force that could be misted to. She has to be dh 
i hand — always guided." 
'She has that influence in Direction," t. plied Herroione 

"To forget everything thai -he has prat . ■■ 

enormous trouble to fou, Superior, If she is honest." 

•' I alio* that She does give me infinitely more trouble than 
some others whom I could name — Ma bo are at once 

s tronger and yet mo: ive." 

riear smiled le giving his words their 

Mrs. Everett smiled too, and adjusted heT bonnet-strings with ihe 
automatic coquetry of a woman who, though she knows that she is not 



The Gentleman* Magmiiu. 

beautiful, also knows herself admired. Truly she had no cause wfcai 
Hermione ! There was no rivalry' here that should make her doid. 
Blunt nose ; small, gTcenish, hazel eyes ; a face that had not ok re- 
deeming feature save its transparent skin, on the one side—on the 
other loveliness as fresh and fragrant now as at eighteen ; but still » 
rivalry that should make her afraid I For had she not brains by irhidi 
she was enabled to be a clever man's still cleverer manipulator »«tfl 
as coadjutor, while Hermione was but a child to be petted and atti 
for — loved if you will and admired— but neither trusted to in moments 
of difficulty nor confided in when clear counsel was needed— a mere 
doll-wife, dainty, sweet, caressing, loving; — and that was all ! WA 
such a man as Superior brains would count for more than booty, 
and sweetness was less necessary than sense. He wanted somee« 
by his side who had intt:lligt;in c enough to understand his own noi 
and act with independent accord— strengthening his hands «Ht 
freeing him from the trouble ot direction . not a mere machine, 
however pretty, to work when guided but sure to fall into daordeT 
if left to itself. No; Mrs. Everett saw nothing to be afraid of and 
much to hope for. Hut she must not let Superior understand ha too 
clearly, and she must manage things in her own way ; which *» ■* 
exactly that in vogue at Crossholmc. 

"Some men like troublesome women," she said. 

"Do they?" asked Mr. Lascclles with affected innocence of 

"Yes; pretty little creatures whose inferiority is a perpetual 
witness of their own .supremacy," she said. " It gratifies then 
love to feci themselves always on a pedestal, and to see the rebtnc 
silliness of the dear little things I " 

" So ! And who arc these men ? " he asked, still with lW 
innocent air as of one wanting to know. 

"Well, I do not think that you are one, Superior:" saidM* 
Everett with frank confession. " You are too wise to like u> 
dangerous honour of being the head-centre of an association of prenT 
simpletons. You would feel more in your right place if surrowdol 
by those who understood and could help you as interpreters of fo* 
mind, rather than by mere dummies acting only according to muni' 
orders ; is it not so ? " 

"Surely I " said Mr. lascelles with a pei uKar mill " Hut •** 
arc such to be found? So few women understand the d«|«* 
thoughts of men 1 Some supplement us," he added courteously '< 
" but it is given to very few to really understand us." 

" I know that, being one of the ; said carelessly. "I do 

Under which Lord? 401 

most thoroughly understand them and society too. Had I been 
bom a man I should have gone into diplomacy. And I would have 
nude a name. As it is I shall make my son's, when he is old enough, 
hand died just as I had laid the train of his success," she 
wnton to say. " Had he lived he would have been distinguished. 
1 bow that he would have been made a bishop. The whole thing 
»u ripening when he was taken." 
" I know you arc invaluable/' said Mr. Lascelles with earnestness 
i more nattering than passion. " But in the matter of your 
1, now — I, who uphold the celibacy of the clergy as a necessity 
of church discipline, can scarcely be expected to feel entirely 
He lowered his eyes as he said this, and put on an official look. 
" Yes, as a principle, their celibacy is best," returned Mrs. Everett. 
' But when we have so much to work against any help is valuable, 
a wife may be looked upon as a lay worker — like a district 
ir, for instance. I think the thing would be lawful if her own 
t was in the right place, and she could be really of use to the 
Church by the social advancement of her husband. Women have 
;r, Superior " " 
u You have," he said. 

'Yes; I know that I can be of use where I .1111 trusted," she 

cd. "As I hope you will find in this matter of Mrs. Fulleiton." 

as if to put the other aspect of the subject from her. 

"And you really think she will be induced to take the estate out 

"f her husband's hands?" he asked, also anxious to drop that slight 

tension on the value of diplomatic wives to ambitious ritualistic 

I think so," said Mrs. Everett; "and would say 'yes' without 
beiUlion if she had the smallest pretence to a moral backbone. But 
«K cm never be quite sure of such a weak creature as she is." 

"The scandal of the present stale of things is unbearable," said 
lilt ricar angrily. 

"My only wonder is how you have not put an end to it before 
ftis." returned Mrs. Everett. " I think I should have found the imy 
hi I been here. Your sister ought to have managed it ; for thi 
fcitonc of those cases where a woman's aid is required, and where 
•Oman can act satisfactorily by himself." 

■ I count on you now," said the vicar with emphasis. 

" I will do my best," she answered. " Poor Superior ! " she 
tided with a sympathetic little smile. " What a dreadful set you 
tore fallen into I Hennione Fullerton, Theresa Molyneux — your 
nu ccjtxv. no, 1786. D D 


402 Tlu Genllcmaris Magazine. 







sister who deceived and deserted you — all these silly gaping creatures 
setting their caps at you and each hoping to be the Honourable Mrs. 
Lasccllcs, while not one lias the smallest qualification for the pi**. 
You arc to be pitied ! " She shrugged her shapely shoulders sad 

" But with Edith Everett to put all straight— " he said. 

" You are to be congratulated in having odc serviceable I 
among the dummies ! " she answered quickly ; bidrling him futwll 
and leaving him to digest what she had already said. It was i 
fur one day. 

By this time the cottages in I-anc End were almost finished, J 
the men had been told by Richard that they might take |.jsv--<'' 
when it Milled theru. Naturally the news got abroad ; as indeed *ij 
should ii not? An open check to the vicar, there was do scoter 
in the matter from hist to last; and neither Richard nor tbe am 
cared who knew it. 

They were charming little cottages built with all mode: 
ances and convenience, and each standing in its own pleasant 
of garden ground ; and they were an hitec turally ornamental 
made a pretty feature in the 1. They were not set it 

fancy price either up or down in the scale : but the rent was calculate" 
on a just basis, as a (ail and equitable interest on the capttl 
expended- Thus, no eleemosynary character tainted the btoesf 
winch they undoubtedly would be to the tenants -, and a few iidu- 
tcctural flourishes were not reckoned as of exorbitant value bean* 
pleasing to the eye. They were dwellings built with humane ihocgat 
and generous intention, but with the common sense of a good buaerfl 
man Bl well. Parcelled out among the men from the first, they had hw" 
all along looked on as their certain homes ; and each assigned cce* 

• pier had made this and that suggestion lot his own fancy or come 
nience, while ha house was in course of erection, and had dctenninci 
wl . ind that should go, and what he would do here andihett- 

They were all highly delighted with their ]>rospcctivc dwellings, sat 
looked forward to taking possession with pleasure and eagerness. If 
there was one thing more than another that might be considered 
certain in this shifty life of ours, it was that Richard Fulkrton'tnr* 
cottages would be inhabited by tin whom they were designed 

ng the sudden death of the intended tenant, there was surer/ 
nothing dial could step in between — earthquakes and tornadoes not 
being things of ordinary occurrence in England. 

This then was the moment for which Mr. Lascclles bad been 
wailing. When most secure the blow that shatters all comes with 

Under which Lord > 


1 b 



greatest force ; and if he could strike that blow now he should bavc 
accomplished the larger half of his great endeavour. Could he? 
Would Hermione do as directed? Though her mind, never strong 
nor self-reliant, had become weakened through superstitious belief, yet 
her affections were not dead. Had she been an intelligence only, with 
no interrupting emotions, the tiling would have been easy; but side 
by side with her superstitious belief in the power of the priesthood— 
in the sinfulness of reason — in the lost condition of that soul wbi h 
to doubt and hesitates to obey — WM the strength of her natural 
iieia, her hatred of giving pain, ha UV 

4; that respect which still lhrcd thesuper- 

incumbent mass of reprobation that had been heaped over it;— and her 
sense of in ring him this unmerited affront. Step by 

step she had been led up to this, the final blow; and now when she 
was commanded to give it, she quailed and refused. 

When the vicar told her what he wanted her to do, she cried and 
nk within herself, saying No ! she could not ! indeed, indeed, she 
ould not ! Richard had had so much sorrow of late ; she dared not 
. irn any more ! It would kill him if she did, and she would be his 
urderess. She besought Superior to spare her this trial, to be merciful 
he was powerful, to be gentle to her and humane to her husband. 
He might have been a God baton the knelt, so abject was 

she, so humble, SO passionate in her pleading ; and the might U 
well have sued to the tempest, sought to wlten the rook by her tears, 
as pray thus passionately to him ! The vicar was not the man to 
defer his triumph for a woman's tears; and when crosses had to 
Ik carried he objected to too great an outcry. 

