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NATURE AND ART.

LONDON :

wyman & sons, printers, great queen street,
lincoln's-inn fields, W.C.

AND

VOL. 2

^'IS'

LONDON
DAY Sc SON/LIMITED:"

G , Gate Str-eet , Lincoln's Inn Fields, (W. C)

1867.

F^MTIOCS.

■*-4-e>

BABVAROCOttEaEUMm

•Ift Of

BANllLl.FtMIM

MJUNIttIt

CONTENTS or VOLUME II.

VAOB

Bizz AND HBB FoBS. By Mrs. S. C. Hall. (Illus-
trated) —

Chapter 1 1

Chapterll. 33

Chapter III 65

Flambobouoh Head. By John Cordeaux . . 6

The Pbinciples of Good Taste in Decorativb

Art. ByJ. B. Waringr, F.E.I.B.A. ... 11
On Sketchino fbok Nature. By Aaron Penley,
Professor of Landsoape-Painting at the Boyal
Military Academy, Woolwich. (Illustrated)

13, 43, 80, 101, 132, 163
On Tin. By W. B. Lord, Boyal Artillery . . 14

Description op an Egyptian Statue lately

ADDED to THB COLLECTION IN THE BRITISH

MusEUif. (Illustrated) 18

Holbein in Germany. By H.Ward. (Illustrated) —

Part III. Basle continued . . . .20
Part IV. Basle concluded . .49

The Meteoric Shower op November, 1866. By
J. Carpenter, of the Boyal Observatory, Greenwich

(Illustrated) 23

Art Notes from Paris. By G. W. Yapp . 27

The Winter Exhibition op the Society op

Painters in Water-colours . . . .31

Reviews — ** A Subaltern's " Becollections of the East 31

— " Salmo Salar's '* Autobiography . 62

The Light Blue 62

Jacob Jones's Century of Sonnets 63

The Savage Club Papers . .63

Simpson's India, Ancient and Modem 92

A Fox's Tale 94

Laohaise's Manuel Pratique et Baisonn^ de

I'Amateur de Tableaux . . . .94
Figuier's Les Insectes . . . .122
Fergusson's History of Architecture in all

Countries 125

Frances Power Cobbe's Hours of Work and

Play 126

Picture- flaying at the National Gallery .127
Larwood and Hotten's Sign Painters and

Signboards 151

Michelet's L'Oiseau. (Illustrated) 157, 187
Greville F.'s The Bail and the Bod . .160
G. Washington Moon's Elijah the Prophet 160
General Bell's Bough Notes by an Old

Soldier . 194

The Volunteer Movement of 1859 . . 194

PAOX

New Music 32, 95

Correspondence 32, 54

A Bunch of Yik Cones. By W. B. Lord, Boyal

Artillery - . . 39

The Paris Exhibition, 1867. By G. W. Yapp 44, 114
The Atlantic Yacht Bace. (Illustrated) . .51
Music at Home and Abroad . 55, 59, 87, 155, 195
Camoensia maxima (Welu-itsch), (Illustrated) . 58

Carols and Valentines. By H. W. (Illustrated) 63

Olla Podrida 64, 95, 196

Ceremonies of the Greek Church. (Illusirated) 71
A Gossip about Amber. By B. Lambert . 74

The African Elephant. By Centurion . . 78

The Dudley Gallery 82

An Heraldic Puzzle and its Solution. By G.

Chapman, F.S.A. (Illustrated) .... 85
Landseer's Lions 86

Venus's Flower-Basket (Euplectella speciosa).

(Illustrated.) By W. B. Lord, Boyal Artillery . 88

The Japanese Juoglers 96

Ernst Schulz 96

The Foundations op the Earth. By J. Carpenter,

F.B.A.S., of the Boyal Observatory, Greenwich . 97
The Drama. Audiences and Performances . 102
Ingres 104

Notes, Historical and Heraldic, on the Lion.

(Illustrated) 105

The Cocoa-nut Palm. (Cocus nucifera.) By W. B.

Lord, Boyal Artillery. (Illustrated) . . . 108
Floral Decoration op Churches at Easter.

By W. and G. Audsley, Architects. (Ilhu^trated) 119
The Fate op Dr. Livinostone. By T. Baines,

F.B.G.S. 120

The Harmony between the Mosaic and Egyptian
Cosmogonies. By J. Bonomi, F.B.A.S. (Illus-
• trated) 129

Stray Scraps from Odd Lardebs. By W. B.

Lord, Boyal Artillery 133

Esparto and its Uses. By B. L 137

The American Water- weed (Anachans Alsi-
nasti-um.) By the Eev. W. Honghton. (Illus-
trated) 139

Peter von Cornelius 141

The Microscope 143

CHEOMO- AND PHOTO-LITHOaBAPHS, Ac.

OuB British Buttbbflibs. By Arthur Gfurdiner
Butler, F.Z.S. (Ilhutrated.) Part I. . . . 145
Part n. . . 170

Thb Yale of Oashmbbe. By William Simpson.

(Illustrated) 147

Society op Bbitish Abtists . . - . . 153
Anticipations of the Eotal Academy . .156

Lines to a Swallow. Prom the Banish of Wilster.

By H. W 160

Falconry in the Olden Time .... 161
A Beminiscbnce of the Pyrenees . . 164

The Deserts of Peru, and their Wealth. By

William BoUaert, F.B.G.S., &o 166

Notes on the Early History of ENGBAYiNa

(Illustrated) 172

The Arc hi t e oture op India. The Buddhist.

By William Simpson. (Illustrated) . . .176
The Microscope. (Illustrated) .... 180
King Chassblas. By G. W. Yapp . . . .185
The French and Flemish Gallery . . 190
The Two Watfr^olour Socibtiss . . . 192
Clarkson Stanfield, B.A 196

CHROMO- AND PHOTO-LITHOGRAPHS, ETC.

BCary O'Gorman Faces p, 2

Fac-similbs of Water-colour Studies prom

Nature ... 13, 48, 80, 101, 132, 163

Statub of the Son of Bameses II. . . . 18

HiEROGLYPHICAL INSCRIPTION . . . .19

Meteoric Shower of Noyembbr, 1866 . . 23

Wife and Children of Johann Holbein . 48

JoHANN Holbein 49

Thb "FLEETWiNa" Catastrophe . . . .54

Camoensia maxima 58

Philarete, Metropolitan of Moscow . . .71
The Casket of William db Yalbncb . . 85

Ybnus's Flowbr-Baskbt 88

Varieties of Sponqb Spicules . . . .89
Landsber*8 Lion ....... 105

Groyb of Cocoa-nut Palms, Ceylon . Faces p. 108
Designs for Floral Decoration of Chubchbs . 119

Section of an Ant-hill 122

The Great Tower of the Pagoda Wat-Ching,

AT Bangkok 125

The Unite BSE of the Ancient Egyptians . .130
The American Water-weed .... 139

The Swallow-tailed Butterfly . • . 145

A Nautch in Cashmere 147

Blackcaps and their Nest 158

The Brimstone Butterfly 171

Saint Bridget 176

Buddhist Architecture 177

«'LbNid" 188

tt m g5Q 3a XiCE SVTT7yrf^TyY n r; vyys JTjy y vvvyyr."vvvVTnQC Ea;;

JaiiUATy 1,1867.1

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

By Mrs. S. C. Hall.
IN THEEE CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I.

HERE is no use in putting
it- off any longer, ma'am/'
said the cook ; " the upshot
of it will be, we shall be
murdered intirely, if we
don't get a yard-dog: —
those skelping, keeking,
flying here and there,
'talian greyhou nds — poor
shivering 'atomies, I call
'em — all legs and no body — such shadders as them
are no more use for watch-dogs, no, not so much
as that little hairey-walker Weazel, with a head so
like a dandelion, that if I bio wed it hard enough,
I could tell what's o'clock."

There was a pause ; cook noted the unconvinced
expression of my face, and resumed —

" So exposed as the place is, ma'am ! — standing
in a comer, and not a hap'orth to hinder the stable
and all belonging to it. — Oh, ma'am dear, what are
ye saying about the Po-leese ] I'd take an oath this
blessed minute on all the books that ever war shut
or opened, that the last of them blue-bottles that
ever rounded the cOmer of the Gloucester-road,
was this day week. You know, ma'am, we have
two of them 'talian greyhounds, and you yourself
calls them Ninon the Wise and Folly the Foolish, —
well, I opened the gate to see if I could see the
milk coming down the road, and to keep Folly in, I
lifts her in my arms, when she takes a flying leap

after the tollman's magpie, when up he sidles "

" Who ? the magpie, cook 1 "

"No, ma'am, the Poleese ; * Don't agitate yourself,

good woman,' he says, * the weather's too warm for

agitation, stand still, and call the little beast :

you'll never catch her.' * Do your duty,' I says,

* you're long and lane enough to catch a dragon-fly,
let alone a 'talian greyhound, — ** baste," indeed ! — T
only wish I had the basting of you ! and how dare
you' call me " good woman " 1 ' I says, for I was
Htruck dumb by his impidence, and hadn't a word
in my head ; and with that, before I could draw my
breath, he takes off his hat, that isn't a hat, but a

* shiney,' and says, * I ask your pardon, I did not
intend to call you out of your nam^.' Oh, didn't

VOL. II. — VIII.

I wish for a stone in a stocking, and him and me on
the fair green of Ballynatrent ! "

Now this was a hasty admission on the part of
our excellent cook, which she would not have made
in cold blood. It is by no means an uncommon
thing to find Irishmen in that, or indeed I am sorry
to say, in any class of life, stammer and fidget, and
look confused, when you intimate that they are
natives of the Green Isle ; and I am ashamed to
confess that I often meet with Irish gentlemen,
who, if they do not deny their country, are too
ready to deal it a vigorous kick, as if by spuming
the land of their bii-th they elevate themselves ; but
not so with Irish-women : their eyes sparkle, and
their cheeks flush, and their sweet voices (none
the less sweet for the intoning their enemies call
"brogue") speak out frankly what they feel and
believe — that with all her faults, there is no country
in the world to be compared to their own " darling
Ireland." I reverence that love of native land. I
need not tell my readers, young or old, to what
country our cook belonged ; you could not hear the
sound of her voice, you could not look into her soft
grey eyes fringed by long black lashes, you could not
experience her desire to, oblige, no matter at what
personal sacrifice, without knowing at once that she
was a daughter of the " Emerald Isle." Every one
said she was too handsome for a cook, but what was
better, she was a grateful and aftectionate servant,
ready, as she declared, at any time "to go to the
world's end through fire and water to serve me or
mine." That I did not require, but I should have
been glad, if she had put things in their right
places, and did not make a fiat-iron do duty as a
door-weight, and oblige the door-weight to act as a
coal-hammer: the housemaid once declared she made
her bed with the fire-shovel — that was a libel. But
the remarkable thing about our cook was her
stoutly denying she was Irish : — " Irish ! she had no
call to them, her grandfather indeed might have
been born there, or her grandmother, but that did
not make her Irish, she hated the very sound of the
brogue!" After such a declaration, she was par-
ticularly careful to call plates " pleets," lisping her
words as finely as her own mincing-machine minced

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

Nfttur« and Art, Juiuarjr 1, 18b7.

meat : it was very sad and very wrong to tell that
untruth, more especially as the genuine love of her
country would break forth naturally. Sometimes she
would come to me with a tale of Irish distress which
brought tears into her fine grey eyes, and apologize
in this way : — " Sure, the craythurs are in such
miseiy, that my heart aches fit to breaking, at the
way they're in ; and you, madam, are so fond of
your own country people^ that though I have no call
to the Irish, I thought you would like to know the
trouble that's on them." There is a strong pre-
judice against Irish servants in England, but that
waa no excuse for cook's untruth ; it was tlie blot in
her character.

I was always glad to catch her tripping on this
subject, and the allusion to the mode of warfia-re
practised on " the fair green of Ballynatrent," was
evidence of country so decided, that, very mali-
ciously, I asked her to tell me " where the fair
green of Ballynatrent was situated," upon which
she blushed and turning away answered, —

" It's a place I heard tell of once^ ma'am dear — a
place, and its ways, my grandmother often discoursed
about ; but sure any place would do, if I could only
get a good throw at Mm, the lazy sneering scamp ;"
adding " and now, if you plase, I'll go on with
my trouble : —

" All this time. Folly was leaping her heart out
after that ugly Mag., that kept on whistling with
its eye cocked on the top of the great toll-board.
Ninon the Wise, who well knew the differ betweeii
her master's whistle, and the whistle of a Brompton
magpie, stood as grave as a judge inside the rails.
At the minute, a cart came out of the gi-eat gate at
Eagle Lodge, and my heart was in my mouth, for I
saw no escape for Folly, and I could have spitted
the poleesemBM as I woiild a goose, and he standing
twisting a straw in his moutL

" * Can't you run 1 ' I says, * and not see the dog
massacreed in the sight of your eyes ? what's the
like of you for T I says ; I could not stir, for all
the breath was gone out of my body, and my heart
leaping like a fish after a fly. Well! the words
were taken out of my mouth as much as the breath,
I may say, by seeing Ninon, the stately crature,
make one bound like a stag across the road, and
seize Folly by the 'scruff' of her neck, from among
the horses' feet, and drop her inside the gate, and
the magpie whistling all the time, not caring if the
poor foolish dumb animal had been scrunched under
the cart wheels ; and if she had, I'd have winmg the
head off her, or my name's not Mary Ogremaji ! "

Here was a tangle ! Mary Ogreman, our rosy
cook, two Italian greyhoimds, a magpie, and a
policemen, all about a yard-dog !

"And what did the policeman say to Ninon's
sagacity ? "

" Well, I don't know, ma'am ; I don't think he
understood it at once, only his two eyes grew like
the bull's eye of his own lantern, and he standin' in
the middle of the road, imtil the carter cries, * Lave
the way, will ye, or I'll be over you as well as the
dog,' aad he not over the dog at all ! who was
squealing and grumbling at her presarver, like many

a one else in the world, who don't know when they
are sarved or saved. But what put me past myself
intirely, was that more than two hours after, as I
was hindering the white sauce from coming to a
hiU, a tattering ring shakes the back gate. I
thought it was the Wenham Lake, which runs to
waste before you can look round you, so I takes my
sauce in my fist, and makes a rush at the gate, and
sorra a thing was there, but that aggravating
poleeseman. *I beg your pardon, madam' (that
was his word), * madam ' he says, * but I am curious
to know if the big thin dog is mother to the little
thin one.' I don't know how I kept the sauce off
him, the great omadawn, and me so busy ! "

** What a good, wise creature that Ninon is," I
exclaimed ; " another reason, Mary, why we shoidd
not have a yard-dog."

" Oh, as you plase, ma'am," said cook, exchanging
the air narrative, for the air dignified, and preparing
to pass from the verandah to the kitchen ; "as you
plase, ma'am, of course ; it 's just as you and the
master plazes, only if all I've said this very half-
minute don't prove what cruel want we are in of a
yard-dog, why it don't, that's all 1 I suppose I must
lose mee bits of clothes, and the little property in
mee box, the caddy spoon, and punch-ladle that
belonged to me grate grandfather, who vms a man !
As sure as the sun shines, we shall be all murdered ;
the dark nights too, and the end of the world so
nigh."

I made no answer. Cook lingered, twisting up a
refractory honeysuckle, still anxious jbo carry her
point.

" I really do not want any more dogs, cook j it
was only yesterday you said * the house was poisoned
with them.' "

"Oh, then, ma'am dear, sure I don't want
another in the house, only outside, to purtect the
property. Sure, I've shown you this very minute,
how exposed the comer and stable is, and the
2)oleese dear at a brass farthing a piece ! and that
whistling magpie, distracting one's mind with its
nonsense, and the carts going the road, as if it be-
longed to them, and that poor darlin' Ninon
obleeged to take police duty on herself, or see her
comrade massacreed."

" And is a yard-dog to cure all these unpleasant-
nesses, cook 1 "

" Oh, ma'am, if it's laughing at me ye are, I'm
done ; I'll say to Hatchment, * Don't talk to me
about your dog, sir, if you plaze, though you have
been so good as to offer her to my mistress, and she
such a wonderful watch.' "

"No, Mary," I interrupted, with admirable
gravity, "I am by no means a good watch."

" Youj ma'am ! oh, ma'am dear, sure I never
evened the like of that to you, — ^you indeed ] "

" You have just said I was a wonderful watch."

" I'd not contradict you, ma'am, but if the words
came out of my mouth, it was not me that said them ;
it was Hatchment's dog Bizz, the baste, I meant
was the watch, and a wonderful watch intirely she
certainly is — by all accounts."

" I am very glad to hear it."

, N:»liir» ..ii'l .\i-i .l.iini;ii-\- I If^'.r

NAtiira and Art, Jumiiry 1, 1867.]

BIZZ AND H£B FOES.

" Just the sort of dog we want, that will stand
no nonsense, want no looking after ; not all as one
of our dogs, ma'am, that crave as much attention as
babies ; sure if Ninon only wets her feet, she'll come
to me to dry 'em befoi^e she goes into the drawing-
room ! and if an insect bothers her too much, and
she can't get him, by reason of his earning his bread
on the back of her neck, or right under her chin,
she'll give me no rest or pace till I take down her
comb and brush, to have a hunt for him, and she
knows the sight of the comb as well as myself !
Now Bizz is altogether different from that : she's a
pure-blooded, smooth-coated buU-tarrier ; that's what
alie is ; her grip is the grip of a vice, her legs are
bandy with strength, and though she has lost one
eye, and her ears are riddled — indeed one is as good
as gone — ^through tearing by cats, rats, and thmgs,
she do be after day and night, in shores, and out of
shores ; known she is to all rat-catchers, that would
give their eyes for her, and though she'll do them a
good turn now and agin, when they'i'e hard up for a
dog, she wouldn't, Hatchment says, call one of them
master — ^not she. She wouldn't stay here, poor Bizz,
the baste! only she lias got a liking for me —
Hatchment is certain of tiiat."

everything else scuffled about through them : — ^but
there, ma'am, I have done my duty honest, if we're
all robbed and murdered, its no business or fault of
mine. I could swear the lock of the back gate,
had a nail in it on Sunday morning : and I'd be
glad to know how the coke-box, two trowels, and a
blacking-brush were spirited off the bottle-rack in
the yard. If Bizz, the baste, — but I'm done ! "

Whenever poor cook's suggestions were set aside,
she assumed an air of pathetic, yet offended dignity,
that was highly amusing, and after the passion,
whined out a running accompaniment.

" I know my place, I'm only a plain cook, roaat
and boiled (" biled " she pronounced it), soup, fish,
poultry or game, bread or mint sauce, lobsters and
crabs, and vegetables in all dressings, could under-
take a cow and butter, feed pigs, hatch chickens,
and cut the red heads of turkeys, agin tlie world ;
/ never blazens myadf, I'm only a plain cook, but
scorn baking, ever since them dirty Germans set up
their yeast against honest barm ! I'm only a cook,
and a woman, and know I'm of no account beyond
my kitchen, and as clean a scullery as ever mortial
entered ! I'd never have mentioned the dog, ma'am,
only you have a laning towaixis animals, and

There was a pause : cook returned to the charge.

"Talking of cats, ma'am, sure anything that
would circumnavigate those cats, that destroy the
garden, would be a blessing unspoken : the walls are
as thick with cats, as an old kitchen with beetles.
"Why, the cats flick their tails and grin at our dogs :
it's heart-breaking, so it is, to see the voilets and

Hatchment says; he'll 'tice her into a bag somehow,
and drown the poor faithful creature if you don't
have her."

" Drown Bizz ! " (she had long been of my
acquaintance, though by no means one of my dog
friends.) " Drown Bizz ! why, if she is so valuable,
why drown her ] "

BIZZ AND HEE FOES.

[Katorc and Art, Jdxvuxj 1. 1887.

Mary O'Gorman — or as I am ashamed to say,
Mary Ogreman, as she chose to anglicise her name —
stumbled a great deal over the ** reasons " her friend
Hatchment had for wishing to get rid of this ugly
paragon of canine fidelity ; but the " reasons " were
cogent : since he had given up his yard, he had no
place " convanient " to chain Bizz in. She was an
ugly customer in his shop, where, seated on the top
of a potato-basket, she was ever ready to do battle
with any one, or any thing, on the least provocation.
Fond, indeed, I am of dogs, which (ctmning things)
they know so well, that many a homeless cur, of
low degree, has followed me home, while the more
aristocratic dogs, who never go abroad without an
escort, sniff, and wag their tails, while regarding me
for a minute or so ; with their deep-brown, or grey-
green eyes, seem to say with mute eloquence, " We
know you, you love us and we love you." Yet
frequently as I passed Hatchment's, and was
tempted to order some pretty pot of mignionette, or
fine hyacinth, or snowy and succulent celery (for
Hatchment dabbled in flowers, and was eminent
as a greengrocer), for a consideiuble time, the sight
of that fiendish-looking dog, perched like grim
death on a potato-basket, often scared me away. I
did not mind her torn ears, nor her ugly, yellowish,
bandy legs, nor that horrid broken-down nose
peculiar to her family. I pitied her poor blind eye,
which, half closed, had a penitential look, and gave
an expression of gentleness to that side of her face,
at once tender and touching — if that side happened
to be turned to the street, I felt as if I could
order whatever I pleased, but the other side might
have belonged to another dog ; there was a split in
her upper lip, directly over one of the whitest and
most determined-looking fimgs, I ever saw in a
dog's head; tJiat was the side of her bright keen eye,
and when it " eyed " any one intently^ the lip moved
and twitched in a nervous di^sagreeable manner, so
that the \igly "gap," closed and unclosed, aa if it
sneered ** Ah, ah ! do you understand ] Fd like to
bite you." Her coat was jet black, and shone like
satin ; it was a coat any dog might be proud to wear.
I suppose everybody has heard of the Irishman
who said " the most eloquent feature in a dog*8 /ace
was its tail" Now Bizz's tail could hardly be called
"eloquent," but it was determined: it stuck out
stiff and curveless, nearly on a line with her back,
it seemed too stem and too sturdy to wag ; there was
no wag in it, it might have been made of cast-iron.
Bizz disdained conventionalities, she would not wag
her tail because other dogs wagged theirs. No,
she stiffened it into j)erfect indifference, neither
elevating nor lowering it, but let it be, a firm and
independent tail. The first time I saw her on the
potato-basket, she looked very different from what
she did when on guard in her master's cart.

Once, I happened to be at her blind side when
the cart stopped at our gate, and I asked Hatchment
"how his poor dog lost her eye." I shall never
forget the alarmed look lie cast on the dog, as he
advanced close to me, and said in a very low tone,
** Madam, don't ask before her, she can't bear it, it
hurts her feelings so, I*m glad she didn't hear you ;

she'd tear the Queen on her throne in pieces, if she
heard her Majesty talking about her eye ! "

On the potato-basket I saw frequently the re-
verse of the medal — ^the split lip quivering over the
white fang, the keenly fiery eye, darting its arrows
here arid there from beneath its "tan" eyebrow,
the blunt iiptumed nose, the bandy fore leg, and
above all the sturdy tail, strong, muscular, and
inflexible. Experience had taught me in time two
peculiarities in this queer dog : she never picked a
quarrel with another dog, she held herself above
her species ; if attacked by any combative lady, she
would prove her breeding, and fight as became her
bull-blood, but a dog-quarrel must be forced on her,
and she was never imcivil to well-dressed or com-
monly respectable customers. One morning I
wanted to order some piiik Asters, and walked over
to Hatchment's for the pui-pose. Bizz was on the top
of the potato-basket as usual, and as usual I spoke
to her ; the only reply she ever made to a salutation
to a good customer was to draw up her lip and
wink. She did so with more graciousness than
common, indeed she winked twice, and I felt almost
inclined to pat her, when T perceived two boys
peeping at her through the vegetables piled behind
where she sat (the shop was double fronted).

" I have never got so much as one cabbage-leaf
for my rabbits, since she took to the shop," said one
rosy-cheeked fellow ; "the governor says I may have
the trimm^pgs, but if we only look at them, she's
out upon us. I wish she was dead."

" Oh, my eye ! Isn't she ugly though?" observed
the other urchin. Now whether Bizz caught the
offensive exclamation or not, I cannot tell, but
she sprang from her elevation, and would certainly
have punished the author of the obnoxious sound,
if both boys had not managed to bolt into the
tailor's shop, next door, and shut themselves in.

But Bizz had good reason to hate the boys that
congregated in Steward's Grove. Where the legions
came from I never understood ; unkempt raga-
muffins some of them, whose clothes hung together
by a miracle, and whose lungs were as strong as a
brass trumpet : others were better dressed, but to
the full as mischevious, with demure-looking slates
and satchels, intent, I ain sorry to say, on upsetting
Hatchment's baskets, and in the m^^c, stealing his
apples and oranges. One fellow more daring than
the rest would " shy" (I believe that is the term) a
piece of wood or a stone at Bizz, and nm away,
certain, that she would pursue him, and then as
Mr. Hatchment was much too unwilling to move
quickly, the other lads would assault the nuts or
apples, or whatever they could get at. The poor
dog had as many bumps and scars as ought to have
won her a medal, for those marks were indications
of her guard over her master's property. Bizz had
no worse foes than the mischievous boys of Steward's
Gfove.

But the cats ! It was generally believed that a
cat, whose kittens Bizz had disposed of in a sum-
mary manner, had scratched her eye out ; that,
added to the natural antipathy of terriers to the
feline race, engendered in Bizz the most deadly

Nataj« Mid Art. January 1. 1867.]

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

hatred to cata, and every cat in the neighbourhood
knew it. As long as Mr. Hatchment combined the
sale of coke with greengroceries, and was owner of a
yard and a shed only a little distance from his shop —
of which I shall have to speak hereafter^Bizz had
charge of the yard, and it waa no uncommon thing
to see a dozen cats ranged on the top of the shed,
with their hair on end, and their tails like bottle-
brushes, all yelling and spitting in chorus, Bizz in
a state of insanity, now running along on two legs,
then on three, then springing in the air in the hope
of catching even the tip of a cat's tail. It was

you near our shop again, and then 1*11 make you
remember who stole the sheep's head ; " or by the
baker exclaiming, "Mr. Hatchment, I'll give you
sixpence if you'll give me a fair throw at your dog,
and I'll forgive her (after the throw) for the rolls
she stole." Ay, Bizz had an ample abundance of
foes, and I really believe her only true friend was
our cook ! " Why 1 " you will say, and in reply I
say, " Patience ! "

After the little display of cook's eloquence on be-
half of Bizz, I determined to walk to Hatchment's,
and ascertain wki/ he was so anxious to get rid of

curious to obsei've how the different cattish dis-
positions manifested themselves. One grimalkin
might be seen standing with arched back, elevated
tail, and nails sticking into the mortar; another
crouching like a tiger, with widely-staring eyes, as
if waiting for an opportunity to spring on its foe ;
another moving with a crab-like movement, sly and
sidling ; another rocking backwards and forwards ;
but all animated by the same antagonistic feeling
towards Bizz. At her bark in Steward's Grove
(supposing it only the bark of " kindly welcome "
to her master, for she was too determined a dog to
be noisy), eveiy cat left off washing her face, or
lapping her mUk, or caressing her kittens, or even
watching the sparrows on the wall, and bristled in
a state of warfare. If the poor dog ever had
peaceful desires, if she was ever inclined to doze in
the sun, she was sure to have her combativeness
called into action by the butcher's boy stopping and
exclaiming, " Ah ! there you are I Let me catch

K^/rJt^jiJ.

the dog, which he had often told me was of more
use to him than " Mrs. Hatchment, or any two
boys he ever employed." And though cook was an
excellent creature in many ways, and an admii*ablc
cook, yet the fact of her denying her country kept
me in continual doubt as to her veracity ; whatever
cook said, I felt the question, " Is that true ] "

Mr. Hatohment, however, in reply to my state-
ment of what I had heard, said, — " Yes, it was so
exactly, and sorry he was for it; he did want to find
a good home for poor Bizz. Somehow Mrs. H. and
Bizz had got on bad terms. Mrs. H. was a good
woman, and a good wife, though as crooked as a
had parsnup about anything that crossed her brain,
and Bizz had crossed her brain very often, and she
said true, he could not afford to keep the dog any
longer."

I could not help smiling at this, for I believed
that Bizz had a way of keeping herself. Hatchment
understood my smUe and continued : —

FLAMBOBOUGH HEAD.

[K»tar» and Art, Junnxtj 1. 1867.

" Yes, ma'am, so long as I had the shed and yard,
which Bizz considered her own, having brought up
three litters there, she stayed there, because also,
she was chained, which I did out of mercy to the
neighbours' cats, and if she did not like the dinner
Mrs. H. gave her, why she got no other ; but since
I gave up the yard, when Mrs. H. does not please
her in the cooking, she goes straight to our butcher's
and walks off wi& whatever piece of meat pleases
her best, and takes it into Brompton churchyard to
eat it quietly. She's as fleet as a roe, and once in the
churchyard, she knows the boys dare not follow her ;
and indeed they don't bother much about catching
her, for they know, sooner than have her badly used,
I'd pay for the meat, and that's what Mrs. H. can't
stand. Last week there was three shillings in the
week's bill against Bizz, for sheep's head and trotters.
I gave in to the head, but "trotters" is what I
know the dog's above — Bizz is above trotters ! — and
the butcher and I had words about it, and Mrs. H.
put in her word as well, and she said Bizz or she
must leave the house. Now, ma'am, I think it
would not be the thing to let Mrs. H. go, and
keep Bizz ; so, if I don't get a home for the poor

animal ^" Hatchment was obliged to leave

the sentence unfinished, as Bizz had attacked a
small boy who was vainly attempting to get at
her blind side, which was turned tow£u^s a basket
of oranges.

" The greatest little thief in Chelsea," Hatchment
called him, and then when he saw that Bizz had
bruised one of his poor red shanks, without how-
ever breaking the skin, the good-natured green-
grocer gave him an apple not to cry.

"Please, sir," stammered out young impudence,
" I'll hold the other leg to her, if ye'll give me an
orange ! "

"There never was such a watch," continued
Hatchment, after dismissing the imp, with the
threat of a sound thrashing ; " never ! Your yard is
too well walled for her to escape, so she could not
get into trouble with any of the butchers, and she's
equal to any three poUcemen, by day or night.
The comer is very much exposed : poor Bizz, poor
brute, she's worth her bit any day."

I asked Hatchment if he had had her from her
puppyhood, and then he told me her history as far
as he knew it.

FLAMBOROUGH HEAD,

By John Gobdeaux.

FEW places on our English coast will so well re-
pay a visit as the noble Yorkshire headland of
Flamborough. To the lover of nature it offers many
and varied attractions, in the grand scenery of ite
coast-line, the countless thousands of sea-fowl which,
during the spring and summer months, frequent its
sea-washed cliffs for the purposes of incubation,
and the beauty and variety of the wild flowers which
everywhere deck

" The zigzag paths and juts of pointed rock."

To the archaeologist it offers an additional attrac-
tion in the remains of the famous fortification known
as Danes' Dyke.

The best way to see Flamborough is on foot. We
shall, therefore, in the course of this paper, take our
readers along with us in a walk round the headland,
more especially to observe the habits of its numerous
tenantry, the sea-fowl. We shall not, however,
find them in any great numbers till we arrive at
their great haunt, the lofty mural precipices of
Speeton ; for constant persecution has all but driven
them from the lower range of cliffs on the southern
side of the promontory.

Let us suppose ourselves then, early on some fine
summer's morning in July, at Bridlington Quay, a
few miles south of Flamborough, properly equipped
for a walk, — a stout stick in hand, a good landscape
glass slung across our shoulders, and not forgetting
a well-filled sandwich-case. We will follow, as
near as we are able, the line of coast until we reach
the western extremity of that grand w£^l of lime-

stone rock overlooking Filey Bay, — ^no easy walk
on a warm July day, particularly as it is nearly all
cross-country work and over broken ground ; and
although, looking across the Bay, the two light-
houses placed near the extremity of the headland
appear at no gces^t distance, yet, following the line
of coast, we shall find it take \is six good miles to
reach them, and thence ten more to the western
end of the Speeton Cliffs.

And now for a few minutes, as we stand here on
this north cliff of Bridlington, let us observe the
line of coast. How is it that bold promontory of
chalk before us retains its proud position compaiu-
tively uninjured by the storms of thousands of
winters which have broken against it ; while the
land on which we stand is gradually, but surely,
year by year, receding before the encroachments of
the sea ] It is that tiie entire length of the York-
shire seaboard, from Spurn Point to a mile beyond
our present position, is composed of what geologists
term the " Boulder clay," a dark clay containing
some large fragments and innumerable smaller por-
tions of water-worn rocks thickly embedded in its
substance. The higher portion of these clay clifls
is capped with fine sands and gravel, and an occa-
sional bed of clay and peat marking a fresh-water
deposit, — the site of an ancient lake, long since
drained dry by the sea, which has for ages been
slowly eating up the land. Thus, in the whole
length of this coast, we find no solid rock until we
reach this limestone headland. The sea constantly
washing the base of these clay cliffs ^ndermi^ea

Katare and Art. JaaniuT 1. 1887.]

FLAMBOBOUGH HEAD.

them, and the rains and frosts of winter cause land-
slips, breaking oflf great masses from the top. Thus
the land gradually recedes, and the sea marches
forward at the computed average rate of two yards
and a half in a year. Thus, it is said, two miles
have disappeared since the Koman occupation of
Yorkshire, one since the Norman conquest. In old
maps of the county, villages are marked, the sites
of which are now buried " many a fathom deep,"
and nothing but their names remain to testify that
once man lived there. Not fer from the present
Spurn Point stood the ancient town of " Raven-
spurn," a place of considerable imj^rtance at a
period when Hull was a poor fishing village. Ed-
ward IV, landed there in 1471 ; but Ravenspurn,
like many another long-lost Yorkshire village, has
left scarce a tradition to mark its site.

The Flamborough promontory is composed en-
tirely of close-grained chalk rock, containing layers
of flints. It is the northern extremity of that great
i-eef-like chain of hills which, commencing on the
south coast of England at Beer Head, nms north-
eastward through Suffolk and Norfolk, crops out
prominently again in the Lincolnshire and York-
shii'e wolds, and finally terminates in the sea at
Flamborough.

The mass of chalk which composes the headland
is capped with an immense thickness of the "Boulder
clay," and this clay contains fragments of nearly all
the older rocks, from the immense "boulder-stones"
to the small rounded water-worn pebble, ages since
floated down on the glacial sea from the mountains
of Cumbria and the far north, before the " Wold "
hills had finally emerged from the water. As we
walk along the cliff top towards Sewerby, we see how
last winter's storms and frosts have detached large
masses of clay and gravel, which lie in gi*eat dis-
jointed masses on the shore. These landslips are
already covered with vegetation. Amongst the
plants most conspicuous are the "Bladder Campion"
and jungle-like patches of the " Giant Horse-tail."
Two miles north of Bridlington the chalk rock first
shows itself above the level of the coast, and from
this point the cliffs gradually increase in height till
we reach the head, and thence to Speeton, where
they reach their greatest altitude, 436 feet above
high-water mark.

Opposite Sewerby Hall the footpath turns across
the fields in the direction of the village; but, regard-
less of the notice which informs us that " all tres-
passers will be prosecuted," let us keep straight
forward. How glorious is the view this fine
summer's morning ! Early as we are, others ai-e
out before us, for the mackerel season has com-
menced and the boats are out in the bay, with all
hands busily employed in line-fishing. Far to the
south we see the long line of the Yorkshire coast,
till it is lost in the distance beyond Hornsea, From
our elevated position we are able to form some idea
of the encroachments of the sea, from the time when
the coast-line was probably level with the extreme
point of the headland.

These sand cliffs are a favourite resort of the Sand
Martin, as those small mouse-coloured swallow-like

birds are called which are continually passing and
repassing us as we walk along.

There is one of their colonies. You see the holes
are bored in a narrow vein of sand, running between
the chalk and " boulder " clay. These holes they
excavate with their sharp beak and claws, occa-
sionally to the depth of two or three feet, and at
the fui-ther extremity they deposit four or five pure
white eggs, in a nest made of hay and feathers.
And we may conclude that they will succeed in
bringing off their young in safety, for those holes
are placed in such a totally inaccessible position aa
to defy the attempts of the most peraevering bird-
nester.

But what is that little bird with the bluish grey-
coloured back, black and white tail, and the dark
streak through the eye, which keei)s flitting before
us from one stone to another, jerking its tail up and
down when it alights, and then flying forward
twenty or thirty yards, perching on a stone, and
going through the same performance? It is the
I Wheatear, a summer visitant to this country. We
should probably find its nest carefully concealed
under some of those large stones which project
from the clay, and from under which the soil is
partly worked away. It is constructed of hay, wool,
moss, and hair, and contains five or six pale blue-
green eggs. Formerly hundreds of these little
birds were taken with horse-hair nooses by the
shepherds on the south-country downs, and sold
as an article of food.

We now come to a sudden break in the clifl^
the termination of a deep natural valley, which
runs inland, gradually decreasing in depth, and
thus trending upwards till lost in the central high-
land. The crest of the opposite hill is crowned by
a low and somewhat broken embankment, the
famous ** Danes' Dyke ;" for to the Danes does
popular tradition a^scribe this remarkable work,
although it is probably of much older date.
Whoever were the original constructors of the
embankment took advantage of the natural for-
mation of the country, and used this deep and
narrow ravine as a fosse to protect the salient face
of the work. This valley runs in a line leading
nearly directly across the promontory, and about a
mile and a quarter from its southern termination
is lost in the " Wold." From this point the em-
bankment is made much stronger, and protected in
front by a deep artificial ditch, from which the soil
has been taken to form the earthworks, still,
however, taking advantage of any natural variation
in the surroimding country which might add to its
strength. Even now in most places, and after the
lapse of so many centuries, the work of the original
labourei*s remains so perfect, that, well manned, it
would present a serious obstacle to the advance
of an enemy. The northern termination of the
" dyke " is on the opposite side of the promontory,
and it is there carried to the very brink of a preci-
pice 300 feet deep ; so that the flank could not be
turned except by sea. It is the lines of Torres
Vedras on a small scale. The total length of the
" Danes' Dyke ^' is about three miles from coast to

FLAMBOBOUGH HEAD.

[ir«tiir« ud AH, JftUiury 1. 1M7.

coast. Trees clothe the sides of the trench, adding
greatly to the wildness of the scene. At the
northern end they are stunted and gnarled, and
with branches twisted by the rough northern breeze ;
but at the southern and well-sheltered termination,
they are tall and uninjured. The old earthworks are
gay with golden goi*se, and light green masses of tall
herbaceous plants and bracken, amongst which most
conspicuous by its hejght is the Weld, or Reseda
Luteola^ a plant which furnished our ancestors with
a yellow dye. Let us descend into the valley, and
climb the opposite hill. Hark to the sweet, wild song
of the linnet, as he sits with his carmine breast show-
ing bright in the clear sunshine, on the topmost spine
of that gorse-bush. A blackbird rises from the
bracken, and dashes deep into the plantation, utter-
ing its well-known alarm note, which sounds to us
like the word ** chink, chink," quickly repeated.
The rabbits are scudding in and out of the bushes ;
and high over-head a single lark is trilling forth its
song of praise. All nature is rejoicing in the bright
sunshine of early morning. Mingling with the
songs of the birds in one grand chorus, comes the
ceaseless murmur of the waves on the pebbly beach.
And now, as we climb the height and stand at the
foot of the earthen mound, a solitary carrion crow,
a very raven in size, rises slowly from the dell,
and we wish for a gun to bring the black marauder
down. He has been breakfasting on a young rabbit,
which we find partly devoured amongst the green
bracken at our feet. As he sullenly sails away in
the direction of the Sewerby woods, he reminds us
of the days when Denmark's grim raven banner
floated out from behind these strong intrenchments,
over the ranks of blue-eyed, fair-haired warriors, who
ravaged the pleasant Yorkshire valleys to the very
walls of York. And here they could fall back with
their plunder, and renew their strength for fresh
inroads, and, with their backs to the sea, their
dragon-prowed galleys safely moored in the little
bay (now the North Landing-place), wait for fresh
supports from their countrymen. Here Ida, the
** flame-bearer," and his sons, with a great host of
Angles, marched to the conquest of Northumbria.
And now let us leave " Danes* Dyke," which we
shall cross again to-day at its northern termination,
and keep close along the coast, and as near as
we can to the edge of the broken cliffl And very
picturesque and showy are these broken cliffs of
diluvium, for at this season theii* weather-worn
sides are gay with many wild flowers. Here we
see bright yellow clusters of the Kidney Vetch,
and the Great Yellow Bedstraw, contrasting with
the pale pink flower of the Trailing Rest-harrow.
There again are the puri)le heads of the Field
Scabious, and the larger ones of the Great Knap-
weed, with white clusters of the Bladder Campion.
Where this landslip has left the top of the cliff"
with only a slight covering of soil, is a growth
of more lovely plants ; — the Tufled Centaury, with
its delicate pink flowei-s, thick clusters of the Yellow
Stonecrop, creeping along the exposed surface of the
rock, and a profusion of pale blue Harebells.

But stay, let us look from the flowers to the sea ;

for there is a large heavy-looking bird, with out-
stretched neck, flying swiftly low down near tlie
suiface of the water — at this distance, not unlike a
wild goose. Now it has settled in the sea, and not
more then four hundred yards from our position.
Out with our landscape glass, and let us have a
look at him as he sits low and long in the water, a
very pirate craft in appearance. It is a cormorant.
Now he commences fishing, diving under the waves,
and often, when necessary, going down a great
depth in pursuit of the fish, which seldom escape
him. Now he emerges again, but at a considerable
distance : you may count thirty to forty slowly,
from the time he dives to his re-appearance. He
has caught sight, however, of our telescope, which
he perhaps mistakes for the barrel of a gun, and is
off, with the same low rapid flight to another part
of the coast. That little bay which we are ap-
proaching forms the South Landing ; and thence
a road leads across the promontory through the
fishing village of Flamborough to the north shore.
A number of small boats, used principally for
crab-fishing, are drawn up on the beach. In the
centre of the bay are a number of gulls; let us
bring our telescope to beai* upon them, and endea-
vour to determine their species. You perceive
three distinct sorts in the little company. Those
four or five large ones swimming somewhat apart,
with the yellow bills, are "Herring Gulls;" but
further on are several smaller gulls, not unlike the
Herring Gull in appearance, but with greenish-grey
bills — they are the "common" species. Yonder
again is still a smaller one, with a black head and
red bill— it is the "Black-headed" or "Peewit"
Gull, as it is sometimes called. Those " Peewit
Gulls " breed in colonies on the shores of some of
the inland " meres," and the eggs are considered a
great delicacy. There again are two gulls larger
than any we have seen, sitting apart on that
" boulder-stone," which has rolled from the cliff"
top, and now lies partly embedded in the sand, and
surrounded by the tide : it is covered all over
with trailing masses of the common bladder sea-
weed. Bring the glass to bear upon them, and you
will then perceive that they have the upper parts
of the plumage black, except the head and neck,
which are white. We know them for the " Great
Black-backed," the largest of our British gulls;
their wings when expanded covering five feet
nine inches from tip to tip. They are of an ex-
clusive disposition ; do not mix with other species
(generally being found in pairs on exposed portions
of the coast) ; and are by far the least frequently
met with. On the waste ground near the landing-
place, as also on the road leading up to the village,
are drawn up. the herring-boate, the property of
Flamborough fishermen. AH are gaily painted and
in order for the herring season, which will soon
commence. About the firat week in August, the
boats are taken down on wheels, launched and
fitted out in the little bays known as the North
and South Landings, and soon the principal portion
of the inhabitants of the little fishing village will
be gathering in the harvest of the deep.

KfttiiM tatd Art, Jtnxuaj 1, U67.]

PLAMBOEOUGH HEAD.

After leaving the South Landing-place at Flam-
borough and climbing the hill, we pass on our left
a low mound^ — perhaps the last resting-place of a
Brigantian chieftain — and not fer from the tomb
of the old warrior, and close to the edge of the cliff,
a " third-class target," which a persevering volun-
teer has constructed out of some old iron plates,
the relics probably of a steamer which has gone to
pieces on these rocks. Half a mile further, and
we stand near the extremity of the headland ; and
here let us wait awhile, the better to view the
grand scene. The extreme point of all we cannot
reach, for that is now partly separated from the
mainland by the slipping of the upper clay cliff.
It represents an immense block of almost isolated
rock, of a diamond shape. On its northern' side,
the ceaseless wash of the waves has excavated a
grand natural arch ; and in each of the little
bays which flank the central mass is an immense
column of limestone, which in the course of ages
has become detached from the parent wall, marking
the slow encroachment of the sea on the h^xl
chalk cliffs. Stretching directly out from the head
is a long reef, barely covered at low water, and
thickly overgrown with seaweed and tangle, which
floats backwards and forwards with the flow of the
sea over the reef The water at a short distance
from the coast is a deep green ; but close in-shore,
the constant friction of the waves on the white
limestone is continually rubbing off minute particles
of chalk, which gives the water quite a milky
appearance. Thus in the course of ages the water
wears away the softer portion of the cliffs, leaving
those great isolated pillars standing as monuments
of its eroding power.

We shall find that this northern shore presents
a very different aspect to the more sheltered southern
coast, along which we have been hitherto walking ;
for it has been exposed to the full sweep of the
storms of ages, and everywhere on its rugged preci-
pices bears marks of its battle with the waves.
Here the coast recedes, forming a lovely bay;
there again, standing out in a bold promontory, its
sides broken into deep fissures and caverns, in some
places worn completely through, forming a giant
archway, or like the vaulted roof of a cathedral.
Then again, we find, as at the head, great masses
of cliff standing solitary, and surrounded by the
sea ; and there they yet may stand for thousands of
years to come to break the wild fury of the north-
em storms. The base of these cliffs is excavated
into deep holes and caves, some of them, like
" Robin Lythe's Hole," of great extent and beauty,
and which will well repay the trouble and diffi-
culty of exploiing. Those heaps of broken spars
and planks saved from the waves, remind us of the
insecurity and danger of this iron-bound coast.
Thanks to the precautions taken, it is seldom we
now hear of a wreck. The lighthouse, situated on
an eminence overlooking a beautiful bay, is 87
feet high, its light being 214 feet above the level of
the sea. The apparatus revolves once in six minutes ;
it is triangular, two sides displaying a white flash,
and the third a crimson one. But when the headland

is wrapped in mist and spray, or during the drift of

a northern snow-storm, the light would be of little

avail to warn off the storm-tossed mariner. To

provide for this emergency, a small station has been

built close to the cliff, from which an 18-pounder is

fired every quarter of an hour. Many of the

migratory birds which arrive on our coasts in the

I winter months, as woodcocks, redwings, widgeons,

I &c., are picked up dead at the foot of the lantern —

I dazzled by the light, they dash like moths against

I the thick glass, and are killed. On one occasion

I one of these thick glass plates was broken by the

! force with which a wild duck dashed against it.

But we must press forward, as we have yet a

long line of coast to explore. Yonder are a small

flock of terns, familiar as they are to visitors at the

sea-side, under the name of Sea Swallows ; not

unlike small gulLs in appeai-ance. Mark their mode

of feeding as they fly along in line, one behind the

other; now one, now another dashes downward,

making a visible splash in the sea, but not alighting,

and then rising again resumes its flight, each time

probably capturing some minute object floating

near the surface. How different in their flight and

colour are those black-and-white birds, with the long

red bills, which, as we approach the cliff, rise

rapidly from the water below : by their pied

appearance and shrill whistle we know them to be

Oyster-catchers. They have been busily cleaving

open with their strong bills and feeding u])on the

mussels on the reef below.

Passing a beautiful bay shut in by lofty cliffs,
and containing, near its entrance, two remarkable
insular masses of rock, called the " King and
Queen," we next come to the North Landing. At
the bottom of a ste^ descent, the northern termi-
nation of the road which crosses the promontory,
are drawn up a long array of gaily-painted pleasure-
boats, in great demand during the summer by the
hundreds who visit Flamborough from the neigh-
bouring watering-places of Bridlington and Filey.
Perhaps no portion of the coast exceeds ill beauty
this lovely bay. In the cliffs, both to the east and
west, many of the finest sea-caves which penetmte
the rocks may be explored. One remarkable cavern,
called ** Robin Ljrthe's Hole," is easily accessible at
low water. Many years since the rocks about this
bay, as also those near the lighthouse, were the
resort of thousands of sea-fowl — we may now
walk for miles along the coast and see but few, until
we reach their last retreat, the almost inaccessible
range of the Speeton cliffs.

The rapid decrease of the sea-fowl on this coast
is much to be regretted, and is, we are sorry to say,
attribiitable in a great measure to the almost con-
stant persecution of the birds by parties who visit
Flamborough during the spring and summer for the
sake of " having a shot at the sea-fowl." As the
" cheap excursion " trains from the manufacturing
districts increase in number, so certainly will the
birds decrease. Indeed, it is impossible to walk
along the cliffs on any fine day during the summer
months without hearing the constant report of
j guns, fired by men and boys from boats below ;

FLAMBOROUGH HEAD.

[Nator* and Art. JKonarj 1« IMT.

and we are constantly distressed by meeting the
so-styled spoi'tsmen on their return from a too
successful battue with clusters of Guillemot and
Puffin, tfec, swinging from their guns. Thus the
birds have been driven away from the lower ranges
of clilf, and it is plain, «if the pi*esent senseless
and cruel persecution is continued a few years
longer, that the neighbourhood will be deprived, in
the eyes of all true lovers of nature, of its greatest
attraction. Besides the thousands of birds which
are thus annually destroyed and carried away by
" excursionists," a large number are wounded and
disabled, and it is not unusual to see wounded
birds struggling in the water unable to rise. This
slaughter is carried on at a time when many
thousands of sea-fowl have young ones to support
and rear ; and what must be the &te of the young
when the parents are shot? Not satisfied with
shooting at them on the wing, we have seen
merciless wretches fire into the birds as they sat
crowded together on the narrow ledges of rock,
totally regardless of the misery and pain which that
one discharge alone may cause to the many they will
only partly disable and cannot secure. After passing
the North Tending-place we shall find the clifis
gradually increase in height, and when we reach the
northern extremity of "Danes* Dyke," we look down
a precipice nearly 300 feet deep. It is only by
keeping, as we have done, along the summit, and
following the ins and outs of the coast-line, that
we can fully enjoy the grandeur of the scenery. Let
us get over the slight fence which seems to protect
the cattle from falling over the precipice, and, lying
down on the green sward, crawl to the edge and
look over. What a magnificent scene ! Hundreds of
feet below, the green water breaks against the cliff;
but at this height the wash of the waves is scarcely
audible. Bight and left stretch the giant walls of
white limestone, their surface scarred and broken
by long exposure to the weather, and furrowed and
seamed by narrow ledges and ridges, which form
secure resting-places for those long rows of
Guillemot ; while hundreds now are wheeling and
screaming far below, dwarfed in size by the distance
and the stupendous character of the scenery. Let
us try and obtain a better view of the birds : and
this we may do by crawling to the edge of a pro-
jecting portion of the cliff, which will enable us to
look directly down upon them as they sit on the
ledges of the opposite rock. Yonder birds sitting
nearly upright, with the dark brown head, neck, and
upper parts, and the white breasts, are Guillemot,
and form by far the greatest proportion of the many
inhabitants of the rocks. Their eggs, as well as
those of the other sea-fowl, are much sought after as
an article of food, and great quantities are taken in
the spring from the ledges by the " cliff-climbers,"
who descend from the summit by a rope; several
of the neighbouring villagers obtaining a part
livelihood by this dangerous occupation. The eggs
of the Guillemot show an almost endless variety
in shade and markings, and it is almost impossible
to find two alike. Placed as they are on the narrow
shelves of rock, without any nest, we may well

wonder how they ever retain their position until
the young are hatched. Providence, however, has
ordered that although they are very thick at one
end, they gradually taper to the other, which, com-
pared with other eggs of the same size, is very
narrow, so that when disturbed by any cause,
they roll roimd on the small end as on a pivot
without falling off. If we carefully inspect those
long rows of Guillemot, we may possibly discern one
of that closely-allied species (perhaps after all it is
only a variety) called the " Binged or Brindled
Guillemot." This bird closely resembles the common
one, only differing from it in having the eye encircled
by a narrow white ring from which a streak of the
same colour extends down the neck. The Binged
Guillemot \a considered a rare bird at Flamborough.
On the same ledge with the Guillemot are three or
four birds, not unlike them in appearance, but with
the upper parts black instead of dark brown. The
bill, however, is the distinguishing feature ; it is
much stronger and thicker than in the Guillemot,
with a white furrow across it, and a white streak
extending fi*om the base of the bill to the eye.
This peculiar beak marks them at once as " Razor-
bills." We may also know them by their
cry, which resembles the word "urr urr," or
" orr," while the call of the Guillemot resembles
the noise made by a policeman's rattle, and sounds
like the word " girrrrrrr."

Yonder, again, are two Puffins or Sea Parrots
sitting together, at the mouth of one of thoi^e crevices
in the cliff. Could we see the bottom of the crevice,
we should probably find a single round egg, grey
spotted with brown. The eggs which are thus con-
cealed at the bottom of narrow and deep holes are
seldom taken by the " cliff-cUmbers." What a grave
look the birds have as they sit facing each other,
their great red, yellow, and blue beaks giving them
quite a top-heavy appearance. Those gulls with the
gi-ey-blue backs, white head, wings, and tail, so
many of which we see sailing slowly backwards and
forwards, halfway down the cliff side,-may be easily
recognized by their cry, which somewhat resembles
their name, "Kittiwake." The Speeton rocks are a
well-known breeding-place of the beautiful Kitti-
wake gull We may see some of the young birds
on the ledges below ; and so unlike are they to the
old birds in plumage as to have been taken for a
distinct species.

That blue bird, with the white patch between the
tail and back, which has just dashed over the cliff
top, is the "Bock Pigeon," and nearly resembles our
well-known domestic " Blue Bock." There is little
doubt that all our domestic breeds of pigeons have
sprung from the wild Bock-doves. They breed in
considerable numbers in the sea caves below, and
from their wild and shy nature and i-apid flight fall
less readily victims to the roving gunners. The
eggs, which exactly resemble those of the domestic
bird, are placed in the most inaccessible pai'ts of
the caves, in shallow nests constructed on ledges
of the rock.