•• It is your bounden duty, your obligation to God and man, he 

-n';, •• You arc the real owner of the property, and to allow 

husband, your agent, to openly affront me and offend the 

K by harbouring these men who arc my enemies and the 

bcls. is to make jrourseU one with bis sin, And what is 

this ostentatious harbourage of men v, Inn 11 I h.ive driven out but an 

ict of direct hostility to mc — of open defiance of my authority ? And 

uphold this— make yourself one with it — you my chosen friend 

and dearest daughter '. " 

" He baa always managed the estate, and he promised 1 
those men," she faltered weakly. 

" A nest of infidels I — You wish them fostered here in this parish 
where weed faith arc giving our very lives to establish religion 

and sound doctrine ?— where I am straining every nerve, and submitting 
myself to every indignity to recall these lost sheep; and where you are 

i obc. 


404 The Gentleman's Magazine. 

all-powerful for good or evil, as you choose to make yourself? 
present you arc all-powerful for evil ; but you might be my bn 
best, most valuable assistant, if you would shake yourself free from this 
sinful subservience to your infidel husband — this infamous 
dience to the enemy of the Church 1 " 

One strong irresistible wave of feeling swept over I 
The vicar's brutality, nicely calculated as it was, stirred her 
rather than shamed her love. Her heart turned back to the husband 
of her youth, to die man of her girlish passion, and she forgot »H 
that level tract of dull content which lay between. He wn h« 
husband, the father of her child, the one true guide and centre of 
her life. The Church and the Revelation which he had so systems- 
tically outraged and denied faded away into the dim distance of he» 
consciousness, and only feeling, affection, and old-time loyalty «• 

" He is my husband," she said, lifting her eyes and speataf, 
though still gently, with a certain warmth that smote on the wart 
car as if she had uttered blasphemy. 

He almost gasped. It was the traditional worm turning agin* 
his heel — the legendary dove roused to self-defence — the return bio* 
of a slave thought to be subdued to passive non-resistance for life; 
and for a moment astonishment checked his speech. But only fa 
a moment. Looking at her as if she had been some curious ins**: 

"My dear child, I thought I had explained away your super- 
stitious regard "or the mere words of a promise which Sana to* 
broken and defiled," he said with compassionate con te mpt "Yes 
cannot be a true daughter of the Church and an obedient wife; **d 
if you hold by your husband, you must of necessity abjure jW 
Saviour. Must I g» over the whole ground again ?" 

" I know all that you would say, but I cannot act up to it,'0^ 
Hcraionc with a certain helpless • that would have toutbrf 

anyone but Mr. Lasccllcs. "Sol you seem to be right ; W 

when you want me to do such a thing as this, I do not think you «rc 
—and I cannot 

She covered her face with her hands. He took them awy.sC 
too gently. 

" No ; you shall look at me," he said sternly. " Your 
shall at least be open and confessed I" 

" It is not defiance, Superior," she pleaded, lifting up 
eyes to his, but yet not giving way — keeping to her j>oint through 
her gentleness. Was this really Hcrmtone Fullerton— the plastic 
creature whom he had manipulated with so much trouble, whose 

ha *.-• 

Under xvhich Lord? 


divorce he had managed so easily, and whose very soul he had won, 
as he once believed, so thoroughly? Was this really HcTinione 
Kullcrton ? He could hardly believe it. 

o?" he sneered. " It is not defiance? By what euphetn 
then, would you call it 

" My duty as a wife," she said humbly. 

'• No I no I A thousand times no !" he answered, in a low, con- 
centrated, hissing kind of voice. " It is not duty; it is licJietl — it is 
base and craven e i it is shameful sel&ndulgent sloth of soul 

—more slum [on for a man whom you should 

regard as an emissary of Satan, a Judas re- incarnate. (Jo back to 
your husband in all the infamy of your former love ; go back in open 
infidelity to Christ ! Do not dignify your ■vin by fine words Un 
diatom 1 Confess it for what it K and take your pari with the 
enemies of Cod and the CI II I Dgl '■• ■ ■ • I »" with S.itan and his 

agents with something like wholc-hcartedncss I Leave the Church 1 
leave mc to my arduous fight against the devil, whose visible power 
td strengthens by your means ! Co back to the practical 
atheism of youi former state; but do not stand here neither in 
the pale nor out of it, neither a true daughter of the Church nor an 
Often foe, confessing Christ with your lips and dishonouring Him in 
your deeds 1 Iaikewarm adherents like you do us more harm than 
declared enemies ; and wen: you twenty tinea Mrs. Fullerton of the 
Abbey, I would ctronmiuni< ate you from among us;— and will— if 
you arc not obedient to direction." 

She crouched like one who has I .. kno.lmg on the floor. 

^" You frighten me !" she said with 1 little cry. 
" Because 1 shame you !" he answered. " It is your conscience 
ch makes you afraid, not I. I am but the mirror in which you 
the hideousness of your guilty soul.' 
" Superior ! Superior I have mercy I" she cried. 
A Ciudfix was standing on the table by which he sat. For the 
second time he took her hands from before her face, and made hat 
look at the acred emblem of her faith and the divine source of Ml 

" You swore on this to obey me when I commanded," he said 
'• What was the value of your oath then? Where will it l;md you il 
>u break it now ?" 
Hermionc did not speak ; she could not. This was the con- 
lion of all the anguish that life could give. The spiritual 
itsolencc and harshness of the priest in place of the high-bred 
courtesy and soft philandering to which she was acewstonwei, aX ot\cc 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

terrified and revolted her. The pride of her womanhood, of ha 
gentle ladyhood, was outraged ; her personal delight in this handwow 
Director was wounded ; her submission, which had already cost bo so 
dear at home, was returned with ingratitude. She thought of Richard, 
of his patient tenderness, of his very dulness by reason of loyal 
security — and now this tyranny ! this insolence ! She made a move- 
ment as if to rise from her knees, swung by the impulie to po back 
to Richard and shake all this from her as too degrading to be borne. 

As she moved, half raising herself, Mr. I-welles took her band 
and placed it on the crucifix. 

"Take this," he said in a deep voice. " Honour it or renounce 
it. Obey me, the appointed interpreter of Him who died foi 
or crucify Him afresh by your misdeeds. V'ou shall do one « ihe 
other before you leave this place. You shall be cast out from cw 
midst or you shall be faithful and obedient. Will you swear to to 
as I command and refuse to harbour these men on your estate?" 

" Superior ! " she cried. 

" Will you ? One word— yes or no ?" 

"How ran I say this to my husband! Have pity oo o* 
Superior t " 

She clung to him, grasping his coat ; but he tore away ber run* 
with contemptuous passion. 

" Do not touch me ! " he said. " You arc perjured and acaod 
You have denied your Ixird ; and until you repent and obey, you a* 
excommunicate from the Church ! " 

He turned away abruptly and left her still kneeling on thel»«; accusing crucifix l>efore her on the table, and " cxcoubuumU* 1 
from the Church " ringing in her ears. 

Chapter XXX. 

'TWIVi IMMMER and anvil. 

[me (lay passed, and yet nothing was done. Hermione, mdiip** 
with the vicar and denied absolution, was still further exercised bf 
Mrs. F.verett who made her understand that she considered her mom 
sinful than even her atheist husband, in that, having put ber hxml !* 
the plough, she had turned back from the work— having made 
the household of faith, she had gone over to the service of SaUfc 
:.|>okc of the spiritual pi ril of such a state as hers, and what «aiU 
come to her after death if she died in her sins, with the conviction 
almost commonplace in its certainty of one who affirms that dynamite 

Under which Lord? 


will explode if sharply struck, or that a ship will sink if scuttled. She 
told her in plain words without gloss or circumlocution that she VH 
cast out by the God whom she had practically denied, and in the 
grv Evil One who be WU doing — as she had done 

for so many years now ! But with this difference, to her shame, that 
whereas formerly she tod unconscious, now she 

knew the full rM Were she to die at this 

moment- — indwhi ihour? the would go head- 

long to perdition, down, down to that eternal pit, U Sttn K 1 stone 
flung into the water sinks to the bottom, She was doomed. So long 
as she maintained her present attitude of rebellion to the dn 
authority of the Church, there was no hope for her in heaven, no 
peace for her on earth. 

All this was said again and again, now with indignation at her 
wickedness, now with wonder at her weakness, and again with pity 
for her tragical fate ; but it was said incessantly ; and Hermionc felt 
girt round with fire turn which way she would, and that whether she 
resolved to obey Superior or protect Richard, she was all the same 
do<-: ifler. 

And it must Ik- i red that she believed implicitly in all 

this fuliginous theology. Il ■ ■ to her when the awful 

conditio ma painted in words of fire and fiame ; Satan 

was no turnip-headed bogie dressed Op to frighten the Ignorant, bill 

Wa very real and actual presence acknowledged now, to be known 
by visual demoi bell were tangible 

realities, the one in the eternal light of the sky. the other somewhere 
and according to our actions we were carried Dp into the 
iry of the one or clashed down into ihe unfathomable 
it Other, When Edith Everett reminded her of all these 
fearful perils which she was braving because of her cowardice — " for 
*!' ? " asked her guide and friend scornfully 

— she trembled as if she were already in the grasp of that hairy- 
• whom she had given herself b) bei lift. Her 
had none of that robust eclecticism which chooses the 
ees where the soul may dwell in comfort and leaves the 
ly ■ pleasant I meet 

r herbs to rot in the ground which brought 
ted all k. .1 glossary or 

the budding. Hence, jodgin by her creed, she knew 

that she was at this moment, as Edith Everett had said 

ibsolved— in the power of Satan because in dwEra.ce ns\s8& 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

the vicar. She realized the sinfulness as well as the danger of ha 4j- 
obedience to bet Director in this weak return to wifely deference ml 
wifely pity, as clearly as she realized the fact of the antipodes ; tut 
she was unable to nerve herself to the self-crucifixion demanded Ijj 
the Church. And even when exhorted to pray for strength *o that 
she might be able to perform this act of immolation, she wept instad, 
in her heart not wishing to be so strengthened. 
So the day passed, and nothing was done. 

In the evening Mr. Lascelles sent up a note to Edith Everett, 
telling her to say to Mrs. Fullerton that he begged she would aotpe 
sent herself at Early Celebration to-morrow, as he should feel 
Compelled to refuse her ; and that in the existing state of things 
would rather she did not come to the services at all. It would 1 
painful to him and an increase of condemnation to herself ; and la 
very tenderness for her he must deny her false consolation. HewU 
determined to make her excommunication complete until her unqia- 
lificd and entire return to submission. He was not a man of i 
measures, and this was a case wherein apparent harshness wa» I 
truest kindness. 

This note, written for Hcrmionc to sec, was handed over to her 
so soon as read ; and as she gave it to her Mrs. Everett realized t 
joy which a woman feels when her rival is humiliated. But she 
expressed herself as deeply, sincerely grieved ; grieved that things 
should be as they were ; but, being as they wctc, Superior was in the 
right, and she, poor sinful weak-hearted Hermione, was n 
Did not the Service itself say that the impenitent cat and drii 
own damnation ? And until she had repented of her obstinacy awl 
irncd. again to the right way of obedience and sincerity, Superior 
bad nothing for it but to cut her off from the lnxly of the faithful, 
lest worse should befall her. Would she then do as she 
Would she forbid those infidel men the use of htr cottages? Migl 
she, Mrs. Everett, write and tell .Superior that she had come at I 
into a proper frame of mind, and that she was penitent 
obedient ? 

To which poor Hermione answered despairingly : 

" Not yet ! not yet ! Give me a little more time to make up I 
mind 1 " 

"To dally with sin, you mean," said Mrs. Everett severeh. 
" Remember, Hermione ! each hour's delay strengthens Satan by » 
much extra power, and makes your return to grace so much | 

" J must think of it. I cannot to-night. Richard looks 

' Under which Lord? 409 

2nd ill. I think another blow would almost kill him \ will be 

such a blow '. " said Hermionc, turning her 1 lly to the door. 

" If he is the man of sense he passes for, he will not let it be a 
blow or a surprise to him in any way," Hid Mrs. Everett. " He must 
know, if he reflects at all, that it is impossible things can go on like 
this. When you Vi 1 <1 and as careless of God as he 

If, you did not trouble fOUTOClf M to what was done with your 
v and in your name. But now, when you have become a 
faithful Churchwoman— are you a faithful after all ?— it 
is monstrous to suppose that you will allow your fortune to go in 
propagating infidelity *od noticing (Candaloua favourites of notorious 
infidels. Mr. Fullcrton mu.u sec it all as clearly as we do ; and if 
he is really liberal, he must allow you to act according to your 

" But this will not make the pain any the less," said Hermionc. 
'.nd until he is pained your soul is in deadly peril, and the 
consolations of religion arc denied you," returned Mrs. Everett. 
'• For my own part, I would do anything in the world rather than stand 
in your present position. The marvel to me <s how you can bear it 
for an hour, when you yourself can put an end to it, now this very 
instant if you will. Excommunicate ! You 1 Denied the holy 
Eucharist— even forbidden to attend the public offices of the Church ! 
And you suffer all this that you may not wound the self-love, the base 
human pride, of the most notorious soul-destroying atheist in the 
country ! What a farce to call yourself cither a Churchwoman or a 
Christian I " 

"I im both — but I am a wife as well," said Hermione, too 
sharply stung for patience 

■ crett's long upper lip ( ailed contemptuously. 

" I K>you call such a union as yours *maniage'?" she said. " fo 
US of the true faith it is len.ili/c-'l sin. and .1 shame that you should 
speak of it ! Do not shelter yourself behind that pota little pa I 
There is no marriage where there is no blessing by the true Church. 
And you know that the Church neither could nor doessam :tio: 
a union as this ! To sacrifice the Church to Mr. Fullerton on the 
plea of his being your husband is simply to add to your sin, because 

igtQg into it one guilt the more." 

" I ain very, very unhappy ' " said Hermionc, letting her hands 
fall on lie: 

•' Yes," replied Mrs. Everett ; " of course you are 1 We are 
. unhappy when we arc doing wrong. Then I am not to tell 
Superior dial you submit ?" 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

"No, I will tell him myself— when I do," said Hcrmione, turning 
wearily away. 

The next day, Sunday, all things were as Mr. LasceUct 
decreed. The Lady of the Manor was for the time excommu 
and her place among the worshippers was kejrt conspicuously ' 
For though the theory was that all places were free alike, the | 

different ; and the great ladies of Orovsholmc were never in 
moded by the (o'lni ni the little people. Everyone looked 
wondered .it this strange vacancy of Mrs. Fullerton'* ac 
<h:nr; and when service was over everyone crowded round 
Everett, and asked : Was Mrs. Fullerton ill? what was amiss?' 
had she not come? had she had bad news of Virginia? m 
Fullerton laid up, and she at home nursing him? what was it t 
had kept her away } wh.ii did it mean? 

In which question] Mrs. Everett gave cautious, yet in a i 
suggestive answers. Mrs. Fullerton tttt not ill in hody, she i 
with a slight emphasis that pointed the alternative so obvioudri 
set the congregation wondering what ailed her mind — and had i 
gone out of it ? as more than one scoffer had prophesied she I 

But her guide and friend having said this, said no more; 
always smiling, took her way back through the park and so to | 
Abbey — calculating hd chanc cs as she went. Not handsome, will 
money, and the mother of four children — could it be done ? I 
believed in her capacity to help him on in his work, and with the i 
yes. And the first test of this capacity would be to succeed ] 
he had failed ; to Influence to the point of unqualified SOD 
that tender soul, which he, with all his powers of fascinatioa 
authority combined, had not quite controlled. If she could do I 
he might then perhaps be brought to credit her ability to make I 
a bishop, if she were his wife. And as a liithop how much 
would be his sphere of action, how much more impressive 
authority and more effective his influence ! As for his principle* I 
the celibacy of the clergy — other nun who held the same views I 
found their better part in mal when the thing came to I 

!v presented, no why should not he? The question had I 
asked before at Crossholme, with as yet no satisfactory replr. I 
then Edith I and it would take one as i 

she to win such a man as Mr. I ^sccl 

This dead, dry, soulless Sunday passed like all other 
able times, and Monday came in its course. No action had 
been taken, and the men were preparing to move in ; John i 
was already in possession, and Dick Stern's wife had 

Under which Lor. 411 

him his new home by night. Hermionc stood at the fork, still 
hesitating — not brave enough to go resolutely on either road ; 
temporizing, doubting, fearing, hoping against hope and vaguely 
looking for a miracle which should save her from her trial and 
Richard from his pain, yet put things square with the Wear's 
She sent messages and notes of abject humility, beseech- 
ing Superior to pardon her, but not promising obedience ; but as 
he could not bend her he would not forgive her; and each hour 
that passed only deepened her sin and added to his demands. 
At first he had ordered her mcTcly to refuse the men possession of 
the new cottages built for them at Lane End ; but now raising the 
price of his forgiveness, like that of the Sibylline Books of Ol 
demanded that she should not only do this but also take the Institu- 
tion out of her husband's hands; and then, not onlj nition 
but the whole management of the estate. On these tcrnis only 
would he reoehre her back into the Church as a penitent absolved 

i.ersin. It was this or excommunication, both from his frici: 
and the sweet consolations of the Chun h. 

It was a bold stroke that he played ; for all or nothing; but the 
monv i e. If he let this occasion slip he might never have 

another so favourable. 

And now the final struggle had come. Love or religion — her 
ui's control or her Director's authority — the obligations of 
marriage or the ordinances of the I which would win ? 

:r which Lord would the finally elect to serve? 

rsonal perplexity the bills which she 

had incurred for the restoration of the church and other things 

connected with the parish and Mr. Lttcelles, were sent in to her 

in a mas-. .int payment was peremptorily demanded of 

some ; and to add yet more to the pressure put on her on all sides, 

Superior fell ill, and sent for Edith Everett in terms which 

cited a dying man sending ud to 


" Let me go with you!" pleaded rlenuione, when her guest told 

her the m 

"1 am sorry, but she answered . and showed 

in Mr. La* d written in .; 

ly hand : "On DO Recount allow Mrs Fullerton to accompany 
you, be has repented of h id is prepared to oli. 