We have now reached the highest part of the
Speeton cliffs ; from this point the chalk range

Nature and Art. Jiuiiuut 1, 1867.]

GOOD TASTE IN DECORATIVE ABT.

runs inland, and underneath crop out the blue
clays of Speeton, rich in fossils. From this point
we have a magnificent view of Filey Bay and
the white houses of the distant crescent, beyond
which, running out into the sea, is the long sand-
stone promontory known as the " Brig."

Here our ramble for the present must terminate.
Over the hill on our left is the little village of
Speeton fix)m whence we can take the rail to
Bridlington, or, if we prefer it, follow the highroad,
and continue our walk across the Wold hills and
through Bridlington proper to the Quay. Let us,
however, sit down awhile, and, after eating our
sandwiches and lighting the friendly pipe, watch
the blue smoke curling upwards and whirling away
in little rings and eddies in the summer air. Sitting
here on this hill-side, what a glorious prospect of sea
and land stretches before us ; from this spot we can
overlook nearly the whole of the promontory.
Yonder are the lighthouses, and nearer the little
village of Flamborough, with its red-tiled houses
and grey weather-beaten church. We cannot at this
distance distinguish the old castle, little of which
remains to remind us of the former power of the
ancient family of Constable. Nearer still we can
trace the line of the Danes' Dyke, with its groups

of plantations. Far to our right is the sea and
Bridlington, and still farther to the right the
range of the Yorkshire Wolds. Now we look across
a h^hly-cultivated country; green turnip-fields and
waving corn have replaced the gorse commons and
heath-covered hills ; and the Stone Plover and
Great Bustard have given place to the Partridge
and Wood-pigeon : yet the natural features of the
country remain much probably what they were
centuries ago. Brigantes, Komans, Danes, and
Normans have all lived and toiled and fought on
the land before us, and have passed away ; and
we, sitting here on this hill-side this summer
afternoon, are the representatives of the mixed
races, units in this great working toiling nation,
too glad to get away for a few days from the toil
and noise of cities, to return strengthened and
refreshed for our work. After all. Nature is the
best physician, and

" If thoa art worn and hard beset
With Borrows that thou wonldst forget ;
If thoa wonldst read a lesson that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy sonl from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills ! No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears."

THE PRINCIPLES OF GOOD TASTE IN DECORATIVE ART.

By J. B. Waring, F.B.LB.A.

AMONG all the subjects a writer could select
for an essay, there is perhaps not one which
is more open to criticism and dispute than that of
taste. The old classical maxim, *' de gustibus non
est disputandum," is just one of those assertions
which immediately lead to a discussion ; in which
both parties insist on the cogency of their respective
arguments and conclusions, because both feel them
so vividly, however incompetent they may be to
reason on them logically. Whilst admitting, then,
that in a certain sense, each individual teuste,
amongst a great variety, may be right, and fitted for
the person who adopts it ; yet among all these various
expressions of perceptive power, some are un-
doubtedly right, some wrong ; and although tastes
may differ to an infinite extent, and we should
never dream of laying down infallible rules for
their guidance, yet we would point out, that certain
important underlying principles are applicable to
them all, and are the only true tests by means of
which we can decide as to what extent each par-
ticular taste is bad or good. In a broad and
general sense, we hold that good sense and good
feeling must form the foundation of all good taste,
whether it is evinced in morals and manners, in fine
or in decorative art ; and although these two funda-
mental qualities are not absolutely requisite in
matters of aesthetic taste, yet they must not be
absent if that taste is to receive its highest develop-
ment. For it is certain, that though some persons are

bom with more natural sensibility in art than others,
yet is it a quality, even with them, to be disciplined,
educated, and improved ; and Burke, in his intro-
duction to "The Sublime and the Beautiful," justly
remarks that wherever the best taste differs from
the worst, he is convinced that the understanding
operates, and nothing else, and that men of the best
taste by consideration come frequently to change
those early and precipitate judgments which the
mind, from its aversion to neutrality and doubt,
loves to foiin on the spot

" It is known," he continues, " that the taste is improved
exactly as we improve our Judgment ; by extending oar
knowledge, by a steady attention to oar object, and by
frequent exercise. They who have not taken these methods,
if their taste decides quickly, it is always uncertainly ; but
they who have cultivated that species of knowledge which
makes the object of taste, by degrees and habitually, attain
not only a soundness, but a readiness of judgment, as men
do by the same methods on all other occasions."

All the great writers on the subject, ancient and
modem, insist on the necessity of cultivating taste
before it can be termed good and be trustworthy ;
yet nothing is more common at the present day,
than a ready presumption and a thorough self-
satisfaction in deciding on matters which require
in truth the utmost delicacy of perception, and can
only be properly judged of by persons of special
education in art, and who have imdergone that
discipline which professional study requires.

Although we admit that many foolish and

GOOD TASTE IN DECORATIVE ABT.

[Kfttm« ftnd Art, Janiuurr 1. U87.

frivolous persons are met with, who, untrustworthy
in all other matters, still evince much good taste in
their houses, in dress, and in ornaments ; yet this
is but a superficial quality, and, unless combined
with good sense and good feeling, leads only to a
mere sensual perception of external fitness in form
and colour, in the lowest departments of art But
such as these, we may be sure, would never command
attention or respect for their decisions in the Fine
Arts or in the cognate realms of philosophic
inquiry and criticism. When sensibility is com-
bined with the power to create and execute, it con-
stitutes what is termed genius : when it is combined
with sound judgment and good feeling, we meet
with good taste ; and, as Goldsmith has tersely put
it in his Twelfth Essay, both, in their degi*ee, are
" composed of Nature, improved by Art ; of feeling
tutored by instruction/* Sir Joshua Reynolds, also,
in his seventh discourse, combating the idea that
taste is a natural power of selection in every indi-
vidual, and not to be gainsaid, declares that, if
such were the case, " the arts would lie open for
ever to caprice and casualty, if those who are to
judge of their excellences had no settled principles
by which to regulate their decisions, and if the merit
or defect of performances were to be determined by
unguided fancy." These observations of writers on
aH for whose judgment, knowledge, and taste we
have the very highest respect, though originally
intended to apply to the fine or liberal arts, are
equally true as regards matters of taste in orna-
mental design.

In all subjects of this description, harmony, or
fitness of the parts to the whole, forms an essential
requisite. Good sense, also, is absolutely reqiiisite
in their general design, and good feeling is shown
in their sj)ecial application.

After these opening remarks on Good Taste in
general, we proceed to consider its constituents in
matters of decorative art. Mr. M. Digby Wyatt,
in a very excellent lecture on " The Principles
which should determine Form in the Decorative
Arts," has briefly summed them up as consisting
in Variety, Fitness, Simplicity, and Contrast. To
these we would add, as of the highest importance,
Harmony. Other qualities, of a more material
and technical nature, which we have always to
consider are Form, Colour, and Effect ; and in
these particular constituents of design it is that
we seek for the qualities first enumerated, and,
according to the presence or absence of them, we
are justified in determining how far any work
imder notice is characterized by good or bad taste.

The main points which lead to the production of
works evincing a correct taste, however widely
they may differ in themselves or in their styles, are
as follow : —

In the designer, a good natural feeling or sensi-
bility in matters of Form, Colour, and Effect;, com-
bined with good sense.

In the work itself, simplicity yet variety, contrast
and yet harmony.

The application of all these qualities and methods
should logically be the province of the true and

perfectly educated architect. It is with great
pleasure that we quote verbatim the sensible and
earnest remarks of Mr. Owen Jones ; who, in his
introduction to the "Handbook of the Alhambra
Court, at Sydenham,'* forcibly points out the in-
congruity of " Greek porticoes, nondescript internal
putty decorations, Louis Quatorze furniture, cinque-
cento ornaments, floral papers and floral carpets, in a
London mansion of the nineteenth century." " The
decorative arts," he continues, "are of one family, and
must go hand in hand with their parent, architec-
ture; the effort to revive the one will help the other."

^' In all ages but oiir own, the same ornaments, the same
system of colouring which prevailed in baildings, pervaded
all other works, even to the hmnblest. ... It is far
different with ourselves. We have no principles, no nnity.
The architect, the upholsterer, the paper-stainer, the weaver,
the calico-printer, and the potter, run each hia independent
course; each struggles fruitlessly: each produces in art
novelty without beauty, or beauty without intelligence.
. . . Men do every day, and every hour of the day, place
their intuitive knowledge on questions of art in opposition
to the opinions of those who have made them their especial
study. This can never be prevented. Art is the patrimony
of all, but it is the more necessary that it should be regulated.
. . . No improvement can take place until all classes,
artists, manufacturers, and the public are better educated
in art, and the existence of general principles is more fully
recognised."

In these observations we cordially concur, and
would especially plead for extended education
amongst the people, in matters of art, by means of
schools in which all branches of fine and industrial
aH may be taught, and by the publication of cheap
standard works on such subjects ; among which,
besides those already noticed, we recommend Mr.
W. Burges's "Cantor Lectures," Dr. Dresser's "Art
of Decorative Design," and the Reports of R.
Redgrave, R. A., on the Exhibitions in London and
Paris of 185 1 and 1 855. The general ])rinciples laid
down in the last work are excellent, though at times
perhajis too rigidly enforced. For example, the
author would not allow the constructional forms of
one material to be applied to another ; therefore, the
arch foiin suitable to stone or brick, would be con-
sidered inapplicable to wood. It is clear that, if such
a doctrine were carried out thoroughly, architectural
design in iron and wood must become monotonous
and poor indeed. We note this instance specially,
because its adoption has led to much poverty of
design, in wood particularly. The round and semi-
circular forms, it should be remembered, are not onli/
constructional, they are general throughout Nature
from the shell to the rainbow ; and are, above all
others, ornamental in character and fitted for decora-
tive purposes, as may be seen from examples in all
styles of art Originality of design mainly depends
on freedom of individual action ; and in matters of
taste, after a proper education has been obtained, each
artist becomes a law unto himself, and must stand or
fall according to the value and merit of his work.

In future numbers we propose to give illustra-
tions of the principal processes used in the orna-
mentation of buildings, furniture, <fec., representing
examples beautiful in themselves, interesting to
the public, and useful to decorators generally.

N »U)i'»- .uid ,\in ..Iaiiu.ii"v I r'«»

Nftttm and Art, Jauxmct 1. 18C7.

ON SKETCHING FROM NATUEE.

ON SKETOHINa FROM NATURE.

By Aabon Penlet, Professor of Landscape Paintmg at the Boyal Military Academy, Woolwich.
No. VI, GROUP OF Pm TREES DRAWN FROM NATURE.

WITH the new year I had almost been induced
to commence a series of studies more ele-
mentary in character than any as yet introduced
into the pages of Nature and Art ; but upon
more mature consideration, it appeared to me that
perhaps it would be better to steer a middle course,
and meet the wishes of the general public, than to
address myself exclusively to the more limited class
who practise and delight in water-colour drawing.
It is gratifying to find there are so many to whom
this work is such a source of pleasure, and who
look for its periodical publication with considerable
interest ; and I cannot but infer that this is the
fact, from the numerous letters constantly received
from strangers, relative to my several contributions
with the accompanying instruction.

I confess I doubted whether the reproductions of
my original drawings would be presentable, so
many thousands having to be printed, and by the
steam press too ; but it is encouraging to find this
difficulty better and better overcome by the extreme
care and study exercised in making the means
sufficient to the end. This is very evident from tlie
great improvement in the colouring of the last
subject, where the tints, with one exception only
(the green tint on the shadowed side of the hut,
-which should have been more grey), are really good,
and admirably suited for the learner to copy. The
sky and distance are quite satisfactory. It is, I
think, due to those who seek for guidance and^in-
struction from these examples, that I should express
much confidence in anticipating increased truthful-
ness in every succeeding number.

The present subject is of a difierent character,
being such as I have been solicited to introduce by
subscribers, consisting only of a group of Fir Trees,
th« like of which may be met with in almost every
belt or plantation of the same species. It was
drawn upon the spot, and selected for the clear
manner in which the light and shadow were de-
veloped, giving to each branch, or portion of it, an
individuality peculiarly its own, and yet so expressed
as to favour breadth of eflfect and harmony in the
entire group. Such " bits "or " studies " require
but little time to prodiice, although nothing can be
more useful or profitable than a sketch-book filled
with the difierent claiises of trees presented to us
in our every-day walk.

I much recommend the practice of carefully and
freely drawing each tree with the black-lead pencil,
especially with reference to the main stems, noticing
well their direction or inclination from the perpen-
dicular, and how the several lines affect each other
in giving a graceful disposition of Jhrm^ because it I
is only by a due observance of thes^ combinations I
that an impression of elegance and refinement can i

be conveyed. It is a matter of importance to the
general effect, that the bearings of the principal
lines should be studied and remarked upon. For
instance, it is as well to note, if the perpendicular
stem of one tree is accompanied by another that
is taking an angle of curve in a certain direction,
what infiuence the change of line has upon the eye ;
whether it is, or is not, too abrupt ; or if the two
compose so agreeably as to give a pleasing eflect
I like much to linger before groups of trees, young
or old, whether clothed or not clothed with foliage,
and by change of position to see the many varieties
of forms they take, and which of the many would
produce the most pleasing composition. There is
real pleasure in this — much to be. learnt and much
to be put in practice. Lessons may be had in
many localities whence lessons could scarcely be
expected to be gleaned, and our daily converse
with a common-place scene may be thus fraught
with increased interest and pleasure.

The ability to draw naturally leads to observation
of detail and generalization, it being evident that
this cannot be exercised without a corresjwnding
reflection upon everything presented, as to con-
sti-uction, growth, character, and use. How far
this is desirable, every one must judge for him-
self. I can only say, that to myself the enjoy-
ment is beyond expression ; and often when walking
over what would be considered a monotonous and
dreary plain, with a canopy of dull leaden clouds,
I am struck with beautiful undulating lines,
varieties of tone and tint, with receding distances
and aerial i)erspective, that produce much to be
admired, thought upon, and studied. The infinitude
of Nature demands the highest mental exercise and
the perfection of Art, and we only are to blame if
we do not see in her every phase something (I
would rather say everything) from which to glean
instruction, and to derive contemplative pleasure.

In writing thus, it must be clearly understood
that the motive is to lead oQiers to exercise a
similar attention to Natiu:e in her generality, and
not to suppose that it is only upon scenes of
grandeur and acknowledged loveliness that our
admiration should be called forth. Doubtless the
character of such favoured spots is calculated, from
its exquisite combinations, to arrest the attention
of the most vmobservant ; but it is also from every
description and feature of landscape, as well as
from various accidental groupings of figures, cattle,
trees, buildings, vessels, &c., that the lover of
Nature and Art should derive constant delight
combined with instruction. Something can be
gathered from all we see, if the infonnation con-
veyed is really sought for.

In commencing the outline of the present group

ON TIN.

[Naton and Ait, JaDoary 1, 1867.

of trees, the central stem sliould be drawn first,
noticing carefully the direction of inclination from
a perpendicular line. This must be correct. After
this, give the stem nearest to it to the right, placing
a dot at the proper distance for the bottom, and
another for the top. By this plan the lines cannot
fail of being true in position. The tree to the left
must follow, by placing the dots both for the bottom
and central p«uii of the stem at its junction with
the lower cluster of foliage ; then the branches from
its right side. The outer stem to the left may also
be drawn after the same manner, and afterwards
that to the right, with the several leading branches ;
those more receding can now easily be adjusted, by
observing the direction in which they lean.

In a previous number I gave instructions for
drawing trees, pi*ecisely after the same manner as
above ; but it is desirable for pupils that the method
of producing outlines should be constantly brought
before them.

The foliage of the nearest and central tree should
have its several forms and clusters completed first ;
then the tree to the left; and afterwards the
small one to the right, as well as the rest of them
mingling behind. In the original drawing the
whole of the shadows were pencilled in firmly and
distinctly, with close and rather long lines, but
the distoJit shades were more loosely given. In
sketching from Nature, it is always as well to
adopt the most ready means of producing the effect,
for which I find the assistance of pencilled shadows
extremelv serviceable.

When the shadows are finished, and the several
characteristics of the stems, with their limbs and
knotty projections, are correctly placed, the colours
may be introduced, by washing them in without
hesitation, not being too particular to take them
up to the exact markings of the outline. This,
indeed, has to be avoided, to prevent stiffness or
the semblance of solidity, instead of multiplicity of
leafage.

In the example, the sky was washed in at the
last, in order that the lights might be so placed as
to render the effect agreeable, as well as valuable to
the group, and give (what should always be sought)
breadth. All the colours were put on in rather a
liquid condition, and the brush so filled as to impart
them finely, without being blotchy or overcharged.
It is a good plan to try the colours first upon a
spare piece of paper, to judge of the tint, and
practise the manner of touching before proceeding
with the drawing. This will insure a greater
chance of success.

Colours to be employed, — ^for the

Sky— Cobalt.

Clouds — Cobalt, sepia, and a very little lake.

Foliage — Gamboge, indigo, lake; but the trees

behind must have cobalt added, to give a more

vapoury tone.

The colours mentioned above are to be used in
combination, taking more or less of one than of the
others, as the character of the tones may require.

The next subject will be a lake scene.

ON TIN.

By W. B. Lord, Eoyal Artillery.

IT is not our intention to use this title figura- I
tively or in its popular sense, as by so doing
we should be committing ourselves to a task which

. we have no intention of performing, viz. , that of
explaining how the "world's great main-spring"
acts on the countless "wheels within wheels,"
which move the puppet man from pole to pole, and
send him either leaping in the air or grovelling in
the dust, just as the gold and silver strings with
which he is bound may chance to vibrate. We

. shall therefore, in passing, just touch lightly on the
materials from which some of these " strings " are
made, contenting ourselves with " tin " in its literal
sense, leaving " metal more attractive *' to those
who prefer its fascinations. It is both ciarious and !
interesting to trace the operation of those wise '
and inscrutable laws which govern the spread of
civilization, and to mark how some coveted pro-
duction, to be obtained only in a far-off" land, sets
the human tide flowing in that direction. The
vast tract known as " Rupert's Land," constituting
the Hudson's Bay Company's territories, might have
remained for ages the hunting-grovmds of the
savage, had not the abundance of fur-bearing

animals there discovered directed commercial enter-
prise to their vast stores of natuml wealth, and
thus, step by step, led to the important position at
present occupied by those regions. The chance
discovery of gold in California by Captain Sutter,
and later on in Australia by Hargraves, are more
recent and familial* examples of the same cause of
progress ; and there is no doubt that the discovery
of tin in the Scilly Islands, by a band of wandering
Phoenician voyagers, led to a repetition of their
visits, and ultimately to the establishment of a
regular trade between them and the inhabitants of
the western extremity of £ngland. We are informed
that, about 600 years before Christ, Pharaoh
Nechao, king of Egypt (the same who slew Josiah,
king of Judah), ordered some Phoenicians to set
out from the Red Sea, to go round Africa, to pass
by the Straits of Hercules, to penetrate into the
northern seas, and to bring him an exact account
of the voyage. About this time, therefore, if not
before, it is not unlikely that the Phoenicians,
finding, by the voyage of their coimtrymen, that the
western or great Atlantic Ocean was not so tempes-
tuous and unnavigable as their forefathers had taught

Katun and Art, JabiurT 1, 1867 ]

ON TIN.

them to believe, were either then or soon after
tempted to undertake a northern voyage ; and coast-
ing along the banks of Spain and France might first
discover the British Isles, and, upon discovery,
begin to trade, "which was the principal end of all
their voyages. The term " Cassiterides," so often
applied in old writings to the localities from which
the tin was brought, appears to apply to the Scilly
Islands, the coast of Cornwall, and pix)bably to
the western portion of Devon, just as though con-
stituting one group of islands, for which, by the
discoverers and early visitors, these apparently
sea-girt stretches of land were no doubt taken ; and
it appears probable, as Bochart states, that the
word Britain was derived from " Baratanac,'' the
name given to tin in the Chaldee and Arabic
languages, adopted also by the Phoenicians. It has
been argued, that, as the whole of England was
included under the head Britain, the fact of
tin being found in such a limited portion of it
could scarcely have conferred a name on the entire
island and its dependencies. It must be borne in
mind, however, tiiat in all probability the Scilly
Islands, and perhaps the extreme west of Corn-
wall, were the only portions of England visited (at
least for some considerable period) by these early
pioneers of commerce.

From the scant nature of ancient records on the
subject, no very precise idea can be formed as to
the state of civilization in which our forefathers
were found on their first discovery ; and however
himiiliating it may be to look back on the past, it
is much to be feared that the official report given
of the " manners and customs " of a certain tribe of
North American Indians, by an officer sent on a
mission amongst them, would have equally applied
to the aborigines of the Cassiterides. ** Manner 8^^
wrote he, " they have none, and the customs which
prevail are of a very unpleasant character.'' Savage
man — whether hunting in the prairies and forests of
the Far West, roaming amongst th^ huge ferns of
New Zealand, or, with matted hair and grotesquely
painted skin, dancing a wild corroberry, demon-like
in the fire-light beneath the gum-trees of Australia —
can look but to one inevitable future ; and whether
near at hand or far off, just as surely as the arrow
shot into the air returns to eaith, so surely will
time, trade, and civilization sweep him, step by
step, from the face of the globe, to give place to new
races, leaving, as ages roll on, mere scraps of tradi-
tion, buried weapons, and rude barbaric ornaments,
as traces of his past existence. •

Tlie articles of trade brought by the Phoenicians,
viz., salt, brazen or bronze wares (which would include
tools, weapons of war and the chase), and crockeiy,
were exchanged with the natives for tin, lead, and
skins. The tin, in the form of granules and water-
worn pebbles of the ore {oxide of tin — ^for, except
in very rare instances, it is not found native or
malleable), was obtained by roughly washing the
beds of the rivulets and water-courses, much as the
tin-streamers of the present day collect it. The
marshy valleys and moorland tracks between the
granite hills also yielded a rich harvest of tin to the

ore-seekers, as for countless ages such spots have
been the natural depositaries into which the heavy
granules have been washed and drifted by the floods
which have helped to break up and disintegrate the
matrices in which they were originally imbedded.

So large is the quantity sometimes aasocia^ted
with this broken-up detritus, that we have often
heard it assei*ted by old and experienced tin-
streamers, that unworked ground had been known
to yield fi*om the space covered by an ox, when lay-
ing on it, enough tin to pay for the animal. It has,
however, become extremely difficult to find tracks
of tin-ground unexplored, numbers of those now
undergoing treatment have been streamed before,
and are, therefore, called " old men's " workings.
Minute granules of gold are occasionally found as-
sociated with the fine tin, and we have seen small
quills used by the men in which to hoard them. A
pin with a moistened point is usually made use of
to withdraw the precious particle from its baser
associates. Before a regular system of undergix)und
operations were had recourse to, there is no doubt
that a large quantity of ore was extracted from the
soft granite formations in which minute veins or
string courses are frequently found.

The ease with which open cuttings in the sides
of hills could be worked offered strong inducements
to extract the mineral in this way. Diodorus
Siculus appears to have been thoroughly awai-e of
its being thus found. " These men " (the tinners),
he writes, " manufacture the tin by working the
grounds which produce it with much skill ; for,
though the land is rocky, it has soft veins running
through it, in which the tinnera find the treasures
which they extract, melt, and purify. Then shap-
ing it by moulds into a cubical figure, they carry it
ofl* to a certain island lying near the British shore,
which they call Ictus. For, at the recess of the
sea between the islands and the mainland, the
passage being dry, the tinners embrace the op}>or-
tunity and carry the tin over in carts to the Ictus
or |)ort ; for it must be observed that the islands
which lie between the continent and Britain have
this peculiarity, that when the tide is full they are
real islands, but when the sea retires they are so
many peninsulas. From this island the merchants
bring the tin of the natives ^nd export it into
(raul, and finally through Gaul, by a journey of
about thirty days, to the mouth of the Rhone."

The source from whence this much coveted
treasure was obtained by the Phoenician traders was
long by them kept a profound secret, fearing lest, by
its becoming known to the Romans, the trade would
become too general and less remunerative to them-
selves. Speaking of the tin-bearing islands, Strabo
says — "From these islands the Phoenicians had their
treasures of tin, and were exceedingly jealous of their
trade, and, th erefore, so private and industrious to con-
ceal it from others, that a Phoenician vessel, thinking
itself pursued by a Roman, chose to run upon a
shoal and suffer shipwreck rather than discover the
least track or path by which another nation might
come in for their share of so beneficial a commerce."
It is said that the captain's patriotism was, on

ON TIN.

[NAtoTC and Alt, January 1. 1867.

returning to his own country, rewarded by having
the whole of his loss made up to him from the
public treasury.

The uses to which the tin obtained from the
natives by the Phoenicians was applied were ex-
ceedingly numerous, as not only were nearly all
the tools, cutting instruments, and weapons of war
made of bronze (an alloy of copper and tin), but
the fetters of prisoners and the min'Oi's of the
ladies were of this material. Mention of these
latter articles is made in the twenty-eighth chapter
of Exodus, eighth verse — ** And he made the laver
of brass, and the foot of it of brass, and the look-
iog-glasses of the women." These looking-glasses,
or mirrors, were in common use amongst the early
Egyptians, who usually carried them in their left
hands to the temples when attending worship. On
the Jewish people quitting Egypt, it is probable
that they carried these mirrors, together with their
little ornaments and musical instruments, with
them —

'Mid the strings of the harps

They hung on the trees,

The sad wind whistled wearily.

From very early ages the Phoenicians were
famed for their skill in the art of dyeing, and
there appears some doubt as to whether the crimson
or scarlet colour spoken of as the Tyrian purple
and held in such high estimation by the ancients,
was not produced by the use of a solution of tin,
rather than from a shell-bearing mollusc, much as
modem dyers use it to obtain those colours per-
manently in stuffs and woollen cloths.

There are several islands on the Cornish coast,
from which the tin might have been shipped off
as described. St. Clement's Isle off Mousehole,
St. Michael's Mount, and Love Island were all well
adapted for the reception of the mineral, or' the
ingots produced by smelting it ; but the weight of
evidence is in favour of St. Michael's Mount being
the principal port of shipment, and the Ictus^
referred to by early historians. Mr. Edwards,
who has devoted much attention to the question,
maintains, with much apparent reason, that, by an
error in the translation of Diodorus, the name has
been changed, and that Iktin — the ancient Cornish
for Tin Port — is the true I'endering. Be this as it
may, there can be no question that many of the
statements made by Diodorus have been fully sub-
stantiated by discoveries and investigations. The
massive block of tin dredged up near St. Mawes,
at the entrance of Falmouth harbour, is of such a
remarkable form, and corresponds so exactly with
the description given by him of that exported by
the Phoenicians, that we give a translation of his
account.

** The inhabitants of the Promontory of Belerium
[the most western part of Cornwall] cast the tin
into the form of astragalV* This asiragaltis form
is best understood by calling to mind the shape of
a common knuckle-bone, or the cross section of the
truck wheel or sheave of a block, which i-epresents
the ingot. An exact model has been deposited in
the Royal College of Mines, in Jermyn Street. Its

weight is 65 lb. ; length, 2 feet 1 1 inches ; width,
11 inches; and thickness, 3 inches. The upper
surface is perfectly flat, and the under side of a
slightly rounded or boat form, forked at each end.
This would admit of their being conveniently
placed on the bottoms of the boats or coracles used
for their transport. The four handle-like projec-
tions would serve to carry them by, just as a hand-
barrow is borne. These would also form most
convenient points of attachment for the lashings of
the pack-saddles, on which (in pairs) they were
carried by mules or horses the thirty days' overland
journey from the coast of France nearest to Britain
to the mouth of the Bhone, where they were
again shipped and conveyed to Gades or Cadiz,
the great emporium of the tin trade in those days.
Thus writes Diodorus, just before the Christian
era, B.c. 8 : — " The Phoenicians in ancient times
undertook frequent voyages by sea in the way of
traffic, as merchants, so that they planted many
colonies, both in Africa and in the western parts of
Europe. These merchants, succeeding in their
undertakings, and therefore growing very rich,
passed at length beyond the Pillars of Hercules into
the sea, called the Ocean ; and first they built a city
called GadeSy near to the Pillars of Hercules, at the
sea-side, on an Isthmus in Europe.'' In Ezekiel,
xxvii. 12, the early trade in tin and other metals
is thus mentioned : — " Tarshish was thy merchant
by reason of the multitude of all kinds of riches ;
with silver, iron, tin, and lead, they traded in thy
fairs."

Homer informs us that Cinyras, king of Cyprus,
presented a corslet to Agamemnon, which he wore
on his departure for the Trojan war. "Next he
placed aroimd his breast a corslet which Cinyras
once gave him to be a pledge of hospitality, for a
great rumour was heard at Cyprus that the Greeks
were about to sail to Troy in ships, wherefore he
gave him this, gratifying the king. Ten bars indeed
[of the corslet] were of dark cyanus,* twelve of
gold, and twenty of tin, and three serpents of
cyanus stretched towards the neck on each side,
like unto rainbows." On the tin deposits of Britain
becoming known to the Komans, there is little
doubt that they at once availed themselves of the
discovery, and employed the natives to mine for
them ; a medal of the reign of Domitian, together
with implements, <kc., of the early Boman period,
found in an ancient tin mine, being strong evidences
of Roman supervision. Improved and more exten-
sive operations appear to have been conducted under
Boman rule, and large quantities of tin were for a
very long i)eriod obtained for the purpose of alloy-
ing with copper to form the bronze for which they
were so celebrated. Kenrick, in speaking of it,
says, — " This bronze, which is one of the oldest
alloys of copper we are acquainted with, contains
SLUynt ten or twelve per cent, of tin." It has been
found by analysis that this is just the composition
of the bronze instruments found in the sej)ulchral
barrows of Europe, of the nails which fastened

• Lead.

NMttN aad Art. Janwury 1. 1M7.]

ON TIN.

the plates to the roof of the treasury at Atreus, in
Mycense, and of the instruments found in the tombs
of ancient Egypt.

The bronze coins and ornaments found by us
during our researches amongst the ruins of the
" House of Lamachus," in the ancient Chersonesus,
are almost identical in composition with the tools
and instruments discovered at Thebes ; whilst the
weapons of war and the chase, brought to light on
opening the tumuli, with which many of the
Idlls and breezy downs of England are covered,
contain the same formula.

The Saxons do not appear to have taken a stand
in Cornwall until the reign of Athelstan ; and but
little interest was taken in mining either by them
or the Danes, and no great impetus seems to have
been given to it until jrfter the Norman conquest. A
great portion of the trade was then conducted by
the Jews, who, no doubt, contrived to enrich
themselves almost as much as the Phoenicians had
done in their day. Eling John appears to have
interested himself in the welfare of ^e tin miners,
and to have granted charters for the better regula-
tion of mining operations. Edward I. seems to
have aided in confirming some of the measures
instituted by John, which led to the separation of
the Devonshire from the Cornish miners.

The leaden seal of the ancient tinners of Corn-
wall, found in a field near Bath, and now in the
museum of the Royal College of Mines, in Jermyn
Street, was probably of this period ; and from both
sides being exactly alike, it has been surmised that
it was struck with a view to its attachment to some
important charter relating to tin mining. The two
figures represent "tinners," one with a pick and
the other a shovel, working in their stream wcrk;
the running water being indicated by the lion's head
between them (not an unusual emblem amongst the
old gem cutters). The legend may be thus ren-
dered,— •I<-S'COM-VNITATIS STANGNATO :
CORNVBIE. No medal or seal like it is, so fer as
we have been able to ascertain, in existence j and
how it should have foimd its way to the vicinity of
Bath is a problem open to the curious for solution.
As time passed on discoveries continued to be made,
and more extensive subterranean workings con-
ducted. Regular lodes of tin, associated with other
metals, were from time to time discovered, and the
extraction and treatment of their products
gradually improved on ; and although other coun-
tries possessed tin mines, its exportation continued
to be considerable. Yet, strange to say, all the
so-called tin plates (which in reality are only
thin iron sheets dipped in molten tin), used in this
kingdom up to 1665, were sent from Bohemia or
Baxony ; and although about this time an attempt
was made to introduce the manufacture regularly,
and one Andrew Tarranton, who was sent abroad
for the purpose, succeeded perfectly in discovering
the process, and manufia^cturing many thousands of
plates on his return, superior to those imported,
yet no manufactory was established until between
1720 and 1730, when the first was put in opera-
tion at Pontypool, in Monmouthshire.
II.

The thin sheets of iron, after being rendered
perfectly clean and free from adhering oxides, by
diluted acids and bran water, are dipped in molten
tallow, and then plunged into a bath of frised tin,
which adheres to and completely covers them. Tin
is a most important ingredient in the manufacture
of pewter, gun-metal, bronze, <fec. A vast number
of small wares, such as hooks, handles for pots,
tacks, <&c., are coated with tin to preserve them
from rusting. Tacks are tinned by first cleansing
them in diluted acid, then placing them with frag-
ments of the metal and sal ammoniac in an earthen-
ware bottle over a strong charcoal fire. On the
coating of tin being complete, they are washed and
finally dried in hot sawdust or bran. Nearly all
the cooking utensils throughout the East are of
copper, and it is requisite, in order to avoid the
unwholesome qualities of that metal, to tin their
interiors.

This is done by first rubbing the surfiice bright,
then heating it over the fire, and when sufficiently
hot rubbing the frised tin with powdered resin
quickly and evenly over it ; a handful of cotton or
linen rag forms a convenient rubber. A mineral
known as wolfr{Mn is often found associated with
the ores of tin, and from its gravity and peculiar
character, being a double tungstate of manganese
and iron, great difficulty was experienced by metal-
lurgists in separating it. Mr. Oxland at last solved
the difficulty by treating the ores in the furnace
with*carbonate of soda. A chemical change at once
took place. The timgstic acid seized on the soda
and formed a tungstate of soda, valuable as a
mordant or fixer of dyes, whilst carbonic add was
set free, and the scoria or slag carried off the
other elements of the objectionable compound ; so
chemistry steps in to aid the arts. There are a
great number of sources now from which tin is
obtained, amongst which may be mentioned Banca,
the trade of which colony belongs to the Dutch,
Chile, Mexico, Australia, Spain, Bohemia, <&;c., &c.
The moimtain ranges between Galicia and Portugal
are exceedingly rich in the ores of tin, only needing
commercial energy and capital to render them highly
I'emunerativa Many of the names relating to tin
and its treatment have been handed down from
very remote ages to the present day. The lord or
landowner's dues are still spoken of by those con-
nected with tin mining, as his dish, from a dishful
of ore, out of every sixth or eighth (according to
agreement), measured from the pile of ore, being
laid aside for his benefit. The term. Jews' Iiouse iitiy
applied to the masses of roughly smelted metal
occasionally discovered by the miners in old
workings, was first given from the Jews having in
early ages the supervision of the furnaces. The tin
coinage, as it was called from the French word coin,
a comer, consisted in the chipping off of one comer
from each block of metal for assay, before the arms
of the Duke of Cornwall were stamped on them ; up
to 1858, a duty of four shillings per cwt. was levied
as a royalty due to the duke. This inconvenient
and troublesome custom was abolished during the
present reign, and a perpetual annuity, grounded on

DESCRIPTION OP AN EGYPTIAN STATUE.

[Katiuw and Art. Jtamaj 1. U87.

a ten years* average, substituted. Few metals used
in the arts have a wider range of usefulness than
that now under consideration. The cannon which
thunders foi*th a nation's triumph, the bells which
ring out the wedding peal so joyously, or with solemn
note peal the last requiem of the departed, are in-
debted to tin for their sonorous quality. The
penny you cast to the crossing-sweeper, and the
half-pint measure containing the porter he probably

buys with it, have tin in their composition, as have
the pipes through which it passed, the engine by
whose mechanism it was raised, and the tap which
governed its flow ; the • tea-kettle, too, as it sings
cozily on the hearth, as if from sheer self-satisfaction
at the brightness of its own burmahed jacket, owes
the privileged position enjoyed in the snug warm
corner to tin, as do many human tea-kettles who
have cause to sing as contentedly as he.

DESCRIPTION OF AN EGYPTIAN STATUE LATELY ADDED TO
THE COLLECTION IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.

L!S«

THE statue is in gritstone, and represents a young
man standing, a son of Rameses II. It is
50 inches high on a base of 6 inches. He has no
clothing except the apron round his waist The
leffc leg is forward. Both arms and the fingers hang
straight down, and they press to his sides two poles
or standards as tall as himself The head of one is
a cylinder ornamented with two asps ; the head of
the other is a group of three small
f ^f I f /o1JL\ standing figures now broken, a
j"Ta%| I K W goddess with two gods. On each
I '^1 1^^^ standard is the name of Eameses
II. (See fig. 1.) The square pillar
which supports his back had been
Fig. 1. mended in two places, probably by

the original sculptor. On this and
on the base are several lines of hieroglyphics stating
that he is the king's son. The stone is hard, and on
the figure highly polished, but disfigured in two
or three places by coarse pebbles.

His hair is a crop, without the large lock peculiar
to the king's soqs, shown in the bas-reliefs : the
beard short, and now broken away. The muscles are
remarkably well marked ; better so, perhaps, than
on any other statue of that age. The face, nose,
and all the limbs are delicate and youthful ; the
chest wide, the waist slender, the stomach rising
with a swell ; the knee good, showing the division
between the patella and the tibia. The ankle is
less good. The nails are scarcely marked on either
fingers or toes ; the left thumb is too short. The
right leg is badly formed, from the difficulty of
reaching it with the chisel, as it is withdrawn into
the recess between the standard and the wall which
joins the left leg to the supporting pillar. The
statue is quite perfect — except for the loss of the
beard, of the three figures on the top of one of the
standards, and of one of the two square pieces with
which the pillar behind had been repaired, and for
a hole broken through the wall which joins the
right-hand standard to the supporting pillar.

The delicate youthful face is clearly meant for a
portrait, but f>erhaps without close approach to a
likeness, as the manly beard which once adorned
the chin proves that some departure from e<xact-
ness was allowed to the sculptor. But, neverthe-
less, the fiice, and indeed the whole figure, has less

Fig. 2.

of the conventional stiflSiess than is usual in the
Egyptian statues. The shoulders, the arched instep,
the swell of the stomach, show more knowledge of
anatomy than is to be seen in any of the earlier
statues in the Museum ; while if it is compared,
particularly in respect to the legs, with the sitting
statue of Oimenepthah II., which is close beside it
in the Museum, we shall see that, in the very next
generation, art was declining and the sculptors were
falling into bad taste.

The name of the young prince is
spelt with three characters. (See fig. 2.)
The first is probably an anvil, in the
form of two half-spheres, with the force
of MES; the second is an owl, with the
force of MO; and the third is a sceptre
having an animal's head on the top,
with an uncertain force, perhaps INE, a hookj aa
it is the crook usually held in the hand of the
Egyptian gods and priests ; it is still the camel-
hook of the Arabs of Mount Sinai, and it seems to
be the letter N in the names of the towns Mendes
and Hermonthis. Hence the name of the young
prince may perhaps be Mesmoine. But, as the
first of these characters has had other and various
forces given to it by various scholars, it may be
as well to show why I think it had the force of
MES. This can be done by showing that it will
bear that force, and no other
that we know of, in the chief
places in which it is met with.

Thus, it is the fii'st, and only
disputed character, in the name
of Meshophra Thothmosis (see
fig. 3), which Manetho reads
as Misaphris, and in that of
his successor, which Manetho
reads as Misphragmuthosis.
Then it forms one out of a pair
of titles which often precede a king's two names.
(See ^g, 4.) ChampoUion guessed that
it might be a diadem, and translated
the title " Lord of Diadems," because
that title is met with in Hermapion's
Greek translation from an obelisk.
But the hieroglyphical character there meant is
certainly an asp, of which we see a golden image tied

Fig. 3.

.\'.,l.uv:.i..l .Vii..laimnrv l.ltW"

I I I I

J I I I I — L

Sicale of Feet.

IKaudv maA AxtJiutnAi'\- l■t'^<•~

L'S at

•#•

\\\ ^

■ A

f^'

pj'

f»

;.t

c=:

Sir

.k.;^

<:2^

IPHM4

^ ^ IPHM4

-t^s^^:^5twi

/o
A

1^'

'^JL

l<^^lSf^fE^

KaJtnn and Ax%, JtOMtrj 1* US7.

DESCEIPnON OP AN EGYPTIAN STATUE.

to almost eveiy king's forehead. Moreoyer, in
Hermapion's translation we meet with the following
words : " King, lord of all the earth (whom the Sun
approved), the king brave in war (whom Ammon
loves and the AU-shining has tried) for a king for
ever." Now it will be observed that the words here
placed within parentheses are translations of the
two well-known names of Rameses II., and the titles
which precede them can be nothing but the pair of
titles above spoken of, which invariably accompany
one another. The first title, ''Lord of all the
earth," is Neb-to, which we usually translate
Lard of the world ; and the second may fairly be
understood as being Neb-misi, Lord of battles, Misi
is the Coptic for haUle ; hence the sound for this
character, which we obtain from the name of King
Meshophra Thothmosis, agrees with that which we
obtain by translating Hermapion's words into
Coptic. Lastly, as to what our character repre-
sents. Emee is the Coptic for an (umM, Theo-
philus, in his Diveraomjim Artiwn Schedtday iii 10,
describes the Roman anvil as in the form of three
half-apples. Our character is like two half-apples ;
and if we suppose that the anvil was, in the first
instance, a simple block of solid iron, the heavy
blows upon it would soon flatten the top and make
it swell out on all sides into some such form as the
above. Hence we see that the three arguments
agree in giving to our character the force of MES.
First, its place in Manetho*s names, Misaphis and
Misphragmuthosis ; secondly, its forming part of
the group which Hermapion translates " Brave in
war," which may be represented in Coptic by Neb-
misi. Lord of battles ; and thirdly, by its resem-
blance to an ancient anvil, in Coptic, Ernes.

This is a long discussion upon a single hiero-
glyphic, but it may interest the reader to see how
the force and meaning of such characters are to be
learned.

Hermapion's sentence above quoted contains the
very words which we find written in hieroglyphics
upon the two standards held by our young prince.
On the standard in his right hand we read, '' The
priest, the lord of the world [king's first name],
beloved by the various gods of Egypt." On the
other standard we read, " The son of the Sun, lord
of battles [Amunmai Hamesedl, beloved by Osiris,
lord of the r^on of the dead" The two names
here placed within the brackets may be translated
by the words quoted above from Hermapion.

DESCEIPTION OP THE HIEEOGLYPHICS.

No. 1. — ^The inscription on the right-hand standiird. It
may be translated, *'The priest, lord of the world [first
name], beloyed by the varioas gods of Egypt."

No. 2. — ^The insoription on the left-hand standard, " The
son of the Son, Amnnmai Sameses, beloyed by Osiris, lord
of Amentr;'* or, of the region of the dead. These two are
the only lines that I yentnre to translate throughout.

Nos. 3-7 are on the flat top of the base. The left foot
stands between No. 3 and No. 4. No. 3 begins with the
yoong man's name, " The royal son Mesmoine."

Nos. 9-12 are a oontinnons sentence round the four
sides of the square base.

The supporting column has six lines of hieroglyphics.
No. 1, on the back, begins *^ Dedicated to Osiris, Bo-t-amenti,
or rvier of the ^lace of the dead. From this title of the god

the Ghreeks took their name Bhadamanthu8,<^he judge of their
infernal regions. On the same line, immediately following
the break in the stone, is mention of the young man's
mother, who is said to be deceased. In line No. 3, on the
right side of the supporting column near the bottom, is
mention of his sisters, called " The Boyal Daughters." But
of the greater part of the insoription I do not yenture to
giye a translation, though many of the single words are well
known.

Samuel Shabpe.

[An acomplished correspondent has favoured us
with the following notes, which we have great
pleasure in laying before our readers.]

The following are the chief facts known about
the prince, Shaaemuab.* He was son of Rameses

11. and the queen Hesit-Nefrit, the third wife
of that monarch. Shaaemuab held the important
office of semf or chief of the priesthood of Ptah, at
Memphis, and seems to have instituted some new
forms in the worship of the Apis bull. Shaaemuab
was the fourth of the 111 sons of Rameses II.,
and enjoyed great honour and dignity amongst
his contemporaries. As early as the thirtieth
year, at least, of his father's reign, he was appointed
Governor of Memphis, and celebrated the festivals
of the god, Ptah, or Vulcan, with great splendour.
The discoveries of M. Mariette, at the Berapeum at
Memphis, and of the immense subterranean galleries
of the mummies of the Apis bulls, show that this
prince, whose mummy was found in one of the sepul-
chral chambers, was buried with his gold and other
ornaments in one of the tombs, in the fifty-fifth
year of the reign of his father, whom he did not
survive. His mummy was found mutilated ; but
at what time, and under what circumstances, did
not appear, as the plunder of the tombs was as
rife in the oldest days of the "Egyptian monarchy
as now. The inscription is extremely obscure,
and consists of the fact of an address to Osiris on
behalf of the deceased prince Shaaemuab, con-
taining certain mythical allusions to the final judg-
ment in the Hall of Truth and Justice, and other
statements scattered throughout sepulchral prayers
and adorations, comparing that prince to Horus,
the son and avenger of Osiris. The same observa-
tions apply to the lateral inscriptions (left and
right sides), which are also obscure and difficult to
understand. The inscription round the plinth or
pedestal on which the statue stands, A 9, 10 ; B 11,

12, is the text of a well-known chapter of the
Ritual, the 54th of Lepsius, Todtenbuch, Taf.
xxii. c. 54, where the rubrical heading entitles it,
" The chapter of giving breath to a person in Kar-
neter or Hades." There are two other chapters,
(55, 66), on the same subject, with the texts
similiar to the 54th; especially the 56th, which
closely resembles the inscription of the plinth.
The meaning of the chapter is as follows : " Oh
Tum or Tomos, the setting Sun, give me the sweet
breath of thy nostril. I am the great elder who

• It will be obsenred that our friends differ in their in-
terpretation of the hieroglyphs denoting the name of the
person represented. — Ed.

HOLBEIN IN GEEMANT.

rNatnre and Art, Jaututfy 1. 1867.

dwells in Unnu. I have watched the egg of the
great cackler or goose of the god Seb ; I grow, it
gi-ows; I live, it lives; I breathe, it breathes."
This same mystical form is found on a statue of
Senmut, an officer of the court of Thothmes III.,
in the Berlin Museum, and is often repeated on
sarcophagi and other objects, apparently in refer-
ence to the reanimation of the dead. The mystic
meaning here hidden, unless it be an allusion to
the mundane egg of the Orphic writers, is un-
known.

[The learned curator of the Soane Museum,
Mr. Joseph Bonomi, F.R.S.L., F.R.A.S., has kindly
offered a few remarks of which we gladly avail
ourselves.]

The front and profile views of the statue are not
such as would be conveyed to the mind through the
eye, but they are what architects call geometrical
elevations drawn by actual measurement, so that
the dimensions of any part may be known by appli-
cation of the compasses to the scale.

The front elevation is in outline, for the greater
fcicility of measurement, and the profile gives the
precise colour of the stone, which is a conglomerate,
in which flints and pebbles occur cemented together
in nature's workshop by sand and rust of iron.

Notwithstanding this very adverse material, it
has been fashioned into the figure of a man, and
may be considered one of the best specimens of
Egyptian sculpture in our national collection. In

the general contour, the figure resembles very much
the inhabitants of Lower Nubia ; as does the colour
of the material, particularly the head and arms,
the complexion of the inhabitants of Thebes. For
this purpose, and for its durability, it is supposed,
this description of stone was chosen. The features
are well defined, and the countenance has nothing
of the Afirican type, — a circumstance which goes
far to corroborate the notion which has lately been
entertained of the foreign origin of the ^eimily of
Barneses. The arms are well formed, and the
fasciculi of the deltoid, arising from the acromium
scapulae, better defined than in any other Egyptian
statue in the Museum. The hands are rather
small. The left leg is advanced in the attitude of
marching, with which leg, it may be observed, it is
to this day customary to make the first step. The
knee of this limb is particularly well formed. The
ancle is rather thick, and the foot heavy; the instep
exceeds a little the height prescribed by the canon
in use at the period, that is to say, one-nineteenth
of the whole height of the figure.

It may be interesting' to the reader to know how
the inscriptions on the statue have been so faithfully
given in the accompanying plate. The first opera-
tion was to obtain, by means of wet absorbent paper,
an impression of each legend or line of hieroglyphs.
This was afterwards faithfully copied by reduction
according to scale ; and this drawing, being handed
over to the photographer, has been unerringly
copied by the rays of the sun, and transferred to
the stone.

HOLBEIN IN GERMANY.*

By H. Wabd.
PART III. BASLE— coneinu€d.

" TTANS HOLBEIN never travelled to Italy "
-Tl , {nooit reisde U, Holbein naar Italie)^ said
his earliest biographer, the Dutchman Carel van
Mander,*!* and his words have been repeated by
others ; but Dr. Woltmann declares that here again
they have blundered. Let us appeal, says he, to
far more trustworthy witnesses, the works of the
artist, and these will speak plainly of a visit to
Lombardy. This counter-assertion may be true;
but Dr. Woltmann has hardly proved it. He does
not point out any change in the artist's colouring ;
he only dwells on the increase of the old southern
influence, in matters of feeling and composition,
and in the modelling of the figures. He does,
indeed, instance a few direct imitations ; yet he
allows that most of these were made from the en-
gravings of Mantegna. The chief witness on his
side is a Last Supper, derived from that of
Leonardo da Vinci; and surely such a work as

• Holbein und seine Zeit: von Dp. Alfred Woltmann.
Erster Theil. Mit 31 Holzsobnitten nnd emer Fhoto-Iitho-
graphie. Leipzig:, 1866.

t Het Schilderboeok. Haarlem, 1604.

Leonardo's — the talk of the whole artist world —
might well have ti-avelled to Holbein in the shape
of copies. The original itself seemed at one time
destined to cross the Alps. Francis I. saw it
when he entered Milan in 1515. He coveted the
treasure, grudged it to the Dominican refectory,
and ordered the whole upper wall to be packed off
to Palis ; but it was found that it would only come
away in pieces. Disappointed of the painting, he
tried to secure the painter ; and Leonardo was at
last tempted to migrate to the palace of St. Cloud,
but only to die there in the king's arms, in 1519.
Thus the great artist's career was limited to Italy ;
and she retained the crowning fruit of it ; but the
academy, which he had founded at Milan, must
have had copies to spare for the northern admirers
of the Last Supper, besides the one which we know
to have been made for Francis I. The picture was
completed just before Holbein was bom ; and he
may have been familiar with the design from his
childhood, for there were many channels through
which it could have reached him. Not to speak of
merchants and politicians, the Alps were then pretty

NaivTC and Art, Jaanaiy 1, 1867.J

HOLBEIN IN GBEMANY.

constantly crossed hj German students, to and
from the universities of Pisa or Bologna, and by
men connected with the new art of printing. In
Milan itself there were three or four Cferman
publishers between 1474 and 1520 ; and some of
the draughtsmen, whom they employed for initial
letters and title-pages, must have been quite capable
of making a tolerable outline of the composition.
Or, finally, Burgkmair may have brought a copy
home to Augsburg, when he returned from Italy in
1508.

Dr. Waagen suggested, some years ago, that the
early biogi'aphers may have been mistaken. It is
not at all improbable. Our only quarrel with Dr.
Woltmann in that he is so positive about the
Italian trip, without showing the necessity for it.
Having ti-aced his hero fairly enough to Lucerne, in
1518, or thereabouts, and havyig still a few months
on hand, he pushes him across the lake, and over
the pass of St. Gothard, and so by Bellinzona to
Milan, and shows him Leonardo's masterpiece in all
the freshness of its short-lived beauty. He doubts,
moreover, whether he may not take him on to
Pavia, in order to study architectural painting
from the fagade of the Carthusian convent there.
But he is content with hinting the feasibility of
this scheme, and he returns with him to Basle,
where he regains his better judgment.

Holbein's Lctst Supper, painted on wood, was
broken up, probably by the fanatics of Basle, in
1529. Some portions were lost; but the larger
ones were preserved by Holbein's true friend,
Bonifacius Amerbach. They are now pieced
together, and form No. 21 of the Holbein Gfallery
in the Basle Museimi. No. 5 is an earlier Last
Supper, on linen, which we barely mentioned in
our first article. The two works naturally chal-
lenge comparison ; and No. 5, in spite of its youth-
ful defects, has been the more tenderly treated of
the two. The personages, say the critics, are here
more clearly, though coarsely individualized. Judas
receiving the sop, is abject and self-condemned, yet
unrepentant; whilst St. Peter is glaring at hun,
with both fists doubled upon the table. In the
later work (No. 21) all the caricature is reserved
for Judas. He sits on the spectator's side of the
table, griping the money-bag, and displaying a harsh
profile of the lowest Jewish type. Ijavater * has
chosen this to illustrate his ideas of sordidness.
Mrs. Jameson complains that Judas is made a foul
protagonist in the scene. Only eight of the other
Apostles are preserved : otherwise, perhaps, he
might not appear so prominent* In Leonardo's
picture he is drinking back ; a more refined con-
ception of the wretch, whose " little grain of con-
science " drove him mad. Holbein has only thought
of the kissing traitor, with his hard mouth screwed
to desperation. Chiist has just spoken the words,
" One of you shall betray me," and lus face and the
action of his hands are manifestly after Leonardo ;
and so is his half-isolation on his right hand. The

• ** Esaaya on Physiognomy," vol. i., p. 186.
1789.

London,

isolation is here efifected by St. John's turning aside
to repeat the words to St. Peter, who has risen,
and is bending his noble head, with his hand upon
St. John's shoulder. The picture is altogether a
fine one, though very inferior to that of Leonardo.