" How can I do ii ' how can I I" murmured Hermionc, hiding 
her face in desp 

ou must answer that to the Eternal Judge at the Last I)ay x " 


The Gentleman s Magazine. 

said Mrs, Everett coldly. " There will be no half-measures 
and no pica of ' how can I' allowed." 

On which she turned away and went down to the Vicarage, what 
she sat for about two hours with Superior, who had really a slight 
attack of feverish cold, and whose notes she wrote, and all his otha 
business transacted, with delightful assumption of necessary an* 
ance as well as with charming facility and help. 

"She is an uncommonly tilever woman ! " thought the vicar ask 
• back in his easy-chair, watching the long lissome fingers monof 
i swiftly over the paper. " And though she is .not handsome it 
first sight, it is a face that satisfies one more on acquaintance thai 
m.iny others of perfect beauty. She has mind and character; and ii 
such a thorough woman as well ! " 

If Mis. Everett could have read the vicar's mind, would she km 
called this an advance in her secret project ? 

When she returned to the Abbey after her two hours of tramjai 
business-like assistance, she went into the drawing-room with dec? 
melancholy, unspeakable dejection imprinted on every fettst, 
expressed in every gesture. Dear Superior was very ill indeed, d» 
said ; his distress of mind at Hcrmionc's lost condition and souge 
rccalcitration was such that he could not sleep nor eat — he could odf 
pray with tears for the recovery of the dear lost soul now given ore 
to Satan. 

" He is sick for your sin," said Edith Everett with mounfcl 
solemnity. " If he dies you will be the cause. He is in a high few 
and is really very ill," she added, falling into commonplace ataest 
without knowing. 

" May I not go down and see him ?" asked Hcrmionc anxioolf. 

•• No," Mrs. Everett answered. " He begged me to forbid Hjj 
such attempt on your part Even Theresa Molyncux has to bt 
given up, though this is her day ; and you know how punctual be « 
in his parochial duties; so that I am sure he is not able to see w** 

" But I am so much more his friend than Theresa has em 
been 1 " said Hcrmione jealously. 

" And for that very reason your visit would be so painful as to bt 
impossible," she returned. " You know how many hopes he 
jrou, and what a holy joy it was to him to think that he had 
privileged to save you from perdition — and now, to sec you so 
a cast-away ! It would be more than he could bear in his 
condition I" 

The tears came up into those clever eyes and overflowed the lid* 
with a decent kind of passion. Hennione turned away in trouble 

Under which Lord? 


(hit she could neither control nor conceal. It touched her soft heart 
tt think that Superior should be so sorry for her as this ; it pricked 
her conscience that she should be so undutiful to the Church ; it 
probed her pride that her visit should be refused ; she who had been 
upreme up to now, to be set aside while Edith Everett was exalted 
■ her stead! Her whole moral being was disturbed; and beyond 
ad above all was that abject fear of the Judgment to come, which 
kxh Mrs. Everett and Superior said she had provoked, and 
le own conscience, as informed by Church teaching, told her she 
"What can I do?" she cried, wringing her hands. 
"Do as you arc commanded," said her guide and friend. " Take 
the management of your affairs into your own hands, and out of 
those of your infidel husband ; refuse to allow your money to be 
*sy longer used for the spread of atheism and the ruin of immortal 
soob; and refuse to allow your land to be turned to the use of 
ioMcls who spend their lives in trying to destroy the Church. It is 
caddish to ask what you arc to do ! Your duty is plain before you, 
and until you do it you can have no peace." 

"I shall have no peace any way, do what I will," said poor 
Hennione, speaking sincerely in her sorrow. 

" So peace in doing the will of God ? Are you too an infidel ? " 
Mrs. Everett severely. 
The flesh may be weak, however willing the spirit," said 

'If your Spirit were really willing you would soon find strength for 

rdety." returned her friend. "How you can think of your present 

, and keep in it, I cannot understand !" she continued. "It 

send me mad ! I would do anything in the world to get 

it— cut off my hand, prude out my eye ! " 

"I believe you would, but then you do not feel giving pain so 

las I do," returned Hennione. 

Everett turned herself square to her friend and faced her 

'I do not feel giving pain so much as you do? " she said. "To 
I man who has brought countless souls to perdition, perhaps 
id I thank God for it ! But 1 feel more than you do the crime 
pain to my Director, of causing scandal to the Church, of 
Christ afresh by my sin. If I were in your horrible position 
'certainly should not mind giving pain to the man who had done so 
Kadi 10 hurt our Mother ; and if you were a true Churchwoman you 
(void not have two thoughts on the subject" 


The Gentleman s Afqgn 

"lama true Churchwoman, and I have a great many thoughts,' 
said Hcrmionc petulantly. 

Mrs. Everett looked at her with undisguised contempt 

" You are a mere child I " she said. " I shall never take yon 
part with Superior again. He may think of you what he like*, aai" 
I shall not trouble myself to defend you." 

" Superior has no right to speak against me. I have been bit 
best friend here, and have helped him to the utmost of my pewe,' 
said Hcrmionc with spirit. 

" You have — granted ; but what arc you doing now ? Yon were 
B help to him, but now you arc a broken reed and have pierced ta 
hand when he most leant on you ! 1 think Superior is quite rigbl« 
all he says ; and I will do what I can too to help him to make a 
exchange. Crossliolme is not a fit place for him. He is lo> 
and would be far hotter off elsewhere ; and better appreciated too!" 

Hcrmionc started and looked at Edith Everett with a sudiei 
spasm of fear on her face. 

•' He told dm to-day," continued the widow carelessly, "that* 
could not bear the strain here any longer. And I ran understand it 
A Conscientious priest has difficulties enough when he is helped OB al 
sides. Tlie sins of unregenerate humanity arc hard enough m the» 
selves to cope with ; but when it comes to a ]>erson in your poaftOl 
helping infidelity, giving confessed atheism all the influence of ye* 
money, all the prestige of your position, then the thing becomes im- 
possible '. And Superior is quite right to shake the dust off hafc* 
and leave you all to yourselves and destruction. Perhaps the KB 
vicar will be a Protestant " — contemptuously — "or a cloaked in64d 
e-dliru; himself a liroad Churchman; or one of those heretics who prist 
themselves on being Evangelical" — still more contemptuously. *' 
hope so. He will be better fitted for the congregation, so far as 1 as 
judge, than a devoted priest like Superior, with his faithful hand of 
followers and helpers." 

" Does he talk seriously of going?" asked Hermionc in disnuy- 

" Certainly he does," Mrs. Everett answered as calmly 
had been telling the truth. " He told me to-day that tfyoocos- 
tinued impenitent he would give up the living. After the shancW 
disgrace in which your daughter took such a prominent part, I bo* 
say, Mrs. Fullerton, I think you owe him more consideration thss 
you show." 

1 iha! is just what I feci about ray husband," she retuned 
" His distress about Virginia is so great ; and, after all, she wu the 
youngest of them, and entirely under the influence ol 3 atS." 

Under which Lord? 


"How blind and mad you are!" cried Mrs. Everett with temper. 

» if her father's awful infidelity was not the primary cause of your 

iter's perversion ! You speak as if he was to be pitied, when it 

f him alone, in the first instance, this awful crime was com- 

iook on him as the ruin of your child, not in any sense as 

•sufferer. As Superior says, that man is the direct agent of Satan, 

I all hi* natural good qualities, which we do not deny " — " We ! " 

. rmione jealously — " arc so many more snares set by the 

ny of mankind for the destruction of souls. You know all this 

[*tfl as I do, and yet you uphold him. and do your utmost to 

Kthen his hand*. Never call you rself.i Chii- tian, still less a good 

of the Church, again ! You are the comforter and abettor 

F infidel*; and I only hope that Superior will leave Crossholmc and 

'hi* prccioi ttions where they will be better appreciated 

I do more good." 

"Don't ! " cried Hermione, covering her face. 
"Then repent of your sin and do your duty as you ought," said 
Kr& Everett, going back to her point with the cold insistancc of an 
Tm-ixt hammer and anvil in tnith, and no one able to save her ! 
10 the Church or cruel to her husband, on no side could 
nod comfort or get rid of that awful difficulty — opposing 
Here called by natural feeling, there commanded by eccle- 
tical authority — she scarcely knew which voice to obey since it was 
sible 10 rceoncilethe two. If only her duty to the Church could 
: been harmonized with humanity toherhusband I— if only Superior 
I absolve and bless her once more, yet poor Richard be saved from 
suffering! What could sbe do? What could she dp? She 
let Superior leave the place because of her; abandon his 
, his congregation, his mission. That would be a sin for 
*bc could neve: hope to be pardoned. And just now too, 
1 the church, in tin restoration oi which he liad taken so much 
: and pleasure, wa* so nearly finished and ready for re-opening ! 
linen he was ill, on accounl of her ; and in such deep mental 
[ because of her -in ! Things could not go on in theii present 
:; and yet she had not the heart to free herself from her difAcol 
1 by dealing so hardly with her husband. And yet again, if she 
I not, she must confess all that mass of debt to him, and what she 
1 undertaken to do for the church ! There was no way of escape 
rher, turn where she would. Girt round with fire— 'twlxt hammer 
I anvil — there was nothing for her but pain and penance, and the 
ttguish, as it was to her, of making others suffer. 