Of all the works preserved in the Basle Museum,
the best, according to the portrait-painter Sandrart,*
is one designed apparently for an altar-piece, and
divided into eight scenes of the Passion, Sandrart's
vivd voce accoimt of it, in 1644, so moved the
Elector of Bavaria, that he offered to buy it at any
price ; but the Council of Basle refused to discuss
the bargain. Dr. Waagen compares this work with
the Basilica of St. Paul, by the elder Holbein, and
he descries a clos^ resemblance between them, both
in the execution of the parts and in their tabular
arrangement. He says that one can nowhere more
distinctly trace how young Holbein's style was
develop^ out of that of his father. He is pro-
bably quite correct when he pronounces it to be a
youUifil work, arguing from the inequality of the
composition, six of the scenes being either over-
crowded or caricatured, whilst the other two are
almost perfect. But he is just as probably mis-
taken when he detects the father's influence in the
choice of colours, and in the manner of laying
them on ; for they have not only suffered from
chemical changes, but also — as recently discovered
documents prove — from restoration. Thus the
arguments must be chiefly based upon the character
of the designs. Dr. Woltmann considers that this,
though one of the earlier, is not one of the earliest
works of Holbein. Some of the compartments are
very striking, as one may see from Merian's ex-
cellent lithographs. The Arrest, Christ be/ore
CaiaphaSy and the Crucifixion, may be overcrowded,
but each has a fine scenic effect. The composition
of the Entombmeni is taken from that in the
Borghese Palace at Home, painted by Raphael for
Perugia, in 1507. Raphael himself was partially
indebted to one of Mantegna's engravings, of which
he made a copy before forming his own design.
But the resemblance is too close to ]be merely due
to a conmion source. Holbein must have seen a
copy of Raphael's picture. The dead body has
been foreshortened, in order to suit the narrow
compartment ; but the mode in which it is borne
on the shroud, with dependent arms and legs, is
bon-owed from Raphael ; and so are the bearers,
even to some details of costume. The Christ of
Raphael is divine in death; that of Holbein is
more distorted by suffering. Holbein's figures of
the Virgin and St. John, standing apart, are com-
paratively insignificant ; but the principal design
is noble, and adapted in the spirit of a gi*eat
master.

Still more noble, and far more original, we
believe, is the Agony in the Garden. The story
could not be better told. The three Apostles are
sleeping in the foreground ; St. Peter supporting
his head with one hand, and having let a short
sheathed sword slip out of the other. Round a

* Author of Teutsche Akademie in 1679.

HOLBEIN IN GEEMANT.

CNAtnn Md Art. Janowy 1. 1887.

rock in the background approaches the guard led
by Judas, but not near enough to disturb the
feeling of the scene^ Christ is the very image of
agony and prayer. The bones of his clasped hands
start out, his kneeling form is bent with earnest-
ness, and his eyes are fixed upon the sign of the
cross in the heavens above him.

There is one point here worth observing, before we
proceed further. The usual symbol of the agony
is the cup. This was suited to the dark ages, when
the scriptural figures of speech were slavishly
rendered by the artist. Some of our readers will
scarcely believe that the Holy Ghost, on the day
of Pentecost, used to be depicted as a dove with
literal tongues of fire — such tongues as the poor
artist could devise ; namely, so many red lines
extending from the open mouth of the dove to the
heads of the disciples. In those days the cup was
a recognized symbol ; and it was suspended in the
air, without any regard to the laws of gravity.
But when the later painters adopted it, they altered
its significance by placing it in the hands of the
angel. This converted it from a cup of bitterness
into a cup of consolation. In such a shape the two
ideas are quite irreconcilable ; whereas the cross
conveys them both, in accordance with all the
traditions and sentiments .of Christianity. Holbein
may have followed some previous example of the
Agony; but the fact remains, that he showed a finer
taste than most painters, whether of Italy or
elsewhere, when he made the angel floating high
above Christ, and holding a cross, as a symbol both
of the death to be undergone and the triumph to
be achieved.

Such is Holbein's great series of the Passion.
We can hardly agree with Dr. Woltmann in pre-
ferring another series, which consists of ten pen-
and-ink drawings, shaded with Indian ink. They
are more mature, more equally sustained, and
possibly more original ; though here again the bio-
grapher has to mention the name of Mantegna.
Being little more than outlines, they cannot of
course rival the painted series in point of effect ;
and we should say that they are also inferior
in passionate expression. They are masterly
designs for glass-painting or for tapestry; but
their pictorial beauty is decidedly marred by their
heavy frameworks of Renaissance columns and
arches, especially in two instances where medallions
are tastelessly introduced. We need not describe
them, nor recommend MecheFs engravings to the
reader. He has only. to enter the British Museum,
and turn into the King's library, and on one of the
screens he will see repetitions of seven of them, all
from the hand of Holbein himself.

Hitherto we have met -^dth no very cogent
argument why Holbein should have necessarily
studied Leonardo at Milan. The same arguments
would carry him on to Perugia to study Kaphael ;
and if he reached Perugia, he would not have
omitted visiting Florence ; a fact that could hardly

have escaped the notice of his early biographers.
His treatment of other sacred subjects is very-
Italian, as might be expected : the more marked
coincidences may sometimes be purely accidentaL
Thus, a Nativity is lighted by a glory proceeding
from the body of the child. Correggio has a
painting with a similar effect ; but, as Dr. Wolt-
mann remarks, Correggio's Nativity is six years
later than Holbein's. The idea may have been
suggested to both painters by some old iUumina-
tion, or both may have taken it immediately frx>ni
a certain passage in one of the apocryphal gospeLs.
We will now conclude the subject with noticing a
figtrfe, the modelling of which the German critics
derive directly from Leonardo. It is one of the
many matters that can not be absolutely settled ;
but we are still waiting with curiosity for the
opinion of Mr. Wor^um.

The great physiognomist Lavater has declaimed
against the figure in question with rotund pom-
posity. He declares that Holbein, in painting
such a repulsive abomination, has ^^ discarded all
taste, forsworn all lore, and disowned all humanity.**
Dr. Waagen retorts by saying that Lavater is a
mere " -^sthetiker," unable to raise himself above
the prejudices of sentimentalism. Now, Lavater
is too solemn, no doubt ; still he is not quite
wrong. Holbein's Dead Christ must be something
to be shuddered at The picture is life-size, and
said to be wonderfully real Holbein was essentially
a realist ; but his extraordinary strength of mind
and his native instinct for beauty generally kept
him above vulgarity and apart from all that is
horrible. It was impossible that he should paint a
sickening work of butchery, such as the old German
miniatunsts made out of the scourging of Christ.
But we think that, for once, he has been untrue
to the feelings of high art. Even in MecheFs
engraving, the Dead Christ is almost too painful.
It is the corpse of a man who has died a violent
death — every muscle made convulsively distinct^
the toes cramped, and the fingers distorted — flying
alone and almost naked, as if he were uncared for,
under a low vaulting. There is nothing about him
to remind one of our Saviour, except the marks of
the spear and the nails. It is evident that he is
stretched upon a surgeon's table, though Holbein
has placed a little drapery upon the board. In
fact, he had made such an admirable study, that he
was seduced into making a finished picture of it,
and adding the inscription, ^' Jestis Nazarenus Hex
JuA H. H. 1521."

We admit that we have been very serious thi«
month ; but our next and concluding artible will
be much more chatty, and deal with the personal
character of the artist and his friends at Basle.
We shall only have to give a detailed notice of
one painting; but that one is the Madonna,
painted for burgomaster Meyer, which is said to
be suggested to every German by the mention of
the name of Holbein.

NalvrB Mid Art, January 1. 1867.]

THE METEORIC SHOWEE OF NOVEMBER, 1866.

THE METEORIC SHOWER OF NOVEMBER, 1866.

By J. Cabpentbb, of the Royal Observatory, Greenwich.

WE shoiUd do Nature poor justice if we were to
consecrate all our lays and devote all our
attentions to those of her works and wonders that
are comprised within the area bounded by the
surface of the little globe we inhabit, to the
exclusion of those grander creations and more
sublime phenomena that are to be witnessed in the
boundless space above and around us. A fitting
opportunity for breaking new groui^d is offered by
the beautiful and seemingly marvellous display of
celestial pyrotechny which attracted so large a
share of public attention on the night of the 13th
of November last ; and we take ad\'antage of the
occasion to mingle in our columns the researches of
the naturalist with the observations and inductions
of the philosopher.

It may be thought that the numerous accounts of
and comments upon this meteoric shower which ap-
peared in the daily newspapers at the time have
exhausted the subject, and that hence there is no
more to be said concerning it. But a newspaper
communication is an ephemeral production — read
one instant and forgotten the next ; and, moreover,
much as has been said in this form concerning
meteors, a great deal has been left unsaid ; and we
have, therefore, no fear of not finding " ample room
and verge enough " for the few remarks it is our
pleasure now to lay before the reader.

Our talk is to be of meteors. What, then, is a
meteor? In popular parlance, it is known as a
" shooting " or " falling " star, and in very many
minds an impression prevails that when these
bodies are seen to dart across the sky, some of the
fixed stars have really " shot from their spheres ;"
we have more than once been asked by innocent
querists why the stars are called fisced^ when every
now and then they are seen to fell % It is, there-
fore, necessaiy to inform all who have a notion of
this sort in their minds, that there is no connection
whatever between shooting stars and the fixed stars
of the firmament, and that there is nothing whatever
in common between them. The fixed stars are stu-
pendous suns like ours, possibly the centres of plane-
tary systems, billions of miles distant from us; while
shooting stars are tiny little bodies, varying from a
few grains to a few pounds in weight, and, com-
paratively speaking, only a few miles above the
earth's surfece. Do you wonder how their height
is measured? We will endeavour to show you.
Those who have brought a little trigonometry away
from school with them will not require to be told
that the angular altitude of a meteor, observed at
two distant stations, is all that is required for the
purpose of determining its height. The principle
of the means by which this is effected may, how-
ever, be made intelligible without much geometry.
Suppose one observer at London and another at
Brighton simultaneously observe a particular meteor.

Suppose the observer at London estimates its angular
altitude at 65 degrees above the horizon, while
the one at Brighton estimates that altitude at
55 degrees. Now, if upon a base line, A B, we

measure off a part, C D, upon any convenient scale
(say an inch to 10 miles), which shall represent the
distance between London and Brighton ; and if we
draw a line, C E, inclined to the base line at an
angle of ^b degrees, and another line, D F, inclined
to the base line at an angle of oh degrees, they will
meet or intersect at a pointy M. Then, if we drop a
perpendicular from M to the base line, the length
of this line will represent the height of the meteor,
upon the same s«Ede as that which we chose for
our base line. By means analogous to this the
heights of a large number of meteors have been at
various times determined, and it has been found,
within very small limits of eiTor, that the average
height of meteors at the middle of their flight is 62
miles ; their height at commencement being about
10 miles greater and at disappearance about 10
miles less tiian this.

Falling stars, then, have nothing to do with the
members proper of the stany firmament. This
fact, by showing what they are not, helps in a
very small degree to a knowledge of what they are.
Of coiu^, a lot of theories, more or less fencifril,
have been proposed to account for them. They have
been supposed, since they are known to make their
appearance within our atmosphere, to be the result
of some sort of gaseous exhalations to which that
atmosphere gives birth ; they have been held to be of
electrical nature, something like electric sparks ;
they have been thought to be darted to the earth
from the sun ; and for a long time they were held
to be small fragments of matter ejected from the
volcanoes of the moon. But each and all of these
hypotheses involved conditions that the meteors do
not fulfil ; and hence, one by one, they have been
abandoned. The generally received theory of the
present day, and it is one which is satisfied by all
the phenomena which these bodies present, is that
they are small masses of cosmical matter circulating

THE METEOBIC SHOWEB OP NOVEMBEB, 1866.

[Haian and Art. iixwaj h 18i7.

about the sun — tiny little planets, in fiact, — and
coming at times within the earth's atmosphere;
sometimes falling to the earth in the form of those
mysterious, half metallic, half stony little masses
that we call aerolites.

But if they be mere lumps of metal and stone,
why do they Rhine out with such star-like brilliancy 1
Are they always in a burning state, or do they take
fire only when they come within our atmosphere 1
The latter is undoul](tedly the case ; the earth's
atmosphere is the cause of their inflammation. It
would seem at first sight probable that this combus-
tion had a chemical origin ; that the meteors were
composed of some highly inflammable matter which
is ignited by combination with the chemical com-
ponents of the atmosphere. An idea of this kind
prevailed some years ago, but it is no longer neces-
sary to resort to such a supposition ; for the ignition
of the scraps of meteoric matter is amply accounted
for by the mechanical theory of heat, according to
which that ignition is a consequence of the immense
resistance the bodies meet with in our atmosphere,
and hence of the enormous friction and consequent
heat produced thereby. Upon this point we cannot
do better than quote the words of Dr. Joule, one
of the famous exponents of this beautifid theory of
mechanical heat Our extract is from a lecture
delivered at Manchester some twenty years ago,
when this theory was first dawning upon philo-
sophical minds : —

" From the velocity with which shooting stars
travel, there can be little doubt that they are small
planets which, in the course of their revolution
round the sun, are attracted and drawn to the
earth. Reflect for a moment on the consequences
which would ensue if a hard meteoric stone were
to strike the room in which we are assembled with
a velocity sixty times as great as that of a cannon
ball. The dire eflects'of such a collision are effec-
tually prevented by the atmosphere which surrounds
our globe, by which the velocity of the meteoric
stone is checked, and its living force converted into
heat, which at last becomes so intense as to melt
the body and dissipate it in fragments too small,
probably, to be noticed in their fall to the ground.
Hence it is that although multitudes of shooting
stars appear every night, few meteoric stones have
been found, those few corroborating the truth of
our hypothesis by the marks of intense heat which
they bear on their surfiujes.**

It seems anomalous that so soft and subtle a bed
of matter as the air presents, especially in those
exalted regions, should offer such a powerful resist-
ance as to strike fire from a body coming into col-
lision with it ; but the anomaly vanishes when we
bear in mind that this resistance is proportionate to
the velocity of the body's flight, and that this
velocity, in the case of meteors, is upon the average
about thirty miles in a second of time^ — a speed
almost beyond human conception. Suppose, for
example, that a meteoiic stone six inches in
diameter dashes into our atmosphere with a velocity
of only eighteen miles in a second ; and suppose
the atmosphere at fifty miles high to be 100 times

less dense than at the earth's surfaca The resist-
ance offered would be equal to a pressure of at least
52,000 pounds ; and if the stone travelled twenty
miles with this resistance before it, sufficient heat
would be developed to raise seven millions of pounds
of water one degree of temperature. The greater
part of this intense heat is communicated to the
displaced air, and hence the stone may be said to
be in a sort of hot blast furnace. If only the on&-
hundredth part of the developed heat be received
by the stone, it would still be more than amply
sufficient to fuse and dissipate any materials of
which it may be composed.

We have here an example of one of those beauti-
ful " provisions of nature " with which the universe
is filled. " Were it not " — we are again quoting
Dr. Joule — " for the atmosphere which covers us
with a shield, impenetrable in proportion to the
violence it is called upon to resist, we should be
continually exposed to a bombardment of the most
fatal and irresistible character. To say nothing of
the larger stones, no ordinary btdldings could afford
shelter from very small particles striking at the
velocity of eigl^teen miles per second. Even dust
flying at such a velocity would kill any animal ex-
posed to it."

Question begets question when we cross-examine
inexhaustible nature; and we are prompted to
inquire what is the nature and composition of
these celestial fireworks? By analysis of their
light, by means of the prism, we find that the burn-
ing matter is sometimes of a metallic and some-
times of an earthy or stony nature, and this in a
measure identifies them with the stony-metallic
masses that we know to have fallen from the skies.
It is pretty well established that there is a close con-
nection between meteors and aerolites ; the one class
of bodies merging imperceptibly into the other; and,
therefore, in analysing the aerolite we may reckon
upon gaining at least a probable knowledge of the
constitution of the meteor. Chemists and mineralo-
gists have frequently and with great care analysed
aerolites and meteorites, and they have found that
their composition is nearly always the same. Their
structure, microscopically examined, shows them to
be composed of minute globules, which suggest the
idea of an originally vaporous condition ; and their
component matter is identical with that of earthly
rocks and minerals. Sulphur and carbon, silica
and alumina, iron — ^metallic and magnetic, — ^with
other metals, such as nickel, cobalt, manganese, tin
and copper, have been recognised amongthe materials
of which they are formed ; but — a fact striking and
significant — no new material, no substance unknown
upon the earth has ever yet been detected among
the elements of their composition. Such a fact
points to a unity of composition in some at least
of the members of our planetaiy system, and
favours the supposition of a common origin to all
that family of bodies of which the sun is the grand
centre and chief.

We will pass now to the consideration of those
periodic displays of meteors, that, from the abun-
dance in which these bodies manifest themselves on

HAton And Alt, JaDiury 1. 1887.]

THE METEOBIC SHOWER OF NOVEKBEB, 1866.

such occasions, have received the name of " Star
Showers," and one of which we have so lately, and
under such favourable circumstances, had the good
fortune to witness. It is well known that there
are certain nights in every year that are remarkable
for the r^ular recurrence of large numbers of shoot-
ing stars ; perhaps the most famous date being the
10th of August, when, according to the Irish
legend, Saint Lawrence sheds his fiery tears. The
jiext important date is comprised between the 11th
and 14tb of November ; and it is with the shower
of this period that we are specially concerned. A
cursory examination of the long lists of meteor
records that have been collected from the histories
of past times and of all countries, does not fail to
show that, whereas a display more or less important
takes place eoery yew between the above dates,
there are yet certain years when, according to these
ancient records, the display reaches an extraordinary
magnitude and the meteors appear in stupendous
numbers. One of these occurred in the year 902,
when the Aghlabite King, Ibrahim bin Ahmad,
died, and " the stars scattered themselves like rain
to the right and to the left." Another is recorded
in the year 934 ; another in 1002 ; and another in
1202. The chronicles of the Kings of Portugal
make mention of another in 1366, which so terrified
the people of that countrj' that they thought the
end of the world had come. The all-recording
Chinese tell of others in the years 1533 and 1602.
In 1799 occurred the brilliant shower witnessed by
Humboldt and Bonpland at Cumana in South
America, and so well described by the former in
his Relation Hietorique, The year 1832 is also
marked by a shower which pioneered the splendid
one of the following year : this latter is the last
great meteoric display preceding that which we
have so lately observed.

Now it became evident, upon close examination
of those and other such-like accounts, that grand
November displays take place three times in a
century, or at intervals of about 33 years apart ;
and the last having happened in 1833, it was
reasonable to expect a return in 1866 ; but inas-
much as each of the former great showers appear
to have been anticipated by a slighter one in the
year preceding, observers anxiously watched the
night of the 13th of November, 1865, for this pre-
cursor, and were rewarded by a sight which,
although far below that of 1866, was still extra-
ordinary ; about a thousand meteors being counted
between midnight and five o'clock the following
morning.

This may be a proper place to put and answer the
questions, why these showers occur on particular days
of the year? and why such an extensive display should
take place every 33rd November 1 It is assumed,
and there are very good reasons for admitting the
correctness of the assumption, that there are a
number of concentric rings of these meteoric
bodies circulating about the sun ; orbits, in fact,
every part of which is thronged with meteoric
particles. The earth, in its annual course about
the sun, cuts through these rings on certain days of

the year, that is in certain points of her orbit, and
this explains the annual recurrence of showers on
certain days. The majority of the rings, of which
there must be a goodly number, have the meteoric
particles distributed evenly throughout their circuit ;
but the November ring — the ring we cut through
every November — is not of such equable density ;
for its component particles and masses are very
thickly clustered in one part, and scantily dispersed
over the remainder. This November ring has been
made the subject of a great deal of research ; and
what astronomers call its "elements," or its
dimensions, position, &c., have been determined
with considerable accuracy. In size, it has been
found to be slightly less than the orbit of the
earth ; revolving about the sun in a period of 354
days, or 11 days less than the earth's period. The
direction of its motion is opposite to that of the
earth, and the orbit is inclined to the earth's
orbit by an angle of about 17 degrees. The portion
of the ring which constitutes the thick cloud of
bodies, is about one-fifteenth of its circumference,
or in linear measure about 40 millions of miles,
while the breadth of the cloud is about 100,000
miles. , The disposition of things and the course of
matters which produce the periodic grand dis- .
plays, may be made intelligible be the following
diagram. ,

* In this diagram the continuous circle represents
the orbit of the earth, and the dotted ling the zone
of meteoric bodies, with the cloud of them collected
at one part of it. The earth is going one way
(indicated by an arrow) and the ring of meteors
another (indicated by an opposite arrow) ; and the
orbit of the meteors is inclined to that of the earth.
Now, it will be plain that if the ring moved at
exactly the same speed as the earth, we, the earth,
should meet it at the same point of its circuit
every year; but as it moves faster than the earth,
it is equally plain that the part which we cut
through in one November has gone by 11 days
before we come to the point of intersection in the
next November, and hence we perceive that we
cut the ring every year in a new place. In the
course of years we naturally fall in with the thick
part of it, and thBn it is that we get the great
meteor showers ; this encounter taking place every
33 years. The reason why we have showers on
two or three years at the end of every 33-year

THE METEOBIO SHOWEB OF NOYEMBEB, 1866.

[Naton and AH, Jaamxj 1. IMF.

cycle, is because the cloud or group of particles is
so large, that after we have pierced it in one place
one ' year, it has not got completely out of our
course by the next year, and so we meet it again
and pierce it in another place : it does not get
out of our way in the eleven days' grace we
give it.

"We, then, dash into the midst of this crowd at the
rate of 18 miles a second, and its members fly on
all sides around us with a flight of the same speed.
The reader will now be prepared to understand
why all the meteors in any particular shower seem
to stream from one point of the heavens — the
" radiiuit point,'' as it is termed. It is because this
point is the part of space towards which the earth
in its orbital course is moving ; and the meteors
appear to come from it, just as, if we were walking
through an avenue of trees, the individual trees
would appear to be coming from the end of the
avenue ; or as, if we were running through a crowd,
all the people composing it would seem to be
commg from the direction of the spot to which we
were going. The " earth's way," as the direction
of the earth's motion is termed, at the time of the
November displays is in a line with a star in the
constellation Leo, and hence all the meteors on
these occasions seem to radiate from that star.

It is time we said a few words upon the par-
ticular shower which has called forth this article ;
but there is little to be added to what we have
already written, save in the way of mere descrip-
tion. Those who had the good fortune to observe
the shower will not want a detailed account of the
appearance the meteors presented ; and as those
who did not witness it can gain a £a,v better notion
of their appearance from an illustration than from
any word picture we can paint, we have pre-
pared a chromo-lithograph in which we have
depicted, as truthfully as possible, the aspect of a
region of the sky — the north-west — at an instant
when the meteors were at the thickest of their
flight, which was at about a quarter-past one in the
morning of the 14tli. A more " sensational "
picture might have been produced by the insertion
of a larger number of meteors ; but this would have
entailed a sacrifice of truthfiilness, for not more
meteors than we have shown were at any one
instant visible in any area of the sky equal to that
included in our illustration, although quite as many
as we have included actually were seen. Of course
it is impossible to reproduce by any art-process
the glowing brilliancy of a luminous body, like the
bright nucleus of a meteor ; the soft radiance of the
trauis of the meteors, also, shining with their
greenish-blue light, can scarcely be adequately
represented in a drawing.

It was a rare coincidence that in the cloudy
month of November, a clear night should happen
on the occasion of an event that occurs once only
in 33 years. The previous night was ho|>elessly
cloudy ; had the shower occurred then, as was
partiy anticipated, it would have passed unseen — ^in
England, at all events. The morning of the 13th
also gave littie hopes; it was only as the after-

noon wore on that the clouds broke up and dis-
persed, and the chances of seeing the display bore
a favourable aspect. The evening, with a few
exceptional intervals of cloud, was superbly clear ;
but during the early hours, there was little to
indicate the advent of the spectacle that the later
hours were to bring with them. From nine to
eleven o'clock only 25 meteors were noted : not
more than would be seen on any ordinary
November night. But when, at about the latt^
hour, the constellation Leo, the throne of the
radiant point, came above the horizon, it was
evident that a celestial sight of no ordinary cha-
racter was to be expected. First, at the rate of
about one a minute, afterwards at the rate of four
or &ve, the fiery shafts silently flew forth in all
directions from their common point of departure ;
now horizontally and straight as Euclid's line, now
vertically upwards like an earthly rocket, now down-
wards in a graceful circular curva Thus, between
eleven and twelve o'clock, 1 68 meteors appeared ;
but it was not until after midnight that the display
commenced in earnest. The average number of
meteors per minute up to that time did not exceed
three ; but by half-past twelve this average rose to
70, or more than one a second. Then tiiere was
a lull for a few minutes, and after that, the num-
bers steadily increased, till the average stood at
118. Then clouds came on and threatened to put
an end to the scene ; but they cleared off after a
few minutes, and at about a quarter-past one the
maximum of the shower was reached : the average
at that time being 122 meteors per minute.*
Whether a greater average occurred during the
slight intervjd of cloud, it is of course impossible
to say. From this time the numbers rapidly
declined, till, after a few short spurts of greater
numbers, the average fell to 70 per minute at
half-past one, 50 per minute at a quarter to two,
and 20 per minute at two o'clock. At half-past two
again a slight spurt increased the average for a
minute or two, and at three o'clock it stood at 10.
Still it decreased imtil between four and Ave a.m.,
when only 40 meteors in all were counted.

The whole number registered at Greenwich
throughout the entire display, amounted to 8,485.
Allowing for the cloudy moments, we may say that
the total number of meteors passing over the sky
of Greenwich, from nine p.m. on the 13th to five
a.m. on the 14th, was about 10,000. Now frt>m
this it is evident that, grand as was the pheno-
menon, it must have been very far short of the
sublimity of previous showers. Admitting the
possibility of exaggeration in some of the ancient
accounts, such as that of the shower of 1366, in
which we are told " that the sky and air seemed to
be in flames, and even the earth appeared as if

* The numbers we give are those determined at the Boyal
Observatory, Greenwich, where every care was taken by an
organised system of observation, in which nearly a dozen
observers were employed, to secure as aocntate a record as
possible of the various phases of the shower, and of all data
it might afford. The hours we have cited refer to Green-
wich mean time.

XratoTC Mi4 Art. Janawy 1* 1817.]

ABT NOTES FBOM PABIS.

ready to take fire," we cannot admit exaggeration
in such an account as that of Humboldt, of the
shower of 1799, in which it is stated, amongst
other illustrations, that, ** from the beginning of the
phenomenon there was not a space in the firma-
ment equal in extent to three diameters of the
moon, that was not filled at every instant with
falling stars." Again in the year 1833, the meteors
were compared in numbers to snow-flakes in a
snow-storm at the thickest part of the shower ; and
when their numbers had considerably diminished,
it was reckoned that 34,000 passed over the sky in
the course of an hour. One observer gave a sketch
of the appearance of them, of which sketch the
accompanying cut is a copy.

Whether the comparative poorness of our shower
is to be attributed to the thickness of our atmo-
sphere, shutting out of view the fainter meteors ;
or whether we did not pass through the thickest
part of the meteor cloud while the radiant point
was above our horizon, we cannot say. It has been
suggested by one authority on this subject, M.
CouJvier Gravier, that we may expect the real
maximum of the 33-year epoch in the November of
the year 'we are just entering, 1867. Perhaps the

reader will deem it worth while to " make a note
of" this in his or her diary.

The meteors themselves were not so imposing in
magnitude as some that have shown^ themselves on
former occasions. The greater number of them
were, about equal to stars of the first and second
magnitude ; comparatively few of them attaining a
brilliancy equal to that of the brighter planets
Venus and Jupiter. Their colours varied slightly ;
the majority were of a yellowish- white, while some
bore a bluish and others a reddish tinge. The
most beautiful of their features were, as usual, the
luminous trains or streaks that marked their path
through the air. Some of these trains extended to
90 degrees in length, and a few of them remained
visible for several seconds after the extinction of
the nucleus : they were mostly of a greenish colour,
and, in one or two cases, after they had disappeared
a smoky trail remained behind for several minutes
and then gradually dissipated. These trains have
been thought to be mere ocular deceptions, arising
from the retention of the image of the meteor on
the retina of the eye, upon the same principle as a
lighted stick quickly waved before the eye gives us
the impression of a continuous line of light ; but
this idea is now given up, and it is generally
assumed that the train is composed of tiny particles
of the dissipating meteor left behind in its rapid
course through the air. Even this explanation is,
however, open to a little doubt.

But we have passed our allotted limits of length,
so we must bring our gossip to a close. If Mons.
Coulvier Gravier's supposition mentioned above be
correct, we may have a better shower to talk about
next November ; if this does not " come off," we
may rest assured that we haVe seen the last
meteoric display that is likely to occur for the next
33« years. The year 1899 will witness the recur-
rence of the event, and, as this is the season of
good wishes, we cannot do better than wish every
one who has perused these colunms health to
see it.

ART NOTES FROM PARIS.

By G. W. Yapp.

THE artista of France haye just perfonned an important
electoral daty, namelyi the choosing of two-thirds of the
Admission Jurors for tiie Fine Art department of the
Exhibition of 1867. The original arrangement was, that
one-third should be elected by the Academy of the Beaux-
Arts, one-third by those artists who had reoeiyed a first-
class medal or its equiyalent, and the remaining third by the
Imperial Commission ; but the Academy has not yet forgiven
the Ck>yemment for taking from it the management of the
School of Art and the annual Exhibitions, and positiyely
declined to haye anything to do with the matter — the
Academy would be Ciesar or nothing !

This being the case, the Commission turned oyer the
Academy third to the general body of decorated artists and
medalists, and the residt is such, that no one can haye- any
just reason to complain. It must be premised that each
artist yoted only for the Jurors in that department in which he
had gained his own honours, the painters in that of painting

only, the sculptors in that of sculpture, and so on. The
number qualified to yote was about four hundred, and those
who did not find it conyenient to attend personally were
allowed to send sealed yoting-papers under coyer, with their
names, to the superintendent of the Beaux-Arts, who is at
the head of that department of the Exhibition. The number
of yotes recorded were, of painters 147, sculptors 70,
architects 33, and engrayers 25 ; in all 275, which, making
due allowance for absentees, cannot be considered a small
proportion. The number of Jurors to be elected, two-thirds
of the whole, were, in painting 16, in sculpture 10, in archi-
tecture, in engraying, and in lithography, 6 each. The
followingnames of the painters elected by theirpeers will show
how this exi>eriment in self -election has succeeded : — Bandry,
Bida, Breton, Brion, Cabanel, Couture, Fran^ais, Fromentin,
Q^r6me, Gleyre, Hubert, Ingres, Jalabert, Meissonier, Pils,
and Th. B;ous0eau. This list includes seyeral members of the
Academy, all the professors in painting of the £cole des

ABT NOTES FEOM PAEIS.

(Saten and Art, J$noM*y 1, 1M7.

Beaux- Arts, representatiYeB of the Old School as well as of
the New, and artists in all styles, history, genre, and land-
scape, classic as well as picturesque. The other lists are as
strong in good names, or nearly so, as that of the painter
Jorors. The Oayemment nominees are principally officials
connected with arts, connoisseurs and literary men, amongst
whom are the Marquis Maison, M. P. de St. Victor, M. Ad.
de Beaumont, Yicomte H. Delaborde, M. Charles Blanc, M.
de Longp^rier, M. Th^ophile Gautier, and M. Souli^, keeper
of the gallery of Versailles.

The Imperial Commission has revised its regulations con-
cerning the admission of works of art in the most liberal
spirit ; instead of requiring works to be sent in during the
month of October last, artists are to make application in
writing, giving title and description of their works, which,
when known to the juries, will be admitted or rejected
without previous displacement, the decisions to be made by
the end of the present year. Those works admitted on
written application will not have to be sent in till the 25th
February, and those which the juries desire to examine
previou^, by the 20th January. The artists are well
pleased, as they should be, with these arrangements ; the
only subject of complaint is the comparatively small amount
of space for the art productions of France during the last
eleven years. The space is certainly not too large, and the
sifting must be severe, but even the Champ de Mars will not
accommodate the whole world of art.

It must be explained that the juries mentioned above are
only for admission of works, not to award the prizes ; the
appointment of the prize juries has been deferred by decree
until the others have finished their duties.

Those who are not accustomed to large galleries will be
surprised perhaps to hear that the famous Louvre does not
contain more than two' thousand pictures; of these 560
belong to the Italian, 620 to the German and other Northern
Schools, 700 to the French, and 25 to the Spanish School.
Amongst the works of the Great Masters are 12 by Raphael,
3 only by Correggio, 18 by Titian, 13 by Paul Veronese, 9
by Leonardo da Vinci, 8 by Perugino, 22 by Bubens, as
many by Vandyk, 17 by Bembrandt, 40 by Poussin, 16 by
Claude, and 11 by Murillo.

The Baphaels will presently be increased by the appear-
ance of a picture which has gone tlirough strange vicissitudes :
the work represents John the Baptist as a boy, seated on
the trunk of a tree, with the right arm raised, and the legs
apart. The picture has been much injured and retouched,
but the face is said to be intact, and such as no one but
Baphael could paint, the drawing and expression full of
force and elegance, and the landscape superb. It was en-
graved by Val^, and is also to be found in Landon's work,
No. 324. Passavant says that it was given by Louis XVIII.
to a village church, but being injured by dampness it was
returned to the Due de Maill^, who had placed it there by
the king's orders ; after the death of the duke his heirs
found it in a loft, and knowing nothing about it, let it go
with a lot of lumber, and it was sold for fifty-nine francs to
a picture-dealer, who soon discovering the pearl he had
picked up, had it repaired, and oflfered it to the Government
for 60,000 francs ; it was, however, claimed as belonging to
the State, the dealer only receiving a sum equal to the price
he had paid for the work, and what he had expended upon
it, and restored to the Louvre — where it has actually been
lost for nearly forty years. Such is the account of the re-
covered Baphael, and it is curious enough to be true.

The Louvre has made another acquisition: an English
picture presented by a French amateur, M. Gallon, and signed
G. Ferguson, 1610 ; the first, it is said, of our School in the
gallery, though we think we remember seeing one, if not
more, by Bennington, but perhaps he is classed as a
naturalized French artist. The subject of the picture in
question is Dead Poultry and Qame ; we could have wished
something a little more classical, and yet where could the
Louvre have obtained a Beynolds or a Gainsborough ? Little
could G. Ferguson have dreamed of the honour that awaited
him and his fowls, two centuries and a half after the latter
had been made objects of art.

The great vase from Amathus, supposed to be the only
remaining relic of the famous temple dedicated to Venus,

has been placed in the gallery of Egyptian and Ninivite
antiquities ; it is an immense amphora, about six feet high
and ten feet in diameter, hewn out of a block of coarse-
grained stone, and bears strong marks of antiquity ; the
form, though imperfect, is not ungraceful, and there are
traces of ornament about the handles. As an object of art
it certainly is not remarkable, but it is very old and probably
'unique, and likely to remain so.

The Louvre is busy preparing for the Exhibition year ; the
galleries of ancient sculpture have been closed for a con-
siderable time ; the frescoes in four of the rooms, executed
by Bomanelli in 1660, are being restored by M. Baize, and
a fifth is being decorated by M. Matout and M. Biennoory.
A fine and highly decorated room in the new Louvre is being
prepared for the larger works of the old French masters,
Lebrun, Poussin, Lesueur, and others ; and the grand stair-
case, which will eventually form a principal way to the
galleries, is being constructed, but it is doubtful if this work
will be completed for the coming year. The reconstruction
of the further end of the great picture gallery, and of the rest
of the river front which connects the Louvre with theTuileriee,
is proceeding with extraordinary rapidity ; in the latter portion
will be the new Salle des Etats, in which the Sovereign meets
the members of the two legislative bodies at the opening of
each session ; and when this is finished the present salhs in
the new Louvre will be devoted to pictures. The Pavilion
de Flore^ the comer of the Tuileries on the river side, is
nearly finished, as regards the exterior, and both this and
the two faces of the new gallery adjoining are profusely
decorated with sculpture.

The sculptural work of the facade of the new Opera house
is just commenced, and this and other parts of the building
will give employment to an immense number of artists, in-
cluding some of the most eminent in France. Besides the
grand composition of the entablature, the principal facade
will be decorated with medallions of Cimarosa, Pergolese,
Bach, and Haydn ; seven busts in bronze gilt are to be placed
in buirs-eyos, Mozart occupying the central place with
Beethoven, Auber, and Bossini to the right, and Spontiui
Meyerbeer, and Hal^vy to the left ; and on the return of
the fa9ade, busts of the librettists Quinault and Scribe.
The lateral f a9ades are to receive twenty-four busts of com-
posers, commencing on the one hand with Monteverde and
ending with Verdi, and on the other beginning with Cam-
bert and closing with Adam. In the principal vestibule,
Italian, French, German, and English music are to be re-
presented by seated statues of Lulli, Bameau, Gluck, and
Handel, the latter, though bom in Germany, being, as it is
said, claimed by England as her own. Every part of the
new Opera house, avi^ble for the purpose, will be decorated
with sculpture or painting.

The new church of the Trinity is approaching completion,
and promises to be the most sumptuous of all the modem
religious edifices of Pans ; the original estimates amounted
to very nearly ^160,000. The sum set apart for the deco-
rative paintings is equal to je6,000, and that for sculpture
to Je7,680 ; the tympans of the nave and the gablets have
been painted by M. Jobb^-Duval and M. Barrias, the Lady
Chapel by MM. Emile L6vy and Delaunay, and M. Baize has
executed several works on faience slabs ; the sculpture has
been entrusted to MM. Cavelier, Maillet, Crank, and Car-
peaux, all able artists, for the four principal groups ; M.
Guillaume, member of the Academy, has executed four
statues; and two other sculptors, MM. Doublemard and
Dantan, junior, have other commissionB. Two of the most
eminent artists in stained glass, MM. Oudinot and Nicod,
are engaged on the windows. The Municipal Council
evidently intends that the new church shall be a c^-
d*(euvre.

But a stiU more important work is spoken of : the district
of the Champs Elys^ has no church of importance, and it
is said that it is under consideration to erect, near the Arc de
Triomphef a Gothic cathedral on as grand a scale as any of
the most remarkable edifices of the middle ages. This
on dit has a touch of the marvellous ; the Imperial Govern-
ment is not very likely to undertake a work which, judging
from the time the repairs of Notre Dame have taken to
execute, would scarcely be completed in the present century ;

Natiure and Art, Jamury 1. 1887.]

A£T NOTES FBOM PABIS.

besides, Qothio arohibeoture is not the forte of onr ingenioas
neighbours.

From an annoonoemenb set forth by the Academy of the
Beaux- Arts, it would appear that an important work is con-
templated in connection with the coming Exhibition. A
lady, Mademoiselle Esther Le Cl^re, has, in the name of her
late brother, who was a member of th'e Academy, founded a
prize of one thousand francs for the best architectural
project on a subject to be given by that body. The Academy
proposes, for the session of 1867, a grand Monumental
Bridge, situated in the centre of a gieat city ; the bridge to
be two hundred metres long by thirty metres wide, con-
necting an island with the two opposite quays of a river.
On the island is to be a monument in commemoration of a
Universal Exhibition of Industry connected with the bridge
by appropriate decorative elements. The competition is
confined to natives of France under thirty years of age, and
will be divided into two stages after the customary manner
here with respect to architectural designs ; sketches are to be
sent in by the 18th of the present month of December, and
on the 20th they will be exhibited pnblidy, and the members
of the architectural section of the Academy will at once
proceed to select the six designs which they think best.
The authors of these chosen designs will be required to send
in complete plans and elevations in March next, when they
will be exhibited and adjudged. The successful work is to
remain the property of the Academy, but the author is to
have the right of reproduction by photography or otherwise.
The terms set forth above can only apply to the Pont-Neuf ,
which touches, as everybody knows, the point of the old
island, the Pans of Charlemagne and Dagobert, and which
has been for many years in a very bad condition. The
project may, however, be a mere speculative one on the part
of the Academy, though the commemoration of an Industrial
Exhibition is certainly out of keeping with those classic
principles of which it deems itself the sole conservator.

The attention paid to the applications and the history of
art is quite as great as that which is devoted to the Fine
Arts pure; the collection, exhibition, and illustration of
objects of ancient art workmanship form in fact one of the
most remarkable features of the time. The City of Pacis
determined some time since to establish a museum of its own
antiquities, and, after some trouble, it has succeeded in
purchasing, for the sum of J6d6,000, a place for its reception.
The H6tel Camavalet, now the property of the City, has
much artistic and historical interest of its own ; the famous
Abb^ of Clagny, Pierre Leecot, furnished the designs, which
were carried into execution by Jean Ballaut, in the middle
of the sixteenth century; Jean Gk>ujon sculptured the
principid ornaments, most of which still exist, though not
all in situ J or quite intact, and are thoroughly worthy of the
artist. Ballaut's work was afterwards continued by the
architect Androuet du Cerceau; and in 1634 Francois
Mansard completed it, and took some curious liberties
with the arrangement of Gk>ujon's sculptures, part of
which he removed from within the vestibule to the outer
face of the building, where they still remain. The H6tel
Camavalet was not the original name of the mansion which
was buHt or rather begun by Jacques des ligneris, Seigneur
de CroaneSf and President of the Parlement of Paris; it
afterwards passed to another family, and then into the
possession of Fran^oise de la Baume, Dame de Camavalet,
But the chief historical interest is of a later date : the
Hdtel Camavalet was for many years the residence of
Madame, or to give the lady her full names and honours,
Marie de Babutin de Chantal, Marquise de S^vign^, whose
salon was the rendezvous for all the savants and wits, besides
a few of the witlings, of her time.

The mansion stands in the rue de la Culture Sainte-
Oatherine, in the old Court quarter of Francois Premier, of
which the now calm Place-Boyale was tiie fashionable
promenade, the Mall, the Court garden, the scene of the
triumphs and flirtations, the intrigues, the duels, the
insolences, and the puerilities of that gay, bedizened throng
of beautiful women and brave coxcombs that buzzed around
a monarch who was declared to be as great a hero in
pleasure as in war, and who made one grand step in social
improvement by the introduction of ladies at the royal

receptions, with the gallant saying, that " a courfc without
ladies was like a garden without roses.*'

This once royid quarter now shelters one of the most
hard-working sections of the Paris population, and here,
amid the art-workmen of the present day, will be the
repository of the chefs-d'csuvre of their ancestors. The
materials of the museum already exist in part, and accessions
will pour in rapidly ; the dty already possesses some curious
collections, ancient plans and pictures, medals and an-
tiquities, and a special bureau has been established at the
Hdtel-de-Ville for all business in any way connected with
art,, ancient and modem. The municipid authorities paid
not long since 35,000 francs for the Legras collection of
leaden medals, badges, and tokens. We shall watch the
growth 'of the Betrospective Museum of Parisian Art with
much interest.

It is said that many illustrations of ^aris Art, now in the
museum of the Hdtel Cluny, will be transferred to the Hdtel
Camavalet, and they will scarcely be missed from the former
which ove^ows with riches and increases them daily. It
has just received a very valuable legacy : M. des Mazis,
late of Mayenne, has left to the Cluny Museum a large
collection of the artistic iron-work of the sixteenth century,
including many beautiful damascened coflfers. The same
gentleman has left a fine collection of arms to the Museum
of Artillery, and a magnificent silver-gilt plateau, decorated
with enamels. M. Mazls*s museum was estimated to be
worth more than a million of francs.

The restoration of the old chateau of Saint G^ermain, and
the intention of forming there a museum of Gallo-Boman
antiquities, has already been alluded to in our columns ; and
another historical museum is about to be formed at Pierre-
fonds, the famous ruin near Compi^gne, which has been
restored by M. YioUet le Due. The latter will probably be
devoted to gallic art of the Biiddle Ages, and thus form a
continuation as it were to the museum of Saint Germain.
The magnificent collection of arms and armour belonging
to the Louvre and to the Emperor's private museum has
already been sent to Pierrefonds, and it is said that the new
galleries will be open during the Exhibition year.

A curious question connected with andent art has just
been accidentally solved. The apartments of the Palais
de Justice at Nancy have been decorated for a long period
with a number of pieces of very curious old tapestry, which,
according to local tradition, ornamented the tent of the
rash and unfortunate Duke of Burgundy, CharleS'le-
TimiroM-e^ who lost his life in the frozen lake or pool of
Saint- Jean, when besieging the capital of Lorraine ; anti- '
quarians had pretty wdl decided that rumour was a story-
teller when M. Achille Jubinal, author of a History of
Ancient Tapestry, discovered in the imperial library of Paris
a manuscript. No. 7,406, entitled : — " I>4claflration de jslu-
siewfs piices de tapisseries que quelqv,*ung veit longtemps d
Vienne ; ** in fact, a description of these very pieces of
tapestry sent to the Duke of Burgundy by his ambassador
in Austria. The subjects of two of the pieces are described
in the following quaint terms :•— Grant d^bat qvi fut jadys
en la court de la royne V4nu3^ entre Jewnesse et FieiWeMfl,"
and " Condarnvnation de Souper et de Banquet^ aur laploMite
porUe par Diner en la court de dame ExpMence" It
appears that 8upper and Banquet were both condemned to
be hanged. If tiie good people of that age found supper
bad after a mid-day meal, what would they think of the
habits of the present century P This subject is not certainly
peculiarly artistic, yet a writer named Nicole de la Ches-
neraye founded a play upon it which was performed in Paris,
before Louis XIl. The town of Nancy ought to pay civic
honours to M. Jubinal, who has thus raised their tradition
to the rank of an archssological fact.

An essay, or, to quote the title as given by the author,
" Considerations on the Principles and History of Bas-relief,"
read by M. CKiillaume, the eminent sculptor, and director of
the £cole des Beaux- Arts, at the late annual meeting of the
five Academies of the Institute, excited great interest and
has since been published by the author in the Moniteur des
Arts, The paper is long, but well repays perusal. It cannot
be said that we modems show any remarkable ability in
sculpture generally ; but perhaps there is no branch of the

ART NOTES PROM PARIS.

[Vfttnn sad AH, Jwbvsit !• UCT.

art in whioh we are ftuther in arrear of the ancients than
In bas-relief. The opinions of an artist of the experience of
M. Ghiillamne are peculiarly welcome. Bas^reUef, as M.
Goillanme says, has no type in natnre : it is a form created
by art ; bat it is a convention so natond that it has appeared
at every epoch of art, and amongst all civilised nations.
Bas-relief is essentially monumental and decorative, and can
scarcely be separated from architecture as a part of whioh it
first appeared. Its first object is decoration ; its second to
escpress facts and ideas by means of the human fig^ure. ** The
first condition," says M. Guillaume, ** is that, as ornament,
it should properly fill the space allotted to it according to
the rules of art. Setting aside the consideration of
ornament, and looking at bas-relief only as a means of
representing subjects by means of the human figrure, it must
be regarded in the li^t of an inscription. It is a style of
writing, a language which, conforming to a certain extent
to the rules of lapidary style, abridges and condenses ideas,
reduces them to the most simple form, and appeals to the
eye by the aid of instinctive or understood abstractions with
concision and clearness.''

**To be dear and concise," repeats M. Guillaume
emphatically, ** is, in short, the law of bas-relief. Everything
in the composition must, in the first place, submit to this
principle." These dicta will scarcely be questioned ; and
when we reflect how modem sculptors have misunderstood,
or how far they have diverged from, these principles, it is
not surprising how rare is good or even inoffensive bas-relief.
M. Guillaume points out the error which existed in archaic
times, when the upper part of a figure was often shown in
fuU-face, while the lower was executed in profile, and
remarks, that in the best epochs of the art the sculptor con-
fined himself almost invariably to profile. Speaking of the
conventional methods of representing some of the elements
of the design, he adds: — "Water and flame may be
Indicated by undulations; as to smoke and clouds, they
cannot be fully represented in bas-relief : the positive sjnrit
of sculpture refuses to represent the impalpable. This
applies to sculpture in genend ; but we bote the fact here,
because the accessories are more important and play a
greater part in bas-relief than in the round." M. Guillaume
insists on the rule that bas-relief should never include more
than two or three superposed planes in the composition, and
points out how the Greeks sometimes dindnished the
thickness of the figures in front in order to prevent their
shadows dimiwialiiTig the effect of the figures in the rear,
and indicates the frieze of the Parthenon as furnishing
the most admirable examples of this and other artistic
arrangements.

In dealing with the subject of light and shadow, M.
Guillaume touches on the question of coloured sculpture.
He says : — " Finally, the bright and contrasted colouring
which the ancients applied to monumental sculpture was not
intended to rival what was actually painted, but simply to
augment the clearness of the figures, and to give them a
fixedness independent of the play of light and shadow."
This view is equally a recognition of the value of colour in
bas-reliefs, and a condemnation of it in the case of isolated
statues, the conditions of which are diametrically opposed
to those of bas-relief ; the play of light and shade which
produces confusion in the conventional composition being
the glory, the harmony, the life of the statue.

The young sculptor would do well not to forget the follow-
ing simple warning : — " As bas-reliefs are executed in marble,
in stone, in terra cotta, in ivory, in metal, each of these
substances has its own exigencies and capabilities, and, so
to speak, a peculiar genius which the artist should study to
take advantage of."

"This art always," says M. Guillaume, "bears the imprint
of a certain archaic and conventional character. Its effect
is to give power and fulness to whatever it represents. In
some of the finest works of the Athenian school we find
figures whose proportions and forms are expressly made
more robust and less slender than those of statues, Lastly,

in ancient works the adherence of the subject to the back-
ground is always well maintained, the result of which is a
solidity which harmonises well with architecture, and whioh,
united with simplicity and power, gives a monumental
character to sculpture."

M. Guillaume designates the genius of the Greeks, " full
of poetry and logic," as sx)ecially calculated to make them
pre-eminent in this branch of art ; and he quotes their legend
of its invention as having a deep significance. Dibntade, a
potter of Corinth, say they, created bas-relief by placrn g
clay within a space already prepared — thus intimating that
the art proceeded fundamentally from drawing. "The
Dorian and Ionian schools, with different aspirationa, in
their turn gave it impulse ; but from the first essays to the
chefs'd^csuvre of the Parthenon, from the jutting fronton
even to the small sketches freely traced with a light point
on marble vases and funereal urns, the unintermpted
tradition of the artist was the concise deamess of the
idea, the simplicity of the plans, and the perfection of the
contours. In their hands (the Greeks') the bas-relief is a
language concise without obscurity, and of severe elegance ;
elegance, which by the manner of presenting the subject,
the luminous purity of the form, and the intelligent pre-
servation of the expression, realizes in a plastic form the
most delicate qualities of the art of speaking welL And
the sculptors thus produced exquisite works, the contem-
plation of which delights the imagination, while the study
of them will ripen our judgment."

M. Guillaume points out how the Romans failed to seize
the true principle of bas-relief, made it subservient to the
political and religious demands of the moment, applied it to
pomps and triumphs, and produced generally nothing but
showy ornaments. They ndssed the conventional sense of
the art. But M. Guillaume says, that the theory of the art
was never entirely lost, in spite of the imperfections of its
application; and the image-makers of the middle ages,
altiiough wanting the sense of beauty possessed so eminently
by the Greeks, executed bas-reliefs on true pzinoiples, but
the artists of the renaissance were so carried away by the love
of painting and the application of perspective, that sculpture
Buffered severely, and bas-reliefs grew to be nothing more
than pictures in sculpture. Deploring the failure of the
great artists of Italy and France with respect to bas-relief,
M. Guillaume pays a just tribute to Jean Gk>njon, who, by
the force of his own genius, broke through the false practice,
and " produced works which, as regards the skill in the
treatment of the plan, rival the finest productions that
Athens has bequeathed us." This is only justice to the
great sculptor, who, in an age of passion, violence, and false
taste, seemed to have possessed the gift of almost abscdute
purity and grace. It is only necessary to study one of Ms
nymphs of the Fountain of the Innocents, to see that the
sculptors since his time are at least as far inferior to him
in this respect as he was to the Athenians.

The distinctive difference between painting and sculpture
in bas-relief is well expressed in the following lines : —

" Bas-relief starts from a positive imitation of objects,
while painting depends upon the optical illusions ; so that,
if design applied to the latter is an incessant employment
of the rules of perspective, the design appropriate to bas-
relief is in its essence purely geometricaL"

In spite of the talent of the artists, the principles of bas-
relief were utterly neglected in Italy under the influence of
Bemin, and in France under that of Lebrun, and the evil
had grown to its height when accident turned back the
current into the right direction. " David, in founding his
teaching on ancient sculpture, forced back bas-relief into
the true path. About the same time the admirable works
of the School of Phidias were discovered at Athens. Still
later, Lord Elgin carried a considerable number of these to
London, and the models were multiplied by casts — ^happy
concurrdnoe of events which, by the force at once of
reason and examples, carried back bas-relief to the purest
source."

VstvM and Art, Juiiiary 1, 1887.]

BEVIEWS.

THE WINTER EXHIBITION OP THE SOCIETY OP PAINTERS

IN WATER-COLOUR.

FOOT last we noticed the Fine Art Exhibitions which had
opened their doors when we went to press. Not least
in our regard, " The Old Water-Colour Society** now daims
a few lines ; and it is pleasant to note that the old acquaint
anoe, still strong and hale, shows little, if any, of the sere
and yellow leaf. The gaps that time and secession have
made in its ranks are worthily filled np, while veterans
enough are on its master-roll to constitate alone a strong
force.

That manual power and mental grasp still abide with the
old fraternity none may donbt who scan the wild and tem-
peetnoos ** Beathridt" by Mr. John Gilbert, or the same
artist's '* Siege of Calais;*' or James Holland*8 "Uynn
Idwal,*' a magnificent drawing, in which the desolate
majesty of a mountain wilderness is felicitously conveyed
with most artistic concealment of all artifice ; or tiie younger
Coxe's " Arenig, from Lake Crwyni,** to wMoh the lover of
wild nature shall turn and return ; or E. Duncan's poetic
'* Snailholm Tower," gauntly frowning over a lonely Scottish
moor ; or Alfred Fripp's '* Buin on the Boman Campagna ;*'
or Branwhite's grand gallery work, "An Old Look" (this
olaims to be seen two or three yards off); or, again,
Duncan's "Snowdon, from Lake Llydaw," and T. M.
Bichazdson's great " Benvenue."