The Gentleman's Magazine. 

In the midst of her desperate trouble Richard came into Uq 
drawing-room where she and Mrs. Everett sat — the one writhing, tii 
other torturing. 

"Could 1 have a word with you, Hermione?" he asked. 

His manner was as quiet, his face as calm and sad as em, bu 
he did not look mure than usually disturbed. 

"Yes," Mid Hermione in an embarrassed voice. "Whatdojwi 
want with me, Richard ? " 

" It is to look at the leases of the new cottages at Lane End." he 
answered. " They arc ready for your signature." 

" Now is the moment. Be firm to the Church, or by yow*« 
deed expel Superior from the parish. If the men get those fcoafl 
he will not stay; it all depends on you," said Mrs. Everett in ik* 
tone of voice, preparing to leave the room, but bending over Hfi' 
mione before going. 

" Perhaps it will be more convenient to you to come intomtstaif? 
I do not wish to disturb Mrs. Everett," said Richard. 

" It will not disturb mc to go upstairs for an hour," said Mil] 
Everett, answering Richard through Hermione, as was her woot. 

" I would rather go into the study," said Hermione, tremUui; | 

She felt as if the sight of those iniquitous skulls of Esqnnaoi 
and Andaman Islanders, those atheistic casts of brains and tto 
phemous anatomical plates, those soul-destroying microscopes whkk 
with the photographs of the moon and a chart of l-'raunhofcr's li»r* 
were the visible witnesses of Richards infidelity— she felt as if J 
these things would strengthen her in dealing the blow, if it had to be 
given, as she feared must needs be ! She must not sign those Icjjo; 
she must not let Superior leave the place and imperil the etenJ 
salvation of her own soul and all the parish l>ec.aus€ of her •«*«• 
ncss in the face of pain. Aud yet, poor Richard I Poor Rich 
was so good in spite of everything I And at one time how 
she loved him ; and would now, were it not a A 

" Remember, Hermione ! God sees you, and Superior will 
to be told," were Edith Everett's last words, spoken in a whi 
the miserable Lady of the Manor walked slowly away. 

(To fit continued.) 



THE nature of that curious collocation of actions we commonly 
denominate "life," .mil the connection which exists between 
! the bodies it invests arul whose interests it directs, have ever 
fcrmed subjects of extreme speculative interest to cultured mankind. 
In the classic ages su BtJOD WIS rife, and modern biology but 

repeats the procedure of the ancient world, and with additional 
wirces of knowledge and wealth of research, proceeds to discuss 
mew tbc great question of the origin and nature of life. Each year 
brings its own quota of detail and argument concerning this im- 
portant and fundamental matter of modern life-science, and in more 
thin one aspect it may be said to be the pivot around which the 
research of today turns. The subject of the origin of itself 

» burning question of biology, leads directly backwards to the origin 
jf those powers and properties in virtue of which the species retains 
bbold on the world, and which lie at the root and foundation of the 
umrse of animals and plants. Investigate the development of a liv- 
ing being, and you are led directly backwards to the germ from which 
■ springs and to the consideration of the power in virtue of which 
6c shapeless evolves the formed, and the general grows to become 
the special. Study the differences and distinctions or the likenesses 
resemblances that biology brings to view between animals and 
and you will inevitably touch upon the subject of the nature of 
common life which invests both regions of living beings, and which 
d in its roost varied aspects appears to present features of strange 
confusing identity between the animal kingdom on die one hand, 
the plant creation on the other. Pass to consider " the records 
the rocks" themselves, and in due course the question of the first 
iogs of life on our planet — the when, whence, and whither of 
ry — will crop up like some unperceived but felt presence which 
around the biological ".mum. The subject of life and its 
thus awaits us at the beginning of existence, as it faces us at 
dose ; and there is little wonder that of all questions of philosophy 
should be deemed the most important, and that those who sit in 
places in temples biological should so often dwell upon its 
nr>t_ cexuv. «<r>. 1786. e F. 

4 1 8 Tlu Gentleman s Magazine. 

varied aspects as a fit and proper theme for philosophic consideration 
by both gentle and simple, learned and unlearned, in scientific ways. 
The investigation of life from any point of view leads us to seek 
in the lower confines of the living worlds, the subjects which arc 
likely to present us with the simplest and most elementary manifesta- 
tions of living forces. The life- history of the higher animal and 
plant appears before us as the acme of intricate operations, and as a 
complex collection < I toriea and organisations, the working of 

which may well puzzle and perplex us even in its plainest dc 
The mere study of a single function in the higher organism is beset 
of greater or less kind. The circulation of the blood, 
the elaboration of Bap — not to speak of the problems involved in con- 
ind plant sensibilityand the functions of nerves — are 
illustrations of points in the history of the high animal or plant which 
involve problems of well-nip;!) inexpltcabl) 

Hence the preraibng tendency in research <>i the kind before us has 

been i ..lection of ihi 

ground best adapted to yield promising results to thi 

inquirer. The lower animal or plant, as we shall presently see, 

makes its appear;* i>< In' fore us as a body apparently of extremely 

simple structure and nature. Presenting us at the most with the 

appearance of a single "ceD," the lower org: hi be thought 

hi to scientific scrutiny some clear knowledge of the nature of 

the powers which rule its destinies. And nil ppotJUoa might 

likewise be presumed t<> . :l ii cfulncw of the 

idea that, as the higher animal or plant is but an aggregation of 

each representing the single •'cell" of lower life, the study of 

the lot mid reveal to us, as by deputy, the secrets of the 

ion. But die problem e into con- 

i as have just been indicated. The living being in higher 

not a mere collection of units, t): on of whi 

•dated and mechanically analysed • ondi- 

which might well enough bound the discovery of the mechanical 

winces of manldnd, are not those which environ the puzzle of 

life. And the problem which fan we gate at the coi 

organ act as recondite as when, 

by ai<: loroscopc. ok through and through 

io warrant d>e term 
iwed upon it. 
nig and be 

Concerning Protoplasm. 

Although the solution of the problem concerning the nature of 
: may be said in some respects, therefore, to have gained but little 
»id from researches into the lower worlds of life that people the 
nigrum drop — being! which find a home in dimensions which 
would hardly have contained even the convenient Angels of the 
Schoolmen, whose ability to accommodate themselves within the 
limits of the minute IS matter of common knowledge — still the 
on of biological knowledge concerning lower organisms has 
b«n fraught with importance in certain easily discernible ways. If 
»c have not been enabled to shout out " Eureka " to the waiting 
races of to-day, we have nevertheless gained some useful ideas re- 
garding the true directions in which our difficulties must be attacked. 
Tarough the comprehension of what the lowest animals and plants 
arc, we have been led to form certain reasonable ideas concerning 
what life may be- The knowledge of the conditions required t« 
perpetuate the normal existence of living beings, has led us to rccog- 
niit, m some measure, the true nature and extent of the problem 
tiat awaits the fuller knowledge of coming years for its solution. 
let us, therefore, in the first place, endeavour briefly to gain some 
adequate ideas concerning the conditions or environments demanded 
fcr the exhibition of life in its lowest grades ; since, haply, we 
nay find in such a study a clue which may lead us towards the 
^demanding, in theory at least, of the nature of the forces which 
Ootro! ing organism. One of the first decided steps towards 

&s amplification of a theory of life was taken when the living con- 
tats of vegetable cells were discovered to present a striking 
■ahrity to thr presenting the essentially living part of 

At cells of animals. Mulder thus recognised the vegetable "pro- 
Bfiastn," as he termed the soft, gelatinous matter of the vegetable 
fcfl; and Rcmak in turn described the animal " protoplasm." Nccd- 
► to remark that thi ied ;■ • locked up within the 

r organism — animal 
st— and as constituting the active or vital parts of the living 
,Wi latter, closely resembling white of egg 

"appearance, which Dujardin had named "sarcode," and of 
Itch the bodies of the lowest animals arc entirely composed. Max 
ichokVe hail indeed shown that the protoplasm of animals was 
Wanically, and microscopical 1> guishablc from that of plants ; 

od that bcneaUi the variations of form, and the diversities of life, 
icre thus remained a curious uniformity of substance in K 
pnww The life and growth of the animal was si ;>end 

; bstancc which was apparently identical with that consti- 


420 TIu Gentleman's Magazine. 

tuting the living basts of the plant. A curious community of tub- 
stance was thus proved to underlie wide and apparently irrcconcil. 
able differences of life and habit ; and out of this primary fact grew 
new and bolder conceptions of the nature of life than had before 
been ventilated by biologists at large. 