In the dass, again, who thus capture the eye and the
intelligence by tours d-e force must be numbered Bfr. Culling-
ford Smith, with his broadly-treated " Scene at Watendlath,"
that xnoturesque mountain village that is perched among
the Borrowdale Fells, high up above the better-known
Lodore. Mr. Alfred Newton thus arrests us by his " Cucullin
Hills," where the wrestle of the dawn with a sea-mist is
surprisingly rendered : and so, perhaps, we might go on,
until no room was left for a word about masters of another
order.

The men who more delicately weave their spells are many

in number, and withal very strong and successful. The ** High
Street of Conway," for instance, by Mr. CoUingwood Smith,
is a wondrous piece of perspective ; and in ** The Canino
Beal, Toledo," Mr. E. A. Goodall has succeeded in producing
one of the most effective bits conceivable with the fewest
lines and the thinnest washes of colour ; and with these
we may range the " Prague" of S. Bead, who has oarefidly
sketched and lightly tinted the eminently picturesque forms
seen from the Nei>omucene Bridge in that city.

The lover of nature condemned to winter amid the fogs
of Thames may here come and dream of country life among
the charming works of Mr. J. J. Jenkins, who draws his
inspirations from the many well-loved scenes at Wargrave,
Shiplake, and thereaway ; or with S. P. Jackson, who seems
to work the same ground with no less truth of feeling ; and
the "Summer Twilight" of the latter and the "Knole
Park" of the former are among the many examples of their
fascination. More sensuous — and fascinating too, in another
way — are the high-coloured, warm-toned performances of
Mr. G. H. Andrews, whose "Dort" and "St. Bennett's
Mill" are splendid examples; the dancing ripples and
glistening leaves of Naftel ; and the elegant yet forcible
figure studies of Miss QiUies and H. P. Biviere.

The fourth screen is a constellation in which shines
Birket Foster, with three studies of " Skies" and three of
" Trees,'* to praise which would to us seem almost an im-
pertinence. With him are William CaUow, Joseph Nash,
Henry Gastineau, Frederick Tayler (whose glossy-coated
steeds are the delight of the equestrian order), and the
masterly cattle-painter, Brittan Willis — an able recruit from
the ranks of the oil-painters — all in fine form. They are a
strong array ; and such favour does their elegant art now
find with the public that the comparatively few works they
offer for sale are very rapidly absorbed, to decorate the
drawing-room and the boudoir.

REVIEWS.

BecollecHons of the East, By a Subaltbbn. Day and
Son (Limited), London.

THE individual who can return from the East without
interesting reminiscences must be remarkably devoid of
imagination, or powers of observation and comparison. The
religionist will have his memories of dreamy mosques and
fanciful pagodas, sacred to the prophet of Mecca or ^e
frolicsome Krishnu. The sentiment^ist will muse over the
departed glories of marble and gem-bedizened palaces, and
I)eople them again with gorgeous Bajahs and lovely Cadime-
rian girls. The artist will meditate upon airy pinnacles and
delicate arabesques, upon picturesque groupings in bazaars,
and the thousand charming combinations in form and colour
of a life totally new to him. The naturalist will think of
all the delights afforded him by animal and vegetable king-
doms, BO different from those of his own more temperate
climate. But the recollections with which it is our present
purpose particularly to deal are those of the humorist,
returned from serving Her Majesty in British India. Ours
shall be memories of brandy-pawnee and pig-stiddng,
cricket with the thermometer at lOO*", and regimental
messes with the punkahs swaying over the tables and the
turbanned kitmutghars standing behind their perspiring
masters* chairs. We have before us, in a handsomely bound
book, well adapted to lie on a drawing-room table, a series
of excellently-executed photo-lithographs, in which a number
of striking scenes of Anglo-Indian life are represented with
delioious humour, yet with perfect fidelity. Our military
artist carries us through a succession of most amusing

episodes in a young officer's Indian career. They commence
with his arrival, when he is beset by a crowd of obsequiously
salaaming natives, who present their " characters," and be-
seech the sahib to take them into his service, volubly utter-
ing the while a thousand protestations of their punctilious
honesty and everlasting faithfulness; and they terminate
with his departure, when he hurries on board ship, pursued
by the same, insisting that their just demands upon Us purse
have not been liquidated. We have " our station," " our
bazaar," " our baud-stand,'* " pay-day," and numerous other
comical, yet artistically conceived pictures. There is the
"frightful position of Stumpkins,*' who, when out tiger-
shooting, without the old-fashioned but comparatively secure
elephant, " in a second, sees the panorama of his Ufe pass
before his bewildered brain ; " and the difficulties encountered
by Lanky, in the less perilous but still dangerous sport of
pig-sticking. We have the battalion on parade in the misty
morning, and the same on the march, their solar topeee
just visible through the clouds of dust, and a few palm-trees
towering above bayonets that glisten in the fiery sunshine.
There is always, we may observe, in these drawings an ex-
pression, ranging from the satirical to the merry, upon the
sun's countenance ; as though he was chuckling over the
torments he was inflicting upon the intruders into his
favoured domain. We have " our theatricals,** too, in which
the gentle heroine is represented by a shaven warrior ; and
" our ball,*' whereat some two or three fair ones have to
waltz by turns with about nine times their number of
languid cavaliers.

Our artist has managed to convey, with all his fun, an

COEEESPONDENCB.

[K«tax« ftad Axi, Jaanarj 1, UV.

admiiable impreBsion of the heat and aridness of India in
the hot season ; and has really depicted most vividly, con-
sidering the slightness of the dcetches, the characteristics of
the country. His faces, too, both of natives and English-
men, are wonderfully distinct and natural in their features
and expression. The solemn, wise-about-nothing sort of
aspect of the former, and the half-ennuy^, half-discontented
look of the latter, who, at the same time, do not appear by
any means incapable of enjoying life, are both aoourately
portrayed.

Bombay appears, from internal evidence of the costumes
of the natives and aspects of the scenery, to have been the
presidency in which tiiese sketches were taken. Any young
gentleman, who may be ambitious of proceeding thither as
an officer of the army, may be enabled to derive from them
a very just idea of the sports and luxuries of which he may

partake, and the dangers and discomforts to which he will
be subjected. Let him, however, beware of not balancing
the latter duly against the former, lest, after his arrival in
India, he should too late discover the life, depicted in
such softly glowing tints in the warm li^fht of Ids fancy,
to be very much too hot for him. Theae pictures are
exceedingly humorous ; but the atmosphere of a room at 90^,
even with every appliance for keeping the place cool, is no
joke ; and the mosquitoes and flies, which may be obserred,
specially in one of the sketches, buzzing aJt>ont the head of
tiie youth, as he vainly courts repose upon his oouch, ate
most irritating realities. If they be properly sitodied, and
their delineations of pain carefully considered with those
of pleasure, we do not think that these drawings, though we
pronounce them, can be said to represent the existence of an
Anglo-Indian altogether under too seductive an aspect.

NEW MtJSIO.

MESSES COCZS & CO., of New Burlington Street, have
sent us for notice three recent songs by Mr. W. T.
Wrighton, and Mr. F. Godfrey's tuneful valse ** Helena,"
about the latter of which and its capital introduction there
can be no two opinions.

Mr. Wrighton has a very enviable reputation as a com-
poser of " drawing-room " ballads. Much is implied by this
term of classification ; and the musician who can observe
the hard conditions dictated bv the pretty tyrants of modem
society, and, at the same time, produce something meri-
torious in its way, is decidedly markworthy in his genera-
tion. Mr. Wrighton does not write for posterity, and
sacrifice himself upon the unremunerative altar of high art,
but endeavours to meet the exigencies of the day by fashion-
ing ballads, which shall possess a certain charm of simple,

straightforward, unaffected melody, together with acooin-
paniments of the easiest possible description. His melodies
are generally tender and expressive, and his treatment of
them as refined as it is correct. ** They tell me I am quite
forgot ** is precisely the ballad " of the period." The
melancholy sentiment of the words (by Mrs. Evans BeD)
is fully realized in the music, and the composition (in B-
flat) is suitable for a mezzo-soprano, or even a contralto.
" Grieve not for me," a song which last season was made
popular by Madame Parepa, is in G, six-eight time. It has a
range between E and F-sharp, and is available for either
male or female voices. In ** A wearied dove " Mr. Wrighton
is not particularly original, as far as subject goes. The
modulations are smooth and pleasing, and the delightful
motive in D-minor must charm all.

COERESPONDENCE.

To the Editor of Natubb and Art.
Sib, — ^To those who are fond of natural history, the
following incident showing the fondness of animals for
music may not be unacceptable. Some, it is well known,
have the greatest detestation of it, the canine species
amongst the numbers, as our ears can too well testify to ;
but I never heard of it occurring before in a case such as I
am about to relate. Some few years since I had a hare which
I turned out in a large walled garden : it was what is usually
termed a tame hare, though wild enough when any one
entered the garden. I was amusing myself one night, as
was my wont to do, on the harmonium, which was placed by
the side of the parlour window looking into the garden.
After playing a short time, I was rather startled at
hearing a tapping at my vrindow. I stopped for a while,
and then resumed my playing ; but I had scarcely recom-
menced when a repetition of the same noise occurred. "Well,"
said I to myself, " I can't stand this ;" so I shut up the instru-
ment and sat down by the fire to read. In about half an
hour after I opened the instrument again, and had not been at
it many minutes before the same noise occurred ; so I bade
good bye to my amusement for that day. On the following
night I again commenced playing with the same result,
wondering what could be the cause of the noise and being
obliged to cease in consequence. This state of things
occurred for three or four consecutive days, when the mystery
was made apparent. I was as before playing when the
noise recommenced, and I thought I saw a movement at the
window, and looking towards it I found to my surprise that

my hare was seated on its haunches, and its two fore-feet were
resting against a pane of glass, so that the noise I heard
proceeded from its drumming against the glass witii its paws.
I can but consider that the animal was pleased with the
sounds, or why should it have been attracted so to the spot
from .which they emanated P

, As happens in most cases to pets, so was mine no ex-
ception, for it met with an untimely end. I was one Sun-
day evening playing to a dericsd friend, when we were
startled by a screech from the hare, which was making its
way evidently to the accustomed spot. I flung up the
window, calling out ** The hare, the hare ! " but my friend
and I, candles in hand, searched in vain ; so we presumed
it had escaped from the claws of the oat, which had been
alarmed by the window being thrown up. Next morning
I was dressing, when I saw pussy stealing its way ^^^^
a carrot-bed, and, as it passed up one side, the haze jumped
out on the other. I loaded my gun as promptly as possible
and went into the garden, but puss did not wait for a
warm reception. I went out for a ride, after breakfast,
and returned about one o'dock, and as I looked out of my
parlour-window I saw a cat asleep on the steps opposite,
and, opening the window gently, I shot the supposed enemy
of my musical pet. I now flattered myself that the danger
was over ; but, in my sleep that night, I thought I heard a
screech, and from that time to this I saw no more of my
hare ; for I had either shot the wrong culprit, or some other
oat, of equally epicurean taste, had carried it off— -and, no
doubt, feasted '* right royally." 0.

rebnwj 1,1887.]

^:iJ C^:^333 a:H3l ^ ^y^" j ^ ^::CiSa gsn:gIl AU ^ ^ax^^ .>

BIZZ AND HBE FOES".

By Mb8. 8. C. Hall.
IN THEEE CHAPTEBS. CHAPTER 11.

LET my coal-shed to a very
plausible^ good-for-nothing
fellow," said Mr. Hatch-
ment, " who promised
everything, and never
kept his word ; he was
an Irishman, but I do not
desire to reflect on the
country — some of my best
customers are Irish, and I
only wish I had double the number. He brought
Bizz with him ; she was a slight young thing then,
a pretty, shiny, active dog, and in time had her
second litter of pups ; he never paid his rent — I
offered to forgive it to him ; he would not resign
possession, but kept the key, though there was
nothing in the shed but a few sticks.

" I ought to have told you, ma'am, that when
first he came to the place I gave him five shillings
for the dog, but when she had pups, Mrs. H. found
her inconvenient, and so the fellow said he'd take
care of her for me in the shed. When things went
bad with him, — and I heard since that the dog
never belonged to him nohow, as the lawful owner
left her in his care, and paid a shilling a week, or
something more, for her board and lodging, — he
would go away and leave her there without food
or water. I used to thrust her in some through a
hole, but I dare not go near the door, which she
understood she was to guard ! The fellow had put
her up to all sorts of tricks.

" One evening, a pair of policemen came with a
search-warrant ; they had information that some
stolen goods were in the shed, and they set about
breaking open the door, but the poor faithful
animal, who was reduced to a skeleton, had de-
termined to withstand them to the last One of the
men wanted to shoot her, for she looked all teeth
and fire, but I would not consent, and it was a
sight how those two great men were kept at bay
by that small dog, until one of them bethought him
of a stratagem ; the hole through which I used to
push her food was close to the straw where her
pups lay, so he proposed that his companion should
withdraw a pup, and pinch it to make it cry, while
VOL. II. — IX.

the other effected the entrance, for well he knew
that the poor mother would go to her pups. He
calculated," added Hatchment, " on the strength of
her maternal feelings.

" When he got the little beast outside, he pinched
and ran with it to my house, and Bizz in full chose.
Of course the policeman turned out the other pups,
entered, and locked the door. As there were four
pups, poor Bizz had enough to do to carry them to
shelter, for two had crawled into a pool of water.

" The men did not find the goods they expected,
but I regained possession of my shed. I never saw
or heard of her master since, and the poor thing
attached herself to me, chiefly because I saved the
last of the pups from drowning. She is a wonder-
ful watch, and if Mrs. H. or I left her in charge of
our dinners, she^d die dead of starvation before she
set a tooth in anything, even sheep's heads, which
are her favourites ; but once out of the house, she
knows no law, only to take and keep what she
fancies.

** You know the best and the worse of poor Bizz
now, ma'am ; there she is, an ugly customer, but
as good a watch as ever winked at a thief. She
likes to have a yard of her own, and it's all the
better if she can't get out of it.

" Go to the lady, Bizz, and be as faithful to her
as you've been, to me ! Mrs. H. will see the loss
before the month's out in apples and oranges, and
want a dog in that time as badly as now she wants
to get rid of one ; but," he added, forgetting his
usual politeness, " that's the way with the women,
— leastways in greengrocery. She's turned as hard
against the dog as a frozen turnip ; she's shut her
eyes against the good, and opened them on the bad
wider, and forgetting past services, is the worst foe
the beast has, — worse than cats or boys. But don't
mind it, Bizz, if the lady won't have you, I'll give
you as easy a death as if you'd been a lady's lap-
dog all the days of your life."

Bizz looked up at her master's round, rubicund
face, into which he was endeavouring to impart an
expression of sentiment, as if she said in her hard,
dry way — " Don't be a fool. Hatchment," and
with another wink at me, she curled herself round

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

[NKt'in^ KuA Art, February 1, 1867.

the top of the potato-basket, while her keen eye
shone like a star above her determined tail.

" Please, ma'am, am I to send over the dog and
the potato-basket]" inquired Hatchment, as I was
leaving the shop.

Now, whenever I am undecidcQ about anything,
I fall back with the most wifely meekness upon my
superior, so I answered, " I must ask my husband,
and will let you know."

" Oh ! " said the greengrocer, while a bright smile
illuminated his good-natured face, " it's only to tell
him I'm going to drown the dog, and he'll have her,
I know that. Bizz, you're 8iu*e of a good home
now, old girl, for life."

Hatchment was right.

The following day, Bizz and her fiivourite potato-
basket were installed in the little yard, the potato-
basket in comfortable shelter, and, lest she might
escape through the coach-house or stable into the
Gloucester Koad, the communicating door was
locked, the yard being considered by cook the
weak point of our premiseee, as she pronounced it.

The manner in which cook altered, and refined,
and elongated the English language, in her desire
to be considered English^ would have been ex-
ceedingly amusing, if it had not in time, as I have
already said, quite destroyed my belief in her
veracity : that made me uncomfortable. If I used
an Irish phrase, or relieved an Irish child (she was
£w steel against a fuU-gi-own Irish pauper, but a
ragged child melted her heart), she would turn
away, muttering, " May the heavens be your bed
when the time comes 1 " or, " The Lord blesses the
dew that faUs on the young com." Tears woidd
rush into her great grey eyes, at any tale of distress
connected with Ireland. It was the time of the
cruel famine which fell upon my poor country, and
I received subscriptions, to assist in even so small
a way the good SaDtiaritans who came forwai'd
to aid their, fellow-creatures in their time of sore
need. Our servants, and the servants of many of
my friends, brought me their mites, and children,
now grown to be brave men and good women, by
rigid self-denial heaped their pennies together, and
not only gave a donation great for their small
means, but continued their half-penny or penny a
week despite all temptations, until there was no
longer need of help. Cook's donation was very
liberal, and she thus, so to say, excused it : —

** I'm sure I've no call to the country, or the
country to me, only in memory of my dear grand-
mother. I ought to do my best, for it's no rest on
my bed I'd get if I thought one of her people
wanted anything I could send ; you've no right,
ma'am dear, to be evenin' the country to me. I'd
never have come to live with an Irish lady, if I'd
a' thought she'd lay claim to me."

" Well, cook, it is very easy to remedy that now."

" Oh, don't ! I beg your honour's pardon. I did
not think you'd get that maning out of it, only I
never could bear any one to take me for Irish, just
out of my grandmother."

I do not think that Bizz enjoyed the security
and tranqxiillity of her new quarters half as much

as her more active life at the comer of Steward's
Grove. Not that she was forgotten by her foes ;
the greengrocer and butcher boys seldom passed
the yard gate without drawing a stick across it,
in, a manner peculiar to boys, accompanied by
" Hallo, Bizz, old girl ! how's your sheep's head?"
or, "Bizz, my beauty, how's your eye?" This
Bizz found very hard to endure, and I have seen
her tearing the wood of the gate with her sharp,
strong teeth, anxious to revenge the cruel insult
The cats, too, found her out, and would sit on the
wall aggravating her, so that cook had to spend a
considerable portion of her time in dislodging them.
Bizz and cook used to hold confidential communi-
cations together, in cooing sort* of •whispers, and in
what was an unknown tongue to all but me, who
observed that whenever cook murmured to Bizz
" Thui-um pogue," the animal would stand on its
hind legs, and endeavour to lick her face or hands.
I spell the words perhaps not correctly, but as it is
pronounced. " Thurum pogue " means in Irish
" Give me a kiss." I would have asked in the
most direct manner if Bizz was Irish bom, but I
knew cook would deny it, and the manner in which
the dog pricked her ears at an Irish voice, and
screamed and jumped with delight when a passing
organ (patronized slyly by cook,) ground out " St
Patrick's Day," told a tale poor cook would not
have liked to telL Dogs ai*e frequently afiected by
particular tunes. I have one of the beautiful dogs
of Malta, who, after washing, looks like a heap
of snow-flakes, and this creature, by name Tiny,
recognises " God Save the Queen " with determined
loyalty, joining in, if not in excellent tune, certainly
in good time ; she takes no notice of other music.
Even so did " St. Patrick's Day " excite the patiiot-
ism of " Bizz, the baste." Indeed, I once caught
cook dancing a jig to this very tune, which she
whistled sotto voce, to Bizz, snapping her fingers,
" covering the buckle," " heeling and toeing " it, to
perfection, while Bizz capered on her hnid legs
opposite to her, changing sides with marvellous
dexterity. The other servants were out for a
holiday, and cook thought I was in the green-house.
She had brought Bizz in to tea, and after tea,
doubtless wished for a little national exercise. It
was a scene never to be forgotten, paiticularly the
conclusion, when Bizz sprang from off the ground
into cook's arms, and they hugged each other with
every demonstration of affection. Bizz winked,
and absolutely moved her tail in a near approach
to a wag, and then ther§ was such " cooing " and
whining, and "cushla machreeing," as I never
heard before !

After this, I felt that Bizz and cook were united
by the memory of some early companionship or
affection, which was kept a profound secret from
me, though I half suspected it was known in a
degree to Hatchment.

Certainly the dog was a character. At first, she
licked her lips at the Italian greyhounds, as she
used to do at the cats, and they, pretty things !
arched their necks and tossed their heads disdain-
fully, as they passed the trellised gate, which,

Mfttnrt and Art. FcUrnary 1, 1867.]

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

though it prevented any assault, did not prevent
their eyeing each other ; but in a short time Bizz
understood that they belonged to the premisees, and
took them under her protection, a guardianship
particularly ignored by Ninon, who believed she
could protect herself. Folly was a desperate little
fool. I only wonder now she passed through life at
all : she was always getting into difficulties. One
day she sprang into th^ dripping-jmn, and scalded
her pretty feet with the hot grease ; another time
she ran up the steps, and jumped into the water-
butt, where she would have been drowned but for

maclireey or avoumeen, she was on her hind legs in
a moment, her rough nose thi-ust through the bars
of the garden gate, and her red tongue extended to
its full length, in the endeavour to lick my hand.
If I went still farther, and sang a few bars of " St.
Patrick's Day," her queer face shrivelled up into a
grin, and she dodged about on her hind legs,
evidently expecting me to do the same ; until *
doubtless offended at my declining her as a partner
in a jig, she would drop down suddenly, and shrink
back to her refuge in the potato-basket. Despite
her confinement, I really think this would have

'Bizz, who, having seen the accident through her
trellise, got up a tremendous outcry, and when cook
o])ened the gate to ascertain the cause, made a rush
up the steps, dashed right into the butt, and effected
an immediate rescue. Of course cook made «the
most of that piece of sagacity. Had it not been for
Folly's delicate and exceeding beauty, I could not
have tolerated her stupidity and absurdity as long
as I did ; but beauty cannot make a long stand
against real disadvantages ; she was a most helpless
anxiety, and was totally devoid of affection. I
gave her away at last to a person who already
possessed two pugs, a skye, a Kussian poodle, and
a huge mongrel Newfoundland. I forget he» name,
but I remember she was always called " the dog
lady," and very fond she was of Folly.

The untiring watchfiUness and sagacity of Bizz
interested us more and more : she declined our
caresses, and was quite independent of sympathy,
but whenever I whispered Thurum pogus, or cualda

been the most tranquil time of Bizz'g life, if she had
not been roused and irritated by the boys in the
road and the cats on the stable-tiles; they tor-
mented her terribly, and did so with impunity, aa
she could not get at them : she was well-fed, and
many a time during the day, and especially in the
twilight, cook stole into the yard, to hold converse
with her favourite.

So matters continued : until one morning as I
was passing from the front to the back garden, a
rough voice from the road called out without
ceremony or introduction, —

" My lady, that's my dog 1 "

I went to the gate, and aaked the man if he had
spoken to me. The reply was : —

" Ay, indeed, my lady, — the dog in your yard is
roy dog, — I know her by her uncums woke ; there
isn't such another all over the world ; and by the
same token her name is Bizz."

I replied that the dog was ours ; it was given to
d2

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

[Xatarc and Ait, Februarr 1< 1867.

ufl l)y our greengrocer Hatchment, who had a light ,
to dispose of her as he pleased. i

The man sturdily persisted "that tlie ^ baste' l
was his, and he*d have it, if there was law or i
justice to be had in England," and he placed his
hand resolutely on the gate, which, as usual, w^as
locked inside.

I told him he should not have the dog unless he
proved his right to it ; — just as I said so, cook, who
had only heard ray voice and only seen a rabbit-skin
cap al)ove the rails, came from the kitchen, straight
to the gate. Instantly, an exceedingly rough and
dirty hand was thrust through the bars, exposing
also a thick and bony wrist, accompanied by a shout
so loud, that all the dogs barked, the toll-man*s
magpie chattered, and the toll-man poked his head
out of his sentry-box.

After a variety of ejaculations the voice sub-
sided into woixis, — " Oh, Molly O^Gorman, and is it
yourself that's in it 1 Molly, won't you give me a
shake of the hand for the sake of old times, —
though you did cast me off, and never thought it
worth your while to inquire whether I was dead or
alive. Oh, Molly dear, have you forgotten the
babby-house I built you, in the grip of the dry
ditch 1 — and the magpie I reared for you, that stole
the priest's spectacles] — and the *hide-andseek,'
and * blind man's buff,' and the *jig' we used to
dance in tlie sweet summer evenings, on the fair
green of Ballynatrent " (oh, cook ! cook ! !). " And
didn't your mother send you that very puppy Bizz i
— when I was so broken-hearted that I thought I ,
must follow you to England : and it's cruel hard i
you were, Molly my jewel, — and I that carried that I
pup that your mother sent you, I may say inside my ,
skin, I took such care of it ! Maybe it's the I
English air that's taken the sight out of your eyes, [
and the hearing out of your ears, and turned the |
tongue in your head, and the heart in your bosom,
into cowld stone, so that you ivon't see or hear or |
spake to the wild bird of your own mountain. .
Didn't I train that haste into all sorts of tricks, —
and the time you broke your leg, what amusement i
had ye 1 Only the dog. And if I made a high-
wayman of myself, and if I did lose my chaiucter, I
— oh, Molly, it was you that did it, for you wouldn't I
spake the word that would save me, and yoii know, '
that at Ballynatrent, when you turned first against 1
me, no one could say a thing to my disadvantage, I
that might not be said against twenty others, as
well as myself, — and there you stand now, as stiff i
as the round tower on the Rock of Cash el, without
a smile on your lip, or a tear in your eye, or a * save
you kindly,' to a poor craythur, who," — and then
followed a recapitulation of the same story of their
early knowledge of each other, mingled with pro-
testations of regard, and the fact of his bringing
Bizz over, a present from her mother, ** under his
skin," for "safety."

To this cook listened with forced calmness : the
shame that she should stand before me a ceiiiified
Irishwoman, after all her protestations to the
contrary, overwhelmed her: then her pride re-
ceived a terrible shock by such a ragged dis-

reputable looking fellow having been at any time
her friend and neighbour. I withdrew a little way
from the storm that I fancied was brewing (for I had
never noted patience or forbearance among cook's
virtues), observing in an undertone that " she had
better speak to her friend inside, than outside the
house, for that the tollman and his magpie were
listening to all that passed." But the poor woman
was quite crushed. In a moment she was on her
knees at my side, clinging to my dress, and
struggling for words : at last she inanaged to
say : —

"Send him away, oh, mistress dear, send him
away. I wouldn't let the door of your house be
darkened with the likes of him : oh, you don't
know the pisoned drop that's in him — I'll give
him my quarter's wages, ma'am, if he'll take an
oath to the priest not to come near me, only don't
let him have the dog my poor mother sent me : it's
thrue he brought it, but it never was his, as I'd
prove in a law court, rather than let him have her,
though I'd die alive with the shame to own him for
my countryman, or to let on before the English that
I'm Irish, and he to the fore ! Oh, lady dear, save
me from the liar's shame, and don't let him have
the dog. She's dead now, my poor mother, ma'am,
and that dog is the only thing belonging to her I
can look at or touch. I know his wickedness ; as
I'll have nothing to say to him, he'd murder the dog
before my eyes ; he tried it once, and that's the way
her lip was split. She took care of his shed,
because it was in her charge, but she hated him,
and was under no compliment to him in life, for I
paid for her board and lodging, though it's little I
had to pay it with. Send him away, ma'am dear,
only don't, don't let him have Bizz."

I said, " For all this I am sorry, but what proof
have I that you are telling truth now ] "

She looked earnestly in my face, and the words
came trembling from her lips, — " I never told you
but the one black lie, denying my country, and sure
you didn't believe me, and what hurt was it to you 1"

" Not to me, Mary, but to you ; it prevented my
believing in you."

" Believing in me ! " she repeated, more than
once : that was perhaps the first moment she felt
the injuiy untruth does the untruthful. " And it
was out of my denying my country, you got to
doubt what I said 1"

" Certainly."

" See that ! It was he that made me ashamed of
the country, and made me turn my tongue to speak
fine English ! Maybe you won't believe what a
villain he is, because I say it ; but oh, ma'am dear,
if you'd take the stick from him, and let Bizz at him,
you'd see what she thinks of him, and slie never told
a lie in Iher whole life I "

Then slowly rising she added, " But believe me
or not, if he ever enters under the roof where I am,
or touches that dog, which you sheltered, though it's
my dog, I'll make a convict of myself." After
expressing this determination she walked into the
house, regardless alike of the man's entreaties and
reproaches.

Natur* mid Art. Fahnuarj 1. 1887 )

BIZZ AND HEE FOES.

I told Lim in a few words that he miist leave the
gate, as it was evident ray servant would hold no
communication with him, and that from his own
showing the dog was not his, but hers.

This seemed to him a new reading of his claim,
" Maybe I deserve her to seal her lips against me,
my lady, but it's hard, so it is. We war neighbour's
cluldren close to the fair green of Ballynatrent, and
I wish I had never left it : if she would only say
* J forgive, and God bless you ! ' but she was
always mighty high in herself, and would make no
more allowance for a boy like meeself, than she
would for a girl who has the grace of God in her
heart an' her eyes from her cradle to her gi-ave.
Oh, lady, if you'd undertake my cause, I'd lave
you to be judge and jury, and abide by yer law,
and that would be the first law I ever stood to,
you see, if your honour knew the rights."

I do not think I mentioned that Bizz, doubtless
from her Celtic blood, had an intense hatred, not
to one individual, but to the whole police force ;
despite the eight-foot wall that shut her in, she
knew the step of a policeman the moment it crossed
the road, and saluted the sound with a shrill, short,
whistling sort of bark, different from her usual
warnings ; just as poor Eabbitskin uttered the
words, "if your honour knew the rights," Bizz
gave tongue, sent forth her police bai'k, and the
erect form of our government protector turned the
comer of the Gloucester Eoad. In an instant, the
man started from the gate, and rushed off to the
right, while the policeman advanced more rapidly
than usual from the left.

He paused at the gate. " I beg your jmrdon,
Madam, but was that man begging ] "

" No, he was not."

" He's just out after his last three months ; but
we've all our eyes on him."

I thought within myself, that if Mary had heai'd
the policeman confess that the eyes of the whole
force were on her " playfellow of the fair green of
Ballynatrent," it would rouse her sympathy far more
than his eloquence. She thoroughly sympathized
with Bizz in her dislike of the " peelers."

That evening, the housemaid told me cook was
not well, she had gone to bed, but would not say
what was the matter with her.

I found her door fiEistened on the inside, but she
" hoped I would forgive her for shutting herself in,
she would be all right in the morning."

I went to the yard, and invited Bizz to come
and see cook ; she pondered over the invitation for
a minute, then winked, and followed me upstairs
with much gravity, sniffed and scratched at the
door, and was at once admitted. The usual
" cooing " and " cushla machroeing " did not follow,
but I heard heavy and bitter sobs, and more than
one sympathetic whine from the poor dog.

I was sorely perplexed between the real regard
I entertained for Mary, and the fact that her
residence having been discovered by this good-for-
nothing man, it would be painful to her, and
perhaps dangerous to us, if she remained in our
service. I knew her pride, and the sensibility

which is its invariable accompaniment. I believed
she was sincerely attached to us, as Irish servants
so frequently are to their employei-s. For some
time she did not quite harmonize with the other
servants, nor they with her, but that had died out.
Though Mary denied her country, she never denied
her creed, and I believe never missed an opportunity
of standing up bravely for the Pope. My dear
mother's maid (according to Mary) was a " black
Protestant," and certainly alie lost no opportunity
of boasting that she went over to Ireland with the
great and good King "William, who "saved the
country from popery, slavery, and wooden shoes ;"
?ier prime favouiite among the animals was Ninon,
who, by an ingenious sleight of hand, when asked
to drink a cup of milk to " Dan O'Connell's health,"
turned away her beautiful head, and refused to
lap ; but when asked to drink the health of " King
"William," drank it with a will, and a joyous
wagging of her delicate tail. There were two fjMS-
tions in the kitchen, but that of the cook was the
most difficult to comprehend, for while she dis-

' claimed her country she did battle for the Pope.

I At one time the war waxed so fast and furious,

I that I found Ninon decked in orange ribbons, and

' the kitchen cat (it was before Bizz's arrival) in-
convenienced by a huge bow of green ribbon. I
threw both emblems into the fire, and declared that

I if there were any more party-quarrels, both servants

; should be discharged, a decision which I found gave
the English housemaid great satLsCaction.

I But this new difficulty was fer more perplex-
ing, and after half-an-hour's mental weighing and
measuring, I could only arrive at one conclusion,
and that gave me a great deal of pain. Just as I
was again weighing for and against, cook asked
permission to come in, Bizz followed her, and curled
herself round at the feet of her legitimate mistress.
Mary looked shy and distressed, as she had never

, looked before, and was painfully at a loss for words ;

j at length she said, —

" Your kind feeling for me, last night, mistress,
has saved the life of Bizz. That bom villain threw

I poison^ food over the wall to the poor innocent

I dog, out of revenge on me, because I would not

I spake to him : the mean, cowardly spalpeen, to turn

, on the dumb innocent."

' I was greatly shocked, and asked for proof.

I She stated that one cat, who had been prowling
in the yard, was dead, and another poor animal
dying ; she had herself taken a bone to the chemist's,

I and he said it was powdered with poison.

I The act was so un-Irish, that I was slow to
believe Rabbit-skin had been guilty of such coward-
ice and treachery. I told her so.

" May the Lord help your innocence ! " she ejacu-
lated ; " but the nature of him ever and always
was to go through fire and water for revenge. I
know him to my sorrow, an' so I ought,-^he's my
husband ! "

I could not help repeating the word " husband ! "

" Not all out," she added, " though we war* book

sworn to each other, an' we little more than childi-en ;

but just as I would have kep' my word to him it

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

[Vatar* and Alt, FebmuytlSr.

was the Lord's mercy that saved me. Sure I found
he had another wife, a poor motherless girl, that he
won to go to the priest with him, in less than six
weeks after she first saw him ! — more fool she, and
she with a tidy trifle of money ! "

" Then he has a real, living wife, Mary 1 "

" If yon please, ma'am, he has not.'*

" Why, you said just now, he had."

" Had isn't has, ma'am ; she's dead, happy for
her ! it is the readiest way to get rid of a black-
guard like that ! She sent for me to ask my pardon
just before she was called. * For what 1 ' 1 says.

" * For taking Mike from you,' she says, quite
natural, * who had the best right to him.'

" * Don't mention it,' I says, * you did me the
greatest kindness in life.'

" * But you'll have him now,' she says, * and you'll
be a far better wife than I have ever been,' she says.

that did the work to be buried with him, that lie
might have it handy when he met her in the next
world ! But what I'm wanting to say is this— I
must lave you."

There was a long pause ; rivers of tears ruahed
from those great, grey eyes, and that dear, ugly dog
stood on its hind leg^ gasdng into her face with
mute agony, until, at last, the woman sank down
beside it, and laying her face against the dog,
wept long and bitterly.

** I oould not stand the place," she said ; " why,
this very morning, when I was washing the steps,
the tollman's magpie kep* on screaming, 'Good-
morrow, Paddy.'"

I reminded her that the bird had done so these
two years.

" But I couldn't bear it now ; moreover, I know
that man will be hung, and I've had

the poor, misguided cray thur, who was a born slave
to him, the dirty tyrant. So I knelt by her side,
where there ought to have been a bed, and I swore
to her that I never would have hand, act, or part
in him, and with that a smile came like light over
h^r poor, white face, and her eyes shone for a
moment with a joy past telling.

" * Then,' she whispered, and they war her last
words, * then you won't come betwixt us in the
next world.' As if she had not had enough of him
in this ! Oh ! then, it put me in mind, though I
don't know why, of * Sim of the Stick,' as we called
him, who beat his wife regular every week for forty
years, and when he was dying ordered the shillala

enough out of him already. He'd never rest, either,
till he had the dog's life or mine ! He'd think as
little of taking one as the other ; sure, I know.
So, ma'am dear, a cousin of my own sails with his
family from Liverpool to Melbourne next week,
and I and my dog will go with them ; the bad thing
is, leaving you unprovided, but you have only to
hould up your finger, and you'll have loads of cooks.
1 couldn't live here, and you knowing what you
do about me ! And every time the dog barked,
or the bell rang, the terror of liim would come over
my heart, and I'd be like in a fog, or a dead woman,
all out, and no heart in my work ; not all as onea^
I used to be when I knew he was safe in prison ;

MatiiN and Art. February 1, 1887.1

A BUNCH OF FIE CONES.

sure, I'd do ndthing but watch for a ring of the
bell day and night, and afeared to answer it ; and
not able to let the dog out of my sight, for if he
wasn't hung for me, he'd be transported for her.
I knew well how you hated black lies, but Pcom-
mitted no felsity about Bizz. I told the bare truth
about her ; the yard did want a watch, and she's
as true as fire to flint. If you'd ask me was she
my dog, I'd have said — I think I'd have said the
truth ; or, maybe I'd have thought it only a white
lie. Oh, yes, I know what you're going to say,
that no lie can be white. But God bless you,
ma'am, dear, for the shelter you gave her ! and I
hope the Lord and your honour will forgive me,
and may the power above keep all young craythurs
from even the ahadda of a bad man, for the very
shadda stains the snow it rests on. I've seen the
rose in June wither away from a blast, and drop
leaf by lea^ until nothing was left, but the poor
mouldy heart : but that's nothin' to the blight of
the young living soul. Wasn't I ashamed to think
that man and I war made out of the same sod,
neighbours' children, with only one potato-garden
betwixt us?"

"Then, it was not that you were ashamed of
your country, Mary, that made you deny it, only
you were ashamed of your countryman ! "

Her face was illuminated in a moment, and she
sprang from the ground where Bizz and she had
crouched together.

" That's it— God bless you— that's just it."

And then she recapitulated again, glancing at
me occasionally, and saying, — "But maybe ye don't
believe me, maybe it's thinking of the lies I tould.
you are."

Mary volunteered to make a " clean breast," but
I saw it was impossible : like iis all, in the hidden
recesses of her poor heart, something was stowed
away, known only to her own thoughts, that refused
to come forth. She stumbled in her disclosures,
though I asked no questions, but listened to what
was told, wondering at the contradictions even in
her nature, and seeing amid the chaos, how her
devotion to her mother's memory strengthened all
that was good within her.

The day soon came for her departure. Bizz's
foes pursued her to the last ; the morning she left,
she did battle with a fierce cat, which so irritated
her temper, that for some time it was impossible to
get her into a cab, while the magpie kept croaking,
" Poor Paddy, poor Paddy ! "

At last, Bizz, encircled by her friend's arms,
drove off, bestowing on me one of her most em-
phatic winks, while her lip trembled.

A BUNCH OF FIR CONES.

By W. B. LoBD, Eoyal Artillery.

WHAT say you to being my companion in an
expedition to the fragi-ant pine forests,
where the fir noodles strew the ground, and form a
soft brown carpet, over which we noiselessly wend
our way ] Solemn stillness reigns amongst the tall
straight columns, as in some vast cathedral, and
save when some passing gust sings and whistles
amongst the feathery foliage, or a chance group of
busy cross-bills are encountered, twittering and
chirping contentedly to themselves, as they hang
parrot-like amongst the branches, and wrench forth
the sweet seed from the scale-coated fir-fruit, few
sounds disturb the meditations of the explorer.
We will, therefore — should you feel so disposed —
ramble on together, gossip as we go, and gather
such bits and scraps of pine lore as good fortune
may cast in our path, and, like our cheerful merry
little friends, the cross-bills, glean oiu* harvest
amongst the cones. Few trees of the forest are
more graceful in form, generally useful, or of more
extensive i*ange than the Larch. The Bomans
appear to have extensively availed themselves of
their forest discoveries, and the larches found by
them during the German wars were felled and sent
from the Alps vid the river Po to Home, for the
use of the builders. Pliny, in speaking of the
Lai-ch, says, " This tree is the best of the kind that
bears rosin. It rots not, but endures a long time."
The high estimation in which this description of
timber was held by him was not undeserved, for it

is related that the huge floating palace built by the
Emperor Trajan, as a summer residence on the
watei-s of Lake Nerni, was constructed of larch and
cypress, sheathed with lead, fastened with copper
nails, doubly planked, and the seams caulked with
linen rags, payed over with Greek pitch (asphaltum).
On being raised from the bottom of the lake, this
curious structure was found to be comparatively
sound after 1,400 years' immersion. Tiberius
caused the naumachiarian bridge built by
Augustus, and afterwards destroyed by fire, to be
reconstructed with larch planks obtained from
BhjBtia. Amongst the timber brought from thence,
was one trunk of 120 feet in length, which is said
to have excited the admiration of all Rome. The
painters of very early ages (in fact from the
period at wliich Pliny wrote, to the time of Raphael)
intrusted their most costly works to the wood of
the Larch, which by the great Roman naturalist is
entitled immoi'tale lignum, Wrileking, too, in his
justly celebrated work on the construction of
bridges, says that the Larch is preferable to the Pine,
the Pineaster, or the Fir, for constructing the arches
of wooden bridges.

Switzerland abounds in larch woods, and nearly
all the picturesque chdlete, fairy bridges, and hanging
galleries, over chasms where the raging torrents
lose themselves in foam and mist, are constructed
of the tough and trusty Larch. The wooden walls
of old England, too, of which we are all so justly

A BUNCH OF FIE CONES.

[Xatnn tad AH. Febrowy 1. 18C7.

proud, were not, even before the days of iron inno-
vation, entirely " hearts of oak," for we learn that
in the year 1809, larch timber, grown by his Grace
the Duke of Athol, was first used for the British
navy in building at Woolwich Dock- yard the
Serapis store-ship, the SibyUe frigate, the bottom
of a lighter, and for piles driven into the mud,
alternately wet and dry ; and in all the various
situations proved a strong durable timber. We
find it recoi-ded that the AtJiol^ of twenly-eight
guns, was also built entirely of larch, of the same
growth, whilst the Niemen, a ship constructed at
the same time, was built of timber from Biga. At
the expiration of their first course of service, both
vessels were officially examined, when the Niemen
was found so much decayed as to be condemned
forthwith, the Athol was re- commissioned, completed
her second term of service, pronounced sound, and
made a store-ship of, when, for a period of more
than thirty years she was subjected to the wear
and tear of almost every climate.

The Dukes of Athol paid great attention to the
cultivation of the Larch, planting it on the rugged
slopes and moimtain-sides, where land was well
nigh valueless. Some idea may be formed of the
unwearied industry devoted by them to larch cul-
ture when the reader learns that 14,096,719 young
trees were planted in the neighbourhood of Blair
Athol and Dunkeld, covering a space amounting to
10,324 imperial acres. The trees grew rapidly,
and one felled at 95 years of age was 100 feet high,
10 feet 6 J inches round the trunk at ^yq feet from
the ground, and contained 368 cubic feet of timber.
The Duke who first turned his attention to fir-
culture did well for those who were to foDow, and
sowed the seeds of a golden crop. The value of
these vast plantations has been roughly estimated
at £6,500,000, without taking into consideration
the value of the thinnings, which would be rather
over £7 per acre. His Grace was buried in a
coflin made from one of the trees he loved so well.
That selected for the purpose was of stalwart
growth, measured 106 feet in length, and was
stout in proportion.

Although the Larch is now. so extensively culti-
vated in the British islands, it is not an indigenous
tree. The fir^t mention we have of its growth in
England is made by Parkinson in 1629, who speaks
of it as a rarity.

Evelyn, writing in 1 664, mentions a larch tree
of "goodly stature," growing at Chelmsford in
E^ex, but evidently considers it an uncommon
tree. Ben Jonson thus notices it : —

" Yes, I have brought to help your vows,
Homed poppy, cypress boughs,
The fig-tree wild that grows on tombs,
And juice that from the larch-tree comes."

The substance known as Venice turpentine is
procured by tapping the larch-trees, and many
parts of France, especially in the Brian^onnais,
the Valois, and the Pays de Vand, yield it in con-
siderable quantities. Large augers are used with
which to perforate the trees. The holes usually
commence about three feet from the ground, and

reach as high up the trunk as from twelvts to
thirteen feet Into these holes small wooden
spouts are fixed, through which the liquid resin
flows into 4ittle vessels conveniently placed to
receive it. The south side of the tree is supposed
to yield better than those exposed to the other
points of the compass. Ovid thus writes of the
resinous firs : —

'* The new-made trees in tears of amber run,
Which harden into value by the sun.*'

And we are also informed that when Tiberius
CiBsar built his " Naumachia," or aquatic amphi-
theatre for exhibiting a naval, action aa a public
spectacle, an enormous larch was brought to Rome,
which measured 120 feet in length, and 2 feet in
diameter at the smallest end. It is said that tlie
Emperor was so much delighted with the beauty of
the tree that he would not permit it to be used,
but retained it as an object for public admiration.
Nero, however, took a more utilitarian view of
things, and when about to erect an amphitheatre
for himself, had it cut up for the purpose.

The Forum on which Augustus sat was com-
posed of larch, as were many of the Roman bridges
in his day.

Our friends the Russians are so conservative in
the matter of larch timber, that its exportation is
prohibited. Oak you may have by paying for it ;
but larch is a government monopoly, not to be
lightly parted with. The consumption of American
pine in this countiy is enormous, and serves to
impart a most valuable impetus to the commerce
of the British American colonies and the United
States. The lumber trade, as it is called, is a vastly-
important one ; and the lumberers, or woodmen by
whom the trees are felled, hewn into form, launch^
on the rivers and sped on their way to the port of
shipment, are just as peculiar in their habits and
customs as soldiers, sailors, or railway navvies.
Bands of them are assembled in the autumn
months, and regular expeditions organized. Oxen,
horses, axes, provisions, and, in fiact, every requisite
for the coming campaign, is provided, and trans-
ported up the larger streams, either in canoes or
boats. Fodder for the cattle is collected on the
way, being purchased from such settlers as may-
have it to dispose o£ On the chosen locality being
reached, the band, under a selected leader, proceed
at once to hut themselves, and erect a cooking
shanty and sheds for the cattle. Bark, poles, and
fir-branches are made available for constructing
these rude dwellings and the stores for their
necessaries.

Three separate labour-parties, or gangs, are
usually organized. One, with the dexterity only
possessed by backwoodsmen, fell the trees, sending
the white chips flying, and bringing the growth of
ages crashing to the earth : —

** Sharply sounds the ringing axe
Far through forest glade and fell ;
Sadly tolls the wood-king's doom —

- Forest monarch's passing bell."

Others lop off the branches and hew the logs into

Vftian «nl Art, Febrvary 1, 1887.

A BUNCH OP FIE CONES.

form for transport ; whilst a third party, with the
assistance of the teams, draw them to the nearest
river or stream,, where they remain until the break-
up of the ice in the spring. This usually takes
place about the month of April. The huge logs
are now thrust forth into the current, and kept
moving onwai*d by re-launching them when
stranded. Each tributary rivulet serves to con-
tribute its quota of floating tree-trunks to the
mighty rivers flowing onwards to the sea. Down
these, vast rafts are conducted by the hardy crews
who know full well how to manage them ; men
whose home is in the wild pine woods, and to whom
the rushing rapid, the giddy whirlpool, and the
driffc-laden flood are as high roads and turnpikes.
The port of shipment being reached, the labours of
the lumber-man are ended, and his hard-earned
wages due. These, like a sailor's prize-money, are
too often scattered heedlessly, when an empty
pocket and the opening lumber season send him
back to the wilderness again. There are numbers
of the cone-bearing family which, although l)eautiful
and most interesting, can by us, during this ramble
at least, be but the subjects of a passing glance.
Pineasters, Spruces, White and Black Hemlocks,
and Balsam Pines, from which the far-famed
Canada balsam is procured, — all these shall we
pass on our journey. We cannot stay to taste the
spruce beer, see the young twigs boiled and fer-
mented with maple sugar, watch the Indians stitch
their bark canoes with the tough roots, linger over
turpentine, or prepare pitch ; we are ojily wayfarers
among the trees, so must travel onwards, and see
what is noteworthy about Cedars. Those of
Lebanon have frequent notice in the Bible, and
high value appears to have been set on them by the
ancients. Both Pliny and Viti-uvius speak of the
use of cedar resin in the treatment of papyrus and
the embalming of Egyptian mummies. Diodorus
Siculus informs us that Sesostris the Great, king
of Egypt, built a vessel of cedar, 280 cubits long,
which was covered with gold both within and with-
out. The largest cedar mentioned in ancient
history is that which was used to make a galley
from for King Demetiius, which was propelled by
eleven ranks of oars. Its length was 130 feet, and
its thickness 18 feet. The question has been raised
as to whether it might not have been an evergreen
cypress, but the Cedar appears to have been too
well known to admit of the error. Amongst other
freaks of a luxurious fancy, we find that the Emperor
Caligula had constructed from cedar- wood certain
magnificent vessels, which he called Libumian ships.
The poops of these were decorated and enriched
with gems and precious stones, the sails were of
different colours, and the interiors were most
sumptuously fitted up with baths and banquet-
rooms, in which were splendid paintings and carved
work. One of the first writers of travels who gives
any description of Mount Lebanon and its cedars
is Belon, who visited Syria about the year 1550.

Thus he writes : — " About sixteen miles from
Tripoli, a city in Syria, at a considerable height up
the mountain, the traveller arrives at the monastery

of the Virgin Mary, which is situated in a valley.
Thence, proceeding four miles further up the moun*
tain, he will arrive at the Cedars; the Marpnites,
or the monks, acting as guides. The Cedars stand
in a valley and not at the top of the moimtain,
and they are supposed to be twenty-eight in number,
though it is difficult to count them, they being
distant from each other a few paces. These the
Archbishop of Damascus has endeavoured to prove
to be the same that Solomon planted with his own
hands in the quincimx manner as they now stand.
No other tree grows in the valley in which they are
situated, and it is generally so covered with snow
as to be only accessible in the summer."

In Solomon's day Mount Lebanon must have
possessed immense forests of cedar, for when he
rebuilt the temple of Jerusalem, we find that he
obtained permission from Hiram, king of Tyre, to
cut down the Cedar and Fir necessary from Mount
Lebanon, and that for this purpose he sent four
score thousand hewers to cut down the trees. We
also read that there was a palace built by Solomon,
which was called the House of the Forest bf
Lebanon, from the great quantity of cedar used in
its construction. He is said to have paid to Hiram
twenty thousand measures of wheat and twenty
measures of pure oil annually while the work was
in progress, and when it was completed he ceded
to him twenty villages in Galilee. Churchill thus
writes of the Pride of Lebanon : —

'^ The codar, whose top motes the highest cloud,
Whilst his old fatlier Lebanon grows proud
Of such a child, and his vast body laid
Out many a mile, enjoys the filial shade."

There appears some doubt as to the exact period
at which the Cedar was first introduced into this coun-
try, and also to whom the honour of first producing
the plant from seed is due. Lord Holland writes
his opinion that it was first introduced by his
ancestor, Sir Stephen Fox ; but the weight of evi-
dence collected from old records and MSS. is
decidedly in favour of Evelyn being the first who
raised young cedar plants from cone-seed in Eng-
land. He says, in his curious work on trees, that
" the Cedar is a beautiful and stately tree, clad in
perj>etual verdure ; that it grows, even where the
snow lies, as I am told, almost half the year; for so
it does on the mountains of Libanus,^am wlience
I have received cones and seed of those few remain-
ing trees. Why then should it not thrive in old
Pnglandl I know not, save for want of industry
and trial." That he succeeded in raising his young
plants, the following extract from a letter written
by him to the Royal Society, dated Sayes Court,
Deptford, April 16, 1684, will go far to prove.
" As to exotics," writes he (referring to the severe
winter which had just passed), " my cedars I think
are deady It is highly probable that they did not
die, and that the celebrated Enfield cedar came
from him about that time as a seedling. The Cedar
was not introduced in Finance imtil the year 1734,
when Bernard de Jussieu, who had been visiting
friends in England, took two young plants home
with him safely curled up in his hat. One of these

A BUNCH OP FIR CONES.

rKfttan Mid Art. Febrnajj 1, 1S87.

was planted on the mound in the Jardin des
J^lantes in Paris, and the other was for many
years entirely lost sight of, until M. M^rat dis-
covered it growing in the grounds of the Chateau
de Montigny, near Montereau, a small town about
eighteen leagues from Paris.

" High on a hill a goodly cedar grew
Of wondroas length and straight proportion,
That far abroad her dainty odonrs threw,
'Mongst all the daughters of proud Lebanon."

The Deodara is another exotic cedar of great
grace and beauty. "We are indebted to the high
mountain-ranges of India and Cashmere for this
elegant addition to our parks and pleasure-grounds.
Its name is derived from the Hindoostanee word
Devada/ra, or tree of the gods. The wood is strong
and durable. Many very ancient temples which
have fallen into ruin, have beams and supports of
deodara timber in them but little changed by time.
In certain districts the resinous splinters of deodara
are used as torches, and carried at night by those
who travel amongst the precipices and jungles.
For another highly ornamental and, thanks to
acclimatization, familiar member of the Coniferae,
the Araucaria imbricatay we owe our gratitude to
the explorers of the Andes. To the Araucan
Indians its pine-nuts yield a wholesome and sub-
stantial food; whilst its resinous exudations are
extensively used by them, both externally and
internally, as medicinal agents. The timber is also
very valuable for many important purposes. The
trivial name " Puzzle Monkey," sometimes given to
this tree, is derived from the numerous needle-
pointed scales which cover the stalk and branches,
offeiing such a serious impediment to the climbings
and frolics of those lively animals.

Returning for a brief glance amongst the cedar
woods and their pleasant shades, the "White Cedar
(Thuja ocddentalis) stands before us beautiftil as
she is iL^eful. Her comely daughters, although tall,
stout, and stately as any family of daughters (even
of the forest) need to be, sink into pigmy propor-
tions, and become veritable Minnie Wa/rrens, when
compared with their colossai cousins the Mammoth
trees of California. These woodland giantesses were
discovered in the year 1850, by a Mr. "W. "White-
head, in a comparatively small locality about ninety-
seven miles from Sacramento City. Here, within
little more than fifty acres, stand 103 such trees as
the whole known world cannot equal. Twenty of
these average seventy-five feet in circumference.

Some few years since, a huge member of this
family, known as the " Big Tree," was felled, not by
the axe or saw, but by boring a complete circle of
auger-holes round and into its enormous mass.
Twenty-two days were occupied by five, men in
completing its overthrow, by the introduction of
numerous wedges, when the computed growth of
three thousand years came thundering and crushing
to the earth. Tins vegetable Goliah measured 302 feet
high, and 96 feet in circumference at its base, and
the bark measured nearly a foot in thickness. A
double bowling alley has been established on the
fallen trunk ; and on the stump, which stands five

feet six inches from the ground, thirty-two persons
danced four sets of cotillons without being in the
slightest degree incommoded for space; sufficient
room being left for musicians and a fair number of
spectators. This curious and unique ball-room,
when planed smooth, was found perfectly sound
wood, and measures about 92 feet in circum-
ference. The Mother of the Forest is the largest no-w
left standing. In 1854 the bark was removed to the
height of 96 feet from the ground for exhibition.
It measures at the base 84 feet, twenty feet from
the ground 69 feet. Its height is 321 feet, and the
first branch is thrown off at 137 feet from the earth.
Calculation gives the quantity of timber it contains
as 437,000 feet of sound inch lumber.

The Father of the Forest, who lays prostrate and
half-buried in the earth, must have been of even
more huge gi'owth than his venerable spouse. His
height is computed to have been 435 feet, circum-
ference at base 110 feet, 200 feet to the first branch,
and at 300 feet from its root, where it broke in
falling, it measures 54 feet round. A number of
fanciful names, such as the Old Maid, the Old
Bachelor, the Three Graces, &c. &c., have been
given by travellers to individuals and groups of
these curious and interesting trees, which stand in
towering and venerable majesty, like vast mono-
liths or obelisks reared in commemoration of the
past ages of the mammoth and the mastodon.

There are certain primeval forests of pines in the
neighbourhood of Astoria, which for the mag-
nificent trees they contain are scarcely to be siii-
passed. The work of clearing them away for the
prosecution of agricultural pursuits would almost
appear a labour of ages, so closely do these huge
vegetable towers stand to each other. The soil
on which these forests grow is extremely fertile.
Yet with all the rich supply of natural mould
stored up below, it is difficult to conceive how the
assimilative powers of the trees could, even
through the ages of their existence, heap up
and gamer the elements requisite to build them up
to their present stature ; and we are led, on behold-
ing these wonders of Nature's producing, to reflect on
the races, dynasties, and nations which have passed
away during the growth of these grand old forests.
Even the very species of bird or animal by whom
the tiny cone seed from which they sprang was
I>erchance deposited beneath the fallen leaves, may,
like the Dodo, or the Dinomis, have passed away
and become extinct and forgotten, save by the in-
vestigator of the earth's secrets.

Unlike the Samhertia/na, or Rocky Mountain
Pine, which bears cones of twelve and even sixteen
inches in length, and nearly a foot round, the
Seqtwia gigantea, or mammoth tree of California,
whicli we have described, yields a remarkably small
fruit, even much less than that of many cone-bearing
trees of this country, still not the less welcome to
our bunch of cones, which having roughly gathered
on our way, we present as an offering to our reader
and companion, hoping that this is not the last
ramble we may take together in search of Nature's
treasures.

N .lun Mi.l .lit |-..l...

NAtoiv and AH. Febnurx 1, ]8l>7.1

ON SKETCHING FEOM NATUBE.

4'^

ON SKETCHING FROM NATURE.

By Aabon Penlst, Professor of Landscape Painting at the Boyal Military Academy, Woolwich.
No. Vn. CEUMMOCK WATER, CUMBEELAND.

THE first washes only are given in the present
subject, that 'the pupil may be more easily
initiated in the manner in which a water-colour
drawing of this description is commenced.

The character of the finished work will always
depend upon the under-tints, so that it is necessary
to have them pf a kind most fevourable for the
afber-tones. I am not without hope that the
example given, may serve to show clearly what .the
appearance of the first stages of a drawing should
be, and how it is to be obtained. As in all the
previous subjects in this Magazine, the pencil out-
line has been dwelt upon as the greatest help in
producing a satisfactory result ; so in the present
illustration there must be the most careful attention
in placing each individual formation in its right
position ; and not only in this, but in drawing it
with freedom as well as accuracy.

One thing I invariably find the pupil not to pay
sufiicient regard to (although it may almost ap-
pear to many too trifling to notice), is the manner
in which the pencil is cut. But there is more in
this than most persons suppose. Without a true
point, it is impossible to judge correctly of the line
to be produced. The wood should be much cut
away in a slanting direction, to permit of the eye
resting upon the point without interference. Neglect
of this IS frequently a cause of failure, and it is not
an uncommon occurrence that a careless outline
carries with it a corresponding manner throughout
the colouring. It is to be hoped this caution may
not pass unheeded, it being borne in mind that a
clear line directs and a blurred line confuses, causing
much hesitation in laying on the first (and generally
large) washes of coloui*.

The Lake scene under treatment has been
selected from its singleness of character, that is,
from the masses being large, and their detailed
formations easily seen. These have been drawn in
with the black-lead pencil to secure the proper
forms and position of the several shadows. All
deviations from an even surface of ground should
invariably be marked, as they serve to denote a
variety of fiowing, and (at times), continuous lines,
and add greatly to the interest of the work. If the
tree and foreground be equally regarded, the places
for the different tints will be found with ease.

The outline being correct, pass some water over
the whole with a large flat brush, and while still
damp, lay on a light wash of neutral orange (A.
Penle/s), or yellow ochre and brown madder, over
the drawing, to impart a warm tint. This will also
fix the pencilling and prevent its rubbing. When
dry, again wash with water, and as soon as the wet
disappears, begin the upper portion of the sky with
a tint of pure cobalt, carefully leaving the light

clouds. Continue the wash by adding a little light
red to produce a grey tone for the clouds, and deepen
toward the lower edges with more cobalt. This
operation should be effected at once ; nevertheless,
if it be too light, the tones may be subsequently
strengthened. A tint of light red, yellow ochre,
and cobalt, is to be mixed as nearly as possible to
the colour of the warm portion of the mountain,
and also a mixture of cobalt with a little indigo
for the blue portion.

Commence at the top, with the brush tolerably
well filled, carefully preserving the outline, bringing
the colour from it into the body of the moimtain ;
then, on nearing the bluer portion, add the mixture of
cobalt and indigo, until the whole of the mountains
are covered ; softening the colour down to the lower
edge and over the warm tint for the low land and
trees. This same blue tint is to be passed over the
water, leaving the broad lights. The foreground
stones of grey tints are now to be put in with
cobalt and light red, varying the proportions to the
character of tone required. After this, gamboge,
light red and cobalt, more or less of one than of the
others, are to be employed for the herbage.

A very light tint of the first mixture with more
cobalt added is now to be passed over the greyer
parts of the warm colour, and the blue must bo
deepened with the cobalt and indigo. It will be seen
that there is a warm tone on the dark mountains.
This should have resulted from the blending of the
first tints, by oAe running into the other while wet ;
but if the warmth is not sufficient, the first tint
may be slightly passed over it again. The line of
trees on the low land must now be washed in with
yellow ochre, light red, and a little cobalt ; also the
rocky projection at the right. The shadows of the
stem of the tree are of cobalt and light red, and
when dry are to be deepened, use the same, only with
more of light red : this tint is also to be employed
for the dark stones. Gamboge and a little brown
pink will give the colour for the foliage ; after this,
wash a tint of yellow ochre and light red for the
colour of the stem, and when diy, introduce the
shadows and markings on the dark mountains with
the cobalt and indigo, and then another wash of
the same (more cobalt) on the second tints of the
water.

It is recommended to do this drawing twice over,
with a view of gaining manipulative dexterity ; and
having done so, to lay aside the copy and endeavour
to reproduce it from memory. This is by far the
best way to obtain a practical knowledge of colour,
as it will enable the amateur to apply it to his own
sketches.

I take advantage of this opportunity to write
a few words respecting artists' colounnen of the

THE PARIS EXHIBITION, 1867.

[KAton tad Art. Fcbnuur 1. 19KT,

present day, and I do so not only for the information
of my readers, but also because it afibrds me a
sincere pleasure to speak of them in the highest
terms. It is to them that the water-colour painter
is indebted for the ineans of carrying out his most
elaborate works, as well as his slighter sketches.
Indeed, there is neither hindrance nor imi)erfection
in the material offered to him, whereby he is pre-
vented from giving every effect of which colour is
capable, whether in its extreme softness and delicacy,
its richness of colour, both pure and broken, or its
transparent brilliancy and depth of intensity. To
Messrs. Winsor & Newton, of Rathbone Place ; Mr.
Newman, Soho Square; Messrs. Rowney, Rathbone
Place and Oxford Street ; Mr. Roberson, Long
Acre; and Messrs. Reeves & Son, Cheapside, I
offer many thanks for the perfection and purity of
their colours, both in the moist and dry states.
For permanency, for firmness of texture, evenness of
flowing in flat washes, freedom from deposit, or any
gelatinous and slimy nature, readiness for use, per-
fection in numberless combinations, and freshness of
tone, it is impossible to wish for any improvement
They have, without doubt, reached the highest
degree of excellence to which they can be brought.

However vivid the power of imagination, how-
ever intricate or simple may be the subject to be
worked out, the water-colours from the above-
named houses will be found equal to the task, aud
will justify the remarks made upon them, as they
are in every way calculated to satisfy the wishes
and requirements of all — even the most fastidious.

The colours most adapted for the amateur are, —

Chinese white, in bottle

or tube.
Gamboge.
Naples yellow.
Indian yellow.
Baw sienna.
Oadmiam.
Neutral orange, f
light red.
Burnt sicfkina.
Vermillion.

B^ madder.

Crimson hike.

Brown madder.

Van brown.

Brown pink.

Indian red.

Cobalt.

French blue.

Indigo.

Sepia.

Oxide of chromium.

Those with a * to be half -cakes, or pans.

There are other colours of much use to an artist
whose works go far beyond those of an amateur.

t Messrs. Winsor & Newton make this colour.

THE PARIS EXHIBITION, 1867.

THE works on the Champ de Mars have been
pushed on with remarkable energy and
regularity ; the whole of the industrial galleries, or
courts, were ready to receive their fittings in the
course of December, the roofs glazed, the iron-work
painted, and the floors all laid by the end of the
year that has just departed.

The plan adopted with respect 'to the flooring
strikes us as somewhat singular. The whole of the
passages left for the circulation of the public, those
which lie in concentric circles and divide the various
groups of the Exhibition, as well as those which
radiate at right angles to the former, and supply
direct communication between the outer wall of the
building to the central garden, are laid in cement,
while Uie Industrial Courts are boarded. Again,
the Fine Art Courts have cement floors, while
those adjoining, in which the collection of retro-
spective art is to be placed, are floored with oak
parquet.

Cement floors have certainly an advantage with
respect to noise and dust, they conduct sound badly ,
and having no spring the dust is not thrown up- |
wards as it is constantly by an ordinary floor ; but |
this latter advantage will probably be neutralized •
by the constant movement of feet, and especially by
ladies' dresses ; and it hi very fatiguing to stand
long on a cement floor. This will doubtless be
remedied in the Picture Galleries by matting or !
carpet, but the same cannot be the case in the |
avenues of the Industrial Courts, which are pierced
at short intervals throughout their whole course by
gratings communicating with the great ventilating

shafts beneath them. It is a source of congnxtula-
tion that the report relative to the use of asphalte
within the buildiing turns out to have been unfounded,
or, at any rate, that no asphaltic floors appear, for in
hot weather the eflect of these is most fatiguing and
disagreeable.

The. variety of flooring adopted in the Exhibition
will offer valuable means of comparison and hints
for the constmction of museums and galleries in
general, and it is probably with this view that the
Imperial commission has made use of four diflferent
kinds ; namely, common wood, oak, and cement
of two kinds, one being what is called belan agglo-
inere^ a kind of concrete trodden or beaten down,
which is largely used in Paris. The concentric
avenues, as well as the vaultings of the ventilating
passages beneath are of the latter composition,
while the radial avenues are laid in cement. A
small house for the Imperial Commission is now
being built entirely of this heUm^ in the grounds.

The building wUl supply many valuable lessons,
and, amongst others, in the modes of lighting and
in the tempering of the light The arrangement
of the windows is different in each portion of the
structure — clerestories in the great Machinery Oourt
and in the principal avenue ; lights in the central
portion of the roofs, in the Fine Art and Retrospec-
tive galleries, and in the lower or outer })arts of
the roof, in the Industrial Courts. With regard to
the graduation or tempering of the light, opaque
screens are hung from the tie-rods of the roof of
the Picture Galleries, so as to place the spectator
in the shade while the light falls on the works on

Nature and Art, Febniary 1. 18b7.1

THE PABIS EXHIBITION, 1867.

tlie walls ; while in the Industrial Courts velta, or
awnings of a thin white material, are being placed
here and there, by way of experiment, over the
avenues of circulation. It is worthy of remark
that the stuif of these awnings is rendered fireproof
by a chemical process. Looking at what has
happened at the Crystal Palace, it seems almost a
crime that any building erected to contain works of
art, or any other valuables that cannot be replaced,
should be constructed otherwise than fireproof. The
Fine Art Galleries of the Paris Exhibition are very
satisfactory in this respect; the walls are of solid
stone, and the floor, as already stated, of cement, so
that a fire is almost impossible.

This consideration of secuiity naturally leads to
the modes of closing the Exhibition at night, when
the grounds, caf6s, restaurants, and other establish-
ments will be blazing wit}i light, and, at times,
thousands of people enjoying themselves there.
There are sixteen outer doors to the building ; and
those of the minor entrances are now being fitted
with strong iron shutters moved by machinery, like
those adopted for shops ; there is no doubt that the
main entrances will be secured in an equally
efficient manner, so that the outer iron wall of the
building will be virtually complete. Another pre-
caution is taken with regard to the Retrospective
Galleries, each opening of which is being supplied
with solid oak doors running on iron rods and pro-
vided with strong locks. This must be rather with
a view to protect the valuable contents of these
galleries from peculation them from fire, for the
walls are all of stone and the floor of oak, and the
precaution is a wise one.

The colouring of the various parts of the building
is proceeding ; the inner side of the iron roof and
sides of the great Machinery Court, a.s well as of the
principal vestibule and avenue, are being painted
of a light chocolate or cCtfe au lait colour, and the
main lines, mouldings, and projections picked out
and relieved with chocolate, vermillion, and white,
but the eflect is not striking. Something of the
same kind has been tried on the outside of the
building, but has not been proceeded with. The
ironwork of the Industrial Courts is now being
painted of a dull apple-green, but, with the ex-
ception of the avenues, thei'e will be scarcely any of
it visible when the fittings are all up. This remark
does not, however, apply to the British Department,
which will be much less enclosed and boxed up.
The waUs of the Picture Galleries are painted of a
dull Pompeian red, with a broad frieze of a geo-
metric pattern in grisaille. The marquise aroimd
the inner garden has blue-grey pillars, mounted on
bold cream-coloured stone plinths, the lines of the
columns being relieved with bright chocolate, in
harmony with the roof; but the final touch is not
yet put to this verandah, which will have a good
eflfect when the enclosed garden is planted.

Quitting the central garden, let us take a glance
at the actual condition of the prepaiutions in the
three zones of the Fine Arts, Industr}^, and
Machinery.

The first, and inner one, will be filled last, and

wdll be ready in ample time. The greater portion
of the rooms on the French side — for in this part
of the Exhibition the galleries are broken up into
salonSy in order to aflbrd more wall space — are
finished or nearly so; the walls of the rtwt are
being lined with wood, which will afterwards be
covered with paper, and finally coloured. The sun-
shades are also mostly in their places. The admis-
sion jury has had great trouble, the space being
only equal to about one-tenth of the applications ;
but the first selection, that of known works not
requiring previous examination, has at length been
made, though the result is not yet published. The
mode said to have been adopted for increasing the
hanging space, is the erection of screens in various
parts for the smaller pictures ; there is one diffi-
culty, however, with regard to such a plan, the
centre of the rooms having been thrown into shade
by the screens referred to above. There is little
doubt, however, that room will be found for all the
pictures that the management is very desirous of
seeing exhibited, and that our ingenious neighbours
will see that their treasures are sufficiently il-
luminated.

The difficulties which surround the arrangements
of the Fine Art department have not been enhanced
by the slightest complaint respecting the composi-
tion of the juries ; the Imperial Commission, as
the readers of Nature and Art know, lefl to the
artists themselves, or rather to such of them as had
received first-class medals, to appoint two-thirds of
their judges ; the result has been admirable, the
juries consist of the elite of the body. This prin-
ciple of art suffrage, applied previously to the
annual exhibitions in Paris, has thus received the
seal of one of the most trying applications that
could possibly have been made of it, and must be
regarded by all unprejudiced persons as established
almost beyond question. Knowing how completely
unsuccessful was the old system of official and
academic nomination, we trust that it will be
gradually banished from all art competitions of a
general nature. It is not a small matter to relieve
the world of art from all feeling, or even suspicion,
of partiality or nepotism ; a feeling which is a prolific
source of coteries and consequently of cabals.

The great central zone, or rather series of zones,
devoted to industrial products of all kinds — from a
block of coal, to a chronometer — perhaps one of
the most perfect examples of skill and science
combined — is in a more advanced state than that
of its mechanical brother beyond, or than those of
its artistic sisters of the inner ring. In the French
department nearly all the courts are formed, and
several of them are nearly ready for the decorator ;
the cases in which the gold and silver smith and two
or three other classes of exhibitors will show the
products of their cunning arts are in their places,
and only require glazing and painting ; those which
are in this forward condition exhibit careful ar-
rangement, and there is no doubt that our neigh-
bours will be still more remarkable than ever, on
the present occasion, for the symmetry of their
installations as well as for the beauty of their

THE PAEIS EXHIBITION, 1867.

[Natore and Art, Fcbnuiy 1. 1M7.

products. In some cases the effect of these courts
will be rendered more complete by the introduction
of oak parquetted floors in the avenues and spaces
not covered by the cases. Everybody who visited
the Exhibition of 1862 will remember the admir-
able effect of the tiled and mosaic floors laid down
within the courts of some of our great porcelain
and pottery manufacturers.

The portions of thia section of the building
devoted to the Foreign commissions, also mostly
exhibit great activity ; much of the woodwork of the
Belgian, Russian, Swedish, Danish, Turkish,
Egyptian, Italian, Chinese, and Japanese courts
being almost completed, and in some, the Egyptian
for example, heavy articles of exhibition which
have to be built up, are being proceeded with.

In general, in order to obtain as much wall space
as possible, there are too many high partitions, and,
consequently, in those parts there will be little per-
spective and effects of coup cTcdl ; but some of the
commissions, and that of Russia in particular, have
avoided too much enclosure. The Russian depart-
ment will be remarkable for its openness and, con-
sequently, unobstructed view and light ; it stands
at the side of one of the great radial avenues, and
its limit is marked by a bold and highly effective
ornamental wooden railing, cut by hand in the
peculiar style of the country, the bases of the plain
iron columns of the building being enclosed in
massive woodwork coiresponding with the railing,
and mounted on octagonal stone plinths ; but the
most characteristic constructions belonging to
Russia are in the pare, to which we shall presently
proceed.

The last department at which we arrive in
making the circuit of the building, commencing with
France, is that of Great Britain, and that at present
is an empty space. We know that English work-
men do not allow the grass to grow imder their
feet when they do begin, but we trust that all our
preparations are so well considered, that commenc-
ing last we may be ready first ; and, as the space
devoted to the United Kingdom is the largest by
far, next to France, we sh^ be pleased to find it
not too much subdivided, and, consequently, pre-
senting a more imposing whole than its neighbours,
and at the same time presenting a little more
general design than has usually been apparent in
our exhibitions ; the jewel is certainly the main
attraction, but the setting can never be carelessly
arranged without derogating from the effect of the
work. The sappers are marking out the floor, on
which may now be read the names of many well-
known firms.

Leaving the Industrial Galleries for the great
outer Machinery and Process Court, we find
evidence of the hand of the British Commission, a
portion of the exterior Alimentary Gallery having
been taken into the Machinery Court by means of
a wall beyond the circumference of the latter : by
this arrangement consideiuble space will be added
to the Mechanical department at the expense of the
Alimentary Gallery, which we presume does not
require it. The wall will be covered by the

erections without, so that the general effect when
all is finished will be in no way interfered with by
the arrangement.

The general preparations of the immense Ma-
chinery and Process Gallery, including an amoimt
of *work which it shows great courage to have
undertaken in so short a space of time as was
allowed for it, are almost completed. Along the
whole of the central line of this court, which, l^e it
remembered, is nearly five thousand feet in cir-
cumference, have been set up two rows of cast-iron
pillars, not very wide apart, and connected above
transversely as well as longitudinally with lattice
girders; at the sides, a little below the upper
surface of the girders, are large iron brackets,
intended to support the driving shafts and pulleys
for the machinery in motion : and on the top of t^e
girders wiU be a gallery, more than ten feet wide,
for the convenience of visitors, who will thus be
enabled to make the tour of this important portion
of the Exhibition, and view the machinery and
more prominent processes very advantageously.
This gallery was a happy thought, for, as the public
must otherwise have been excluded from this
central portion on account of the driving ma-
chinery, it will make a very large addition to the
means of circulation. There will also be a passage
below between the columns of the gallery.

In some parts of the Machine Court, solid
foimdations are being constructed for engines and
other heavy objects, but not very much has yet been
done in that way, and a vast amount of work
remains to be accomplished. The future progress in
this part of the Exhibition will be greatly aided by
the auxiliary measures adopted by the. Imperial
Commission ; a temporary railway is being laid
down around the building and a similar line of rails
is being placed just within the Machine Court itself,
and which will also be carried all round : these
two railways will be connected by means of small
branch lines at right angles to them and of which
the turn-tables are being fixed. Pieces of machinery,
goods, and materials arriving by rail at the station
just outside o£ the pare, will thus be carried directly
into the building to the very spot where they may
be required. The time that will be saved and the
interruptions that will be avoided by this arrange-
ment are most important considerations ; the scenes
that occur in other parts of the gi*ounds at present,
where it takes three or four horses to pull a one-horse
cart out of mud-holes, will thus be happily avoided.

"Without the building the new feature of the
Alimentary Court with its mile of covered terrace,
or boulevard, is beginning to assume its intended
appearance. The whole of the fronts of the French
refreshment establishments are in place and ready
for the painter and glazier ; they form two immense
ranges, and are in all, about eight hundred feet
long, and thirty-two feet broad. They include a
grand cafe ; a restaurant on the same large scale ;
a JDtner de V Europe, that is to say, not exactly a
table dhdte, but a dinner, of which the bill of fare
and the price are fixed, but which is served at anV"
moment; a Buffet de VUnivers, which, if as well

Maton and Art. F«bnury 1, 1867.]

THE PAEIS EXHIBITION, 1867.

organized as some of those at French railway
stations, will be an estimable boon to those whose
time is precious, and who have some respect both for
their purses and stomachs ; and, lastly, a Strasbourg
beer-house. The counters for the managers of
these establishments are now being set up, and,
before this comes under the public eye, some of
the establishments will be in oi>eration for the con-
venience of those whose fate compels them to spend
much of theii* time within the yet inhospitable
building and its pleasitre groimds, where Boreas,
Aquarius, and Jack Frost at present revel and
i-eign alternately, and use weak mortals most
unceremoniously. On the English side there is no
silver gridiron yet, nor any comer even for a snack
or a draught, but there is a promise of something
to come, in the form of a strip of white calico on
which appears the word Buffet j in conjunction with
the names of Spiera k Pond, and Bass <fc Co. ; the
space thus marked is not so extensive as those
covered by the French establishments, but its
frontage is not much less than a hundred feet in
length. But this is only one of three or four
British places of refreshment to be provided. The
KuKsian and the Swiss restaurants are also being
built.

Out of doors the work is naturally not so much
advcoiced as it is within the building, and it is
extremely fortunate that the walls of the most
important buDdings are nearly all completed, for
the sharp &ost which has set in renders mortar and
cement very intractable servants as well as in-
efficient. Of aU the novelties to be foimd in the
gardens of the Exhibition, the aquariums will be
amongst the most remarkable, and particularly that
to be devoted to " herrings and other salt fish," as
a comic French writer once described the denizens
of the ocean. The tanks in which they are to be
exhibited are constructed entirely of iron and glass.
A large artificial cave was first formed by throwing
up a talus all round the spot ; the sides of this cave
were then lined with rockwork, and a number of
pillars of the same placed at intervals on the floor.
Over all this was laid a roof composed of iron and
glass, leaving two openings through which flights
of steps lead to the cave, and a central space for
the visitors. The aquariums are placed all round,
and on the glass roof of this centiul area. There are
also terraces near the upper level of the tanks, while
at the two ends the roof of the cave foims, are plat-
forms of considerable size ; it will be seen that by
this arrangement visitors will be able to watch the
movements of the fish from almost every position,
above, beneath, and around. The large contents of
this aquarium rendered the supply of sea water a
matter of serious consideration, and therefore a
system of aerating it has been adopted j the water
of the aquarium viU run over and form a cascade,
it will then be received in a well and pmnped back
into the aquarium, and by this means it is hoped
that the creatui-es will be maintained in good con-
dition without a very large supply of fresh sea water.

The arrangements for the exhibition of fresh
water fish and reptiles are of a totally difierent

nature ; in this case the building is of stone, the
whole of both sides being divided into comimi't-
ments which will be glazed only in front, like those in
the Jardin d'Acclimatation in the Bois de Boulogne.
This aquarium is comiccted with a lake, and from
the latter starts a small canal which pursues a
tortuous course through the grounds passing seci-etly
beneath the roads and pathways, crossing and en-
livening the plantations and flower-beds by the flow
and sparkle of its silvery stream, till it reaches the
great lake at the other extreuiity of the pare.

At the further end of this lake is a large ma.Hs of
artificial rock, over which a cascade will fall, and
upon it stands an iron lighthouse of considerable
height : this is for the exliibition of the electric light
and it is now ready to receive its lantern. Another
lighthouse erected in the grounds at no great
dbtance from the former will allow of a comparison
being made between the old dioptric and the new
electric system.

The small model chm*ch, which stands in thin
quarter of the groimds, is finished exteriorly, and
presents a very pretty object: complaints have
been made that it exhibits no style, or rather a
mixture of all styles, but this is an unfair charge, as
the mixture of style is one of its objects ; there are
semicircular. Early Pointed, and other sha]>ed
Avindows, brackets, niches, and colonnettes belong-
ing to various i>eiiods, and the same Ls the case
inside as well as out; but then it must be re-
membered that the object is to show ecclesiastical
constniction, decoration, fittings, and furniture of
all styles, though in normal jwsitions. In spite of
the mixture, the architect has produced a pleasing
general effect, — that is to say, as regards the ex-
terior, for the interior is not yet in a condition for
criticism — ^the principal thisq^ to be complainetl
of being, that the most ornamental face of the
building is so near the lake that there is some little
danger of taking an unintentional bath while
studying architecture. There is no doubt that this
model church will be one of the most attractive
objects in the grounds.

On one side of the main avenue leading to the
chief entrance of the building, and opposite the
Oriental Pavilion of the Emperor of the French, a
solid rectangular building, with pointed gables,
which, in the language of the place, is the Pavilion
de la Heine iTAngleterre, is rapidly approaching
completion. Tlus royal lodge consists of onedarge
apartment in the rear, with two smaller ones at right
angles to the former in the front, and presents one
of the most positive contrasts imaginable to the
Byzantine structure opposite to it. They are neither
of them yet far enough advanced to describe more
particularly, except that one structure consist^
entirely of right angles, while the outline of the
other has scarcely an angle in it, and wliile one is of
wood, to be highly decorated, the other is of solid
stone, relieved by red bricks, and covered by
three decorated timber roofs. Near the English
Pavilion stands the chimney-shaft and the foun-
dation of the boiler-house-^a very large one, to be
fitted with the patent conical tube boilers of Messrs.

THE PAEIS EXHIBITION, 1867.

[Vfttan and Art, Fcbnuoy 1. ISCT.

Gralloway & Son, of Manchester, for the supply of
st'eam to the engines which are to drive the
machinery in the British department. This will be
the largest boiler-house in the grounds ; and the
design for it is derived from a Mohammedan
temple. The Emperor of the French sets up his
standard over a Turkish Kiosk, and Great Britain
places her steam boilers in the mosque of Syeed
Oosman ! What is the mixtui'e of half-a-dozen styles
in a model church after this 1

Not far from these Imperial tents, over which the
standards of France and England will float as
bravely as did those of Francis and Henry on the
Field of the Cloth of Grold four centuries ago,
stands a building, pfesentmg a fui*ther contrast ; it
is an odd-looking structure, and is to be occupied
as a Swiss refreshment-room, the attendants to be
dressed in their national costume. The Swedish
Commission will have a smaller establishment in
their quarter of the park.

This portion of the ground is crowded with
buildings ; there are three photographic establish-
ments all of considerable extent, and one very
large ; the International Club-house will be ready
in a few weeks to receive its subscribers ; and the
theatre, after two reverses of fortune — theatres are
well accustomed, however, to ups and downs, — has
its outer walls nearly completed.

The buildings of the Egyptian and Tunisian
Commissions make a great feature in the grounds ;
the former have already been described in Nature
AND Art, and the latter must wait another oppor-
tunity. Russia has conceived a happy idea and is
carrying it out on a grand scale and with re-
markable skill ; three buildings are being erected
in a group, two of these are dwelling-houses, and
the third and the largest a model stable, all con-
structed of round timber, prepared in Russia, and
put together like a puzzle by Russian workmen,
who themselves are picturesque objects, with their
red guernseys, woolly waistcoats, showing the lower
part of a shirt or tunic of strii)ed stuff* beneath,
knickerbockers, and round fur caps. The structures,
besides exhibiting the style which has been used
for centuries down to the present time, show the
peculiar arrangement of Russian dwellings and
establishments. The groimd-floor of the house is
devoted to the housing of cattle during the winter
months, the door is just large enough to admit the
beasts, the windows are small and square, and the
apartment low, having more the ap])earance of a
cabin in the stem of a ship, with three lights at
one end, than anything else j the room above the
cattle layer is the general living-room of the peasant
farmer and his family. In one part of the latter
.•\^tl11 be erected a great stove to illustrate the
Russian mode of heating their houses, aad in
another will be the rousse comer, the little chapel,
or place of the household gods. The stable is a
building two hundred and fifty feet long, and about
twenty-four feet wide, and will contain ten horses,
types of the various breeds of Russia, and fourteen
choice animals of different origin. The arrangement
of the stalls, so that the animals may show their

sides, instead of their tails, to the public, those for
ventilation and for the complete surveillance of the
whole of the stable by the men who sleep, like the
palefreniers of the great Paris omnibus establish-
ments, in niches six or eight feet from the groimd,
will be examined with great interest by English
visitors. The decoration of the buildings is also
interesting, the false roof of the stable and other
parts are carved and pierced in the peculiar semi-
oriental style in vogue in Russia, and the gables of
the houses are decorated in like manner. The
method of construction, for which the axe alone is
used, and the system of corking and stopping the
seams, deserve the serious attention of colonists
and emigrants. The exhibition of the malachite
products of the Imperial factories gave great
interest to the Russian department in the Exhi-
bition of 1851 ; but the admirable illustrations to
which we have referred of the buildings and habits
of the Russian people should, and doubtless will,
attract at least as much attention.

The Swedish Commission is also erecting similar
model buildings illustrative of the architecture,
mode of construction and habits of the country, in
times past as well as in the present day, including
a complete reproduction of the house occupied by
Gustavus Vasa, at- Omacs, in Dalecarlia, with all
the furniture, some of which is authentic. But the
Swedish portion of the pare will demand further
notice, at a future period, when the works are more
advanced. A small steamer, model of those used
on the Swedish lakes, brought to Havre by the
frigate Oroedd, is now on its way up the Seine to
Paris. But it is dangerous to touch on what is
expected, while every day brings some new object
of interest bodily before the visitor to the Champ
de Mars.

Before quitting the limits of the Exhibition, it
is but fair to say a few woi^ds on the admirable
arrangements made by the Impeiial Commission
for the convenience of visitors, whether they arrive
by road, rail, or river. First, for those who arrive
in carriages, a long covered way is now being con-
structed at the outer edge of one side of the park,
beneath which half a dozen vehicles may set down
their occupants at the same moment, and from this
three other passages lead to side doors of the
building ; those who arrive by rail will simply have
to cross a road, over which a roof is to be thi'own,
and make their way into the building by means of
a Icmgprovienoir^ or covered passage for pedestrians,
which skirts the grounds and ends in a large vesti-
bule at one of the principal side entrances of the
building ; lastly, for those whb are bome on the
bosom of the flowing Seine, a spacious landing-
place is being constmcted, from which visitors may
either ascend to the quay and there enter Exhi-
bition Park by the front gate, or they may pass
directly ipto the grounds by a gate beneath the
pretty steel bridge lately thrown across the quay.

• On the quay, or rather over the strip of land at thefflflC
of the river, two very large buildings have been erected :
these are to be used as restaurants, and one of them, it w
said, is to bo managed by English caterers.

NalQif .iikI \ii.F<lM-ti:iiA I UU:'

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Natar* and Art. F*braar7 1. 1867.]

HOLBEIN IN GEKMANY.

HOLBEIN IN GERMANY.*

By H. Wabd.
PAET IV. BASLE— conWMd^d.

ON the 23rd of September, 1520, Holbein was
formally admitted into the Guild of his craft,
which was distinguished by the name of Heaven,
being called "Zum Himmel." He painted his own
shield for the hall, where it is still preserved. It
is yellow, bearing a black bulFs head, surmounted .
by a red star ; and over it is the inscription, HariB
Jlolhein the painter (*'der Mailer"). He was a
hearty young fellow, as we can see by Mechel's
engraving of his self-portrait. The drawing which
he made for it has been photographed, and it has
a more spiritual expression. His brain was teem-
ing with beautiful and lively fancies ; and if his
tongue was only a tithe as ready as his hand, he
must have been a famous Guild-brother. He was
evidently welcome to the other members of his
Guild, whether saddlers, barbers, or painters ; for
even before his formal admission he was chosen
(25th June) as one of the two house-stewards for the
year. His colleague was a saddler, and their suc-
cessors were another saddler and a painter named
Johann Herbster. The latter was a man of some
local reputation : the recoi-ds of him are few, but
they contain fresh hints for tracing the connection i
between Holbein and Italy. Herbster had been
a master painter at Basle ever since 1492 ; and he '
had travelled, at least as far as Pavia, in 1512.
Now, according to a dated portrait,t he sat to
Holbein in 1516, when the youngster Vas hardly
settled at Basle. The talk of such a sitter may
have induced his painter to follow in the same
Italian track ; but on the other hand, for ought we
know, Holbein's fullest acquaintance with Leonardo
da Vinci, and also with the Carthusian convent at
Pavia, may have been made through the portfolio of |
Johann Herbster. t

The barbers do not appear at all among Holbein's
colleagues, as far as Dr. Woltmann's extracts go ; ,
but a glazier unexpectedly makes his appearance.
Thus, one of the two great northern artists took '
rank among ordinary tradesmen. He could never i
hope to rival such great gi-ocer-barons as the Fug-
gers of his native Augsburg. And what said the
other great northern ai-tist, Albert Diirer, when (in
1506) he was on the point of rettirning home from
Venice : — " Oh, how I shall freeze for the sun !
Here I am a lord, but at home a spunger ! " Diirer
was fortunate in having a patron who could heartily
sympathize with his grievances ; and it was to him,
Bilibald Pirckheimer, that the simple-minded artist
lamented his being a mere " spunger." His gift of

• Holbein und seine Zeit: von Dr. Alfred Woltmann.
Erster Theil, mit 31 Holzschnitten und einer Photo-litho-
grapliie. Leipzig. 1866.

t In Mr. Baring'8 oolleotion. See Br. Waagen, Treasures
of Art, vol. iv. p. 97.
IL

high imagination had its usual drawback, vanity ;
and he was consequently very thin-skinned. We
suspect that Holbein was much more robust. It is
said (it may be mere gossip, but the story is proba-
ble enough) that, on his revisiting Basle, after his
fii-st flattering reception in England, the upper
circles oflfered to introduce him to their wives and
daughters, and were disgusted at his preferring his
old pot-companions. The Guild-brethren were
doubtless these pot-companions of his ; but they
may have been something better too, — tine friends
perhaps, who had helped him at a pinch. Thus the
story has two sides to it. The candid biographer,
Charles Patin, who relates it,* adds that Holbein
was a downright toper ; but he luckily gives his au-
thority for saying so ; and we shall presently show
that the words of Erasmus, which he quotes, were
nothing but a small joke, uttered in exchange for a
small joke of Holbein's.

We leaj) at once inte a different sphere when we
turn from the poor painters' Guild to the circle of
Erasmus. He was fond of the arts, and had him-
self been something of a painter in his youth ; yet
he was not likely to consort much with Gkirman
artists. One or two of them may have equalled
him in native genius, but his scholarship had raised
him high above their level. Not that he cared a
straw for pomp or place ; indeed, he dreaded them.
Splendid offers had been made him from many courts,
especially from that of Rome ; but he preferred
Basle. He esteemed it a veritable " Seat of the
Muses," aloof from the bigotries of Papist and
anti-PapLst. There he lived at ease, in the house
of Froben the printer, making it a centre of learn-
ing and social refinement. Of all the portraits of
this " little old mannikin," as Albert Diirer called
him, none pleased him so well as those by Holbein.
One of the best is that at Basle. His natumlly
spare feature are sharpened by thought and study ;
and his great work lies open before him, — his edition
of the New Testament ; yet there is a suppressed
smile upon his thin lips. We feel that he cannot
altogether subdue it, in spite of his veneration for
the text ; for passage after passage recalls to him
some scholastic nonsense of the commentators. To
purify the text and scourge the commentators was
his main business at Basle. But there is another
book of his, — a small one indeed, by comparison, —
that is more ])ersonally connected with Holbein.
This is his Praise of Folly (" Laus StultitisB"), a
work that soon ran through many Latin editions,
and has since been translated into most of the
modeni European languages. It is sometimes

* In his edition of Erasmue's Laus Staltitue* Baele.
1676.

HOLBEIN m GEBMANY.

[Nature and Art, FMvury 1. 1»7.

known as Moria, from the Greek word for foUy ;
and it is dedicated to Sir Thomas More, as a fool
(Morus) in name, if in nothing else. The most
precious copy of the work is one belonging to the
edition of Froben (1514), preserved in the museum
of Basle ; it is adorned with eighty-three pen-and-
ink sketches by Holbein.

The immense success of the Praise of FoUy
would surprise the modem reader. Its mytholo-
gical quips and its critical paradoxes would seem
stale or pointless to him. Yet the spirit of the
book is modem, and reminds us of Thackeray and
his Book of Snobs. It was intended to satirize very
difierent vices, and to amuse a very diflFerent public.
The discoui-se is general ; the periods are rounded ;
and the style is altogether rhetorical, often vehe-
ment, and sometimes coarse. But still there .r is
much of Thackeray's manner, in the mingled
cynicism and geniality with which the author
greets his brother fools. We will attempt to give
a very brief abstract of it, without making a literal
translation of any passage. A large audience is
assembled, waiting with knit brows for some solemn
lecturer, — when Folly bows to them from the
rostrum, and their faces expand. " I perceive," she
says, " that you were expecting one of my inferior
l)rofessors ; but I have found time to come in person ;
and I have chosen the theme most worthy of your
attention; namely, the praise of myself." She makes
a long exordium to prove her superiority to all the
Olympian deities, especially to the Goddess of
Wisdom, who was nothing but the offspring of a
headache. " If you ask me," she continues, " where
are my temples, I answer, withbi yourselves. I am
content with the unconscious worship of my
votaries. When my son, the Emperor, is seated on
his throne, I lend him my cap and bauble : the
boor adores them as the insignia of divine authority;
and I bless him, and he is happy. When my son
the Pontiff has set up a new idol, and its paint
glows in the broad sunshine, the boor's wife lights
her fai-thing candle before it; and I bless her,
and she is happy." Folly proceeds to show the
supreme blessedness of vanity, whether individual
oi" national. Thus, the father admires the reflec-
tion of his ugly self, in the little squeaking puppet
which is placed in his hands. Thus, ihe English-
man brags of his fair women, his fine musicians, and
his dainty dishes. This clause, we must stop to
i-emark, was not meant to be quite so ironical as it
sounds now ; for at that time England did really
enjoy a good reputation for music and cookery. To
return to the lecture-room. Folly confesses that
she is temi)ted, now and then, to chastise some of
her forgetful children. She sometimes sees a grave
judge, or graver pedagogue, stalking across the
market-place ; she suddenly looks round the comer
in the shape of a buxom lass, and he catches her
eye, and stumbles, and does penance in an old
market-woman's basket of eggs. For the more
hardened reprobates who have absolute faith in
their own wisdom, she reserves a much more awful
punishment : she confronts them with one another.
Hence arise wranglings and bloodshed ; hence the

rack, the dungeon, and the stake. She then re-
sumes her pleasing topic, the praise of herself She
enlarges upon Solomon and other first-rate autho-
rities in the most approved style of the followers of
Duns Scotus. She takes occasion to commend one
of her sons, her best Erasmus. Finally she extols
her plump darling, the genuine swine of Epicurus'
sty : and contrasts him with the lean scholar, so
absorbed in his midnight studies that he mistakes
his oil-flask for his wine-bottle, and dies at his book
for lack of a dinner. "And so farewell," she con-
cludes, " and enjoy all fmits, except that of the tree
of knowledge : laugh and grow fat, my loving
children and beloved fools."

All the points upon which we have been dwell-
ing were illustrated by Holbein, from the first bow
of Folly to her last wave of the hand. Her mock
professional airs are excellent, and so are the
gestures of her hearers, whether they are grim with
idiotic attention or frantic with idiotic applause.
Most of the other designs have rather disappointed
us ; but then we have only seen them in engravings;
and photography alone could reproduce these trifles
of a master hand. Dr. Woltmann says that they
were evidently dashed in at various periods of
leisure. They are always carelessly, though well
drawn, and the ink differs in different places. It is
amusing to guess how Holbein could have imder-
stood the Latin text. We are inclined to agree
with Hegner,* that he must have gone through it
with a learned friend. This may have occurred
during his stay at Lucerne, and on the title-page is
the signature of Myconius, who was then a famous
schoolmaster at Lucerne. Myconius has added the
inscription, " Hanc Moriam pictam decem diebus,
ut oblectaretur in ea, Erasmus habuit," which surely
means simply that Erasmus kept this pictm-ed
Moria for ten days, in order to amuse himself with
it Dr. Woltmann believes that somebody had
presented it to Erasmus, and that at his death it
came to Myconius. Our own belief is that it
belonged to Myconius from the first, and that
Holbein read it with him, and made the sketches at
Lucerne. It was then lent to Erasmus, who re-
turned it afler scribbling a word in it, to which a
most absurd importance has been attached. Against
the figure of the half-starved scholar, Holbein had
print^ the name of Erasmus. The latter looked
for the fat pig of Epicurus ; he found it portrayed
as a gross man, with one hand on a woman's
shoulder, and the other lifting a bottle to his mouth ;
and to this he affixed the name of Holbein. Such
an interchange of small jokes might have been made
between the most respectable churchwardens in the
world. And yet th& is the evidence brought by
Charles Patin to show that Holbein was a sot
Really, if it were evidence at all, it would be in his
favour, for one might fairly argue that Erasmus, a
man of the highest social dignity, would never
treat a drunken ribald with such familiaiity.
Gossip is a hydra, whose filthy hands sprout up

• Hans Holbein dcr Jungefe^ by Ulrich Hegner.
1827.

Berlin.

ya*iam aod Art, W^bruaj 1, U8f .]

HOLBEIN m GEEMANY.

like mushrooms. Hegner gives two or three more
instances of it ; one of which is worth mentioning.
Down to the middle of last century, so wasteful of
its Holbeins, there was a house at Basle, known as
the Dcmce-Jiouse. On a hvoad space above the first-
floor windows was painted a band of country lads
and lasses, crowned with flowers, and dancing
lustily to two bagpipers. The place had been a
tavern, people said, where Holbein had paid a long
reckoning with his binsh.

But they forgot to observe, adds Hegner, that
the whole fa9ade, three stories high, was covered up
to the garrets with frescoes. The decorations were
festive, and some of the mythological figures might
have suited a wine-shop ; but, next to the dancers,
the most prominent object was Marcus Curtius on
horseback, plunging into the gulf. The oldest
mention of the building (in 1577) merely calls it> " a
private house." Some water-colour copies of it, and
a tracing of the original sketchy are in the Basle
Museum ; and there also remain two or three
studies of separate portions, which prove that
Holbein reconsidered and improved his ^lan with
his usual attention to the minutest details. This
toilsome execution of many great works, together
with numberless designs for jewellery, glass-paint-
ing, carving, <kc., must have occupied most of his
hours. Yeai* after year he worked on patiently, till
the plague cut him short in mid career ; and his
conceptions were rich and beautiful, his eyes fresh,
and his hand steady to the last. BUs works ought
to outweigh a thousand scandals : they bear
witness that he had a strong taste for joviality, but
no more than was becoming in a young brother of
the Guild of Painters. Indeed, he was probably
moi-e refined than any of the brotherhood. He
was a painter of realism, but mostly in its nobler
forms ; and his art, even in undi*ess, is com-
paratively pure. Among the drawings in the
Basle collection, those of TJrs Graf and Nicolaus
Manuel, and others, are often, we are told, unfit
for description ; whereas those of Holbein are very
seldom coarse, and never obscene.

What a pity that such a man should have left
07ie blot on his memory that can hardly be cleansed
away. We allude to his neglect of his wife. There
were extenuating circumstances, no doubt, as there
always are. She was vulgar and ugly, as we see
by her portrait ; and in all probability she was
much older than her husband. Nothing has shocked
Dr. Woltmann itoore than discovering that she was
a widow, with a half-grown son, when she married
Holbein, and that her name was Elsbeth Schmidt.
These would have been valid reasons for Holbein's
avoiding her, as long as she was widow Schmidt ;
but they became invalid as soon as she was Mrs.
Holbein. Other excuses present themselves, as at
least not impossible. He could not have been much
more than twenty-five at the time of the marriage :
and young men of genius are often more easily en-
trapped than common-place people. Again, her
eyes are red, says Dr. Woltmann, an if with weep-
ing. May not the cause have been less sentimental ?
She is reported to have been a shrew ; may she not

have inflamed her temper and her eyes by emptying
some of the bottles which have been laid to the
charge of Holbein 1 Such things mat/ have been ;
but we must beware, lest we, in our turn, should
be scattering the seeds of calumny. There is really
nothing known against the poor woman, except her
bad looks, her widowhood, and her big boy. As to
the date of her portrait it must have been about
1526-9. It was painted in oils upon paper ; the
figures were afterwards cut out, and pasted on
wood ; and in doing this the last cipher of the year
was clipped away, so that it now stands 152-. The
boy at her side is Philip Holbein, whom his father
apprenticed to a Parisian goldsmith in 1539 : he
has rather a whining look, but not otherwise a
bad countenance. The childish action of his little
sister is excellently rendered, and she is shapely,
though not pretty. The homespun attire of this
family group, artistically considered, is worth whole
wardrobes of cloth of gold : and the flesh-colours
are Titianesque. The sitters were treated with
tender care, as sitters, but not, we are afraid, as
objects of daily concern. Holbein did not desert
his wife: he maintained her, and twice revisited
her ; but she never joined him in London. The
natural consequences followed. In 1543, when he
was moved by fears of the plague, which were soon
to be too well justified, he had to do his best to
provide for two nameless little children. But we
are anticipating the dismal end. It lies far beyond
the scope of our present series.

Our story of Holbein in Germany would be very
incomplete if we said nothing more of Bonifacius .
Amerbach. His father, the well-known printer,
had nourished one great ambition, — ^to produce noble
editions of St. Augustine and St. Jerome. He had
published the whole of the former ; the publication
of the latter had been interrupted by his death, but
it was completed by his three gifted sons. Boni-
facius, the youngest, was bom in 1495 ; the same
year as Holbein, if our new chronology is correct. He
played a leading part at Basle as a lawyer and
politician. His talents had been early developed ;
and his tutor had more than once commended him
to the notice of Erasmus, as a "thorough Eras-
mian." In one respect he was superior to Erasmus :
he was a man of high moral courage. His portrait,
considered by some critics as the most perfect of the
Holbeins at Basle, displays him in the flower of
young manhood ; for it was painted in 1519, when
he was twenty-four. His eyes are small, but of
the purest blue ; his features are well chiselled, and
their vigorous beauty is heightened by the silky
curls of his auburn beard. His manners are said
to have been singularly engaging. His gifts of mind
and body won the admiration of the day; but
it was the stanchness of his heart that preserved
his memory. The world has clean forgotten how
he used to lead the song and dance to music of his
own ; and he has left few traces of his erudition
behind him ; but he will long be remembered as the
great collector of the works of Holbein. He
bought what no one else would buy, — the Bead
Christ, for instance, which was unfitted by its stark
£2

HOLBEIN IN GEBMANT.

[Natorc and Art. F«teiuu7 1. liC7.

reality for either church or banquet-hall ; and when
Holbein was absent in England, his wife and
children found a ready friend in Amerbach. He
seems then to have made a clean sweep of the
studio. His chief prompter was friendship, but it
acted in accordance with his taste. His house at
Little Basle (on the right bank of the Rhine) was
a gallery of art. A few objects were added by his
son, and the contents were purchased by the Town
Council in 1661. They consisted of forty-nine
paintings, and a cabinet with thirty-seven drawers
full of sketches and engravings, together with coins,
ivories, and various precious curiosities. Holbein
was represented by fifteen of the paintings, 104 of
the drawings, a sketch-book, the illustrated Praise
of Folly y and duplicate copies of his biblical designs
and his Danc^ of Dealh^ besides 1 1 1 of the other
wood-engravings. One of the paintings, a Last
Supper^ which we described a month ago, was in
fragments : they are supposed to have been rescued
by Amerbach from the religious mobs of 1529.
But we have now to tell of a much greater work,
which no care could save. It was destroyed by
damp, an enemy to northern art more fatal than
even bigotry.

The 15th of June, 1521, bid fair to open a new
epoch in historical art. On that day Holbein re-
ceived a commission to fill the new Town-hall with
great works in fi*esco. There were eleven spaces to
be filled, six of them broad, and five narrow. Two
of the broadest spaces were left untouched for the
present. The rest of them were filled before the
end of 1522. The four great subjects, which were
then completed, were drawn from classical story.
Republican virtue was exemplified by Curius
Dentatus rejecting the Sabine gold. Contrasted
with him was Sapor the Persian, a type of the
brutal arrogance of kings, trampling on the neck of
the Emperor Valerian.

Obscurer legends of the Greek republics of lower
Italy furnished the two other subjects : they were
scenes of self-sacrifice, in stem submission to the
law. In the five narrow spaces were single figures :
— 1. Christ, with a ta,blet in His hands, charging us
all to do as we would be done by ; — 2. David,
harping, with a scroll over his head, exhorting men
to judge righteously ; — 3. 4. and 5. Justice, Moder-
ation, and Wisdom. It will be obsei-ved that the
large subjects were all political : and this was not
altogether owing to the character of the locality.
At the time when these were designed, the
Protestants (as they were soon to be denominated)
had made their way into the town council ; but
they were by no means supreme there. Indeed,
the Burgomaster was a rank Papist, no less than
our old friend Jakob Meyer. The two religious
parties were united for the time by political sympa-
thies. In this year they effectcfd their common
object. The bishop and the aristoci'ats were de-
prived of their last pri\'ileges. The town-hall was
triumphant ; and democracy, pure and simple, was
depicted upon the walls. The case was altered
when Holbein supplied the two deficiencies in
1530-1. Both subjects were then taken from tlie

Old Testament ; and one of them was quite after
the heart of our own Puritans ; it was Saul
rebtiked by Samuel for not hewing Agag in pieces.
These magnificent frescoes were the wonder of a
generation ; but before the end of the century they
were frightftilly scarred by damp. Other artists
tried their colours over those of Holbein ; but at

, last they were all charitably covered with green
cloth. Out of two or three little bits, and aiew

I drawings, and the town-hall account-books, Dr.

I Woltmann constructs a very interesting history.

I But we can only commend it to our Grerman
readers, together with the notice of the organ-
screen of the cathedral. There are other topics
which more emphatically demand our attention.

' In the summer of 1521, the burghers of Basle
had plenty of local business upon their hands ; yet
still they could not fail to be profoundly agitated,
by hearing of Luther's triumph at the Diet of
Worms, and of his mysterious disappearance after
it.. He subsequently reappeared at Wittenberg,
safe and sound, as all the world knows : but for
many months even the wise heads were puzzled, and
the simple ones were driven quite crazy. At first
the Reformei's were aghast; but they soon recovered
heart, and their energies were only fevered by the
agitation. At Basle there was a priest, who
preached openly against the mass, and waylaid
a procession in the streets, calling the relics " mere
deisid men's bones." The bishop demanded his
arrest, and his congregation, in their turn, defied
the bishop. The town council interfered, and
managed to edge the priest out of the city. But
another soon took his place ; and at the close of the
year amved (Ecolampadius, the true apostle of the
Reformation at Basle.

Meanwhile a sort of revolution had been effected
in the town council. Jakob Meyer, though a
zealous Catholic, had assisted in stripping the
bishop of the last shadow of civil supremacy.
He bul thus become himself the chief magistrate
of Basle. But his seat was a shaky one. In the
Octol:>er of the same year (1521) he was accused of
taking bribes from the French king. It was
common enough for the magisti-ates of a free city
to receive a pension from one of the neighbouring
princes. The members of the lesser council of
Basle received fifteen crowns apiece ; but Meyer
had accepted a larger sum. He was comjielled to
disgorge the surplus ; and he was dismissed from
office. This was a fine stroke for the Reformers, and
won them the Burgomastership. Meyer struggled
defiantly against the stream for a few years longer.
He enlisted troops for the French king, or for the
Po|)e, as he had done before ; and he led them
himself into Italy : he returned to Basle, and we
hear of him in 1529', the year of the fanatical
iconoclasm, when he was the spokesman of the
Catholics. Then all records of him cease. But
there is a votive picture which will long preserve
his memory, and spread his fame far wider than he
could ever have dreamed of. This is Holbein s
most famous Mwlonna, To every true Grerman
heart, says Dr. Woltmann, the Madonna of the

Katnra and Art. Wahrtuay 1. 18b7.]