To appreciate clearly and fully what is implied by the statement 
that the substance now widely known :i . | a sine i/u.i 

twn for the manifestation of life and vital action, let us emu 
few of the aspects in which this substance makes its appearance as 
the medium for the exhibition of living actions. It is by no means 
unusual to find that y with a name in the abstract imi 

total inability to appreciate the concrete aspects of the substance 
which the name describes. Despite the widi on of the name 

" protoplasm," it is matter of common observation that the MB 

Itstancc itself, as well as its qualities and traits, arc frequently 
>vn by those to whom the term is as a '• household word." 
tlnory itBdy, then, the discussion of protoplasm its: 
varied pluses, w ill not be without its value in the determination of its 
importance u "the physical basis of life." What pro; 
chemically and physically, may be very briefly and readily de- 
Dically, it stands as the type of a class of compounds 
to which Mulder gave the name of "pfOteUK " substances. Of 
lOfifa ■ I, common albumen in white of egg is a familiar cx- 

indeed, hardly differs, nve in minute 
chemical particulars, bom jrotoplasm itself. Til nee is 

resolvable by chemical analysis into the elements carbon, hydrogen, 
oxygen, and nitrogen, along with mere traces of nil] phos- 

phorus. Physic.illy, protoplasm presents itself as a clear, viscid, 
and semifluid substance, often highly granular from the presence 
within its substance of fatty or other particles. By immersion in a 
carmine solution, dead protoplasm may be stained deeply, whilst 
living protoplasm resists all such contact with colour ; and when we 
hare added thai e made to contract under electrical 

stimulus, and that it coagulates at from <jo° to 50 Cent, we shall 
have completed our examination of its readily-observed projterties. 

I us now rum to consider some of pectl and 

characters. The low-life deeps which it is the province of the micro- 

xplore, present us with a suitable starting 
inquiries ; and the stagnant pool, or decompose 

ling, in its own erratic fashion, 
if field* and pasture ,mcnt» of 

Concerning Protoplasm. 421 

«wd that lie in its miniature path, and presenting us with a 
substance which may be paradoxically described as exhibiting every 
table form, or as possessing no definite stupe at all, we sec the 
animalcule known as the Am<rlm — a form which has had the honourable 
distinction of providing the last president of the British Association with 
an apt illustration of the discourse in which our great annual scientific 
festival was invited to begin its labours anew. Of old, the being in 
qutstion, drawn from the stagnant drop and placed under the object- 
glass of our microscope, was named the "Proteus-animalcule;" and 
its more modern cognomen testifies to the same characteristics of 
"Iteration and change described by the Protean simile of former 
toys. A mere microscopic speck is the being before us, its size 
being measurable only in the hundredths ofon inch. It will require 
some diligent looking ere its transparent body be clearly discerned; 
for n seems now and then to merge into the water amid which it 
lives and moves, and appears frequently to fade away into physical 
nothingness, Just as in the sense of its vitality it may be said to hover 
on the verge of existence itself. When the eye lights upon the 
■'•mieba, and becomes accustomed to the dim outlines it exhibits, 
*t «c enabled likewise to note the prevailing characteristic of the 
animalcule in the continual tendency to well-marked physical change 
and contraction which its body exhibits. At no one period can it be 
described as exactly resembling its look or appearance at any previous 
*taj;e of existence. Each moment brings new changes of shape and 
transmutations of outline, Now, it has launched forth its soft body in 
one direction until it appears in a long-drawn-out line; now it has drawn 
tk* same body forwards and has protruded its soft substance on each 
srfe into so many processes that it resembles some solitary island 
•nil capes, headlands, and promontories jutting out in a sea of its 
mm. We note an animalcule of it may be higher organisation than 
sadfto approach the Amoeba. There is a momentary contact of the 
foreign body with the soft protoplasm of the Amoeba, and instantly 
tke latter extends its frame outwards so as to encompass the living 
particle, *!i hortly engulfed within the contractile mass, and 

protoplasm is thus seen to live on protoplasm — a procedure which, by 
the way, in higher animal life is exactly repeated and imitated in its 
essentia] details. By this process of surrounding and enclosing its 
food-particles within its body, our Amoeba obtains its nutriment ; and 
oae may well imagine the horror which the appearance of this gelatin- 
ous monster, engulfing, like some formless octopus, all that come in 
its way, would excite in lower life, were the processes of thought and 
ing extant among the animalcular worlds. Thus, also, we 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

how the Amoeba, like so many of its near neighbours, nourishes itself ic 
the absence of a mouth and digestive system ; feels, whilst it vasts 
even the first beginnings of nerves ; and moves, despite the fact dm 
no organ* of motion are developed. Watch the food-particle tilt 
has ju-! been enclosed within the soft frame, and in due timeyw 
may perceive a little IpACe t. » surround it,.; rtide werebOBf 

separated from the Surrounding protoplasm. Soon, the partklc, if 
digestible at ill, will disappear through the solution of its wl«un«; 
and vnu will see Et DO more, save for the little Space that reauira 
awhile to mark the place where the work of digestion was carried oa 
Thus the process of nutrition is subserved by any part of the intent* 
of the animalcule's trame, just as, through any part of the body.oV 
food, in the absence of a mouth, may he ingested and received. 

Nor is it less important to note how the simple acts of sensation ind* 
Amceba arc performed similarly by means which appear all inideqatte 
for their performance. That which distinguishes the animalcule ao» 
conclusively from the great majority of its plant-neighbours is this powr 
of receiving sensations, and of acting upon them. But for this po«r, 
the animal) ale would be essentially in the position of an inotgiakor 
lifeless mass. A solid particle floating about in the miniature «a 
whirh contains the Amoeba and its neighbours, impinges upon 6 
soft protoplasm Of its body. Upon such a 8tiroi ; rotojdjjm, 

as we have seen, contracts, and the food-particle is duly surrounded 
and engulfed by the living mass. It may truly lie affirmed that the 
first nervous ads are strictly utilitarian in their nature. Their b* 
and purport is that of enabling the animalcule to obtain it* feed. 
Sensation is thus unquestionably present in this low form of atoasl 
life. Indeed, there arc few, if any, naturalists who would not asxntto 
the statement that an Amceba, lowly organised as it is, is more hifWj 
itive than a tape-worm possessing an organisation of someeon 
plexity — or a sacculina, which attaches itself to the bodies of cfiH 
and whose only sign of life consists in the slow pulsations of its tag- 
like body. Hut this power of receiving sensations is not the oaty 
likeness which the Amoeba, in respect of its innervation, exhibits* 
higher animal life. Its protoplasm not only receives sensations ; it » 
also able to act upon information received. The mere contact of tk« 
food-particle with the protoplasmic body is but the prelude to the 
contractions of its mass, which arc directed towards the sein* 
of nutriment. And thus we become aware of the fact thai not onlj it 
this power of " contractility," or of acting upon sensations rec 
the distinctive property of protoplasm, but that in such a power Ik 
actions of higher life are closely imitated. The nervous phenOBNsa 

Concerning Protoplasm. 423 

h, when occurring in higher existence, arc collectively named 

Ilex action," arc essentially of a kind similar to those acts which 

! sec taking place in a body composed of a speck of protoplasm. 

is the closest parallelism betwe* •. our acts of withdrawal 
ad from a losing our eyelids from the same cause, and 

ieaction of the animalcule in ingesting its food. Both hi 
lowcrorgj:; ;>ericnce 1 n f and are capable of acting 

upon it. Tlie real difference exists in the complexity of the mccl 
which respond*, and not in the manner in which the stimulus is 

E:hred or the corresponding act performcil. 
Summing up the facts which a study of the Amceba has eli ited, 
Icam, firstly, a minute speck of the sensitive living matter we 
11 protoplasm may of itself constitute a living being, capable per- 
fectly of maintaining its existence and its relations with the external 
*cdd, and presenting in its life-history many striking analogies with 
fife in its higher and more complicated developments. We next sec 
simplicity of structure united to a complex physiology or way of life ; 
I wc Icam that, even in its simplest and most primitive condition, 
1 "protoplasm" of ours may present us, in the endeavour to ex- 
its actions and behaviour, with problems whose solution is 
lly the despair of many philosophic minds amongst us. If it 
lale such minds to see the connection between the molecular 
of the human brain-cells and consciousness, the question, 
"How doc* a sensation received by the soft protoplasm of 311 Amoeba 
Be converted into contraction of that body?" must be regarded 
equally unanswerable. Nay, wc may go further, and affirm that 
*&£ difficulty of reply arises primarily because of the identity of the 
1*0 problems. As wc shall presently sec, both questions involve like 
Considerations ; both deal with states of protoplasm ; bodi consider 
'he problem of protoplasmic molecules and their movements as re- 
lated to actions and motions, exhibiting in higher life the addendum 
termed "consciousness" — although whether the latter term may, 
after 3 II, be simply a name implying another phase of protoplasmic 
motion, is a suggestion worth our consideration. Suffice it to say, 
however, that, as yet, there is as much mystery involved in the 
Jtion of the movements of an Anueba as in the molecular 
play of the brain-cells of a man. And although the admission may 
furnish considerations which inveigh against the theory of the evolu- 
tion of the higher mind from the lower sensations, the argument is 
two-edged after all. If so much that is inexplicable, and apparently 
complex, exists within the narrow compass of the animalcule's irrita- 
bility, it maybe reasonably said that, of all things, it were most foolish 



The Gentleman's Magazine. 

to deny the possibility of these as yet unknown beginnings of nera- 
faree having been the forerunners of brain and mind. FJinnuit 
these beginnings from view, indeed, and yiv.i will find it hanl oaMT 
.aw .1 theory of special anil independent creation, to account fcf At 
origin of the mental powers which vcly mark the higktf 

animal and the man. 