HOLBEIN IN GEBMANT.

Dresden Gallery appeals, as the faii*est ideal of
German womanhood. The face, all clearness and
light, scarce perceptibly broken by the eyebrows ;
the tenderly drooping eyelids, the gi-aceful build of
the neck, and the dimple in the chin ; all these
are features to be gazed at and remembered with
indescribable delight. Even Mrs. Jameson ♦
admits that her half-deified Raphael has never
surpassed this Virgin Mother. At her right hand
kneel the Burgomaster and his youthful son, the
latter holding up a beautiful naked boy ; at her
left is the Burgomaster's mother or mother-in-law,
his wife, and their daughter, a girl just entering her
teens. This is the old-fasliioned monumental
arrangement. It is not improbable that the
elderly woman, though represented as living, was
just dead when the picture was first designed, and
that it was literally her epifcaph, — intended, namely,
to be placed above her tomb.

Every visitor to the Dresden Gallery is struck by
two things, — the loveliness of the Madonna and
the sickliness of the child. The gossip will tell
him that the child is not Christ at all, but a sick
infant of Meyer's ; an idea which seems to have
originated with Ludwig Tieck. To this some will
add, that she has set down her own beautiful boy
in front of her. Another suggests, and the notion
is at least more agreeable with the character of the
age, that the design was made in memory of the
naked standing boy, and that the infant in arms
represents his soul. But the conjectures are all
thrown away, for the infant is extending his hand
in the act of blessing. Moreover, this picture must
be compared toith the original ; for, after all, the
Dresden Madonna, though entirely designed, and
partly executed by Holbein, is not a first original.

At Daimstadt is the great treasure, the property
of the Princess Charles of Hesse. And yet, per-
haps, both treasures are equal ; for the enthralling
beauty of which we have spoken is not to be found
in the Darmstadt picture. She is here painted
from an entirely different model, with more
decided features, more marked and darker eye-
brows, and an expression of more forcible grandeur.
No one could talk here of a sickly child, for the
child is smiling brightly. Dr. Woltmann proves,
we think conclusively, that this is entirely Holbein's
work, executed in his first period ; and that the
Dresden picture is later, and only Holbein's so far as
the Madonna and child are concerned. Tliese were
new, and so was the plan of the architectural back-
ground : the family figures were copied by an as-
sistant. The latter are very fine ; still they are clumsy
when compared with the originals. The Darmstadt
picture was almost certainly placed in a church,
and withdrawn by its owner when the tumults
began. Its history is dark ; probably because it
followed the dark fortunes of the Meyers. The
males of the family are supposed to have quitted
Basle soon after 1529, like many of their co-
religionists. The mother accompanied them, no

* " Legends of the Madoniia."
London, 1857.

Second edition, p. 102.

doubt ; but she left one member of the group
behind her. The Dresden Madonna can be clearly
traced back to the immediate descendants of her
daughter Anna ; and Dr. Woltmann has adorned
its history with a pretty epLsode, partly conjecluiul,
but partly founded upon documentary evidence.
We must premise by stating that Anna's de-
scendants possessed, besides the MadonTUiy two
indejiendent portraits of her parents ; fine old
copies after the Holbeins, which were lithographed
for our Chiistma-s number. And now for Dr.
Woltmann's story. Anna, the demure little
maiden of the picture, kneeling beside her mother,
was just entering her teens when the Darmstadt
original was painted : she was just leaving them,
about the end of 1529, when she was married, and
had a new household of her own at Basle. Her
parents were on the point of migrating ; and her
most precious wedding-gifts were their portraits
and the Dresden Madonna. Here she could still
see the old household, including her former self, all
lovingly united. But for the central figure Holbein
had chosen a fresh model. The Virgin no longer
appeared as the sublime patroness of the dead :
she was a spiritual being, but of a softer splendour,
better suited for the home of a young wife. Such
is the story of the two Madonnas.

The second volume of Dr. Woltmann's work
may be expected before long ; and it may possibly
tempt tis to give a short abstract of his views (a
couple of papers, perhaps), on Holbein in England.
Of Holbein in Germany we have little more to say.
At the close of 1522 the town-hall frescoes were sus-
pended, and nearly all important works of art came
to a stand-still. The Church and State authorities
were hoarding their funds, with grim forebodings
of civil war. Holbein could find few private
patrons like Meyer or Amerbach ; and he was not
the sort of man to live quietly upon the mere alms
of friendship. He could earn his own bread by
designing for publishers and goldsmiths; but it
was not enough to feed his family. His father died
in 1524 : his own home was unhappy, . and he
began to turn his thoughts towards foreign
countries. It is probable that his uncle Sigmund
at Berne, and his other German friends, could offer
him very poor prospects of employment. Erasmus
urged him to try England, and sent one of his
own portraits to Sir Thomas More, with a letter
commending the painter to his notice. The letter
is lost ; but More's reply, dated the 18th of
December, 1525, runs thus : — " Thy painter is
a wonderful artist, but I fear that England will
not prove as fertile as he hopes. Yet I will take
care that he shall not find it utterly barren."
Holbein still hesitated. But matters did not
mend at Basle. After 1522, there is no entry of
payments made to him by the State, till March,
1526, and that is for painting two heraldic shields !
At length the important moment arrived. A letter
from Erasmus \o a friend at Antwerp, dated 29 th
August, 1526, contains the following passage.

'* The bearer of this is the man who has painted me. I
will not borthen thee with his praises, though he is an

THE ATLANTIC YACHT RACE.

[Natan ud Art. Febrauy 1« 18r.

ezoellent artist. If he desires to visit Qnintin [Matsys,
the painter], and thoa canst not spare time to go with the,
man thyself, thou canst let thy servant show him the
house. Here the arts are freezing : he is going to England
to scrape together a few angels {Hie fngeiit artesj petit
Angliam, ut corradat aliquot An/jelotos).'^

The poor pun, and even the frigid arrogance of
Erasmus, may be excused ; for he was evidently a
good friend of the painter's. As for the English
angels, we all know that Holbein gathered them in
a golden harvest.

*#• In consequence of the statements in the second part of
the review of Br. Alfred Woltmann's work, published in the
December number of Nature and Art, relative to the
supposed loss of Holheiii*s original 'portrait of Johann
Froheriy we received a letter from a gentleman claiming to
be the happy possessor of it. We here give his own words,
without hazarding an opinion on the subject, as we think it
may be interesting to some of our readers to follow up the
clue of the lost treasure thus afforded them. — Ed.

Sheriff Hntton Park, York.

Dear Sir, — ^There is no doubt as to its originality, and if,
as I understand by the review of Dr. Woltmann's work in
Nature and Art of December, Holbein painted but (me
picture of Frobenius, then our picture is that picture.

This portrait came into our possession on the division of
a large collection of pictures belonging to a gentleman con-
nected by marriage with our family, and also a kinsman of
the famous Lord Bacon. In this way, we became possessed
of some very valuable pictures. I hav^ the inventory
of these pictures as made on Mr. Ba(x)n*8 death; I do
not recollect the date, but, I think, in the early part of last
century. The picture is there, described, " Frobenius, by
Hans Holbein." There is not, and never has been, any doubt
about the genuineness of the picture. Indeed, it is hardly
necessary to tell you (even if the picture did not speak for
itself, by its excellence, as indubitably by Holbein, and by
his signature or monogram being painted, not, I may say, m
the picture but in the picture), that the fact of what tho
picture was acknowledged to be at the time of Mr. Bacon's
death, is strong evidence of its genuineness.

I am, faithfully yours,

Leonard Thompson.

THE ATLANTIC YACHT RACE.

CHRISTMAS-DAT, 1866, will long be remembered by all
who take an interest in the manly pastime of yachting,
for on that anniversary* of our great national festival there
was brought to the shores of England by our transatlantic
cousins as novel a '^ sensation," even in these prolific days
of sensation novels, as the first arrival of Phoonician galleys
must have been to the ancient Britons. We are indebted
for this sensation, with all its characteristic originality and
boldness of execution, to that remarkable "go-ahead" pro-
pensity which is so peculiar a feature of the idios3morasy
of the American Anglo-Saxon. The abstract notion of a
yacht race across the Atlantic in the best season of the
year would, amongst an ordinary people, have sufficed to fill
Ambition's measure to overflowing. But, desirous of even
more than realizing the remark of Horace, —

" Horrida callidi vincunt sequora navitae,"
the American yachtsmen evidently sought to imjyfove the
difficulty of their self-imposed task, and to add to the inten-
sity of tho ** sensation " by courting all the perils attend-
ant upon mid-winter navigation.

A brief description of the three yachts engaged in this
remarkable contest is deemed worthy of record in the pages
of Nature and Art, as much from the general interest
which the event has excited throughout the length and
breadth of the land, as from tho advantages which may
hereafter be derivable through having practical data at
hand, with which to compare the conditions and results of
any future ocean races.

Establishing the tonnage of the yachts according to
American measurement (arrived at by taking length of keel,
by which multiply extreme breadth, and the product by
depth of hold, dividijig total by 95), the Flcetwimj is 206
tons ; her length on deck being 106 feet ; keel, 93 feet ;
beam, 23 feet 8 inches ; depth of hold, 9 feet 3 inches ;
draught of water amidships, 11 feet 6 inches. She was
commanded by Captain Thomas, of the packet ship City of
New Yorkf and carried a crew of twenty-two men. Her
owner, Mr. George Osgood, was represented on board by
Messrs. R. Centre and Staples, members of the N.Y.Y.C.,
and also judges on behalf of the Henrietta and Vesta. The
Vesta differs from her opponents by carrying 184 ^^^ ^^
** centre-board," or false keel (like that of the celebrated
yacht America), which can bo lowered %ad. raised as desired.
She is slightly inferior in size, being 201» tons ; her length
on deck is 105 feet ; keel, 98 feet ; beam, 25 feet ; depth
of hold, 8 feet inches ; draught of water, 74 feet, in addi-
tion to her centre-board. The Vesta was commanded by
Captain Dayton, her crew consisting of twenty-six men.

Mr. Pierre Lorillard, her owner, was represented by his
brother and Colonel Bayard Taylor, the celebrated author,
who also acted as judges for the Fleetunng and Henrietta.
The Henrietta measures 205 tons, and has more rake to her
masts than either the Vesta or FZce(u*in^, which latter yacht
she otherwise closely resembles in form, with the exception
of having much more sheer. The Henrietta was commanded
by Captain Samuels, of the well-known clipper ship Dread*
notightf and carried a crew of twenty-four seamen. BIr.
Bennett was the only owner who sailed in his yacht, and
he was accompanied by Messrs. Jerome and Knapp, who
were judges for the Fleetwin^ and Vesta, and by Mr. Fisk,
of the New York Herald newspaper.

New York was naturally alive with the excitement arisiog
out of this unprecedented contest for a week or two preceding
the day fixed for the race. The intense interest thus mani-
fested throughout the ** Empire City " was in some degree
attributable to the very even chances of the three competing
yachts, although the Heetwing was slightly the favourite.
When the day appointed for the start — Tuesday, December
11th — arrived, the excitement had reached its culminating
point. At every available position vast crowds had assembled,
who vociferously cheered the occasion and each preparatory
movement made in connexion with it. The vessels in ha^
hour and the craft plying on the East and Hudson
rivers, and the villas upon Staten Island, off which tho
yachts lay, were gaily decked with flags. Steamers had
been hired to convey the members of the New York Yacht
Club, and the numerous friends of the competitors, to
Sandy Hook, the scene of departure for the hazardous
enterprise. The day was bright and the wind westerly
and favourable. The air alternately vibrated with the
enlivening music of many bands, and the thundering sal*
voes of many salutes fired in honour of the adventurous
yachtsmen.

At eleven o* clock the Henrietta's racing signal was run
up, and then the three yachts were taken in tow by their
respective tugs to the starting-point. The Fleetxtnng took
up her position about a mile to the eastward of Sandy
Hook ; the Henrietta was nearest the shore; and the Vesta
was stationed midway between her two antagonists. They
waited thus until one o'clock p.m., when Mr. Fearing, the
starter, gave the signal ; and then, at the sight of a little
puff of smoke and the booming sound of a gun, up went
foresails and topsails on all three. Scarcely had the wind
filled these sails when the second gun was fired, and the
yachts' whole spread of canvas was shaken out. Before
the first burst of cheering from the excited spectators had

Natnr* and Art. Pebiunry 1» 1887.]

MUSIC AT HOME.

died away, the yaohtsmen heard the still more congenial
sound of the sea, hissing, rushing, and oaressing their vessels
as they gathered way and out through the foam-orestod
waves of the Atlantic. Lying inshore, the HenHetta was
the last to catch the breeze, but quickly recovered this
alight delay as she veered off from the land. For some
time the steamers and tugs escorted the yachts in proces-
sion, the bands on board the former playing " Auld Lang
Syne." The wind gradually rose and the yachts increased
their speed, the farewell cheering became fainter and fainter,
and the last of the tugs, with a parting hurrah, turned
homewards ; while, in responsive cheers, the crews of the
yachts bade a temporary adieu to the United States. Day-
light rapidly declined, the sun sinking beneath the western
horizon in a departing halo of crimson and gold ; and at
nightfall the friends lost sight of each other until they
again met in the harbour of Oowes.

The HenHetta^ showing a blue flag by day and a blue light
at night, sailed along over the Atlantic course ; making the
Scilly Isles on December 24th, at 7.45 p.m., passing Hurst
Castle the next (Christmas) day, at 4 p.m., and arriving off
Cowes at 5.40 p.m. ; the winner of this Ocean Derby, having
accomplished ito voyage in the brief space of thirteen days,
twenty-two hours, and forty-six minutes.

Notwithstanding her remarkably swift passage, the
Henrietta experienced the reverse of fair weather. She once
lay to for ten hours in a gale, and in a subsequent calm of
ten hours' duration she made but little , progress. After-
wards the weather proved tolerably fine, until the Henrietta
reached the Scilly Isles, and then she encountered, in the
British Channel, the fogs, mists, and gloomy weather so
characteristic of our climate in the winter season. It was
under this cheerless aspect that she reached the goal of
victory (without the loss of a strand of rope or a shred of
canvas), to be greeted with such hearty, enthusiastic wel-
come as must have quickly dispelled from the minds of all
on board any prejudicial notion that Englishmen's feel-
ings are influenced by the gloomy nature of their climate.

The Fleetioin<j showing a red flag by day and a red light
at night, commenced her voyage under most unfavourable
auspices, which eventually culminated in the appalling

catastrophe so ably depicted by Mr. Dutton. On the even-
ing of December 11th, the FJeetwing lost her weather
square-sail boom ; the day following her jib-boom was
carried away, and she again lost it on the 16th. At 9 p.m.
on the 19th, while she was running dead before the, wind,
she broached slightly to, when a huge wave broke on board
amidships. As her stern sunk in the trough of the sea, the
immense volume of water rushed aft ; washing overboard
six of the eight men forming the watch in the cockpit.
The remaining two (the mate and the helmsman), as also the
two look-out men, stationed forward, escaped the awfully
sudden doom to which their ill-fated comrades were hurried.
During four hours the Fleetwin^f lay to, while those remain-
ing on board fruitlessly endeavoured to discover the victims
among the waves which had engulfed them. Continuing
her voyage with a diminished and naturally depressed crew,
the Fleetwing eventually reached Cowes at 2 a.m. on
December 26th ; thus arriving some eight hours after the
winner.

The VestUi which showed a white flag and white light, had
remarkably favourable weather throughout her passage, and
neither shipped a sea nor lost a rope. Taking a more
northerly course than her opponents, she escaped the gale
which caused the He7vnetta*s long detention and the Fleet-
iving's lamentable accident. Owing, however, to the devia-
tion of her compasses, she went considerably out of her true
course, and had to bear up off the Scilly Isles, which she
sighted one hour earlier than the Henriettay and to make good
her lost gn^ound. In addition to this, the pilot, whom she
picked up about ten miles off the Needles passage, mistook
his course, and almost ran her ashore and wrecked her on
the rocks off St. Catherine's ; by which error she was again
unnecessarily delayed. She reached Cowes the last of the
three yachts, arriving at 3.30 a.m. on December 26th, one
hour and a half after the FUetwing,

The distances respectively sailed in the race are stated to
be as follows : — Henrietta ^ 3,040 miles ; Vesta ^ 3,069 miles ;
and Fleetwing, 3,200. The respective maximum and mini-
mum daily distances sailed are, Henrietta, 280 and 113 miles;
Vesta^ 2,11 and 165 miles ; FleetiHng, 270 and 136 miles.

Viz.

MUSIC AT HOME.

WHEN Christmas is fairly over, and the old
gentleman with the scythe and hour-glass
is deposed in favour of that infant Hercules, the
New Year, Britannia forthwith inclines to festivity,
and devotes herself to party-giving. Pantomimes
and burlesques are very well in their way, but
the young people must be made jubilant at home.
Those who live in Rome necessarily follow in the
wake of the genteel Romans ; and all who take
delight in that institution known as '* Society," are
called upon to do their best towards promoting what
vulgar little boys, partial to sliding, term " keeping
the game alive." Matrons who, with their daughters,
sail into two or three salons per evening, or even
one per week, are required to occasionally throw
open their own apartments ; and persons who
partake of hospitality as represented by quadrille
bands, bon-bons, ices, and champagne, must offer
similar delights in return. Festivity may not be
hydi*a-headed, but it takes varied forms, and a
few remarks upon the comparatively mild delights
of a " musical evening " may not, perhaps, be con-
sidered out of place. Materfamilias having no
Harlequin's wand at command, cannot " turn the

house upside down" for the delectation of her
dancing friends without considerable inconvenience ;
she therefore chooses a quieter form of entertain-
ment, and perching Euterpe upon the grand piano-
forte, invites gentle and simple to worship the
second Muse after their own fashion, that is to say,
after the fashion of the day ; for to be unfashionable
in music is to meet with looks of pitying wonder
from some of the brightest eyes in the world.
Could society be furnished with statistics relating
to musical parties, it would probably transpire that
during the laat quarter of a century these enter-
tainments have increased a hundred-fold. There
are soirees musicdles, where court beauties all a-blaze
with diamonds, find themselves face to face with
operatic stars in the evening dress of private life ; for
the loving and confiding Margherita does not always
wear her hair in long plaits, neither does Mephis-
topheles appear in scarlet hose when he sings his
(strictly speaking) fiendish serenade. There are
also the musical parties of middle-class life, where
volunteers take the place of hired mercenaries ; and
where Mendelssohn's First Violet pales before a
jewel of such exceeding brightness as the fashionable

MUSIC AT HOME.

[Nature and Art, Vthnuurj 1, 1887.

Fioribers last ballad. The strong-lunged and vulgar
drones in the London beehive have likewise their
vocal and instrumental festivals, though invitations
thereto are given verbally, and the descriptive term
"sing-song" is substituted for "soiree." The con-
sumptive nightingale Violetta's Ah/ors e lui, float-
ing from the marble halls of Belgi*avian squares into
the midnight air, helps to prove music a resource
with the " wealthy and curled darlings of the land;"
the echoes of the latest specimen of Ethiopian
serenader pathos (or bathos) behind the drawing-
room blinds of Harley, Gower, or staid Queen
Anne Street, suggest that the divine art is held in
equal esteem by the comfortably situated middle
classes ; and is it not recorded by a thousand
wandering minstrels that even the dwellers in the
most sordid slums, have, in common with their
betters an ear for music and a mind to cultivate it ]

Poor Euterpe has sometimes little reason to
admire the taste of either patrician or plebeian,
and certainly deserves better treatment than she
frequently experiences at the hands of that section
of the community which may be designated the
happy medium between high and low. We are all
at liberty to accept the dogma, " a little knowledge
is a dangerous thing," with a certain degree of
reserve. When, however, that " little knowledge "
is misapplied, in music especially, it conducts natural
taste on the downward road with alarming rapidity,
and promotes something more than a toleration of
things known to be meretricious in every sense of
the word.

The ladies, " heaven bless 'em ! " as a jocose con-
temjporaiy ecstatically observes, cannot, perhaps,
be expected to dive deeply into the art of music ;
but even skimming over the surfece after the most
approved custom, they might surely gather up more
precious waifs and strays than they do. A little
counsel is needed, but is, unfortunately, seldom
forthcoming. Of what artists themselves might do
for the advancement of music we shall hereafter
speak ; but at present the maids of merry England
are by no means indebted to the great body of
concert vocalists for information as to where the
best songs, native and foreign, are to be found.
Assuming a young lady with a soiree mvMeale in
view, and in search of a song ; how is she guided in
her choice when face to face with a thousand sheets of
spoiled paper in a mtisic-shop ? She, very probably,
could count all the song- writers she ever heard of
on the fingers of one white hand ; and as for
estimating the worth of a ballad by looking at
it, that is impossible. She could not, to save her
life, purse her rosy lips and softly whistle the
melody, supposing propriety sanctioned such a pro-
ceeding ; and as for the accompaniment, that is
very often a sealed book at first sight. Aurora is
far more likely to require of Brown, Jones, or
Robinson behind the counter, " a pretty song with
an easy accompaniment," than simply a "good
one," without any such stipulation. Obliging at-
tendant Brown understands the dainty maiden at
once, and has quires of something worse than
mediocrity conveniently at hand. It is not assistant

Brown's place to tell his charming vls-h-via that
Mr. Henry Smart wrote an exquisite song called
" Hateful Spring," with a difficult accompaniment ;
that Mr. J. L. Hatton's " Rainy Day" a(hnits of no
compromise in the latter particular ; or that Schubert
and Mendelssohn composed songs which more than
repay any one for the trouble of really studying
them. He imparts no such information, but pro-
duces " Mopings at Daybreak," and " Midnight
Maunderings," by some feebly twinkling, though
fashionable star of the musical firmament, and
they are forthwith ordered of him. " Counter
Songs," that is to say, compositions calculated to
meet the views of those who have no deep feeling
whatever for music, and who are anxious to dis-
charge their individual obligation with the least
possible trouble to themselves, must be in what are
called, singularly enough, " easy keys." Five flats,
or the same number of sharps, by way of signature,
are abominations in the eyes of young ladies ; and
an accompaniment made up of anything but the
simplest chords is almost inadmissible. The supply
of any kind of trash is generally equal to the
demand ; and mediocrity, at the best, flourishes
exceedingly at soirees w/usicales.

We hear much in the present day of " missions,"
and it cannot surely be questioned that to the
daughters in a family circle is chiefly confided the
honour of music as an art. The responsibility is un-
consciously accepted, and its impoi-tance decidedly
undervalued. Young ladies possess, unknowingly,
an immense power either to advance or retard the
progress of true taste, and it is in home circles
that everything noble and beautiful in the world
of sweet sounds should be most eagerly sought after.
Fathers and brothers, as a rule, neither sing nor play
the pianoforte, but they frequently listen, and their
taste must be influenced by what they constantly
hear. There are cheering exceptions to every rule,
and the newest valse, vocal or instrumental, is not
the summit of every maiden's ambition. While
all tacitly admit singing and pianoforte-playing as
duties owed to society; and while, as we have
already said, the vast majority take the least possible
trouble in rendering this suit and service, there are
some who set about the work in an earnest and con-
scientious manner. Why should a composer submit
to the indignities heaped upon him by his delightful
young tyrants ? Why should his accompaniments
be mercilessly "vamped," as they oftentimes are,
and why should not his unfortunate unities be
properly respected? Why, on the other hand,
should his lUies be repainted, and his fine gold —
the pride of his fancy — be re-gilded, either by
professionals or amateurs partial to ornamentation ;
and why in any case should not his intentions
be always religiously respected? Admirers of
music are plentiful as blackberries in October, but
devotees in private life do not abound. Those
who take up music as a matter of course will con-
descend to everything indicated above ; but true
lovers of the art will do nothing of the kind. They
give the composer credit for some kind of thought
and mental jx)wer ; and first endeavouring to dis-

Kaiora Mul Art. Fabnuuy 1, 18S7.1

MUSIC AT HOME.

cover his meaning, next set about translating it in
a fair, candid, and painstaking spirit. The minority
who decline any vocal commonplace that happens to
be fashionable, and turn their attention to better
compositions, have their reward. Music is, to them,
a repose and a consolation, which time cannot
weaken, and they have the satisfaction of knowing
that many of their friends rely upon their judg-
ment, and respect them for their integrity.

At the generality of musical parties, vocal at-
tractions are far more potent than instrumental ; and
in common justice a protest may be made against
the very imdi^ified position which that friend of
man and woman, the pianoforte, is made to accept.
Pianoforte solos form part of the soiree scheme, but
society is sometimes very unmannerly in reference
to the unfortunate pianist. Conversation in the
private boxes of theatres is not the only sign by
which the elite proclaim their contempt for the
usages of common politeness ; for in ordinary way,
the commencement of a crack-brained fantasia or
a dreamy nocturne seems to quicken the loquacious
powers of every one in the room. One of the Abb^
Liszt's acrobatic transcriptions is allowed no better
chance of making its mark than a delicate, fanciful,
and tender Impromptu of Chopin — " that angel of
melancholy." It is useless for the presiding genius
at the instrument to pound away at octaves and
arp^gios, for the odds are too great, and resignation
becomes a virttie. The lady or gentleman friend of
the family may adopt the word forte for his or
her motto, but the remaining guests will not be
outdone, and take " fortissimo " for their watchword.
" Thanks," and " charming," are the terms of
acknowledgment and admiration indulged in by
those who have not heard a note of the solo ; and
the discomfited pianist emerges from this kind of
social purgatory with, possibly, a settled resolve to
** assist " at musical parties no more. Forbearance
comes too late, and common consideration is entirely
at fault when active tongues stop at the last instead
of at the first chord of a pianoforte piece. The
vocalists have things their own way at musical
evenings, and those who undertake to do their best
for Mendelssohn, Stephen Heller, or even Mr.
Brinley Eichards, may consider themselves fortunate
if one or two in the assembly pay the slightest
attention to them. The intelligent " wallflower "
nearest the instrument is occasionally a consolation
to the pianist in these seasons of affliction, for it
may happen that the masters and mistresses of
houses devoted to soir6es prefer to indulge in " big
talk " about big people, while a little lady or gentle-
man with a great soul is being sorely troubled
by garrulous dowagers, coquettish maidens, and
plethoric old gentlemen, with no more love for
music than for butterfly-catching. Grood example
does not always proceed from the quai-ter expected,
and the habits of those who attend musical parties
must greatly change before the common justice
above referred to, is rendered to the piano soloist.

Those who in the course of a season make the
somewhat wearying round of concerts and matindes,
cannot fail to perceive how greatly the dignity of

music is confided to public singeiu What vocalists
might do in the cause of the art they profess, and
what they do, are two very different things. They
might, and should, lead popular taste into the proper
channels, and by their choice of songs inculcate a
love for compositions in which something like mind
and thought exist. They might ako cretlitably
employ themselves in fanning that divine spark, of
which we see so little, but which, nevertheless,
flickers through every page of good music ; and set
examples worthy of themselves, as well as of in-
calculable service to their fellows. The concert-
room gives the law to the drawing-i-oom, and it is
the fault of the professional singers themselves, if
persons really interested in music are forced to
deplore this fact, in place of congratulating them-
selves upon it. Artists are not ethereal beings,
neither can they afford to postpone the making oif
hay till the sun ceases to shine ; but it is certainly
possible for them to do more for the art, and as
much for themselves, by following other rules than
those at present in force. We, as a great little
Corporal was pleased to observe, are " a nation of
shopkeepers," and not averse to the turning of
honest pence. This is an indisputable fact ; and as
some lords of broad acres may be prevailed upon to
sell their game to a shopkeeper, so it is just possible
a vocalist of the highest reptitation may, for a con-
sideration, be induced to affix his or her sign manual
to a song or ballad decidedly not of the highest
school of art. It might, perhaps, be too bold to
assert that any form of " refresher " is ever offered
by a publisher to a vocalist, and still bolder to affirm
that pecuniary compliments are paid by music-shop-
keepers, and accepted by the stars of the musiad
hemisphere. The out^r world may not say point-
blank that professional singers are paid by publishers
to force unmitigated trash down the public throat,
but the outer world aforesaid is at perfect liberty
to put its own interpretation upon certain practices
now too much in vogue.

A sentimental ballad by the fair Gabrielle
Virginie, or by Floribel, makes a very palpable hit,
and forthwith commercial enterprise pricks up its
ears. More sentimental ballads from the same
" eagle plumes " follow in qtiick succession. They
are put prominently forward in the music-shops,
and pertinaciously introduced, to the exclusion of
better <;ompositions, in the concert-room. That the
singer with whom they are identified may have lost
his or her voice is a matter of no moment, so that
he or she be still sufficiently popular to take these
things from platform to platform in London and
the provinces, and " make them go " at all hazards.
Presently initials (not printed) appear upon the
title-pages,' and what do the letters L. S. D. in
loving companionship mean ? Why should the
singer's name be written and the composer^s printed ?
If merely a graceful recognition of the musician's
genius be intended, theie are others equally de-
serving of the honour.

Another imfortunate dispensation is that which
makes some persons composers as well as vocalists,
and gives them the opportunity of trying to

CAMOfiNSIA MAXIMA (WELWITSCH).

[Ifatare aiid Att, FMn-otzy l.lMr.

popularize their own inventions. Instances both
native and foreign might be quoted of this double
gift vested in one person, though, unhappily, in very
unequal degrees. Herr Streichart is all very well
when engaged in the cause of Mozart or Beethoven,
but when, on every possible occasion, he bursts into
songs of his own composing, HeiT Streichart does
not advance civilization to the best of his ability.
So, from one of the most popular English tenors,
his countrymen have a right to expect greater con-
solation than that to be derived from his personal
eflForts in ballad-writing. Singers who are also
composers will naturally give their own songs
whjBnever and wherever they possibly can ; and this
must be accepted as one influence at work against
the more frequent introduction of good music into
the concert-rooms.

It will surely be admitted that the native school
boasts of many young sopranos, whose names are
constantly seen in matin6e programmes, but almost
invariably in connection with one or two songs,
which are made to last for a season, and which ai*e
repeated everywhere without the least apparent
compimction. A fair-haired English Miss (all
honour to her for despising the Mdlle. apostasy),
begins the season with vocal reflections on the
blessings which follow a " Genial vernal shower ;"
continues in precisely the same strain, and carols
on to the end of the fashionable months, without
advancing any new theory whatever. All this is
infinitely monotonous, infinitely inartistic, and in-
finitely damaging to the interests of music. From
the German sopranos we cannot get the lovely songs
of Schubert and Mendelasohn, but are obliged to
put up with vocal valses, none of them comparable
with Venzano's, which poor Madame Gussier sang
so well. The best songs, either English or foreign,
are unfortimately not those ordinarily met with at
concerts, and the complacency with which artists
pass over, neglect, and contemptuously ignore the
thousand good compositioDs within reach, and waste
their talents on inferior songs, is to be sincerely
deplored.

A resume of recent musical events will, of
necessity, be brief. Mr. Alfred 3Iellon at Covent
Garden (for during the reign of Harlequin the old
name of the theatre may be spoken), has clearly
proved that anything will do as a prelude to a

gorgeous pantomima M. EmUe Jonas's AvmA h
Noces, called by Mr. Gilbert ^ Beckett, the English
librettist. Terrible UymeUy is about as vapid and
meaningless a trifle as the English public were ever
called upon to tolerate. But two persons are con-
cerned in rendering M. Jonas*8 inspirations : Mdlle.
Linas Martorelli plays Marie, a bride elect, and
Signer Gustave Garcia, Pierre, the stronger vessel,
on the road to matrimony. Pierre is decidedly
I weak-minded, and Marie the reverse. The fun
I (save the mark !) consists in a change of costume,
and poor Signor Garcia is in vain called upon to
be comical in his handsome companion's drapery.
Pierre speaks broken English, and this does not
improve the situation. Signor Garcia sings well,
and so does Mdlle. Martorelli ; but both are out of
place in Terrible Hymeriy which, fortunately, takes
little more than half an hour in representation.
Of the Forty charming Thieves we have nothing to
remark except to be taken prisoner would inevitably
be to renounce the respectable world, and join their
band. Mr. Tom Hohler made his debiU as an
oratorio singer in Elijah, at the Sacred Harmonic
Society's concert in the last month of the last year.
Mr. Hohler had a cold, and undertook the tenor
part at a short notice ; but Mr. Hohler made a dire
mistake in undertaking the music at all. He will
have another opportunity of asserting his claims to
be regarded as something more than a respectable
tenor when Mr. Mapleson re-opens his magnificent
theatre ; but Mr. Hohler has so much to learn that
his chances of distinction are very doubtful. That
he has disappointed expectations, is beyond doubt,
and that those expectations were raised upon totally
false grounds is tolerably evident. The public tire
of hearing a singer practise. The best thing for
any one in need of such training is to go through
it in private, and avoid theatres or concert-rooms
during the course.

At a concert given by Mr. Henry Leslie at St
James's Hall, on January 5th, Mr. Santley sang,
for the first time, a sequel to the " Stirrup Cup,"
by Signor ArditL Sequels are seldom impressive,
or at all equal to the original songs, and " The Gift
and the Giver " is no exception whatever to the
rule. On Saturday the 12th, a series of Promenade
Concerts was commenced at Her Majesty's Theatre
— of which more anon.

OAMOENSIA maxima (WELWITSCH).*

THE African continent, perhaps, of all the large
continents, is, although unlike South America
and many parts of tropical Asia, covered with
dense forests of almost innumei-able species, forming
impenetrable masses of luxurious vegetation, the

* Dr. Welwitsch, tho celebrated African traveller, who
collected this plant and from whoBc ppecimens our plate was
taken, had promised to fumifth ns with an article upon it ;
but, unfortunately, he has been by indiKpofiition prevented
from 80 doing.

richest in vegetable wonders and curiosities ; and
the well-known adage, " ex Afridi semper aliquiii
novum," is, with the progress of exploration, con-
tinually being realized. Two very singular and
interesting plants have already been illustrated in
this work, viz., the Welwiischia mirabilia and the
2Vee-Aloe ; and, to recall some other remarkable
fonns, the branched Palm (J/yphwrie Thebaica\ the
Baobab (Adansonia digiUUa), and the thick-flesliy-
stemmed vines {Vitis Bo/inesii and F. fiiacrofmi)

NatiiTC and Art, Ttbnmrj 1. 1867.]

MUSIC ABEOAD.

might be mentioned. Our plant, however, is not
from the arid region characterized by the above-
mentioned varieties of the vegetable kingdom, but
from the high elevated forests of the Golungo Alto,
in Angola, where, according to Dr. Welwitsch, it
adorns the loftiest trees on the margins of the
forests, causing the traveller to pause in amazement
before its grandeur. It may truly be called the
queen of the Leguminosae or pea-flower family, of
which it is a member, outrivalling as it does in the
size and magnificence of its flowers all its relations
from all parts of the world. Even in Australia,
where, in some districts, this family h the pre-
vailing feature, and is, in proportion to the other
families, more largely represented than in any
other region of the globe, only one, Clianthus
Dampierii (now frequently seen in our green-houses),
whose flowere are infinitely smaller, though more
brilliantly coloured, can vie with this noble plant.
It is to b(B sincerely hoped that an opportunity may
soon occur of introducing it; and this difficulty
once overcome, it would spread rapidly throughout
the country, for members of this family are, as a
rule, easy of cultivation and propagation.

The position assigned to this genus in the family
by Bentham, and Hooker is in the Sophorese, dis-
tinguished from the neighbouring tribes by having
not more than ten uncombined stamens. The well-
known Sophora Japonica of our gardens, a large

ornamental tree with fern-like leaves, is the typical
genus of the tribe. Camoensia of itself forms a
subtribe with three leaflets on each stalk, a broad
upper petal, narrow distinct lower petals, and
numerous ovules. The following is a popular de-
scription of the species represented on the plate. A
tall, smooth, climbing shrub, with drooping branches ;
leaves on stalks about two inches and a half long ;
leaflets of the leaf almost destitute of stalks, about
four inches long and one inch and a half broad,
margin imcut ; flowers in pendulous 6-12 flowered
racemes, ten inches to a foot in length ; calyx,
or outer covering of the flower, six inches long,
with its segments turned backwards ; petals white,
bordered with gold, the upper one much larger
than the others. The ripe pod is about the size of
that of a broad bean, but with a thicker and harder
shell. The plant is reduced one half in the plate.

One other species only of the genus is known
also from tropical Africa, but nearer the equator,
and a very handsome plant, but falls into com-
parative insignificance by the side of its more showy
congener.

Not long ago a coloured drawing of Camoensia
was shown at one of the South Kensington Hor-
ticultural Society meetings, and a hope expressed
that ere long it might be introduced to our con-
servatories : it is to be desired that it may.

W. H. F.

MUSIC ABROAD.

As the old gentleman, according to the fable, discovered
very, very long ago, thanks to the donkey which he
conld neither ride, drive, nor lead without exposing himself
to tbe reproaches or incurring the raillery of the persons
he met upon the road, there is certainly no pleasing
everybody, or, to pot it in a forcible, though somewhat
familiar form : " what is one man's meat is another man's
poison." As a rule, when the Viennese have nothing else
to do, they abuse the management of the Imx>erial Opera-
house for not providing sufficient novelty. Now they are
absolutely finding fault with it for supplying them with that
commodity. Sig. Verdi's Ballo in 3fa,*fc/iera, or Maskeii'
hall^ as it is entitled in the Viennese playbills, has been
produced at the Kiimthnerthor Theater of Vienna, and a
number of foolish individuals immediately raise a cry that
an act of leze-majesty has been committed against German
art ; that a wrong has been inflicted on the "national"
opera. For our own part, we certainly consider the
management acted very wisely in enriching its German
operatic repertory with a work which has everywhere proved
so successful as Der Maskenhall. Whether that work
satisfies all that critics are justified in requiring, is a
question that must, probably, be answered in the negative.
But in the domain of music, more, i)erhap8, than anywhere
else, novelty is indispensable. The number of really
classical operas, and of operas traditionally so called, is
very far from being large enough to constitute an entire
repertory ; the consequence is, that new works must be
added to the best among the old ones. When any par-
ticular period, like the present period in Germany, proves
unproductive in the way of operatic chefs-d^a^uvret that
which is relatively best must be picked out, and the public
content themselves with it. This standard of merely
relative excellence is the only standard applicable to the
German lyric stage at the present moment, and critics will

have to adopt it, even against their inclination, if they
would exercise their functions fairly and with advantage to
the cause of art. So much in answer to the assertion that
Der MaskenhaU is not a first-class production. With
regard to its being composed by an Italian, those musical
patriots, who, on that account, object to its figuring in the
German list of the Imperial Opera-house, forget, probably,
that, for the moment, Germany cannot point to any living
operatic composer of any note. Granting, for the sake of
argument, that Herr Biohard Wagner ever composed an
opera worth hearing, even that gentleman's warmest
admirers will hardly deny that the last specimen of the kind
from his pen was his Lohengrin. All that has followed it
has been a series of abstruse experiments, without any
vitality upon the stage. Yet, at the present date, Herr
Eichard Wagner is the sole representative of Gterman com-
posers with a reputation abroad. Whatever may be the
failings and shortcomings in the more recent operas by
Verdi and Gounod, these gentlemen are undoubtedly the
most talented among existing operatic composers. It is not
simply to a love of what is foreign, to a mere caprice of
fashion, that they owe the position they have achieved in
Germany. Of aU the German operas produced during the
last twenty years, the most bigoted admirer of the country
that gave birth to Mozart and to Beethoven, to Meyerbeer
and to Mendelssohn, would be sorely puzzled to adduce a
single act equal, in melodic invention and dramatic effect,
to the second or third act of Faust; the fourth of II
Trovatore ; the third of La Traviata ; or the second of Vn
Ballo in Maschera, This may be mortifying to German
pride, but it is the truth. The reader must not, however,
conclude, from such a state of things, that German com-
posers have been, or are idle. On the contrary, they all
bum with eagerness to achieve theatrical triumphs, and
their zeal in composing operas might be taken as an example

MUSIC ABEOAD.

rNAiure aod AH, Frtmury 1, UP.

of industry even in an ant-hill. At its numerous '* Court '*
and " Municipal " theatres, or theatres supported by the
reigning sovereigns or the Corporation, respectively,
Germany has, perhaps, produced, during the last twenty
years, five times as many new operas as France, and at
least as many as Italy in the same period. These said
German operas, on their first representation at Munich, or
Leipsic, or Darmstadt, or wherever they first beheld the
light of the lamps, are greeted, as a matter of course, with
shouts of applause by local musical patriots, and recom-
mended by the local critics to the world at large as great
and effective novelties, which cannot fail to become
exceedingly and universally popular. Nearly all, however,
meet with a decidedly cold reception in the very first town
where the manager is bold enough to try them. Even in
the fortunate locality where they were produced, they
survive theit first triumph for but a strangely short time.
Despite the acquirements and skill, despite the labour
and enthusiasm that characterize these scores, the utmost
they achieve is a sitcc^s d'estime. The reason of this is,
almost invariably, to be found in the want of talent —
either creative musical power generally, or dramatic power
more especially — on the part of their composers. It is un-
doubtedly Verdi's talent, his energetic and well-defined
talent, which gives him the superiority over so many more
highly accomplished German composers, who, as mere
musicians, must certainly be ranked above him. Let
Verdi* s operas be for ever banished from the German stage,
provided modem Germany can fill up with something as
good, the void which would be thus created. Until it can do
80, however, German art-bigots should cease reviling those
persons who take a pleasure in the Italian maestro*s pro-
ductions, in default of anything better. Even in his most
careless works, Verdi always has some happy thoughts
peculiar to himself ; and his broad, but sure touches, fre-
quently invest the dramatic situation with a degree of
warmth and power, to which the most learned and most
deeply calculated turns of modem German composers never
attain.

With regard to Verdi's MasJcenhally it may not be
generally known that Scribe's libretto, Onstave, ou le Bal
masqiU (on which Sig. Verdi's book is founded), was
originally intended for Bossini, who was charmed with it.
Eventually, however, satiated with fame and tired of work,
he left Paris without having written a note of the music.
Scribe then offered the book to Auber, who at first thought
the plot " almost too dramatic." As we all know, he
afterwards composed on it one of his most graceful and
popular scores. M. V^ron, under whose management
0\istave was produced, says that it was nearly a failure on
the first night, owing to one trifling fact, on which no one
had bestowed a thought. The characters, it appears, were
properly dressed in the Roccoco costnme of the time of
Louis XV., a costume better adapted for light pieces than
for serious ones. The celebrated Mdlle. Mars had long before
refused to play tragic parts in this dress, because she knew,
by sad experience, that any exhibition of emotion was followed
by an avalanche of hair-powder, which infallibly provoked
the mirth of the audience. The singers in G-ustave soon
perceived that they dared not allow their feelings full scope.
They were stiff and formal, instead of being warm and
impassioned, and moved about under the constant dread
of being interrupted precisely in their best scenes by peals
of laughter. This naturally lent an icy coldness to the
performance, and nearly ruined the opera. On the next night,
hair-powder was banished from the Swedish court — at least
on the French stage.

Many persons have expressed surprise that Verdi should
have chosen a subject already used as an operatic libretto.
He has only followed a plan at one time exceedingly common
in Italy. Indeed, less than a century ago, it was a regular
thing for several composers to set the same book. There is
not, for instance, a single book written by Metastasio
vhich has not inspired half a dozen musicians. Many com-
posers, like Hesse, for example, even set the same libretto
over and over again. The practice in question, which,
however, has become less common in Itoly for a long
period, though it has never been entirely discontinued,

sprang from the little importance attached to the words,
and the absolute superiority attributed to the music.
What a different view is taken of the matter by the French.
While in Italy, a libretto^ after being once set to music,
becomes common property, it belongs, in France, to one
composer and one theatre. Germany follows in the foot-
steps of France. The system of recomposing a libretto
which has already inspired a musician of any note, pos-
sesses, perhaps, as a set-off against greaX disadvantages,
only one advantage : it urges each new composer to ex-
traordinary exertions. If he would achieve any success
with his second-hand subject, he must not simply equal, he
must surpass, the first composer, and drive him entirely from
the stage. Voltaire's celebrated maxim, " II faut tucr
quand on vole," is particularly applicable in this case. Two
settings of the same text cannot well subsist side by side
upon the lyric stage. Rossini's Barbiere di Sciiglia drove
away Paisiello's once popular work ; Donizetti's Elixir
threw Auber's Philtre in the shade; while Donizetti's
Burgomaster of Saardam had to yield to Lortzing's Cziwr
und Zinnnerniann. In the above cases there is nothing to
be said ; the victor have so completely excelled their pre-
decessors, that no one, probably, would desire to restore the
latter to their original supremacy. But this is not alwajs the
case ; it sometimes happens that, because more modem, or
stronger in certain effects, one opera has crushed an olderone,
the loss of which cannot be contemplated without regret
There have been two such instances lately ; Gounod's Faud
has shelved that by Spohr, and Verdi's Ballo in Moifchera
eclipsed Auber's Qustave. At the Kamthnerthor Theater,
the former work was exceedingly well played and sung by
every one concerned. Mdme. Dustmann was exceedinglj
good in the part of Amalia ; FrSulein von Mnrska made a
decided hit as the Page Oscar, especially in the third act;
Herr Walter, as Count Richard, was no bad substitute for
Graziani, who played the part during the Italian season ; and
Herr Beck gave more than usual importance to the prominent
part of Ren^. An interesting revival at the same theatre
has been thatof Boieldieu's famous opera Le Petit Chaperon
ron4je, or, in German, RothMppchen. This opera is already
half a century old. Very few modem opera-goers know
much concerning it, and therefore a word or two about it
may not be unacceptable. Despite the title,- the equivalent
of our own Little Red Riding-hood, the plot has nothing in
common with the old fairy taJe, save a distantly figurative
relationship. Rothk&ppchen is in the opera an innocent
peasant-girl, possessing in her red hood a sure talisman
against any attacks that unprincipled men may make against
her. There is no actual wolf lying in wait for her, but a
bright specimen of the allegorical species, in the shape of a
certain Baron Rudolph, a practised and consistent nm\
For him it is as easy a thing to conquer girls' hearts as it is
for Red Riding-hood to be virtuous, seeing that he also pos-
sesses a talisman, a ring so brilliant that it completely
dazzles, bewilders, and overpowers every girl who beholds
it. The Baron waits for Red Riding-hood in the forest, as
she is going to visit an old hermit. But the power of the
ring is utterly annihilated by the red hood. . Wild with fury,
the Baron hastens to reach the hermitage, where, disguised as
the Hermit, he again awaits the maiden. Her position is now
growing rather perilous, when the real Hermit enters ;
recognizes in Red Riding-hood a long-lost niece of tho
Baron's, and unites her to Count Roger, who, clad as a
shepherd, has already won her heart. The greai simplicity
of the plot, and the utterly needless infusion into it of the
superhuman element, are rather at variance with modem
taste ; that mongrel being the Hermit is an especial nuisance ;
the audience tolerate him, nay, perhaps, they rather admire
him, when he passes at the back of the stage — ^like Zamiel
from' Der Freischiitz turned virtuous — on every occasion that
vice threatens virtue ; but when, in the last act, he becomes
personal and sentimental ; when he bewails his lot and ex*
presses a fervent wish that he may speedily die, there ifl not,
probably, a single person present who, if ho could, would
not see the worthy and venerable bore's desire instantly
gfratified. Boieldieu expended several years of ceaseless
labour upon Rothkiippchen, But he cannot have regretted
it, for the success of his work was as lasting as it was

NAtnrs a&d Art, Febnury 1, 1867.]

MUSIC ABEOAD.

triamphant. StiU, everything here below has an end, and
at last the magio hood began to be somewhat threadbare.
At the present day, the music has lost the magical power it
once exercised; for the Europe of 1867 it is, with the
exception of a few pieces, tame and a trifle wearying. It is
a strange fact, however, that the first person to degrade Le
petit Chaperon rouge from the prond position it occupied on
the French stage was no other than BoYeldieu himself, who,
with La Dame blanche , brought out seven years after Le
petit Chaperouy surpassed all that he had ever done before.
That a composer should, in his fiftieth year, produce a work
snperior to any he has previously given to the world, is
certainly a noticeable phenomenon. Bossini*s last opera,
Onillaume Tell, is a most striking instance of this ; but
then in Guillaume Tell Bossini's style underwent a complete
transformation. In La Dame blanche, on the contrary,
Boieldieu remained perfectly true to himself and to his
style, only his fancy was richer, warmer, and more active
than it had been at any other epoch. His music, too, was,
for the first time, characterized by its geniality, whereas it
had previously been distinguished simply for its good taste
and gracefulness. And to what was this remarkable change
due ? To the influence of Bossini, whatever French critics
may say to the contrary notwithstanding. It was precisely
oetwoen 1818 and 1825 that France, after so long opposing
and decrying Bossini, \)egan to acknowledge his genius,
which gradually but surely subjected France to its power ;
and there is not the slightest doubt that Boieldieu, like less-
gifted men, was unable to withstand the charm exercised by
the great Italian master. At the Kamthnerthor Theater,
Bothkdppchen has not been a brilliant triumph. But then
it requires not only to be weU sung ; it must be weU acted
also ; and, unfortunately, good acting is something of which,
as a rule, German operatic singers are supremely ignorant.

M. Hector Berlioz has been to Vienna to superintend the

production of his Damnation de FatLst, which went off with
^reat ^clat. The chorus and orchestra, conducted by Herr
Herbeck, consisted of four hundred performers. Mdlle.
Cettelheim was Margaret ; Herr Walter, Faust ; and Herr
Meyerhofer, Mephistopheles. For the words in the Chorus
of Demons, who employ in the original version a language
known only to themselves and Beelzebub, others were
substitafced belonging to an earthly, and, therefore, more
prosaic idiom, as some apprehension was felt lest, if this
were not done, the risible faculties of the Viennese would be
exposed to an ordeal which they wotdd have some difficulty
in undergoing. A grand banquet was g^ven by M. Berlioz
preyioas to his departure. Another artistic celebrity, also,
has lately visited the Austrian capital. We allude to
Fraulein Mary Krebs, whose playing has fairly taken
the Viennese by storm.

Perhaps there is, at the present day, no art institution in
Europe; that is, in the whole world, where so much laudable
activity is to be found as at the Boyal Opera-house, Berlin.
The company is so strong, that not only is the management
enabled to give performances every evening, but we may with
truth affirm that every performance is at least worth
hearing. As a specimen, let us take a week at hazard, and
we find that on the Monday there was Dor Freischiiiz ; on
Tuesday and Sunday, L* Africa ine ; on Wednesday, Rienzi;
on Thursday, Slradella ; on Friday, Le Nozze di Fifjaro ;
and on Saturday, A Midsummer Nighfs Dream, with
Mendelsshon*s music. Among the artists engaged in these
chcfs-d^wuvrc were Mesdames Lucca, Harriers- Wippem ;
Franleiu B5mer, Frieb, Griin ; Herren Wachtel, Niemann,
and Betz. The Berliners are proud of their Opera, and
they have reason to be so. There has not been any positive
novelty in the repertory, but Mozart's Zaubci^ote has been
played for the three hundredth time, with "entirely new
scenery, dresses, and decorations," to adopt the time-honoured
form of expression peculiar to London playbills. The per-
formance was regarded as a kind of art solemnity, and
everything done by the management to render it worthy of
the immortal music. Before the curtain went up, a paper
containing a mass of interesting information regarding the
opera, such as the names of all the artists who sang the princi-
pal parts at the Boyal Opera-house, Berlin ; the dates of the

various representations of it there, &c., was distributed
gratis among the audience. The scenery was magnificently
painted by Herren Gropius and Lechner, and the costumes
were models of refined taste. Advantage was, moreover,
taken of the great progress in the stage machinist's art
to impart additional effect to the fairy portion of the story.
All persons concerned — ^leading artists, chorus-singers, and
musicians — exerted themselves to the utmost, and with its
three hundredth performance Die Zauberflote may be said to
have entered on a new career of success and popularity.
There has been no lack of concerts, and very good concerts ;
but they do not call for any particular notice.

Der Freischuiz is said to be a very great success at the
Th^Atre-Lyrique, Paris. It may not be generally known
that this opera was first introduced to the Parisians in
1824, at the Od^on, and performed one hundred and forty-
two times in the course of one year, though very nearly
proving a complete failure on the first night, in consequence
of a series of ludicrous blunders and unfortunate contretemps.
The first tenor was so hoarse as to provoke the continuous
hilarity of the audience, and the Hermit sang so out of tune
that the curtain had to be dropt before the opera was con-
cluded ; then the mise-cn-scene was something marvellous.
In the first act, where, according to the French version, the
fortunate marksman has to shoot a dove, the unlucky
carpenter charged with this part of the *' business " let
fall, instead of it, the eagle or vulture, which Max brings
down with the charmed bullet he obtains from Caspar. Our
readers may imagine the hilarity of the audience at beholding,
instead of a delicate dove, a misshapen feathered mass, more
like a turkey-cock than ought else, fall upon the stage like a
lump of lead. The manager, mad with passion, could hardly
be restrained from assaulting the offending carpenter. At
length he was mollified, and told the man that the vulture
was not to appear till the scene between Max and Caspar,
and moreover, that it ought to flutter about a little before
sinking finally to the ground. Fully resolved to carry out
these instructions to the very letter, the carpenter procured
a long piece of string, and fastening his plumed monstrosity
to it, waited patiently above the stage, for Max to fire. At
last, the long-expected shot was heard, and the carpenter
slowly let down the vulture. He kept swaying it, however,
so long to and fro, that Caspar, who has to stick one of the
feathers in Max's cap, could wait no more, but, jumping in
the air, seized the bird by the tail, and forcibly pulled it
towards him amid inextinguishable shouts of laughter from
all parts of the house. The hundred and forty-one represen-
tations which followed this first one must not be entirely at-
attributedto enthusiasm for the music. There were very many
persons who could never see, or rather hear, anything in it,
and a certain celebrated composer even went so far as to
assert that all that was requisite to manufacture an opera
of this kind, was to dip a camel's-hair brush in ink, and
then spurt the latter over ruled music paper. The ** Hunts-
man's Chorus " became, nevertheless, for Paris, what the
"Bridesmaid's Chorus" was for Berlin; and we know it
drove Heine from that capital. In one French paper
of the period there was an advertisement for a man-servant
who did not whistle the " Huntsman's Chorus." In 1835,
M. Crosnier produced Der Freischutz at the Opera Comique,
where it was played sixty successive nights. In 1855, it
was brought out by M. Perrin for the first time at the
Th^Atre-Lyrique, and enjoyed a run of one hundred nights.
Among the novelties promised at this theatre may be
mentioned Deborah, words by Plouvier, music by Demiu
Duvivier ; Hardanapalc, words by Beck, music by Jonci^ros ;
Cardillac, words by- Nuitter and Beaumont, music by
Dantresmes ; and Rom6o et Julie, by Gounod.

The great attraction at the Italiens is still Mdlle.
Adelina Patti, who, luckily for M. Bagier, has recovered from
her late indisposition, and resumed her parts in Reyolefto
and VElisir d*Amore. Pacini's Saffo has been revived for
Mdlle. Lagrua, but it has not proved a success — Herr
Joachim has been playing with immense success. He is the
lion of the moment in all musical circles — the rehearsals
of Don Carlos are being actively continued at the Grand
Opera, under the direction of Verdi himself.

BEVIEWS.

[Natan Md Art. FMtraur 1»UV

REVIEWS.

The Autobiography of the late Salmo iialar, Esq. Com-
prising a Narrative of the Life, Personal Adventnres, and
Death of a Tweed Salmon. Edited by a Fisherman. Day
and Son (Limited), London.

PEOFUSELY as the subjects of salmon-fishing, salmon-
breeding, and salmon law have been written aboat for
many years past, the ingenious author of the little work before
us has oontrived to treat them in a novel and most attractive
manner. His pages, which are clearly the result of sporting
experience, careful study, and love of nature, profess to
record, from dictation, a salmon's personal experiences from
the egg to the fatal landing-net, and present the fish's own
views of the natural history of his race, and of the ways
and works of his friends and enemies. The waterside
sketches are the most diverting things of the kind that have
come under our notice for many a day, and we need make no
apology to the reader for extracting at length "The
Baillie's misadventure in search of * Sanmon Eoe.' "

"I was lying listlessly one day in summer thirty feet
beneath the surface, beyond the influence of the rapid
stream above, in the fathomless pool called The Pot, some
half-mile below Merton Bridge, a boat, kept in its place by
two light oars, floating above me, when the fragments of a
conversation reached my ears, which by degrees absorbed my
attention. A river-keeper was detailing to his employer the
circumstances connected with the cap tu ling of a poacher.

" * Ay, sir,' he said, * but that saumoU'roe is a sair
temptation ; mony a guid mon has been begmled by it. A'
ken ane, a baillie ; a' took him mysel. '

" * How came that ? Tell us all about it/ was the
reply.

** * A' was watching, mebbe six months syne, up in the
Pavilion Water j the fish were thranging sair upon the
spawning-beds, and weel a' kent they were thrang on the
bank abune the Whirlies. A' was hidden in the wee brae
just abune the brig, and a' hadna' been there mebbe twa
hour, when a' see a mon come daintily alang. Looking
carefully this way an' that, an' seeing naebody, he just out wi'
the gaff, an', screwing it on to the end of his walking-stick,
stepped lightly into the water. It wouldna' be mickle
abune his knee, an' the back fin o' meir than ae great fish
was plain to be seen on the bank before him. 'Deed, but he
wasted little time in selection, an' varra little ceremony he
treated him with. In a second the gaff was in a puir half-
spawned beastie, an', lugging her ashore, he started aff het
foot towards Melrose. A' up an' after him an' for a weighty
mon he made mickle running. When he saw me he dropped
the fish, but no stopping to pick it up, a' just kept on under
the railway brig, down the meadows, by Ailwand Foot,
under Melrose Brig, an' there, as he was creeping up the
steep bank, a' grippit hold of him ahint ; a' grippit hard, an'
he turned and said, " Sandy, lad ! dinna grip sae hard ; ye' 11
rive ma breeks." "Ay, Baillie," said I, "is that you?
How cam' ye to do it P " And he said quite solemn-like,
" Sandy ! " he said, " it was neether the neiad nor the greed,
but joost the saitynon-roe ! ** " Eoh, Baillie," a' said, "a'
. wadna' have believed it of ye, but it will be dear saumon-
roe to ye." And sae it proved, for he was fined five pund,
and ither harm cam' of it.' "

On the very high authority of " Salmo Salar " the author
elects to differ here and there from naturalists and sports-
men who have preceded him; but without a trace of the
asperity which, singularly enough, is sometimes adopted in
their prolusions by followers of the gentle art. On the
vexed question, for instance, whether a parr is a salmon, or
in other words, "when is a parr not a parr," he is at
utter variance with the legislature, which has endorsed the
opinion of many ttomns that the fishes are indentical.
" Salmo " reports as follows, a conversation between two
anglers, one of whom had hooked him during his " Smolt*

hood," and then returned him more than half dead, limp,
faint, and bleeding to his native waters.

" Although too weak to move, I retained my senses, and
heard the younger man say to his companion —

" * Why, John, what made you throw that poor little dead
beast into the water again ? '

" ' 'Deed, was the reply, * yon beastie's just a smolt, an'
there's a fine for killing sich like.'

" * But you killed a parr just now ? *

" * Ay.'

" * But you call this a parr ? '

" ' Deed, an' it's the fau't of those who gie the same name
to twa different fishes.'

" ' What do you mean ? *

" * A' mean that there's a wee fish ye killed just noo cae'd
" the parr," an' it's a fish of itself, an' has melt an' roe as
every ither fish has, an' ye'll find it in rivers an' bums, an'
abune waterfalls, an' in mountain tarns, where no saamon
ever yet was seen or could get, an' It's streekit an' barred
all the same as the young saumon-parr ; and it's just the
confusion of ca'ing the twa by the ae name that's raised a'
the fash that's made about the " edentity," as they oa' it,
of the parr with the young saumon. '

" * Then you believe that the parr is not the young of the
salmon F '

'* * If ye ca' the young saumon the parr, the parr is the
young saumon ; but there's anither parr that has a better
right to the name, an' it's a pity that twa fish should be band
to hae but ae name betwixt them.' "

The Salmon's way of accounting for his own rapid growth
must be the last of our quotations.

" I have heard wonder expressed that so small a fish as
the smoult should, in a few short months, increase from the
weight of three or four ounces to that of frequently twice
as many pounds. But where is the wonder P My mother,
who was murdered on the spawning-beds before half h^
eggs had been deposited, weighed twenty pounds; the
noble kipper, her companion, half as much again. What
would be the weight at more than two years old of a dog,
offspring of parents such sizes P And was ever puppy fed
as we were fed ? No 1 Fortes creantur fortibtis, Ijarge
animals and large fishes produce large offspring, and when
I left the sea and again ascended my native Tweed in July,
I weighed nearly seven pounds."

The portions of this now connected autobiography, which
appeared from time to time in the pages of " MacmiUan's
Magazine," are already familiar to a large circle of appre-
ciative readers, and we may safely predict that very general
favour will attend their publication in a new form, and with
important additions.

The Lujht Blue, A Cambridge University Magazine. VoL
II., No. 1. January, 1867. Cambridge, London, and
Oxford. Bivingtons.

We are glad to see that the conductors of " Light Blue "
have successfully stemmed the perils of a first volume, and
have entered upon their second in high spirits ; a pieoe of good
fortune which many a well-considered attempt to found a
University periodical has not attained. The contents of
Vol. II., No. 1, are varied and of promise. The political
paper at its head, entitled " The Prospects of the Con-
servative Party," is judicious and carefully balanced.
Mr. Swinburne's poetical excesses are ably and temperately
treated, more in sorrow than in anger. A series of papers
on University topics is well inaugurated by one on
Cambridge classical honours, and the author has suf-
ficiently at heart the fame of his alma, mater, and the future
of her sons, to pronounce that she might advantageoosly adopt

KAtnr* and Art, Fabnury 1, 1M7.)

CABOLS AND VALENTINES.

portions of the Oxford system. We look for good things
from the writer of " Walter Boothe," a new serial story,
which, it strikes ns, will develop interestingly. The Book
Notices, and the carefully edited University Chronicle, are
not the least valoable features of a magazine, whose
career, judging from the specimen under notice, will be
watched with interest by Cambridge men both young and
old.

A Century of HonneU : Linen on the Bum s^ Ctnnmcnwration
of 1859. The Funeral of Cannimjy and other ^<v^rs.
By Jacob Jones, author of '* Rural Sonnets," " Inez
deCajbtro," "The Anglo-Polish Harp," etc., etc. London:
Alfred W. Bennett, 1866.

Mb. Jacob Jones is not afraid of chaUonging compari-
sons. When he enters the *'8pot of all spots," rideUrvt
the ** Shrubbery at Southend," he salutes it as wooing the
** fav'rito sons " of contemplation, and proceeds to enumerate
four of them, thus : —

*' Again the knoll : where Milton might have dream'd.
* • * « *

Where Shakespeare might have drunk at Nature's shrine ;
Or Collins nursed the ecHtacy divine ; —
"Where first I sang, that * Poland shall be free ; '
"Where later, for her woes, I shed * a tear.' "

The last lines allude to two Lyrics by Mr. Jones, as he
informs us in his notes. We are sorry to say that the
information was needed. We are sorry, also, to learn that his
Iphi'jenw did not obtain the NrKyli'jnte at Oxford in 1819 :
it is quite equal to many succcrtrtful prize poems. This
first gush of youth has been fairly rivalled by later effusionH ;
and if any of our readers happen to look into Mr. Jones's
present volume, they will probably not be disappointed.

The Savage Club Papers, Edited by Andrew Halliday.
Tinsley Brothers.

This elegant production is creditable alike to the worthy
Savages who have so well furnished forth its pages, and to
the publisher who bore the charge of the adventure in his
department, and thus enabled the Club to comfort speedily
and substantially under her bereavement, the widow of a
lamented comrade. The " Savage Club," so called after
Richard Savage, is an institution of which, though many have
heard — ^few, but the initiated — ^know much. It was perhaps
as well that the ferocity indicated by its title should be
authoritatively disclaimed for the body by the clever editor
as follows : —

'' It has been recklessly stated in a respectable journal
by a writer, who knowing nothing of us has either been
misled by false reports, or prompted to wild imaginings by
the terrors our name, that we are a set of ill-conditioned
malcontents, dwelling in the very centre of Bohemia ; that
our Club is a sort of literary cave of Adullam, into which the
disappointed and the discontented have retired to set up their
backs at every thing that is good and noble and worthy to
be admired. There could not be a greater mistake. No-
thing could be further from the truth. The qualification for
admission to our Club is to be a vorkimj man in literature
or ai-tj and a good fellow. If a candidate answer these require-
ments ho will be cordially received, come whence he may."

The list of literary contributors comprises the well-known
names of T. Hood, T. W. Robertson, E. L. Blanchard, and a
host of other gentle savages less familiar to the public. Thirty
illustrations of more than average merit include specimens
of Harrison Weir, Gustave Dore, George Cruikshank, Ernest
Griset, and the last work of Paul Gray, whose premature
death was a subject of the deepest regret to his friends.
The typography, the paper, and the binding are all excellent,
and the success which has attended the '^ Savage Club
Papers," has rendered any vaticination of ours superfluous.

CAROLS AND VALENTINEii.

By H. W.

" A ND so now farewell to the mistletoe," said the king of
A Twelfth-night.

" Nay, let it hang a little longer," quoth the queen ;
" there are some berries left which look tempting to the
poor girls. You and I, indeed, have had enough of it. We
have pleased the youngsters for a night, and now our reign
is over."

" Stay," said the king, " we cannot lay aside our majesty
till daylight. We shall soon change the throne for the
desk ; but, meanwhile, play out the play, and let us speak
of our princesses. Wassel^ methought, filled the cup with
the grace of her Saxon godmother, the daughter of Hengist :
she stood before me like a second Rowena, saying, * Was-
hail, my lord king ! * and I pledged her, like a second
Yortigem, my kingdom for a kiss."

Queen, — " Wassel always makes herself at home at a
Christmas gathering, and I took care that her bowl should
not be too potent. Yet still those boisterous lads, Misi^de
and Gambol^ began to get unruly ; and so I made \Va»sel
empty her bowl and use it for snap-dragon. But I was quite
sorry for poor Cis — I mean for Princess i/ince-pic."

Kiruj, — '* Surely she had dancing enough : did not all the
boys ask for her ? "

(^leen. — "All, except the one she had counted upon — the
son of good Mistress Homer."

Atmj. — " We remember it now. Neighbour Jack must
leam that blushing in the comer will never win our sweetest
of princesses."

Qtuen. — "And then, in the middle of the dancing, that
round little rascal, Vlum^puddin^y got in her way, and threw
her over. I put her to bed in the sulks, poor thing. How-
ever, she will be all the readier for the dance another night."

King. — "She will find plenty of partners, we warrant."
The king paused ; and then continued, more gravely : —
*' Dance-music is good ; it tickles the brain, and sends the
blood tingling down into the feet : but it cannot touch the
heart like that solemn pastoral music which accompanied
the singing of our chorister boy, cousin Carol." •

Queen, — " Played by our guest* in the mask with V, H,
on it. Charming, indeed ! But who was V, H, ? "

Ki^ig, — " This is the season of mumming, and we must
not pry under the mask too curiously. A guest like V. i/.,
moreover, is welcome in any season, with or without a name.
As for young Carol, his utterance was hardly smooth enough
for singing. His younger brother, who will take his place
next Christmas, promises (we are told) to have a voice better
suited to music. Let us hope that the music may be as
good." Again the king paused. " It is idle," he resumed,
"to dream of fresh hollies, before the present ones have
grown stale ; but their time must now be limited."

Queen. — "They will all be swept away on the 2nd of
Febraary."

King. — " Tme, Candlemas Day belongs to the full fes-
tivity. But when the day arrives, mind you do your sweep-
ing briskly. * For look,' saith Herrick in his Uebperidvn —

* For look how many leaves there be
Neglected there, maids, trust to me,
So many goblins shall you see.*

A warning as ' grimly ' as MargareVs Uhod^ and well suited

* The speaker evidently alludes to the music of Tlie
First Chriatmati Carols lately published by Robert Cocks &
Co.— Ed.

OLLA PODEIDA.

fNatore and Axt, Pebnunr 1. IS?.

to the * grimly ' month, when the sky is lead, the air is fog,
and earth and water are mingled mad and ice. No holidays
then ; no pretty gifts for the maidens of the mistletoe ! "

Queen. — " Please to remember poor St. Valentine ! '*

King. — ** Avaont ! Cannot womankind get through the
shortest month of all without the help of a lazy Bomish
saint ?"

Qiceen. — " Your most gracious Majesty *'

King. — " Craves pardon of his queen. We were wrong
in every way. We are bound to keep up our festive character;
and, moreover, we have ourselves received many a kindness
from the lord of filagreed note-paper. Indeed, a reminder
has already reached us."

Queen. — "The present is so absurdly premature that I
forget to be jealous.*'

King. — ** There is no call for either frowns or laughter.
We speak of designs that have been sent us for approval ;
nothing more. They were loaded with the perfumes that have
often refreshed us in the bills of the Lyceum or the Hay-
market ; there was no mistaking the breath of Bimmel."**

Quec7i, — '* We presume that they are sentimental."

King. — " From top to toe : no figures of fun, we assure
you. They closely resemble those dancing flowers of the
pantomime, that have more than half supplanted the old
grotesques. The flowers are prettily drawn and coloured,
and the French-looking fairies that wear them will please
many a love-lorn youth. For ourselves, however, we have
never sent a sentimental valentine."

Qt(cen. — " Would it offend your royal ear if I sang you
one of that description ?"

King. — "By no means! It will tune our head for the
pillow."

So saying, the king leant backwards in his easy chair,
while the queen bent over her harp, and sang the following
lay to a tune of the future : —

THE BOY BISHOP.

The maiden awoke in the silence of night,

For the depth of her chamber was gleaming with light :

• Bimmel's Anhnated Flowers^ drawn by J. Cheret, for
specimens of which, as shown on the opposite page, we are
indebted to Messrs. Bimmell.

She leant on her elbow, — a vision was there, —

A child with a mitre of gold on his hair ;

A violet rochet this boy-bishop wore.

And the light seemed to flow from the orozier he^bore.

But over his rochet were cheeks full of smile,

And under his mitre were eyes full of guile,

And roguish the laughter that mixed with his lay,

" Awake ! for I bring thee first-fruits of the day !

'Tis a sigh, — from the heart of a poet it came ;

And I charge thee to read, — ^in St. Valentine's name!"

The maiden arose, — but the nearer she drew,
The taller and fuller the bright vision grew ;
And the mitre was changed to a crown like a king's.
And the rochet flew back into violet wing^s ;
And, quickening the air with the breath of desire,
He leant on his sceptre — a cresset of fire.

She knew him — her master ! — she knelt at his feet,
And faster, though softly, her white bosom beat ;
And she gazed at the tablet he held in his hand.
But many may read it, yet few understand.
Oh, master of hearts, stoop again from above.
And again let her read it by torchlight of Love !

Wlien the echoes of the queen's harp had died away, the
king spoke, and his voice was like the voice of the Sphinx of
Stodare : — " We see the maiden and her poet still sitting
apart, after years of shilly-shallying ; and they are ex-
changing valentines, not of honey'but of galL"

Then the queen said, laughing, " Oh, false prophet ! for
they are sitting, happily united, under the long torch of
hymeneal Cupid."

King. — *' The words of your lay sounded familiar to me ;
but surely there should be more of them. The boy may
grow as serious as you please at the end, but he ought to
be a little more sportive at the beginning."

Queen. — "Even so ; a few lines have beon omitted."
King. — " I begin to think I can guess who sent them."
Queen. — " I am sure I know who received them."
The queen touched her secretaire, and a hidden drawer
sprang out of it ; and she drew forth a rose-oolonred
envelope. She turned towards the king. Their eyes met,
and they both rose from their seats ; and each seemed to
hear solemn music in the distance.

OLLA PODRIDA.

On WATER-FiLTEES.^The sources of water-supply to
London are at present subject to so much defilement, and it
is likely to be so long before that evil is remedied, if ever it
can be, that the study of the means of purifying drinking
water — that is, pure water from a foul supply — ^is a subject
of importance to all, and one on which medical men are very
likely to be called upon to advise. The current number of
the Popular Science Rcx'iew contains an excellent article on
the subject, discriminating the various merits of the moulded
carbon filter, Danchell's animal carbon filter, Dahlke's
silicated carbon filter, and Spencer's magnetic carbide filter.
The article, which is well worth reading, is by Dr. Divers,
a very able water-analyist ; and although we could have
wished for more definite conclusions, we can understand
that there is a great difficulty in speaking very positively as
to comparative merits. His final conclusion is, that

" In the magnetic carbide filter of Spencer, the cistem--
filt^r of Danchell, and the silicated carbon filter, we may
possess with tolerable certainty the means of freeing water
from matters injurious to health. The uncertainty lies in
the fact that the particular filter used by a person may be
imperfect as a mechanical filter, and may have become
inefficient as a purifier from dissolved organic matters,
unless, as regards the latter point, it be a Spencer's filter,
and have only been used with water of tolerable clearness
(such as that supplied to London), and not largely charged
with carbonate of lime in solution. Hence arises the
propriety of having a filter examined after being placed in a

house, in order to test its efficiency. This ought to be done
by the filter-sellers." The verdict is most favourable to
Spencer's magnetic carbide filter, but hardly so much as it
deserves. — Britiifh Medical Journal.

In the time op the Bom ans Algeria supplied the
gourmets of the Empire with truffles and some other
gastronomic delicacies; at the present moment it servos
I amongst other things, as a valuable kitchen-garden for
j France, and supplies the citizens of that empire with new
I peas, potatoes, and asparagus, before even the hottest
part of the south of France can get Ics I'rimeurs, as ej^y
productions are called in Paris, ready for the market. The
peas and asparagus of Algeria are not so fine as those of
France, especially the latter, for which French growers are
renowned. But in February, when French asparagus )«
selling at the rate of twenty, thirty, and even forty wm*
lings per small bundle, that of Algeria can be had for le«s
than a third of ihe money. In the third week of February
last year, Algerian potatoes were worth, in the central
market of Paris, half-a-crown a pound, when those Pro-
duced in France were twice that sum. At the same tune.
Algerian peas were selling in Paris at half-a-crown a ponuOj
shells included ; so that a good dish of petiis pois »* ^^
season would have cost about two guineas. Algen***^
supplies France with a large quantity of oranges — those o
Blidah being very good — lemons, citrons, pomegranates, fto
dates, for all of which there is a considerable demand.

..I \. I....-,,,- . I

t--l

Li-.

u-i

'>^

~m\

Varob 1,1887.

BIZZ AND HER FOES,

By Mrs. S. C. Hall.
IN THREE CHAPTEES. CHAPTEE HI.

I FT E EN years elapsed,
and the memory of " Bizz
and her Foes " faded into
the indistinct past. Cooks,
in their varieties, came
and went : not many,
though, for I generally
manage to obtain good
servants, and mine have
been fairly contented with
a good service. But Mary's shadow, as it were,
would sometimes arise, and I wondered how she
had fared in her new country. I thought how de-
lightful were her quaintness and originality, and
then remembered how I had never believed in her,
and how that of itself had always given me a
painful sensation : yet, with timq, even that
memory grew dim ! The dear old Ilosery too
became a thing of the past ; young artists, in
poetry as well as painting, who had met and
talked over their future, beneath the shadow of our
grand old Mulberry, had grown into the glories of
a present time, winning and wearing laurels that
will be ever green in history. The greyhounds
mouldered beneath the turf over which they had
bounded ; another race of cats sat on the stable
roof, and defied the garden walls ; another gene-
ration of boys swarmed in Steward's Grove, and
rubbed their sticks against the garden rails. The
Ilosery, alas ! was ours no longer ; we had found
a home more fresh and tempting, twenty long miles
from London, having a lawn without blacks, and
trees and gardens fresh and fair, where, moreover,
there was abundant space for pets of all kinds —
pets, that augmented in interest the longer they
were known. To many people a dog is but a dog,
and a cat a cat : —

A primrose by the river's brim,
A yellow primrose was to him,
And it was nothing more !

I pity those who can neither observe nor analyze
the various shades of animal character. T have
had dogs of all kinds; sometimes two or three bom
of the same parents, fed in the same way, equally
caressed, and in like manner educated; yet each

VOL. II. — X.

had its own peculiarities. The Italian greyhoimds
I have mentioned were as opposite in temper, dis-
position, and intelligence, as if tliey had been of
separate and distinct species. Ninon was a grave,
thoughtful, wise animal, gentle and attentive to
every member of the family, but devoted to me,
and to me only. She would remain in the library
without motion during the five or six hours that I
bent over my desk. No one could tempt her from
my side; even if a strange cat looked in at the
window ; Ninon remembered I was not to be dis-
turbed. Her eyes would flash fire at the cat and
her beautiful frame quiver with excitement; but
she would neither stir nor bark, unless I whispered,
"Up, and at her." That was enough; at one
bound she cleared the intervening chair, and once
she charged so violently against a closed window,
that the broken glass wounded her head severely.
But the moment I wiped my pen, or placed it in
the little vase of water kept for the purpose, she
knew that my morning's work was done, and
sprang about the room with manifest joy. She
welcomed my friends with stately approbation and
as much coixliality as she considered it right to
bestow on any one except her mistress ; but she
disliked strangers, and kept up a sort of undertoned
remonstrance at their being admitted. She was
very particular as to dress, sniffing at anything
that was old or shabby, and rejoicing if I put on
what was new and handsome. She always exa-
mined herself in the cheval glass, and twinkled her
ears about, as if she desired to see whether they
looked best in repose or in action. She would
literally smirk and smile at herself in the glass,
showing her teeth, that were even and perfect as a
row of oriental pearls, with evident pleasure : she
would fetch and carry, — "die for the Queen," —
and take nothing out of the left hand. When
spoken to, she held her head on one side with
an air of consideration, and comprehended with
wonderful sagacity whatever instructions were given.
" Ninon, I am going to be very busy," sent her to
her place on the rug ; — and if I added, " When I
have done, we shall go for a walk or a drive," she
would look up with a peculiarly pleased expression.

BIZZ AND HEE FOES.

[Natora and Art, MmxA I, IMT.

But the creature so perfectly understood my words,
that if I said " drive," though several hours had
elapsed, she would spring up when my task was
done, and, instead of rushing out, would wait
patiently until the brougham came round, to take
her place in her own comer. If I had promised
her " a walk," she would cry at the hall-door until
it was opened, then leap and spring over the lawn,
as greyhounds only caji leap and spring, — never
losing sight of the door out of which she knew I
should come.

Folly and Jessy were lovely to look at, ex-
quisitely formed, with large, luminous hazel eyes.
Ninon was larger, of the colour which is called
"blue:** she treated these two favourites with great
kindness and consideration, but never with the
respect she manifested for a dear wise dog named
Bose : in fact, she considered the two little grey-
hounds what poor cook would have called " bom
naturals." They received strangers with the same
wild demonstrations of joy they bestowed on their
friends ; it was impossible to teach them any tricks,
or induce them to notice any sound — except the
dinner-bell ; and I really think the only aflection
they felt was for chicken bones. The great
honest Cochin-China cock craned his long neck at
Folly's senseless gambols, and a grey bantam always
drove Jessy screaming away from the wire-work that

exactly alike, yet two were fools, and one was
wise.

Ninon was such a noble creature that she was
never displeased at any amount of caresses
bestowed on her relatives; but she would not
suffer them to accompany us in our road walk.
The garden and the meadow — ^yes, — ^but not the
road : she would look at me, and whine, and then
drive them home. She knew as well as I did that
they would spoil our walk, and that we could not
enjoy anythmg, if we had to keep a perpetual
watch on Folly's and Jessy's movements. There
was a time when Ninon did not object to their
company in a drive; but once Jessy sprang out of
the window, and, being much hurt, yelled and
screamed in my lap all the way home. I do not
know what was Ninon's opinion of the accident,
but she held down her head and looked ashamed
and distressed, and she never would take another
drive with Jessy. If Jessy went in, she went
out ; her resolution was made, and she adhered to
it.

Besides being the most consistent of dogs, she
was so honest ! She would neither thieve, nor
suffer others to do so. It was grand fun to set her to
watch the breakfast table. Jessy and Folly, Mouton
and Mince (the latter, two unprincipled Angora
cats) were ever on the qui vive to steal what they

protected him and his glossy wives from intrusion,
and through which that silly dog twenty times a
day would endeavour to poke her nose. Now these
three greyhounds had been educated and ti'eated

could ; — as to Jessy and Folly, they would devour
anything from cats' meat to candles. So sometimes
putting Ninon as sentry and "on honour,** I
watched the proceedings from outside. First came

Nature and Art, Maxoh 1. 1887.]

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

Ninon's warning growl, which plainly meant,
" take care ; ** then a rush on the part of dogs and
eats to pillage, and on Ninon's to restrain ; then at
last a regular milee, Ninon, who occupied the
middle of the table, rapidly dealing a snap here
and a snarl there, succeeded pretty well in keeping
off the cats, but the two greyhounds were generally
too much for her ; so the fear that she might lose
her temper, and inflict a severe bite on one of
tbem, always, sooner or later, brought me on to the
field to terminate the skirmish.

There was no doubt that Folly was a greater fool
than Jessy, for Jessy was sly : the latter had
sufficient intelligence to be very cunning, stealing
and hiding things she fancied, but Folly took what
she desired openly, and never hid even a bone.
They all differed from grand old Hose, a fine
noble dog, such a dog as you make an out-door
companion and friend of, in the country; who walks
with you, sympathizes with you, and does all but
talk, and gets through even a little of that, in its
own way. She was a cross between a retriever and
a ^Newfoundland. She would not kill rats herself,
but she used to watch their haunts in the bank of
the pond, and take a little, grubby, rat-catching
terrier, whom she patronized (he was a visitor, not
an inmate), to the. holes, show them to him one
after another, and leave him to do the dirty work

when he read under the shadow of our acacia trees,
Bose would sit for ten or more minutes with her
nose on his knee looking at him with her small
dark eyes, patient as Grizel, and then, in addition
to her nose, would put up her paw, and wait again.
"When these arts failed to woo the notice she
coveted, she would go behind him, place her two
paws on the back of the iron seat, and then in a
moment snatch off his hat, and gallop with it to
the other end of the lawn. That was certain to
commence the game of the romps she loved so well.
Dear, faithful Kose ! You ought to have passed
your winters in the stable, with the horse you
understood, or with the wee pony, who was not
much bigger than your dear self: the winter
kennel did not sufficiently protect you against the
cold, and you became rheumatic, and died before
your time; but we had happy days and happy
rambles together, over Weybridge Common, and
among the brushwood and hollows of St. George's
blithe and pleasant hill. Other rambles we had
nearer home, when the Italian greyhounils were
taken for " change of air " to the Chertsey meadows,
where the ruins of the fine old abbey can be traced
beneath the waving grass, or up and about St
Anne's Hill, where I looked out for the proud
castle of Windsor, while you tried hard to catch a
hare, or even a rabbit; but they were too swift for

himself. She loved her ma.ster dearly, and always
endeavoured by her gentle, dignified caresses to
attract his attention ; but, like most of his sex, the
knowledge of his power made him exercise it, and

you, my own old Rose ! You grew fat and heavy
while you ought to have continued slim and
genteel. I loved you for the sake of her who
gave you to us, and because you were like the
f2

BIZZ AND HER FOES.

[XatUTC And Art, lUrcb I. IKT.

friend of my childhood — ^black Charger. Cliarger
was once dreadfully mauled by the butcher of
Carrick*s big dog — and we thought he must have
died. I considered myself very ill-used because my
mother would not let me sit up with Charger
at night : I cried myself to sleep, curled up like a
cat in the window-seat, and fancied the sea moaned
in sympathy with my sorrow ! But Charger re-
covered, and then his steady friend and firm ally,
Neptune, �� a colossal Newfoundland, as large and
in general as dreamy as a calf, a giant among dogs,
who seldom barked, or ran, or wagged his tail, but
lay " r the sun in summer " on the square stone
that topped the steps leading to the hall-door, and
in winter, on his own particular mat in front of the
old clock in the hall : — this great dog entertained
the deepest feeling of revenge towards the dog
that had so grievously ill- treated his friend, and
when poor Charger was able to limp up the hill of
Carrick, which was more than a mile from Graigue
(the dear old home of my young days), Neptune
accompanied him, cold and silent and stately as
ever, step by step with his lame friend, and they
soon discovered the great bull-dog, nodding in the
sun before the butcher's house. Charger was a
little in advance of Neptune, and when Bull saw
him, he arose, and shook himself, and glared,
advancing a step or two, as though to say, " Oh,
it is you, — I will soon finish you, puppy." But
Neptune stood between them, not- svdfering the
bull-dog to touch his friend, and meeting the charge
like a hero. The bull-dog was fierce and active, but
independent of his great strength, Neptune's throat
was protected by a brass collar, and his thick,
shaggy coat was a natural armour of defence.
The dogs fought like tigers, the bull-blood was
thoroughly heated, and the Newfoundland knew
the value of his weight and size ; yet the odds
would, for all that, have been dead against Nep,
who was aged, while his antagonist was in his
prime, but for the protecting collar. The bull-dog
held on to it like grim death, wondering, doubtless,
that his opponent was not strangled : both dogs were
punished, but Neptune would have certainly closed
Bull's fighting calendar, only that the fight was put
an end to by the butcher and the smith, — ^the
butcher anxious for the safety of his dog, and Mr.
Bow, the smith, determined that Neptune should
not be " kilt intirely." Charger, we heard, stood
calmly at a distance, looking on : now he was not a
dog to do that when his friend was spilling his best
blood in his cause, if it had not been previously
arranged between them, that Charger should keep
out of the fi^y; it was the more remarkable as
Charger was generally pugnacious, hearing the soimd
of battle afar-ofi^ and rushing into the combat in
true Irish fashion, without waiting to investigate
the question of rights or wrongs. Neptune must
have had great influence to compel his remaining
stationary. The dogs were away the entire day,
and when Nep was discovered with unmistakable
marks of recent combat on his person, and Charger
in the very act of licking his wounds, the household
surged into great commotion. " Where had he been 1

Who had dared to hurt him 1 Charger and he
couldn't have fought 1 " " No, Charger was as
smooth as satin." The arrival of the smith, who
was also somewhat of a (log-doctor, solved the
mystery : he related the whole aflair with eloquence
and emphasis, and gave a sorry account of the state
of Bull's shoulder, which was supposed to have
been broken. It was well known how the brute
had fallen upon poor Charger, so he liad very little
sympathy fix)m our household; and Neptune's
health was drunk that night in the servants' hall,
with I fear more than three times three, the senti-
ment which accompanied the toast being — " May
we all have as true a friend when needed I "

Generally speaking, if dogs are not sagacious, it
is to be attributed to a defective education. Those
who neglect to cultivate relations with the animal
kingdom lose a great deal of what assists to cheer
and invigorate h£e.

While my greyhounds and Rose, and a new
importation, a lovely little white Lion dog of
Malta (with various other beasts and birds), formed
a very happy family at our country house, a puppy
was given to me with the assurance that it was a
beautiful Skye, a " Blue" Skye. Her rough little
jacket was decidedly " foxy " — but my kind friend
persisted in the assurance that she was a " Blue
Skye," all her relatives were " Blue Skyea ; " and
sfie could not fail to be a " Blue Skye."

It was hoping agaiyist fact. Every day I looked
at her, I trusted in her turning " blue;" but no, the
fox deepened, and the hair grew fast and furious,
hard, sticking-out hair. She certainly had beauti-
ful eyes, and a lovely little round head, but it was
fiu* nearer akin to a spaniel's than to a Skye*s : there
had been a mesaUiance somewhere. The short-
rounded nose told a history, and some went so far
as to stigmatize my " blue" foxy Skye as a "cm*."
This was hard to bear, for I always prided myself
on the respectability and purity of my different
canine families. I know ** curs " are wonderfully
intelligent and affectionate ; and I have sheltered
many a one. I once carried off a cur triumphantly
from a conclave of boys who had broken its 1^»
and were debating whether it should be "swum,"
or " danced : " " swum" I am told means drowned,
and "danced," hung. I carried it across Hyde
Park at three o'clock, until we (doggie and I) got
a hackney coach : poor, little, dirty, screaming
thing ! but when I laid it on my lap, and the
creature looked up in my face, with such an sp
pealing look, half agony and whole trust, I fol**
I could have carried half a dozen, if so rewarded.
I cured that cur, but did not keep it : I found it a
good home at our milkman's, and saw it frequently J
and to confess the truth, the " blue" " foxy" Skye
was a little like my long-ago cur of the "Long
Water." I had not made up my mind what to do
with her, when, with admirable sagacity, she placed
herself ! She adopted our excellent gardener : she
fixed her affections on him, before she had quite
shed her first teeth, and from that day to the
present moment — and she is a very old dog now —
Effie has never — I really may say never— left

Kfttan and Ait, Manh 1. 1887.]

BIZZ AND HEB FOES.

him day or night. She had two stroDg passions :
Bhe loved her master, and hated donkeys. In the
middle of the darkest December night, if a donkey,
for whom its gipsy master opened the gate,
trespassed on field or lawn, that dog would insist
on her master's uprising and ^oing forth in the
darkness to eject the intruder. With wonderful
instinct she would lead the gardener to where poor
Long-ears was enjoying a late supper, and, had her
strength but equalled her inclination, she would
have torn him limb from limb. I must say the
gardener returned her devotion, for a more in-
dulgent master never lived ; she grew handsome as
she grew up, and her eyes were wonderful, so large
and bright, but she never became " blue."

We pa^ed seven happy years in that sweet
valley of the Thames, and there is not a shadow on
its memory ! Latterly, Effie ceased to be annoyed
by the donkeys ; it so chanced that we did an act
of kindness to a poor gipsy woman, who was
Btabbed (she said accidentally) while sleeping in her
tent. The young surgeon of our village, with the
tenderness and benevolence that belonged to his
nature, saw her, and finding how much she required,
came to us to help her. When she recovered, and
before her party struck tents for other quarters, the
gipsy woman, with her little brown baby in her
arms, went round to those who had been kind to
her, to thank them.

When she came to me, her great luminous eyes
filled with tears, she kissed my hand repeatedly
while kneeling at my feet,—

" The pretty lady," she said, " won't believe
what the poor gipsy could tell, her of the lines
on this palm, which are so filmed over, hard
though some are, and crossed too, my pretty lady,
hut Jilmed over, by God's blessing. Sleep sweet on
your pillow, you and the good master, you have
never lost hammer or nail, berry or brush, since you
passed under your own oak-tree at the great gate,
and you never shall, lady, nor pigeon or chick, duck
or hen, no, not so much as a flower, my pretty
lady : and more, neither mare nor foal, nor even
the great ass with the mark of the Christian, my
pretty madam, on its shoulders, will ever open your
gate again to taste the sweet grass : so the little
sharp dog and its big master may rest by moon-
light, or starlight, or no light Never again ! —
for your gifts to the poor gipsy woman, and your
care, and the sunshine you brought into her poor
tent, have circled round your house, and you need
never turn key or bolt door, while here you bide."

Whenever that woman — Myra Stanley — and
her tribe visited the gi-een lanes of Addlestone,
she always paid me a visit, as one lady would to
another, not to tell fortunes or to beg, and certainly
not to steal, though I think my poultry-pens were
a great temptation to her ; she always regarded
them with wistful looks, and then as she turned
away, invariably said — "But you never lose
anything, and never will, never will, my pretty
madam ! " and we never did. After Myra Stanley's
recovery Effie and her master rested in petice. No
" donkey, mare, or foal " attempted to " crop the

sweet grass by starlight, moonlight, or in the
dark."

The memory of those sweet and happy years has
taken me away from my story.

We had been at Firfield more than five years,
when, rather at an early hour for visitors (though
some, I confess, are wickedly inconsiderate, and
think far less of breaking up a morning's pen- work
than they would of breaking a teacup), the servant
brought a large card into the library, "Mrs.
Smith" engraved on it in lai-ge letters, amid a
foliage of flourishes; there it was, "Mrs. Smith," —
plain Smith, without the aristocratic "y." The
name is by no means uncommon ; I heard the
other day there are 407 " Mrs. Smiths" in Brighton !

" The lady told me to say," observed the servant,
with the becoming gravity of a well-bred domestic,
who never evinces sympathy with, or for, anything
— " the lady told me to say it was Mrs. Smith and
a box."

" Mrs. Smith and a box," I repeated.

"Yes, ma'am, that was the message."

Mrs. Smith, a well-developed female, handsomely
dressed, but with a greater variety of colour in her
garments than I consider good taste, stood in the
middle of the drawing-room, a large square box
with a prominent brass handle on the top by her
side.

She looked at me, and I at her.

"Ah then," she exclaimed at last, "don't you
know me, ma'am 1 Sure I'd know you among a
thousand. God for ever bless you, me lady."

The unmitigated brogue, the soft voice, the
loving expression of those large grey eyes, told me
who it was, though the form was so increased in
size and portliness.

"Ah, you know me now, ma'am, and you'll
know her too, though she's not in it, — that is, the
whole of her, — and quiet enough now, poor thing !
only she has her foes still, the moths and the
cockroaches stir her up, though I'm watching them
constantly, bad luck to them ! "

She pressed a spring, and down went the front
and sides of the box, and there sat Bizz within the
rim of her potato-basket, stufled, poor animal, not
with sheep's-heads, as of old, but with — I know
not what ! and certainly to great perfection : the
split remained above the white tooth, — one eye
was closed.

" Yes," I said, " if that open eye could but wink,
it would indeed be Bizz to the lifa"

"She had a long life, and a happy death ac-
cording to her kind, ma'am," said ray ci-devant
cook, while turning the box into a better light, —
" and might have been alive now, only she hated
niggers worse than rats or cats. I told her often
they war her fellow crayshures, but she wouldn't
mind me, and one day, she tried to take a bite out
of a little nigger's leg, who was stealing yams —
if she'd had a tooth in her head to do it with, he'd
have remembered it — but, poor thing, she couldn't
hould her grip, and he slipped away, and grinned at
her, the little aggravating blackamoor ! And the
disappointment and the passion choked her j but her

BIZZ AND HEB FOES.

[Katun and Art, lUidi 1. IMT.

time was up, and she died, as she had lived, in the
cause of duty. Still she was, though only a dog,
off the same sod as myself, — my mother's (the
heavens be her bed !) present to me, when she was
a fractious puppy, — but I didn't mind that, — she
was made of the clay of the ould country ! me own
faithful friend ! Often on the rowling sea, I
thought of this day, when I should let you see the
remains of her, — bring her to you, ma'am dear, to
have a last look at her, just out of gratituda"

She stooped to pat the dog's head, and muttered
the " cushla machree " over it so tenderly : it was
strange to hear such a radiantly-dressed woman
speaking with such an accent : ifc was all natural
and right for " Mary " to have the brogue, but I
cannot describe my perplexity when I looked at
" Mrs. Smith," while her words rolled out in the
richest Munster !

" The rats," she said, " the villains, they found
her out on the passage ; there's nothing escapes them
murderin' ruffians of rats; one would think they
had a spite against her ; I don't know how they
got into the cabin, but they did, and many a long
night have I sat on the box, with a soda-water-
bottle in my stocking ready for them, (oh memory
of the * fair green of Ballynatrent ! ') I shouldn't
have saved a hair of her, if I had not watched
over her day and night.

" I've been greatly blessed, ma'am ; I'm married
to as good a man, and as kind, as ev^r stepped
in two shoes, an independent gentleman he is now,
and I've been able to send new vestments to the
priest of Ballynatrent, and had a tombstone put
above my dear mother, that as long as a shamrock
springs from the sod will tell what she was, and
where she is, for I never rested until she was prayed
out,* and I heard the end of him you knew about
three years ago, come Candlemas. So I could come
back without fear or trembling, and my master
longed for the old country."

There was a pause ; it was difficult to realize the
transformation. Mrs. Smith busied herself with
crumbling camphor on the remnant of the dog's
tail which stuck out as usual " quite natural," —
the voice, the sweet, loving eyes ! yes it was a
reality, but not without romance. I do believe she
had put on all the finery she possessed in the very
exuberance of her desire to do me and herself
honour. Could that enlarged woman, glittering in
chains from which depended such " knobby
nuggets" as it would have been dangerous to
show in a crowded thoroughfiaire, in bracelets of
astounding size, ear-rings of wreathed ferns, and in
that unmistakable Australian brooch, composed of
a palm-tree, and a tuft of such foliage at its base,
as would have driven a botanist insane — could
that woman, surrounded by such an atmosphere of
wealth, and looking so solidly happy, and fitjsh,
and rich, have been the cook, who denied her
country ! It was more like a trick in a pantomime,
than the revival of old times. Yes, her position
was evidently changed, and why should I quarrel

♦ Out of Purgatory.

with her accent 1 — ^her warm, earnest heart was
clinging to the associations of her early poverty and
struggles, cherishing the very skin of that battered
old dog, and believing (God bless her for her
belief in human sympathy !) that I should enjoy
seeing the glitter of her prosperity, and the moth-
eaten skin of what (and I mean no disrespect to
Mr. Smith) she certainly loved best in the world.

I was too bewildered for some minutes to ask
questions.* At last I said, '' We should be happy to
see Mr. Smith, if at any time he visited the
neighbourhood," and then I admired Bizz, and
stroked her coat, and said how well the character of
the dog was preserved.

" Aye, sure, — but she'd have grown out of your
knowledge without the white tooth. I had tliat
put in, — and indeed Mr. Smith has great patience
entirely on account" — ^but at that moment Mrs.
Smith caught sight of a juvenile cockroach, who
was seated on the top of Bizz's very shiny nosa

" There's one of them ! " she exclaimed, while
making a plunge at the doomed insect, "to think of
her foes keeping it up that way, when I may say
she has no body, and no breath. You used to say,
ma'am," she added reproachfully, " that Bizz made
foes by her bad temper : — sure, there's no temper
in her now, and they won't let her alone ! "

It was a treat to look at Mrs. Smith's face ; there
might be a little assumption of dignity, yes, dignity
in her manner, carried out by her handsome
presence, but the happiness, the simple, womanly
happiness of seeing a friend, and being able to open
her full, national heart to one who she knew would
understand her, , swept away all her pomposity.
Looking earnestly into my face, and laying her solid
fingers, cased in mauve kid, on my arm, she said, —
" Ah, do now, ma'am^ please to call me Mary, it
would sound so sweet ! there's no one calls me that
now. Mr. Smith is so anxious to keep up my
dignity, he always calls me Mrs. S."

Then she told me about her servants, and what
her jewels cost, and dwelt lovingly and proudly on
her husband's goodness and station ; yet I saw she
had something to say about him that hung fire,
something that she could not quite frame words to
disclose, — at last out it came, — " he hated the
Irish I " Yes, it was quite true, " he hated them, he
always said he'd never many an Irishwoman ; he
told her so often."

" But," I said, " he did marry an Irish-
woman."

A queer expression came over her face. " He
does not know it," said Mrs. Smith.

" Not know it 1 " I repeated.

" Sorra a bit," was the reply.

I thought it perfectly unnecessary, yet I said,
" Oh Mary, you should have told him."

It was now her turn to repeat, and she did so.
" Told him ! I shouted it at him, till I was a'most
black in the face, — and plenty besides me did the
same : good-natured mothers, who wanted him for
their own girls."

" And he did not believe it ! "

*' He never heard it : he's stone-deaf, hasn't

. Nrtlunr aiHl \it . March I lat)"

■Man Mid Art. XMNh 1. lar.)

CEBEMONIES OF THE GBEEK CHURCH.

heard a sound these twenty years, poor dear
man. He often says — * Mrs. S./ he says, * I'd die
happy, if I could hear the sound of your sweet
English tongue, — only once't,' he says, the dear,
kind, innocent, good man."

'^ But you should have made it known to him
somehow."

" Don't I know that 1 He should know it, but
he doesn't, there's neither a black nor a white lie
in it. I tould him hard and fast, and often enough,
both before and since^ we were married. His
cousin once't, out of a spite to me, wrote it down
on paper that I was Irish, and Mr. Smith ordered
him out of the house there and then ! "

" But could not you write it ] "

She crimsoned over cheek and brow in a
moment

" Oh, ma'am, sure if you'll remember you know
I couldn't. Sure you might think of the milk-
tallies, and the marks I made on the wall of the
larder against the butcher's book. Sure, if I
coidd write, wouldn't you have got a letter to tell
you about poor Bizzi and the good fortune the

Loi-d laid out for me, a poor, ignorant, half heart-
broken girl ! and it all came about through the
fever Mr. Smith had, and none of his servants
would go near him but me. Day and night I tended
him for weeks, and when he got to be himself again,
he made me Mrs. Smith, and taught me to taUc on
my fingers which I can do now famous. I think
he'd die if he thought I was Irish, and I'm sure if
he heard me spakeing this blessed minute, setting
a case he was to the fore, he'd think it was French,
or Italian, or German, I was talking, and whei-e's
the great odds ? Sure, I hear it's the fashion now,
for ladies and gentlemen to read, write, talk, and
spell, every language in life except their own, and
that's the cause (as I hear) of all the bad English
that do be in books. They'll all have to be sent
to Ireland, I'm thinking, to learn raal English ;
that is, the people that do be making the books, I
mean, — and sure," she added with one of her sly
smiles, " I wouldn't wonder if you made one out
of

*BlZZ AND HER FoES.'"

CEREMONIES OF THE GREEK CHURCH.

IN the most ancient part of the Kremlin at
Moscow is an old sacristy, and there is kept
the original vessel which brought the chrism^ or
anointing oil, from Constantinople, and which, by
the orthodox of the Greek Church, was believed to
contain a portion of the precious ointment used by
Mary Magdalene. This vessel is a copper bottle or
vase, silvered over and ornamented with mother-of-
pearl.

In the same sacristy there are two large silver
boilers and a third of larger dimensions, which
were a present from the Empress Catherine; in
these there is, during Lent every year, made, or
consecrated, a quantity of oil aa a chrism : this is
done as a ceremony of great solemnity by the
Metropolitan of Moscow, assisted by his clergy.
The chrism is compounded not of oil alone, but of
about thirty different ingredients — oD, and essential
oils, white wine, gums, balsams, and spices, — and to
the whole are added a few drops from the '* alabaster,"
which is the title of the bottle of chrism from
Constantinople. When the whole is duly prepared,
and consecrated by the ancient forms and ceremonies,
a few drops from the mass are again put into the
ancient " alabaster," and by this practice, sixteen
silver bottles, similar to the ancient one, are filled,
and the original stock of precious ointment is duly
preserved. This sacred oil is called " Mir," and
these bottles are sent to the different bishops of
Kussia. It is used for the following ceremonies :
the Emperor at his coronation is anointed with it ;
it is used at the consecration of all churches of the

orthodox communion, and at the baptism of every
orthodox Bussian subject

The ceremony of baptism, like all the ceremonies
of the Greek Church, is very beautiful, and ought
to impress those who go through its performance
with a sense of its solemnity. The godfathers and
godmothers proceed with the child to the church,
and are met at the door by the priest: hQ gives the
child the sign of the cross on the forehead, and pro-
nounces the benediction, saying, ''The Lord preserve
thy going out, and thy coming in ! " The sponsors
present four lighted candles, which the priest puts
upon the font ; he then consecrates the water, by
dipping the cross into it ; he then, after the use of
incense, leads the sponsors, with candles in their
hands, in a procession round the font ; having cir-
cumambulated the font three times, the sponsors
give the name of the child in wiiting ; the priest
attaches the name to one of the images of the
church, and laying it on the breast of the child, asks
"whether the child believes in God the Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost ? " The answer " yes," is given
three times, and the sponsors then turn their backs
to the font, as a sign of their aversion to the next
three questions, which are, "Whether the child
renounces the devil 1 Whether he renounces his
angels ] Whether he renounces his works ? " They
have to answer to each question, "I renounce,"
and spit three times upon the ground, in token of
malediction. On turning again to the font, they
are asked by the priest " Whether they promise to
bring up the child in the true Greek religion T*

CEREMONIES OF THE GREEK CHURCH.

pbtaM and Art, X«nh 1. wr.

A satisfactory reply to this being given, the priest
puts his hand upon the child, and blows three times,
saying, " Gret out of the child, thou unclean spirit,
and make way for the Holy Ghost." After this he
cuts off four small locks of hair from four points,
forming a cross on the head ; these locks he wraps
up in wax, and throws into the font ; the priest
takes the child, naked, and plunges it into the water
three times, uttering the words of the Sacrament,
" I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." Complete im-
mersion is the practice of the Greek Church, so a
pretty large font is necessary.

The ceremony of baptism contains two sacra-
ments : the second is called the "Baptismal Unction."
This is done with the sacred oil, which is prepared in
the sacristy of the Kremlin, and which is believed to
contain a portion — however minute — of the *' costly
pound of ointment." The child receives the Holy
Ghost through the vii-tue of this baptismal unction.
As this ceremony is always performed at baptism,
it renders confirmation unnecessary in tEe Greek
Church. The priest anoints the mouth, eyes, ears,
hands, and feet, as well as the back and breast. The
mouth is anointed, so that it may only speak
that which should be spoken by a child of God;
the eyes, that they may only see good ; the ears,
that nothing may pass through them to the mind
but what is pure ; the hands, that they may do no
wrong ; and the feet, that they may walk in the
way of life. He then puts a grain of salt in the
child^s mouth, and in token of the hopes of purity,
he dresses it with a clean shirt, and repeats the
words, "Thou art as clean, and as clear from
original sin, as thy shirt" A small cross of lead,
silver, or gold — according to the means of the
parents — is put round the infant's neck : this is
carefully preserved, because the rites of Christian
burial are denied to any who die without them.
Sponsors are considered so nearly related, that they
are not permitted to marry.

Marriage is also a very elaborate ceremony, and
its celebration occupies a considerable length of time.
Some details of the late marriage of the Czarewitch
will convey a good idea of forms gone through, for
they are exactly the same as those of the poorest
individuals.

The Metropolitan and principal clergy of St.
Petersburg came to the door of the chapel, there
to receive the marriage procession. One priest held
a candlestick with three tapers, which was so ar-
ranged that they produced only one flame ; this was
in tokea of the Three in One ; another held a basin
of holy wat«r, and a bay-leaf to sprinkle it with ;
and the Metropolitan held in his hand a golden
cross about ten or twelve inches in length. The
bride and bridegroom were sprinkled with the holy
water; they were then blessed by the Metropolitan,
and each kissed the cross in his hand.