We have, however, been studying but one phase of rxotopbnc 
existence, and as such, our knowledge can afford us but little tii 
towards the consideration of the wider part which this subsuitt 
plays in the phenomena of both animal and vegetable 
Selecting the field of plant-life for our next essay on the powers aW 
nature of protoplasm, we find in this particular legion abundant proof 
that the jk i uli arities of protoplasm are in no wise affected by its forno| 
part of the pfont-rfgime. Suppose we study under the microscope the 
nature of the protoplasm which is locked up within the " cells* of 
such plant-organisms as t?<4arw,Tradescantia, and Vallisncna, or within 
the cells comprising the stinging hair of the nettle's leaf. We wr 
very readily see that active and incessant motion is the attribaki 
the imprisoned living matter of the plant-cells. Ceaseless 
of particles agitate the plant- protoplasm, which, but for thcinsidiw 
operation of " osmosis," whereby fluids pass in and out of the < 
would seem to be literally that out from all participation in oof 
or external affairs. The cell of the leaf-hair of TradescantU, I 
instance, exhibits an inCCMMH flow of protoplasmic granules 1 
steadily in definite direc tions, like the ordered traffic in the streets < 
a great city. Stream of protoplasmic currents unites with 
and ceaseless mutation of the contents of the cell is the resaft. 
the nettle-hair the same phenomenon meets the gaze of the i 
scopisL Here we find the same protoplasmic substance lining 
woody matter that forms the external wall of the celL 
docs this living lining alter and change its shape with wave-like < 
tractions of its substance, and the granules which exist in the I 
contents of the cell hurry in various directions with the same scori 
that we remarked in the cell of Tradcscantia. Wc thus awaken » 
the fact that in the seemingly inert and unconscious field of pin* 
life, there is activity enough, if we may but fortify our seeing po*e» 
with the microscope, and peer awhile into the inner recesses, and in 
the nooks and crannies of the vegetable world. Nor may we i 
to note in passing that, upon some higher development of thb 
protoplasmic sensitiveness and activity than is usual and common i 
vegetables, the marked powers of sensation of such plants as the Ve 
Flytrap and the Scnsilw* P\aiv\a xuust depend. Locked up 

Concerning Protoplasm. 


the hard cell-wall, which, as a rule, it is the business of plant-gmwih 
as distinguished from animal-increase to develope, there is little 
wonder that wc have come to regard the plant as an organism win. li 
feels not, and which is apparently as destitute of all sensation as the 
world of inorganic things. But the deeper view of plant-existence 
I us the fallacy of the common notion regarding the non-sensi- 
tiveness of plants. Their protoplasm is as highly contractile under 
■timolol M is that of the animal Conceive of a vegetable cell being 
ruptured— as, indeed, takes place in certain phases of lower plant-life, 
and we should find escaping therefrom protoplasm II active M 1 1 . . 1 1 
of our Amwba, and which, indeed, would comport itself in an exa< tly 

r fashion to that animalcule. Consider, for instance, what tikes 
place in the multiplication of the lower plant-life that forms " the 
green mantle of the stagnant pooL" Here, in due season, the proto- 
plasm, found in the interior of the cells of which these green Conferva 
of the stagnant pool are composed, will break up into minute parti- 
cles, which arc duly discliarged from custody by the rupture of the 
cell-wall that formerly imprisoned them. These minute bodies, thus 
liberated, are named " zoospores." They flit about in the water, and 
exhibit as free and active an existence as the animalcules which 
disport tlu am elves side by side with these plant-germs, and they like- 
wise exhibit an identity of protoplasmic composition with the lower 

:s that people the stagnant depths. After a period spent in this 
active existence, the zoospores settle down and grow each into a new 
plant resembling that from which it sprang. Or, mayhap, meeting with 
OW spore, a more intricate relationship may be induced ; a third 
and new body may be produced as the result of that connection ; and 
from this new body — foreshadowing the " seed " of the higher plant — 
the adult Conferva will in due time grow. Thus we find that, in 
addition to the resemblance between the protoplasm of the animal 
and that of the plain in respect of apj>earancc in I Idc-D, there 

exists a closer likeness still in the common movements which proto- 
plasm, whether derived from the animal or the vegetable, exhibits. 

It is not Dtcetsvy dad wc should dwell upon other examples of 
the marked irritability of protoplasm in lower plant-life to demon- 
strate the community of phenomena which this substance is every- 
where seen to exhibit in its simple and primitive condition. The life- 
history of the commonest seaweed that fringes the rocks, would show 
phenomena of similar kind, and would convince us that power of 
motion, by common consent the exclusive right and property of the 
animal, is rathcT to be viewed as a quality of the protoplasm which 
forms the living parts of both scries of organisms. For, like many of 


The Gtntlamns Magazine. 

its lower neighbours, the seaweed begins its existence as a 
speck of protoplasm that possesses from nature a roving i 
and swims about freely in its native waters by means of cilia, ot 
meats, resembling those by which the animalcules propel thct&sehts. 
Ultimately this roving life is abandoned for the stay-at-home exist- 
ence of the mature seaweed, which in due course arise* by 
growth and protoplasmic multiplication from the once active 
Whether studied in the lower animal or in the plant, protoplast 
is thus seen to possess essentially the same qualities and pi 
wlm h distinguish it primarily as living matter. It rena 
seen whether the examination of higher animal life will dev- 

logics and similarities which are so plainly apparent in the I 
confines of the kingdoms of living nature. 

In its complex entirety, the body of a man appears to pretest 1 
with no features of structural kind which can serve in 
degree to approximate the higher type to lower forms and i 
life. Organ and parts in S] I series more Of less 

rated, constitute the framework of the body, whose physiology * 
functional activity is in turn of a correspondingly intricate i 
The simplest tissue of man's frame would, at firs: sight, appear M 
sent a complexity defying reconciliation with any simpler | 
structure or life. What is true of the human type may lw held I 
equally correct when applied to the case of much lower 
which appear to be far enough removed in their own way from 
primitive simplicity of the protoplasmic Amccba and its allies, 
snail or a worm, at first sight, appears, in fact, to be as distant I 
the protoplasmic and primitive stage of organisation as man 
in that they arc built up of organs exhibiting a cotnp 
structure and highly-specialised arrangement of parts, 
case, what are the likenesses or differences between the 
lower organisms whiih tin scientific examination of the 
frame reveals ? Let anatomy and physiology together furnish the I 

The microscopic anatomy of the tissues of which man* body < 
sists, reveals to us a fundamental unity of organisation, which is I 
striking and important in all its particulars and aspects, 
primer of physiology teaches us the lesson that man's body, like ' 
frames of all other animals above the rank of the Amccba 
nearest kith and kin, consists of definite layers of minute u 
grouped together to form the definite " tissues ' of the bod; 
speak of the skin, for instance, we arc merely indicating a 
microscopic cells. When we speak of brain-tissue we arc again I 
coursing of cells ; and. bone itself, in its essential and living | 

Concern itsg Protoplast*. 427 

true CC ue. In the human body, it is true, there arc 

tendon fibres, and other structures of like nature . 

■ut the presence of these ! 

lot invalidate his pi onccrning the 

universal cellular composition of tri I ■< some of tin.- I 

of the body- o*i fbi irec of muscle by means of 

which we move, or those of the crystalline lens ol the eye can he 

shown to be fo r tly from cells by the ion or modifiea 

tion of the latter , whilst the gTOWtl I ol ill fibres take 

the production of new cell ft may he 

assumed as an axiom of physiology the bbdii c4 all animals, 
man included, are formed of cells, which become differentiated to 
form cellular tissues in the one case, or '.till further modified to form 
in the other. 

li information, all-important as it undoubtedly is. leaves us, 
however, on the mere confines of our physiological and anatOTJ 
Study 1 Po understand dearly the relations of 

the primitive pTOtoplasmic animalcule with the "'lord of creation " 
himselfi it is needful to pay a little 1 to some further details 

.1 study. Suppose that we examine under the 
icopeatrau ection of bone. In such research we shall 

•ly light U] 11 facts of interest &S Assisting our corn; i. 

•it of the U implicated organism 

in nature. A 1 rots section of bone shows us (hat the apparently solid 

tissue is everywhere perforated by the minute "canals," to which 

Qopfon Havers gave bis name, and w in and irotect the 

. t nourish the bone. Each Haversian canal ol bone li 

seen to be surrounded I bony matter, and 

are minute! it found to < ore isl 

of elongated spaces, called "lacu; d at im, enrols, 

and which communicate with each other by minute processes 1 aDed 

" canaliculi." Imagine a central lake to be surrounded by • in let ol 

smaller lakes, ti ommunicating with each other by a complex 

series of bfi risers, and a fair idea will be gained W ; 

it of the minute elcii I bone. In a 

1 parts i^ not altered from that dis- 
The bloodvessels ministering to the 
i>onc tiavi already mentioned. 

, however, led by a minute mass of 

light be compared to an 
and the protoplasm of one lacuna sends out minute pro- 
cesses of its substam.e along the communicating channels already 



Tlu GentUmaris Magazine. 

alluded tO, and thus communicates with the living matter of I 
neighbouring spaces. So that, could we obtain a perfect view of I 
lning protoplasm of a bone, we should find that, when removed froi 
the lacuna;, these living parts would appear before us as a i 
scries of Amcuba-likc masses of protoplasm, adhering togethc 
minute processes just described, and roughly reproducing tor w t 
form and outline of the bone. These masses of protoplasm art I 
"cells" of the bone on which depends the life, nourishment. J 
general welfare of that structure. And we thus leam the curious I 
that the most solid and enduring tissue of our body, in iu i 
nature, represents a collection of Amceba-likc masses of 
absolutely indistinguishable, be it also remarked in nature from ! 
similar matter which moves and gropes in the gutters of our ho 
or in the stagnant pools. As the plant-cell imprisons its ] 
within a thick cell-wall, so our bone-cells in like manner forn>< 
skeleton by their special manner of growth and development, 
it requires no great depth of thought to perceive the similarity of I 
elements of the human tissue to those which constitute the essenti 
of lower life at large. 

Not less striking arc the revelations which research into 
fundamental structure of the nervous system displays. Ne 
and ncrvc-fibrcs together comprise the body's telegraph system, I 
fibres of nerves being instinctively formed like other fibres of the 1 
from cells. The nerve-cell has come to be fully recognised as that ; 
of the nervous mechanism which produces and evolves nerve fo: 
that subtlest of life's forces, now seen to be represented tn i 
movement of a limb, and now in the impassioned utterances of t 
The nerve-fibre simply carries and distributes the nerve-force, | 
ated by the cells, but possesses on its own account no 
evolving the characteristic force that in varied fashions raV 
wide universe of human life and of lower existence as well, 
the structure of the brain anil spinal cord, as the two chief I 
centres of the body, is examined, both cells and fibres are found I 
entO into their composition ; but the cells alone exist in these] 
such as the grey or external layer of the brain— in which nerve* 
is evolved. Nerve-cells vary in sue and shape. They may 
simple or complex in form, and range from the round or 
the branched and irregular in form. Some of the "multipoli 
nerve-cells — as those possessing a plurality of processes arc i 
might well enough suggest to the imaginative mind a rescmb 
Amosba in shape, as they of a certainty are related to that . 
in the protoplasmic rature of their contents and struct i 

Concerning Protoplasm. 


ntiil element in the nerve-cell is protoplasm, pure and simple ; 
ioditfinguishable in its chemistry and histology from the substance 
rhkh we discern in the animalcule or in the bonc-cclL Whatever 
natal powers are exhibited by man, or by animals which possess a 
hnin ot nerve centres of any kind, are the direct products of the 
sme-encrgy stowed up within the cells of the nerve-centres ; and as 
we have seen, protoplasm constitutes the essential materia of these 
eelk That differences of function, wide and apparent, exist between 
the protoplasm of the bone-cell and that of the nerve-cell need not 
en alluded to as a fact of primary significance when considering 
the physiology of these varied organs. But sufficient for our present 
purpose is the still broader fact which demonstrates the community 
of protoplasm as the one living essential of the human frame, whether 
concerned in the work of forming bone, secreting bile, producing 
DOTcment, or evolving thought. Thus it remains a stable fact of 
human existence that on the qualities and properties of the proto- 
plasm or riving contents of cells, depend all the actions and the total 
activity and individuality of our lives. It is by means of protoplasm 
dot the cells of the liver secrete bile ; it is through the properties of 
protoplasm producing new cells, that a scratch heals or other breach 
cf bodily continuity is repaired ; and it is by means of a peculiar 
factional development of this same substance, that we are enabled 
"lo lay the flattering unction to our souls " in that we are the possessors 
of mind, intelligence, and will. 

Ii might also be shown, as one of the most curious facts of physi- 
objry, that we harbour in our arteries and veins thousands of proto- 
plasmic specks which, when viewed under the microscope, behave as do 
rentable Amoebae. Such are the "white corpuscles " of the blood, 
may be seen to undergo mutations of form strictly comparable 
b the changes of shape that give to the Amceba its characteristic 
Upcct.and which. '.Iterations, from this resemblance, have been named 
"amoeboid "' by the physiologist. Enough has already been said of 
the structural comjwsition of the human body to show that it derives 
its bring activity from the protoplasm which is everywhere scattered 
throughout its tissues, and which represents the typical living centre 
of each cell or tissue in which it occurs. But the case for the univer- 
sality of protoplasm, as the true and only medium by which life is 
exhibited, increases in importance when the early outlines and fore- 
casts of development arc even briefly chronicled. The nearer we 
approach the primitive condition of living organisms, the more 
apparent docs the similarity between the earliest stages of all 
organism* become. An Amoeba gives origin to new animalcules by 


T/te Gentleman s Magazine. 

simply dividing its body in two, when each half swims away a 
independent being, to begin life on its own account Here, thetii 
;m absolute and necessary identity of substance between the pro- 
ducer ami the produced. But even in higher grades of life, «het 
the process of development is by BO means so simply carried nut u 
in Amoeba, there a ft wonderful similarity between the mdrridaJ 
germs of higher animals as well M between tuch germs and thci&A 
and permanent -t.v;i •- ■ >' animalcular life. No anatomist coold fea- 
ture, for instance, to express an opinion as to the identity of the 
germs of the highest class of animals. A protoplasmic germ, pee- 
ing essentially the same structure and appearance as that of tie 
< li >;; and sheep, gives origin to man himself; and the stages of dcreop 
ment which evolve the one are strictly comparable in all save there) 
latest to those that produce the other. Thus man arises froo i 
germ of protoplasm measuring about the one hundred and twefittd 
put of an inch in diameter, the material substance of which uanot 
be distinguished by any microscopic or chemical tests from tilt 
whirl. ed to give origin to his canine (Head, or from tfci; d 

which the shapeless frame of the Uric lndeed,&e 

eggs and germs of many animals are strictly Vmosbo-likc in ihaf 
nature and motions. The genu of a sponge creeps about within tke 
parent organism in a fashion i "om the familii 

animalcule ; and there are zoophytes and other animals whose 
exhibit the same exact Amoeba-like appearance which 
white blood-coqwscles wince. It is thus •' plain fan that wh 
complexities of body or of mind we find exhibited in the 
world, arise from like matter and similar substance. Trut 
equally with the monad and the conferva, owes his origin to a | 
plasmic germ, in which are contained all the potentialities and | 
abilities of his after development, is no piece of scientific romana; 
but demonstrable truth. Protoplasm begins our life, as it conDWH 
that existence for us ; and in this respect the Amoeba may he re- 
garded as the tyi>e of all living things, or, like the famous frccbooea 
of the ballad, as veritable " lord of all " that Uvea. 

The universality of protoplasm as the basis of life may be held 
fully proved. Apart from the . life 

unknown to exist. It is seen constituting the 
of animals and plants, from bale audi 

cule, triton and minnow. I pine and the lichen, each and J 

owe to protoplasm their primary-. ad the pov i nuA 

their varied lives. As !>r. Allman pu it addnsi to 

the British Association, " We arc thus led to the conception of I 

Concent ittg Protoplasm. 4 3 x 

unity in ihc two great kingdoms of organic nature— a struc- 
tural unity in the fact that every living being has protoplasm as the 
essential matter of ever)- living clement of its structure, and a physio- 
logical unity in the universal attribute of irritability which has its seat 
in this same protoplasm, and is the prime mover in every phenomenon 
of life. We have seen," continues Dr. Allman, "how little mere 
form ha* to do with the essential eplastn. This 

may shape itself into cells, and the cells may combine into organs in 
ever- increasing complexity, and protoplasm force may thus be in- 
tensified, and, by the mechanism of organisation, turned to the bell 
■it ; but wt must still go back to protoplasm as a 
naked, formless ; 1 we would find, freed from all non-essential 

complications, the agent to which has been assigned the duty of build- 
ing up structure, and of transforming the energy of lifeless matter into 
that of living." 

How much nearer to the great question of the origin and nature 
of life do such considerations lead us? is a justifiable query which 
faces us at the close of these inquiries, as it formed the keynote with 
brief stuc. mystery of living and being. 

It cannot be doubted that the research of recent years has at least 
brought us nearer to our real difficulties than before. It counts for 
something in B subject like the present that even the boundaries of 
our knowledge and the environments of our ignorance should be 
dearly perceived ; and this much, at least, the inquiries concern- 
ing protoplasm have accomplished. We now know that at last we 
are face to face with the final stage in the question before us — that 
the puzzles of protoplasm constitute the one mystery of life. To 

1 decision every fact of recent research seems to lead. 

knowledge that there is not one life of the animal and anothet exkteflOG 

of the plant, but that both lives are really a I their essential 

us directly to regard proto- 
and 1. as the repositories of the secret of life's 

One v.liieb merits special remark in con- 

nection with the subject of protoplasm and its relations to life