As a woman cannot enter within the enclosed
place of the altar, a temporary altar is put up on
the outside of the screen, for the ceremony of
marriage to be performed. This is nothing but a
small reading-desk, covered with cloth embroidered

with gold crosses, and a copy of the four Gospels is
placed upon it. The bride and bridegroom took up
a position in front of this, with lighted tapers in their
hands, and the officiating priest asked, " Alexander
Alexandrowitch, hast thou a good and unrestrained
will, and firm intention to toke imto thee to wife
this woman, Marie Feodorowna, whom thou seest
here before theel" The Czarewitch replied, "I
have, most reverend sir." The priest again asked,
" Hast thou not promised any other woman 1" And
the answer was, " I have not promised another."
The same questions were put to the bride, after
which came the benediction ; then the deacon said
the Ectinia, into which were introduced the following
words for the occasicm : "For the servants in God,
the Czarewitch, Grand Duke Hereditary orthodox,
Alexander Alexandrowitch, and the Grand Duchess
orthodox, Marie Feodorowna, now joined together
in holy wedlock, and for their salvation." A number
of prayers were then repeated, and two crowns were
brought on a tray ; the priest took one, and, nudcing
the sign of the cross with it over the head of the
bridegroom, said, " The servant of God, Alexander
Alexandrowitch, is crowned for the handmaid of
God, Marie Feodorowna, in the name of the Father,
and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." The
Czarewitch kissed the crown, and one of the Grar9on3
des Noces held it over the head of the bridegroom
during the remainder of the ceremony. A similar
service was performed with the other crown and
the bride, and it was also held over her head till
the end. A benediction was then given — " Lord
our God ! crown them in like manner with glory
and honour." The crowns in this rite have nothing
to do with the rank of the couple ; crowns are used
at every marriage ceremony. There was a sligKt
difference in the two crowns, which may be worth
noticing ; that held over the bridegroom had on
it the figure of Christ, while that over the bride
had a figure of the Virgin. The " Prokimenon "
now follows, — " Thou hast put crowns of precious
stones upon their heads ; they asked life of Thee,
and Thou gavest them a long life ; for Thou shalt
give them the blessing of eternal life ; Thou shalt
make them glad with the joy of thy countenance.
Then comes the " Epistle of the Office," Eph. v.
20-33. The priest then reads the Gospel; that
chosen was the second chapter of St John's gospel,
which relates the mandage in Cana, ending with
the 1 1th verse. An anthem, " Glory be to Thee,
Lord, Glory be to Thee," is sung before and
after the Gospel. The " Conmion Cup," containing
wine, is now given by the priest to the bride and
bridegroom, who each drink out of it three times
in remembrance of the marriage in Cana.* XJp ^
this point of the ceremony the contract may he
broken off, but now comes the most important part
of the rite, which makes the marriage indissoluble,
for the Greek Church never permits of divorce.
The priest covers his right hand with his robe, and
on it the bride and bridegroom place their right

• In the Jewish form of marriage a cnp of wine is drunk
by the bride and bridegroom.

VAtoM Md lit, Xsrah 1. 1M7.]

CEEEMONIES OP THE GEEEK CHURCH.

hiuids, and with the crowns still over their heads,
the priest slowly leads them three times round the
altar. This part of the ceremony is understood to
typify that the pair are thus to walk together
through life, and the Divine Presence along with
them, which is here typified by the priest, as the
representative of God ; . the mystical three times is
Bymbolical of the Holy Trinity. While this is
doing, the choir are singing, *^ Exalt, O Isaiah, for
a virgin has conceived and brought foi-th a son,
Emmanuel, God and man ; the East is His name ;
Him do we magnify, and call the Virgin blessed."
The two are now bound as one in the ties of holy
matrimony. The priest takes off the bridegroom's
crown, saying, "Be thou exalted, O bridegroom,
like unto Abraham, and blessed like unto Isaac, and
multiplied like unto Jacob. AV^alk in peace, and
do all according to the commandments of God."
Taking the bride's crown he says, " And thou, O
bride, be thou exalted like unto Sarah, and rejoice
like unto Rebecca, and multiply like unto Rachel ;
rejoice with thy husband, and keep the ways of
the law ; and the blessing of God be with thee." A
couple of prayers then follow, after which the couple
kiss each other three times, and the ceremony may
be said to be ended.

In the Greek Church some of the clergy are
married and some are monks, but a monk cannot
celebrate the ceremony of marriage ; it is only a
married priest who can do so. For this reason the
Metropolitan of St. Petersburg, who is a monk,
could not officiate.

Dr. Clarke, in his ** Travels," gives such a graphic
account of the funeral of Prince Galitzin, that it
may be taken as a fair description of the burial
dferemonies.

" On tho 28th of May, wo again saw Plato • in great
pomp, at the burial of Prince Galitzin, in Moscow. This
ceremony was performed in a small church near the
Maresohal Bridge. The body was laid in a snperb crimson
coffin, richly embossed with silver, and placed beneath the
dome of the church. Upon a throne, raised at tho head of
the coffin, stood the Archbishop, who read the service. On
each side were ranged the inferior clergy, clothed, as usual,
in the most costly robes, bearing in their hands wax tapers
and burning incense. This ceremony began at ten in the
morning. Having obtained admission to the church, we
placed ourselves among the spectators, immediately behind
his Eminence. The chanting had a solemn and sublime
effect ; it seemed as if choristers were placed in the upper
part of the dome, and this perhaps was really the case. The
words uttered were only a repetition of * Lord, have morcy
upon us ! ' or, in Bussian, * Ghospodi pomilul ! ' When the
Archbishop turned to grivo his benediction to all the peoplo,
he observed us, and added, in Latin, * Pax vobiscum ! ' to
tho astonishment of the Bussians ; who, not comprehending
the new words introduced into the service, muttered among
themselves. Incense was then offered to the pictures and
to the people ; and, this ceremony ended, tho Archbishop
read aloud a declaration, purporting that the deceased had
died in the true faith, that he had repented of his errors,
and that his sins were absolved. Then turning to us, as
the paper was placed in the coffin, he said again in Latin,
• This is what all you foreigners call tJie pdsspart ; and you

* Plato was the name of the Metropolitan of Moscow at
that time, in 1800.

relate, in your books of trayels, that we believe no soul can
go to heaven without it. Now, I wish you to understand
what it really is ; and to explain to your countrymen, upon
my authority, that it is nothing more than a declaration or
certificate concerning the death of the deceased.' Then
laughing, he added, * I suppose yon commit all this to pai>6r ;
and some future day, perhaps, I shall see an engraving of
this ceremony, with an old archbishop giving a dead man
his passport to St. Peter.*

" The lid of the coffin being now removed, the body of

I the prince was exposed to view ; and all the relatives, the

servants, the slaves, and the other attendants, began the

I Ululation^ according to the custom of the country. Each

I person, walking round the corpse, made prostration before

I it, and kissed the lips of the deceased. The venerable

I figure of an old slave presented a most affecting spectacle.

He threw himself flat upon the pavement, with a desperate

degree of violence, and, being quite stunned by the blow,

remained a few seconds insensible; afterwards, his loud

lamentations were hoard, and we saw him tearing off and

scattering his white hairs. He had, according to the custom

in Bussio, received his liberty upon the death of the Prinee,

but choosing rather to consign himself for tho remainder of

his days to a convent, he retired for ever from the world,

saying, ' Since his dear old master was dead, there was no

one living who oared for him.'

*' A plate was handed about, containing boiled rice and
raisins — a ceremony we are unable to explain. The face of
the deceased was then covered with linen, and the Archbishop
poured consecrated oil, and threw a white powder, probably
lime, several times upon it, pronouncing some words in the
Bussian language ; these he afterwards repeated aloud in
Latin, * Dust thou art ; and unto dust thou art returned.'
The lid of the coffin was then replaced, and after a requiem,
' Sweet as from blest voices,' a procession began from the
church to a convent in the vicinity of the city, where the
body was to be interred. There was nothing solemn in this
part of the ceremony. It began by the slaves of the de-
ceased on foot, all of whom wore in mourning. After the
slaves followed the priests, bearing tapers ; then was borne
the body, on a common drosky, the whip of the driver
being bound with crape; afterwards pro(^Beded a line of
carriages, of the miserable order before described. But,
instead of the slow movement usually characteristic of
funeral processions, the priest and the people ran as fast as
they could, and the body was jolted along in a very in-
decorous manner. Far behind the last rumbling vehicle
wore soon persons running, quite out of breath, and unable
to keep up with their companions." — Clarke* 8 Travels,
vol. L,c. ix.

In the present day, funeral processions are
managed with more decorum ; a special vehicle is
used for the coffin; a decorated pall is thrown
over it; and everj person in the street takes off
his hat to it as it passes.

Such are the three great events of life — birth,
marriage, and death — and the ceremonies of the
Greek Church connected with them.

The illustration represents the ancient vase which
brought the " chrism " from Constantinople, and the
figure is that of Philarete, the Metropolitan of
Moscow. There are four Metropolitans in Bussia,
and the oldest is, by right of seniority, the spiritual
head of the Church. Philarete at present enjoys
that honour ; he is 83 years of age ; although weak
in body from age, yet he is in the perfect use of his
mind, and has a very bright, genial expression of
faca The Prince of Wales, during his late sojourn
at Moscow, visited this venerable prelate, and the
dress shown in the illustration was that worn on
the occasion.

A GOSSIP ABOUT AMBER.

rNataxe and Art. Ibrch 1. lar.

A GOSSIP ABOUT AMBER.

By B. Lambert.

AMBER, one of the most beautiful fosgil pro-
ductions of a bygone age, possesses, apart
from its intrinsic value as an art material, the
greatest possible interest to the student in the
sciences of Entomology, Botany, and Geology.
How was it formed, and whence does it come 1
are questions which were debated in days long
anterior to the Christian era. Its translucent aspect
and wealth of glowing colour have been utilized by
the bards of every clime in the construction of
their most charming imagery, whilst on its electric
characteristic there has been erected a goodly super-
structure of all-pervading superstition, the trace of
which may be found in the folk-lore of the Western
nations.

The geographical distribution of amber would
appear to be tolerably extensive, but the largest
quantity is found on the southern shore of the
Baltic, between Memel and Konigsberg, where it
is cast up by the action of the ground swell afler
northerly gales. Under similar circumstances it is
found on the coast of the Adriatic, on the SicDian
seaboard, and on the beach in our own counties of
Norfolk and Suffolk. Mining for amber in beds of
brown lignite is carried on in Prussia with varying
success, and good pieces, both as regards size and
quality, are occasionally found in excavations all
over Europe, the British islands not excepted. Still,
amber continues to be, par excellence, the gem of
the sea, by which it is yielded up in sparing
manner, and then only when in tempestuous mood.

The origin of amber has been for ages a fertile
subject of discussion ; and theories of the wildest
character — ^but on that account not the less beauti-
ful as imaginative conceptions — have been started to
account for the singularity of the phenomena by
which it is suiTOunded. There can be no doubt,
however, that amber is the indurated resin of
extinct Coniferse, and is moreover the product of
different species of coniferous trees. Judging from
the variety of objects found impacted in amber,
the inference is clear that the forests of northern
Europe were, at the epoch of its production, of a
very different character to those of the present day.
A tropical sun must have poured a flood of light
and heat on luxuriant vegetation instinct with life,
extending over the present bed of the ice-bound
Baltic ; and no better sermon in fossils can be read
than the history of that epoch, as exhibited in the
plants and insects imbedded in the clear juice which
flowed from the stems of its forest trees.

Amber is found in masses, irregularly shaped and,
generally speaking, of a small size ; the colour varies
from exceedingly pale straw to deep orange. In
clearness it is obtained of all degrees, from trans-
parency to opacity. It is exceedingly light, having
only a specific gravity of 1 07 ; has a conchoidal
fracture ; is brittle, but can be easily cut with a

sharp knife; and becomes negatively electrical by
friction. Its chemical formula is C4oHaj04. By
distillation it yields succinic acid, that being its
leading characteristic. It fuses in air at 550° Fahr.,
and does not drop, like copal under similar circum-
stances, but bui^ns with a yellow flame, leaving
a shiny bituminous mass, which is used in the ardi
as a basis for varnishes.

Amber was held in high estimation in periods of
the most remote antiquity. Its electrical property
was first commented upon by Thales of Miletus, who
flourished 600 years B.C. The substance was on
that account called by the Greeks electron, a name
which was, however, equally applied to an amalgam
composed of gold and silver ; and it is from eUdron
that our word electricity is derived.

Nearly all the Greek and Latin authors have
something to say about electron. By some it was
supposed to be produced by the rays of the setting
sun on the surface of the earth, resulting in an
^* unctuous sweat," which was washed off by the sea
and further elaborated in its depths. By others,
that a piece of water, called Ldice Electron, was
situated in the gardens of the Hesperides, and that
amber fell into the water from the poplar trees by
which its banks were lined; and not a few believed,
with Sophocles, that amber was the tears shed for
Meleager by the birds called Meleagrides, in some
£ar eastern coimtry. The prevailing idea, however,
in the first century of the Christian era, was, that
amber was a vegetable product, distilled from trees
at one time indigenous to the places where the
substance was found, — an idea which is elegantly
elaborated by Ovid in his notice of the death of
Phaeton. The story is, that the sisters of Phaeton
being overcome with sorrow for his untimely death,
wandered over the surface of the earth, loudly
lamenting their bereavement. Having reached the
banks of the Po, and one of them desiring to recline,
the discovery was made that they were gradually
being transformed into trees ; and as the bark finally
closed on their heads, tears burst forth — ^hardened
in the sun — dropped into the river, and were by it
borne to the Latian matrons ; so that, according to
Ovid, amber was the tears of the sisters of Phaeton.

In the Old Testament Scriptures amber is men-
tioned in the book of Ezekiel ; but the greater num-
ber of biblical scholars agree that the word does
not mean amber proper, but a metal similar to, if not
identical with, that named by the Greeks electron.
This want of clearness in nomenclature has been
productive of much confusion, and appears moreover
to have been very prevalent ; as, for example, in the
Hindu mythology, where amber and ambergris are
made interchangeable terms. It is extremely difficult
to judge whether the ancient Hindus had three
different substances which they denominated amber,
or only two. Inclining to the opinion that there were

Hatanaad Art. Kueh 1, 1807.]

A GOSSIP ABOUT AMBEE.

three categories, they would be ** Golden" amber,
*' Water" amber, and "Black" amber. There is
very little doubt that by the first is meant fossil
or true amber, and by the second and third amber-
gris. Frequent reference is made to the exquiste
perfume of amber ; but seeing that true amber has
little or no perfume, in comparison with ambergris,
the latter is doubtiess indicated Moreover, the
described colours of the last two sorts, — viz. grey and
black, point to ambergris, that substance being ge-
nerally black and soft when expelled from or found
in the sperm whale, and gradually acquiring light-
ness of colour, hardness, and pungency, as it is tossed
about on the surface of the sea. The Hindus knew
that both amber and ambergris were waifis of the
sea; and their assumption that black amber was
the excrementitious matter of some large fish was
singularly near the truth.

As far back as the beginning of the Christian
era, not only had definite ideas, consistent with rea-
son, been formed as to the origin of amber, but an
active trade in the article had arisen, in order to
supply the Italian market. Pliny says, ** There can
be no doubt that amber is a product of the islands of
the Northern Ocean, and that it is the substance by
the Germans called Gliesum." After indicating
more particularly the locality, he tells us that amber
is produced firom a marrow discharged by trees be-
longing to the Pine genus, like gum from the cherry,
and resin from the ordinary pine ; that it is a liquid
at first, gradually hardened by atmospheric action ;
and he adduces in proof that it is the juice of the
pine, the allegation that it emits a pine-like smell
when rubbed, and that it bums with the odour and
appearance of pine wood. The precise locality of
the northern amber country was about the same
period laid down by Tacitus, who, in his descriptiou
of the tribes of the JEstii, says they are the only
people that gather amber, which by them is called
Glessum, and that it long lay disregarded among the
debris thrown up by the sea, until Eoman luxury
created a demand for the neglected substance. It is
interesting to note that the name of the tribes de-
scribed by Tacitus as amber-collectors, is still pre-
served in that of the palatinate of Esthonia, in the
kingdom of Prussia. During the reign of the
emperor Nero, the demand for amber as a material
for articles of personal adornment must have been
very great. The Roman ladies, like their fair
sisters of later periods, were not insensible to the
delicate beauty of amber ornaments, but, on the
contrary, held them in the highest possible esteem ;
and some idea may be formed of the extent to
which ostentatious display was carried by the
members of the Imperial court, from the fact
that the Emperor despatehed a messenger to
the amber country, in order to procure a large
supply of the article, and with such success
that the nets and other paraphernalia of the
gladiatorial ai'ena were studded with pieces of the
much-coveted material. The journey from the
Tiber to the Baltic, by way of the Adriatic and the
Danube, must have been an undertaking of serious
magnitude; and the fact that such an expedition

was ordered, in all probability to gratify the whim
of a reigning beauty, and certainly to procure an
article of the merest luxury, furnishes a fair
example of Nero's reckless munificence.

It would be too much to expect from uninstructed
man, that such a peculiar product as amber should
not have been invested with supernatural attributes.
Its property of attracting light substances after
friction was so suggestive of life, as to lead observers
to the most astonishing conclusions. That a frag-
ment of inert matter should have the power of
attracting, and not only so, but of holding another
fragment of matter equally inert, was so obviously
opposed to natural law as to leave no doubt in the
mind of any rational being that some intelligence of
another mould, some fairy or some wayward djinn,
had evinced consummate taste in the selection of a
material for its dwelling. Hence, in the fairy
literature of Persia, one of the abodes of the Peris
is called Amber-abad ; hence the amber moon of the
Hindu, and hence too the various superstitions
current among the northern nations connecting
amber with fairy pranks and witehes' spell. Among
the tribes inhabiting the southern shore of the
Baltic, this belief was naturally prevalent, as the
mysterious circumstances attaching to the appear-
ance of amber were kept continually before tJiem,
and so, without possessing any very definite notion
on the subject, the substance was associated in their
minds with the manifestations of witehcraft, in'
which they firmly believed. This view of the
matter is fully borne out by the plot of a story
entitled "The Amber Witeh," written by the
pastor of a district in Pomerania, and published
in the year 1843. The time is the period of the
Thirty Years war, and although there are a good
many actors in the drama, including a veritable
witeh, the whole of the complications of the plot —
complications which nearly had a disastrous termi-
nation for the heroine — arise from the circumstance
of the poor pastor and his daughter having dis-
covered a vein of amber, from the secret working
of which they derive a considerable, and, in the
opinion of theii' neighbours, a most mysterious
revenue. The daughter, in the stillness of the
night, is seen by malevolent eyes in quest of the
hidden treasure, and, seizing the incident, the reed
witeh succeeds in fastening the authorship of her
evil deeds on the pastor's daughter, who is therefore
called the Amber Witeh. The story is well told,
and the name will not be easily forgotten, as it is the
title of an opera by the late Mr. Vincent Wallace,
by whom the leading incidents of the tale have
been wedded to most charming music.

If the superstitions connected with amber were
localized in the Baltic provinces, the natural ex-
pectations of the investigator would be satisfied ;
but the interest with which the subject is clothed
is greatly increased when it is foimd that the centre
of the belief in the supernatural efficacy of amber,
as far as ancient recoi'ds and modem relics enable
us to judge, is to be found in Scotland, the in-
habitants of which country seem to have had the most
unlimited feith in what may be fidrly denominated

A GOSSIP ABOUT AMBEB.

[Valon and Art. lUnh 1. IMF.

amber-power against witches, against fairies, against
the too critical gaze of man, and even against the
grand heritage of the human family — Death. The
Scottish for amber is " lammer." Lammer beads
are held at the present day by the Scottish peasantry
in peculiar veneration. When strung on red thread,
they were supposed to be a charm to repel witchery ;
worn by children, they were considered a certain
preventive of dangerous illness, and were deemed
particularly potent against the spells of witches and
evil machinations generally. A set of lammer beads
was at one time an ordinary present from a mother
to her daughter on the night of her marriage ; so
that, being worn about the neck, her husband might
the more be charmed with her beauty ; but the
most extraordinary form which the belief in amber-
power seems to have taken in the minds of the
, Scottish people, was that of attributing immortality
as the result of its internal administration. Faint
traces of this singular belief may be discovered in
the records of ancient times, but nowhere is the
error so distinctly and particularly set forth as in
the following lines, collated from an old number of
the "Scots Magazine," respecting the virtues of
lammer-wine : —

Brink ae coup o* the lammer- wine.

An' the tear is nae mair in yonr e'e.
An' drink twae coups o' the lammer-wine,

Nae dnle nor pine ye'll dree.
An' drink three coaps o' the lammer-wine,

Tour mortal life's awa.
An' drink four coops o' the lammer-wine,

Ye'll torn a fairy sma'.
An' drink five coups o' the lammer-wine,

O* joys ye've rowth an* wale.
An' drink sax coups o' the lammer-wine,

Te'll ring ower hill an' dale.
An' drink seven coups o' the lammer-wine,

Te may dance on the milky way.
An' drink aught coups o' the lammer-wine,

Te may ride on the fire-flaught blae.
An' drink nine coups o' the lammer-wine,

Your endday ye'll ne'er see ;
An' the nicht is gane, an' the day has come

Will never set to thee.

And the idea is further devoloped in the following
verse from a poem called "The Marmaiden of
Clyde." The mermaid, while perfoiming her toilet,
relates in song the story of her noble parentage;
of her having been decoyed to the river-side by a
deer of which she was in chase ; of her being there
benighted and seized by a " stalwart Gowe," who
plunged with her into the flood, and gave directions
for her transformation into a mermaid : —

An' tak my bride, my bonnie bonnie bride,

To the dwerch the wicht can say,
An' wash awa the changefu' life

That lives in upper day ;
And dip her first in the Norroway eea.

She's mine for evermare ;
And dip her syne in the lammer-wine,

Alike then sea and air.

It requires some effort of imagination to conceive
a period when any considerable portion of the
inhabitants of Scotland could believe in an elixir
of immortality. That they did so, however, there
is no room to doubt ; and the strength of their

belief in all the varieties of amber-power is attested
by the vitality which characterizes the remains
thereof in the present year of grace.

Up to a comparatively recent period, amber was
employed as a remedial agent in the practice of
medicine. The elder Pliny extolled its virtues, and
although it has now noplace in thePharmaoopoeiag of
this country, suffering humanity has not long enjoyed
immunity from its empirical exhibition. Formerly
it was in great favour as a stimulant, being ihe
principal constituent of eau de luce. This cele-
brated essence was a volatile preparation of oil of
amber with ammonia ; evaporated to thickness, it
was used for removing stains from cloth, and when
diluted it was applied as a stimulant in fainting-
fits. As a medicine, amber was used in a variety
of forms, ranging from imsophisticated powd^ to
the most elaborate products of distillation. In
Salmon's "Pharmacopoeia Londinensis," published
in 1678, amber, whether "white or yellow," is de-
scribed as "hot and dry, binding, cephalick, car-
diack, hysterick, and analeptick," and we are told
that it stops catarrhs, cures epilepsies, apoplexies,
lethargies, and megrims, scurvy, green sickness,
jaundice, and ulcers ; that hysterical fits, palsy,
oonvulsions, and falling sickness yield to its virtues,
and that it is eminent against measles, small-pox,
spot^-fever, plague, pleurisy, palpitation of the
heart, and other malign diseases ; in fcict, amber would
appear to have been a general specific in all the iUs
that fiesh is heir to. It is possible that our self-
complacency may be disturbed by the reflection that
n(5 further back than throe generations, such an
expose of medical practice should have been received
with favour by the profession ; and if anything
could compensate us for not having being bom
in the "good old times," it would be a perusal of the
old dispensatories, the pages of which bristle with
atrocious compounds, grimly intended as so many
aids to stricken humanity in the fight which it is
continually waging with disease. .A^ber was not
only used as a medicine, and as a volatile essence
having some similarity to our Eau de Cologne^ but
it was also worn as an amulet or charm against par-
ticular diseases. There were many ailments in the
prevention of which it was deemed efficacious;
pai-ticularly, the plague, the ravages of which were
greatly dreaded. As a charm against this scourge,
amber was worn by all classes of people, from the
meaner sort up to the highest dignitaries of the
Church. It would appear that the mere wearing of
the charm was not sufficient to preserve an in-
dividual from the fatal malady, but that some pre-
liminary ceremonies were essential to that end
The piece of amber employed should be "translucid,**
and previous to being hung about the neck should
be "rubbed on the jugular artery, on the hand
wrists, near the instep, and on the throne of the
heart ;" after all which, it was supposed to be a cer-
tain preventive of the plague. Whether it was so
in reality, is matter of opinion ; but if the feeling
of immunity from danger lent greater nerve and
boldness to those who, themselves untouched,
ministered to the necessities of the afflicted, the

KAton and Art. Uuth 1, 1867 ]

A GOSSIP ABOUT AMBEB.

belief in amber-power has not been without its
uses.

As already observed, the origin of amber has at
all times been a bone of contention among the
learned. The substance has been examined and
re-examined under every conceivable light. Its
cbemical constitution has been ascertained, its
mechanical structure and optical properties observed,
and the organic remaius preserved in its embrace
have been closely scrutinized, with the sole result
that the balance of testimony is in favour of its.
being an exuded vegetable juice, and that its
recognition is surrounded with difficulties. Baron
Liebig is of opinion, or rather he thinks it probable,
" that amber is a product of the decay of wax, or
of some other substance allied to the fats or fixed
oils," basing his assertion on the presence 6f succinic
acid, that being one of the products of the oxidation
of stearic and margaric acids ; and Berzelius asserts
that there are two resins in the constitution of
amber. Sir David Brewster says that his obser-
vations on the optical properties and mechanical
condition of amber, by means of polarized light,
'' appear to establish beyond a doubt, that amber is
an indurated vegetable juice, and that the traces of
a regular structure indicated by its action upon
polarized light are not the effect of the ordinary
laws of crystallization, by which mellite has been
formed, but are produced by the same causes which
infiuence the mechanical condition of gum-arabic,
and other gums which are known to be formed by
the successive deposition and induration of vegetable
fluids." The evidence on which it is assumed tltat
amber is a vegetable resin, analogous in its formation
to gum-arabic, <kc., is cumulative, as, apart from the
wood, leaves, flowers, and fruit found enclosed in
amber, and recognized as having belonged to
coniferous trees now extinct, the substance has
been found impacted in the wood which has been
placed by microscopists as a Pinus. The forms of
the lumps, now as tears, then as stalactites, and
generally in pieces of irregular mould, as if the
juice had been run into bark-crevices, exactly tally
with our experience of exuded resins. The
structure of the cylindrical specimens tells of the
successive flo wings of a limpid juice over a partially
indurated sur&ce, and the perfect state in which
the delicate wing-tracery of insects is preserved,
seems to point to their Imving been enveloped in a
cold limpid fluid, and not in a hot viscous mass
such as amber would have been if the product of
vegetable remains acted upon by terrene heat.
There must have been several descriptions of amber
trees, to which the differences which have been
observed in density and colour are referabla The
colour of Sicilian amber is generally deeper than
that from the Baltic, and it is stated that in
Germany an experienced amber-worker can dis-
criminate between pieces found on different parts
of the coast Nor is amber invariably found in a
hard state, as there is an instance on record of a
gentleman having received from a friend located on
the Baltic coast, a piece so soft as to take an im-
pression of his seal ; and the same individual speaks

of another piece soft on one side and hard on the
other. The principal argument in support of the
theory that amber is an organic distillate from
vegetable remains, resulting from subterranean or
solar heat, is the largeness of many pieces, which,
beyond all question, remain in their original con-
dition ; the inference being that their size precludes
their acceptation as an exuded resin from a living
tree. It being, however, admitted that our know-
ledge of the amber trees is of the most incomplete
character, and there being nothing improbable in the
supposition that the forests of that remote epoch
were tenanted by gigantic forms, the argument is
more specious than real. On the contrary, what
lends most weight to the pitch theory, is the
peculiar appearance which some specimens present,
as if they had at one time been in a state of fluidity,
during which the heavier particles had gravitated,
leaving the upper section perfectly clear. Thus, one
section of a lump may consist of fatty or mottled
amber, almost or entirely opaque, while the other
section may be composed of the purest material, as
regards colour and transparency; the two sections
have an appearance of perfect homogeneity, and the
deposition of the fatty part seems to be marked by
wave-lines, as if the mass had been subjected to
strong air-currents when in a fluid state. A ppearances
such as those just described are obviously antago-
nistic to the theory of gradual exudation, and can
only be reconciled with it on the hypothesis that
the flow of clear resin had been intercepted by
some foreign body, such as a spider's web, and
that the fatty or mottled appearance is due to the
incorporation of such foreign body with the clear
vegetable juice. In many specimens possessing this
duplex character, there is evidence of structure in
the fatty part, a circumstance which invests the web
theory with some amount of probability.

The observation of succinic or amber insects has
been diligently attended to by many eminent ento-
mologists, and several interesting collections have
been made by those curious in such matters. The
beautiful state of preservation in which some speci-
mens are found, extending even to the retention of
the natural colours, has enlisted the curiosity of
thousands of persons totally unconnected with the
pursuit of science, persons who could give no
better reason for the indefatigable manner in which
they hunt after rare examples, than those contained
in Pope's well-known lines :-^

Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grub, or worms I
The things we know are neither rich nor rare,
But wonder how the d — 1 they got there.

Concerning how they got there something has
already been said, and as far as the rarity of succinic
insects is concerned, Pope was unquestionably
wrong, as they open to us a new chapter in old-
world history. The beauty of the envelope pre*
sents to us, in all the vividness of life, the insects,
the beetles, and the lizards which swarmed in the
primeval woods ; whilst the completeness of the
collection renders their acquisition a matter of the
greatest moment to the comparative entomologist j

THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.

(Vatim and Art. Manh 1, 1817.

to him they are both rich and rare, and his appre-
ciation of them could not be better expressed than
in the following metrical version of one of
MartiaFs epigrams : — *

A drop of water from the weeping plant
Fell unexpected and embalm'd an ant ;
The little insect we so mnch contemn
Is, from a worthless ant, become a gem.

The whole of the forms, both of insects and
animals foimd in amber are recognized as forest
denizens, and it has been remarked that they bear
a sufficiently close resemblance to existing species
to enable a satisfactory inference to be drawn re-
specting their habit. Many strange objects impacted
in amber have been at various times offered to
collectors; but close scrutiny has generally revealed
a well-executed fraud. Not in this category, but
still so strange as to excite the gravest doubt, is a
piece of amber containing a fish, in the Hope
collection at South Kensington. The material is
formed into the handle of a seal, and the tail of the
fish is concealed by the ruggedness and opacity of
the amber where it enters the metal mounting.
The singularity of this specimen consists, firstly, in
the fish ; secondly, in the marked difference between
that section of the amber enclosing the tail and
the clearness of the remainder in which the body is I
exhibited ; and lastly, in the evenness of the set of '
the object. It is very desirable, in the interest of I
science, that this piece of amber should be sub- I
jected to microscopic examination divested of its |
metal mounting ; and until then, all that can be |
said about it is — " Curious if true."

The uses to which amber is put are not very
numerous. As a material for art carving, nothing
can be more beautiful. The principal market is
Constantinople, where it is made into pipe mouth-
pieces, and articles of female ornament, such as
beads. The Turks and Armenians are acknow-
ledged to be first-rate judges of amber, and a
connoisseur could enjoy no gi'eater treat than a stroll
through the Bazaar at Stamboul, where the amber-
workers are located. For a pair of chibouk
mouth-pieces of moderate dimensions, but well
matched as to colour, sums varying from £20 to
£50 will be demanded ; whilst for a chaplet of
beads, three shillings the drachm would not be con-
sidered exorbitant, although that amount might be
fractionally reduced, should the purchaser have the
nerve and patience to devote a day or two to the

conduct of the bargain, and be able to withstand
the flattering allusions to his imperial descent with
which Ali or Hassan will plentifully bespatter him.
There are many very fine examples of carving in
amber to be found in the Koyal collections of
Europe. In the loan collection at South Ken-
sington may be seen an octagonal casket, the pro-
perty of her Majesty the Queen, the oblong plates
carved with figures emblematic of the cardinal
virtues; and in close proximity there is a larger
casket of architectui*al design, chiefly remarkable
for the variety of colours in the amber used in its
construction. It is ornamented with statuettes,
twisted pillars, and quaint panelling, the work-
manship being Flemish of the early part of the 17th
century. A very elegant piece of modern carving
in amber was shown at the International Exhi-
bition of 1862, in the shape of a vine branch, with
leaves and fruit ; but such works of art must
always be scarce, owing to the difliculty of pro-
curing lumps of amber of sufficent size and purity.
The only purposes to which amber is applied in the
useful arts is in the manufacture of varnishes for
carriage-builders and photographers. That used for
the panels of carriages is expensive, and is a long
time in drying; but, on the other hand, it is
the hardest and most invulnerable of any knovn
varnish.

Any gossip on amber would be incomplete were
not allusion made to the preference which, in all
ages has been given to amber colour by the ladies.
Sometimes it is in hair, and at others in dress;
but whatever form the fancy might assume, amber
has always been to the daughters of Eve " a thing
of beauty," and its golden straw-colour a "joy for
ever." It is amusing to read, by the light of
modem experience, the strictures of Pliny on the
amber extravagances of his day, as, not only is
the expensive luxury denounced, but he cuc^ls
Domitius Nero soundly for bestowing the name
upon the golden tresses of his wife, sarcastically
remarking, that " as fine names are never wanting
for bodily defects, a third tint has been introduced
of late among our ladies, under the name of amber-
colour." Verily, fashion repeats itself, as the golden
tresses which Nero so much admired, and whidi
Pliny so sedulously vilified, are, as far as colour is
concerned, precisely those which linger in the
memory of the modem Benedict as being the
crowning glory of his guardian Angel.

THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.

By Centurion.

THE African variety of the Elephant has received,
in comparison with his Asiatic congeners, but
little notice from modem naturalists, despite the
numerous points of interest which his history and
peculiarities ofier to the observer. To glance at a
few of the historical details which the study of

the animal presents, and to collect such observations
of its habits as are reallf/ trustuxyrthyy is the
writer's aim in penning the following brirf account
The African Elephant, the Elephas Africamf of
Cuvier, which, with the exception of certain regions
of limited extent, like Egypt, in which it is not

Itaiore and Alt. March 1, 1887.]

THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.

found, is spread over the whole of that continent,
varies much in size, and to a certain degree in hue,
in different localities. In South Africa, where
these animals have been most attentively observed,
they ranged, in former times, over vast tracts of
country, from the belt of forest land which fringes
the coast line of Natal, to within a few miles of
Cape Town ; but of late, since the population has
become more widely spread, and since the use of
fire-arms has increased, the Elephant, ever the
first to retreat before the culvent of man, has here
nearly disappeared. Nor is the decrease confined to
the limits of the colony ; for far across the border
the numbers are steadily diminishing, partly from
the animals retiring to less-frequented regions in the
interior, partly, no doubt, owing to the reckless
destruction of females and young, as well as of
males, at all seasons alike.

The following average dimensions of a South
African Elephant, and the accompanying description
of its appearance, may be quoted as a good example
of the African variety in general. The height of
the males may be taken at 12 feet at the shoulder,
tliat of the females about 8 or 9 feet, and the
average length of the animal from 18 to 20 feet.
The head is more round, and the forehead more
convex, -than in the Asiatic variety, and the huge
ears, often 6 feet in length, overlap at the back of
the heady and reach &r down the legs. The
difference in physiognomy between thetwo varieties,
though difficult to define, is very marked and cannot
fail to attract the notice of any one flEuniliar with the
Indian type. Unlike the Asiatic animal, in which
the male only is provided with tusks, both males and
females in AMca possess those appendages, which
they use extensively in ploughing up the ground in
search of roots and bullw. These tusks are either
nearly straight or curved upwards^ the latter being
the most usual form. The toes are five on each
foot. The teeth present ceii^ain marked differences
fix)m the Asiatic variety, and in some degree
resemble those of the American fossil Elephant, or
Mastodon. The skin is a dark iron-grey, rough
and destitute of hair. As we approach the equator
(at least in the vicinity of the coast), although
food is more plentiful, the Elephants appear to
decrease in size, and to carry less formidable tusks.
Observers, on both the east and west coast, speak of
8 to 9 feet as the average height of a full-grown
bull Elephant in Equatorial Aiica, and state also
that the tusks weigh from 50 to 60 lb. In South
Africa^ 100 lb. is not an unusual weight, and one in
possession of the late Mr. Gordon Gumming weighed
173 lb. Near the equator, too, the Elephants are
often of a darker hue ; white Elephants (which are
in fact Albinoes) have never, we believe, been met
with in South Africa, although instances have been
observed further norUi, on the borders of Abyssinia.
Br. Barth, in his "Travels in North Africa," speaks
of having met with black, grey, and yellow varieties.

The habits of the African Elephants may be thus
briefly sketched.

Near the Cape Golony, they are found in small
herds, under the leadership of on© or more bulls ;

but as we advance further into less-frequented
regions, these herds increase greatly in numbers.
The young remain unusually long in company with
their dams. During the breecfing season terrific
combats often take place between the males ; * the
old or vanquished bulls roam about alone or in
pairs. These are the " Schelm " Elephants of the
Dutch hunters, and, like the " Kogues " in Ceylon,
are the most dangerous to encounter. Elephants
are particular in frequenting the freshest and most
verdant parts of the forest, their favourite spots
being often in secluded situations, far away from
water, t In these cases they leave their mid-day
haunts at sun-down, and commence their march to
the water, which, perhaps, is 12 to 20 miles distant ;
arriving here an hour or two before midnight,
they quench their thirst and cool their bodies by
spouting over them huge volumes of water, and
then assume the path to their forest solitudes once
more. The bulls frequently lie down on their sides
at night and sleep, the place usually selected being
the side of one of those huge ant-hills, here so
plentiful. The deep impression of the under tusk may
be often foimd in these situations ; but the females,
and even the males, in exposed positions usually
sleep standing, resting themselves against a bank or
the trunk of a tree.

Their food consists of branches, leaves, roots
of trees, and bulbous plants. The power they
exert in felling and rooting up trees of large size is
remarkable, so also is the readiness with which they
secure tempting branches in positions seemingly
the most inaccessible. Bearing themselves on their
hind feet, the fore-legs resting against the trunk of
a tree, they manage to bring down leaves and
branches from heights almost incredible.

It is singular also to'observe that, even where the
Elephants roam in vast herds like one noticed by "
Dr. Livingstone, on the banks of the Zambesi,
consisting of 800 animals, and covering an extent
of more than two miles, the destruction of vege-
tation is almost imperceptible. This no doubt is
due, as the Doctor suggests, to the care with which
they select their food, but it contrasts strongly with
the frightful havoc which a single animal will com-
mit on cultivated ground. Tins careful selection of
food, which is most noticeable in the larger animals,
is doubtless not only necessary to their healthful pre-
servation, but it prevents that vast destruction of the
materials of sustenance, which their size, and the large
amount of food they individually require when in
captivity, would lead us to infer. The mutual re-
lation between animal and vegetable life is perhaps
more marked in places, like Equatorial Africa, which
the disturbing influences of colonization have never
reached ; and we find consequently that the varieties
of the larger animals are here placed amid vegeta-
tion, the differences in which are so marked, that

* Captain Braysoii, B.A.,. in one of his Soath-Afrioan
sketohes, mentions the fact of a portion of a tn8k,5 or 6 inches
long, having been fonnd in the flank of a.boll Elephant and
which had evidently been broken off in one of these
enconnters.

t ^' Cumming's " Five Years of a Hunter's Life."

ON SKETCHING FROM NATUEE.

[NAtan and Art. WarA 1. 1K7.

the presence of particular trees and shrubs may
be taken as indications of the presence of some
particular beast.

The scarcity of suitable food and of water would
appear to be the only checks nature has set to the
extension of the elephantine i-ace. The animal's
vast weight, and the impenetrability of its hide,
enable it to pass unresisted and unscathed through
the desert thickets. It fearlessly breasts the
strongest streams. Climbing on its knees or
squatting dog-fashion on its hams, few slopes are
so steep as to arrest its progress ; while, as Sir E.
Tennent has remarked in reference to the Ceylon
Elephant, "no altitude appears too lofty or too
chilly for it, if it but possesses the luxury of a
boundless supply of water.

Elephants are long in reaching matuiity, and,
like all such animals, probably attain a considerable
age ; but on thi« point it is hopeless to seek for
reliable information. The Ancients, we know, had
wonderful tales of the longevity of these creatures.
Philostratus asserted the Elephant lived 400 yeai*s,
founding his belief on the story of one with a par-
ticular mark, having been captured by Juba, king, of
Libya, 400 years after an engagement in which the
animal had fled to Mount Atlas. Pliny gives them
an average life of from 200 to 300 years, on the
authority of Aristotle ; and the Komans, in the time
of Grordian, chose an Elephant for the symbol of
eternity. Setting, however, these fables aside, there
is satisfactory evidence that the Asiatic Elephant
frequently attains a considerable age, nearly a
century iu a state of domestication, and there is no
reason to believe the African variety to be shorter-
lived. Blumenbach, indeed, has placed their pro-
bable average age at 200 years.

It is singular that, while in South-east Africa the
carcases of Elephants which have died a natural
death are never found, in the Graboon country the
supply of ivory is, according to M. du Chaillu,
almost entirely procured from the bodies of animals
which thus die in the forests. This leads us to the
subject of the animals* tusks, the " Elephants'
teeth " of commerce. Not only are the tusks of
the African variety generally of a fai* larger size
than those of the Asiatic, but the ivory itself shows
a remarkable difference of composition, containing
a far larger proportion of gelatine, which, in many
instances, renders it less fitted for manufacturing

purposes. Some very fine ivory is, however, brought
from a small tract of country situate, almost directly
under the equator, on the Gaboon river. These
tusks, which are rather small in size, are of a dark
coffee-colour, in many cases almost black on their
outside, the interior being what is termed techni-
cally " green ivory," whi<3i, when once bleached, is
supposed to retain its colour more perfectly than
any other kind. The largest tusk in Mr. Grordon
Cumming's Museum weighed, as we have already
stated, 173 lb. ; but one is mentioned by Cuvier as
having weighed 350 lbs. ; and another, weighing 800
lb. (1), is said to have been recently in the possession
of an American house. This firm sent to the
Exhibition of 1851 the largest piece of sawn ivory
of which we have any record. It was 1 1 feet long
and 1 foot broad. Above 1,000,000 lb. of ivoiy
are stated to be consumed annually in England
alone, the price varying, according to quality, from
£15 to £40 per cwt. More than half of this
quantity is probably derived from Africa.

It has been sometimes asserted that the pro-
portion of brain in the African type is considerably
less than in the Asiatic, and that the intelligence
and fitness of the animal for domestication are less
developed ; but there appears to be no sufficient
ground for such a belief. Dr. Livingstone, in his
recent work on thje Zambesi, has pointed out a passage
in Livy, which clearly proves that the Elephants
used in the Punic wars were captured and trained by
the Carthjiginians, and were not brought from the
East, as had been sometimes suggested with a
certain show of probability. Medals, too, of the
Eoman Empire, which have come down to us, repre-
senting the performances of the animals in the
amphitheatres, so plainly depict the characteristics
of the African type, as to leave no doubt of their
origin.

In Mr. F. Buckland*s Second Series of " Curio-
sities of Natural History" is a passage which,
although it refers to the Asiatic species, throws
some light on the market-value of these animals ac
the present time.

"An Elephant/' he tells ua, "wUl fetch from £500 to
.£600. The yoxmg ones are preferred, as they require lees
food and are more manageable. There are no full-sized
Elephants at present in England, and one would probably
fetch at least Jgi.OOO. A dead Elephant will fetch from £20
to .£50, according to size, any day."

ON SKETCHING FROM NATURE.

By AAibON PsNLBT, Profossor of Landscape Painting at the Boyal Military Academy, Woolwich.
No. vni. CEUMMOCK WATEE, CUMBEELAND.

FULL instruction was given in last month's
Nature and Art for the first washes of the
Lake Scene, of which I now present the finished
drawing. That it may be carried through
Without deviation from the first intention, I have
worked upon the actual Chromo-lithograph itself,

carefully attending (with anothei* impression before
me) to every detail of pencilling, so that those
pei'sons who undertake to copy it may be enabled
to continue the colouring without confusion or
difference.

There is much softness and simplicity of treat-

N.»!urpailJ An.Mir.lilitt"

KAton and Art. HAivh 1, 1807.]

ON SKETCHINa PEOM NATURE.

ment in the drawing — breadth being its charac-
teristic. Therefore, when adding to it the
warm grey shadows, all dark touches will have
to be avoided, otherwise it will not exhibit that
serene atmosphere for which our English Lakes
arc so deservedly renowned. Although repose
constitutes the feeling of the scene, yet it is by
no means wanting in variety either of form or
colour. There is, indeed, much diversity — much
for the eye to dwell upon, as.it scans the broken
surfaces of Red Pike on Crummock Water, and the
High Style and Haycocks on Buttermere. It will
now be seen how valuable those pencilled outlines
Lave been in establishing truthfulness of form and
position, giving to each spur of the mountains its
true character and foimation, so that the appro-
priate tints can be applied unhesitatingly to the
several shadows of its component parts.

The clouds are touched upon with rose madder
and indigo ; the tint to be used very liquidly.
After this is done, proceed to put in the shadowed
side of the rocks on the near mountain (Red Pike)
carefully following the pencilled outline. There
are two degrees of shadow made with cobalt and
rose madder, both of which are to be introduced
Urderly, The greenish and isolated spur has a
little yellow ochre mixed with the cobalt and rose
madder ; lake must be substituted for rose madder
if the pupil has not the latter. A glazing — that is,
a thin wash of colour — of raw sienna and a little
gamboge is next to be put on the grassy surface,
while, in the warmer parts, the tint is made with
raw sienna and rose madder.

The distant moitntains are principally shaded
with indigo and cobalt, and the lighter spaces
warmed with light tones of rose madder. The red
tint also of the right portion of the mountain
in light, is obtained by one or two washes of rose
madder over the first tints. Each of the divisional
markings or forms will require strict attention, for
the reason that distances are determined by them.

The line of trees in the middle distance must
now claim attention ; and cobalt, with a little yellow
ochre and Chinese white, be mixed for the gi-ey
shadows of their colours. The cobalt should be
largely the predominant, and the less there be
of the white the better, • or the effect might be
chalky. The warm tone and general character of
the trees must be given by raw sienna, with a little
cobalt and rose madder for the shadowy parts.
In doing this, the forms should be gracefully given
without regularity of either shape or size. The
treatment of such a passage as this is generally
found by the learner to be difficult, because much
taste, and even skill, is required to prevent stiffness.
The rocky projection to the right is of cobalt, rose
madder, and yellow ochre, with a little brown pink
added for the darkest parts.

The foliage of the large fir tree is done with a
mixture of Indian yellow, burnt sienna, and indigo
used in some substance. The forms are to be
attended to very accurately, so that the clusters
may fall into theii* several masses and take their
proper shapes. The stem in its dark parte is
II.

deepened with brown madder and indigo, the
touches being put on with decision. It is necessary
to observe the breadth of light in this tree, or the
general effect will be in danger. The deepest
touches have burnt sienna added. Raw sienna
and gamboge are employed for the grass in the
foreground, with an occasional addition of indigo
where the tone inclines to green rather than to
citron. The several stones and rocks are cobalt,
brown madder, and brown pink ; the last colour
only being required for the very warm and deep
touches. Yellow ochre and rose madder supply
the orange tones, and also serve for the stem of the
tree where it is of a light and warm hue. The
markings or touches in the foreground must be
placed at the extremity of the different tints so as
to impart clearness and brilliancy, and secure a
crispness of effect.

The water should now have a warm wash of rose
madder over the darkest side, and also at the front.
When dry, two more washes of cobalt and a very
little Chinese white are to be touched on hori-
zontally, leaving the several lights. AJler this, go
over the part from near to the boat with raw
sienna and a little cobalt, to give a transparent
tone, and with a little more raw sienna put on the
few lines of ripples when the other is dry. The
boat and figures are coloured with cobalt and light
red ; vermilion being added for the red coat.
Indigo is for the cap of the foreground figure, and
vermilion and rose madder shaded with sepia
are mixed with the reds for the coat.

The principal endeavour of the learner should be
to keep the whole of the forms throughout, from
first to last, clearly defined. I have been careful to
give a subject for illustration that bears this stamp
of manipulation, well knowing its import, and
more especially in works intended for the portfolio.
In this drawing the effect has been produced
without any washing off, and is simply the result of
laying on the colours with care and neatness.

A few words as to the design and construction of
our drawing may be of much service in explaining
how light and shadow, as well as contrast of tones,
are dispersed systematically so as to produce a
pleasing balance of effect The sky has in it but
little actual blue, which will be found at the top to
the left side ; this softens into warm grey to the
right and deepens into a bluer tone as it reaches
the mountains, while it weakens gradually into
light broken clouds, interspersed witii white on the
lower part over the dark mountains. The water is
the reverse of the sky, the dark side being under
the light of it, and the light side under the dark
clouds, so that the highest lights may be said to
have exchanged places. This is also ^e case with
the mountains. The breadth of warm colour on
Red Pike is taken across the drawing on the fore-
ground, and the blue-tqneof the mountains in contact
with the light sky, is in a less degree repeated in
the darks of the line of trees, and the separate spurs
at the bases of the large mountains. The breadth of
wurm colour is diffused over the distant foliage, and
joins the foreground which is brought to a focus
o

THE DUDLEY GALLEEY.

[N»tiu» Md Art, Htfdi 1. 1%.

upon the white bit of rock near the tree's foot,
against which the figure is placed. As the princi-
pal weight of the drawing is in the tree and stones
of the foreground to the left, it was requisite to
give strength to the other side, only in a leas
degree, for which purpose the boat and depth of
shadow on the rock were introduced, and they will
be found to have given the balance sought. The
foreground figure and the boat with figure serve to

give a little animation to the scene as well as
positive colour.

Believing this class of drawing to be more
instructive than any other under the term of puw
landscape, I purpose to continue it^ and in mj
next subject to pursue again the plan of treating
the preparatory and the subsequent stages in
separate papers.

THE DUDLEY GALLERY.

FEW of us are in danger from admiring over
much. It is easy, by wilfully taking a view
unsympathetic with that in which a picture or other
work of art has been conceived, to misprize even
the greatest artists, whose habitual style of thought
and power are well known. But this charming
gallery is filled, for the most part, with the works of
new men who bring us new wares, and therefore
demand from us a stricter attention — a more gene-
rous construction — where we see in them "good
thought," even if inadequately expressed.

Besides, in art, the seeing makes the sight. Most
good pictures are of infinite suggestiveness ; nor is
the artist bound to have intended all the effects the
exercise of his special gift produces on other men.
For the works of a true artist have this in common
with the works of nature, that they are of universal
speech and relevance, having besides a meaning and
language of their own, known only to the maker of
them. Therefore, having recognized in any work
the presence of that mysterious and divine intelli-
gence which we call imagination, it is pleasant
to give ourselves up to the impressions produced
by it, reserving criticism of its faults and short-
comings (if it should not reach to our ideas) for
some other time; surely our dull climate affords
many a grim day for such a purpose. Not that we
deprecate criticism — especially technical criticism —
between artist and artist. But now and again we
think it well to be pleased by what is well done,
and to leave what is ill done out of the question.

This preface is to excuse beforehand a criticism
which is to be almost all praise, and deprecate the
just wrath of those righteous ones who would have
offenders punished, whatever else befall. And first
we will praise the pleasant room, not too large, and
clearly lighted throughout. This exhibition has
quickly earned popularity with all men who have
work to show, but have not yet attained a place in
the secure niches of the established societies. And
here, more than anywhere else, we may look for
signs of the tendency of our school, since the
gallery is chiefly filled by the works of young men,
of whom many are still in pupilage to some great
enthiisiasm for the works or teaching of one or other
of the masters of the art. And from the direction
this admiration most generally takes, we augur of

the future of the school. And we think we may
congi-atulate ourselves (who are dependent for so
much enjoyment upon the rightness of this choice)
that the pictures about us offer a striking proof
that art is making steady way in England. Every-
where among th^m we find evidences of the right
thing having been tried for : meretricious prettiness
and facile sentiment are more rare than in many
collections of greater renown. On entering the
room, almost every one must be struck by the
general harmony of colour resulting from so many
well-toned pictures ; and, on examining them more
closely, one sees at once that they are almost all
founded upon some scheme of effect, oftentimes
novel and beautiful, and always applied from nature.

Here we will diverge for a moment to point out
the influence for good the study of the art of the
Chinese and especially of the Japanese (those
masters of effect and colour) has had upon our
school. This, we can imagine, may appear para-
doxical to those who only see distortion and quaint-
ness in the work of these ancient peoples ; but we
are sure of our ground in appealing to all serious
students of art to bear testimony to the value of
their teaching.

And now let us see what we may find in the
pictures, wandering about from one to another
without any guiding plan of examination, and
acknowledging once for all the merit of many we
leave unmentioned. Here, for instance, let us look
at Mr. Poynter's "Snake-Charmer" (No. 586). 'Mr.
Poynter's pictures are always among the most in-
tei*esting in any exhibition. There sre few men in
England who could have drawn and designed a
picture like this with such certainty and intelli-
gence. It is full of knowledge and original study.
The snakes glide and flow round the dancing
feet in real snake lines. The orange drapery is
admirably planned and painted, and the round
limbs of the girl are of exact truth. Then, how
good are all the details of the scene. Observe
the pretty shape of the fuming incense-pot ;
and again, the bright butterfly, a beautiful half-
thought and a most skilfrd invention of colour.
Mr. Poynter has another picture here (No. 313) of a
great curve of coast, beset by a gusty flaw of wind and
rain. This is is a wonderfrdly true effect of rent

Kfttvm and Art. March 1. 1887.]

THE DUDLEY GALLERY.

grey sea and flying rain. Beyond the shower one
sees the fair weather, but glimmering very pale and
far away. Especially to be admired is the drawing
of the surf line clinging round the low green head-
lands and darkened hills. It would be pleasant to
have this picture of the fresh west wind in one of
our gas-dried London rooms. But there is another
picture of Mr. Poynter's that we should also like to
hang up in some pleasant comer near a window. It
is onij of a cat stealing across a quiet gravelled walk,
but it reminds one of so many pleasant country
sights and sounds, that one becomes dreamy and
idle merely by looking at it.

Let us pass on to Mr. Goodwin's " Grey Day in
Yorkshire " (No. 238). It is a good example of this
young artist's serious power. If we miss some
quality of high idealism in his work, we find
in it evidence of an unusual grasp of the facts of
nature, and of an almost passionate delight in their
representation. The blots and lines of colour are
placed firmly where they are to take their part in
the eflect, and with a certainty very unusual in so
young an artist as we understand Mr. Goodwin to
be. The tone of all his pictures is rich and power-
ful, and, in this one particularly, is of admirable
truth. The scene is only a little pool among the
Yorkshire hills — one bank wooded, the other green
sedge ancl peat-land. "We can see it is summer
there now ; but it is a place more known of the
winter. The trees under their robe of leaves are
knitted and braced against the strife of the moor-
land winds. In the deep green of the heavy grass
the feet of the heron plash cool when the hill-sides
are hazed with heat. Hither come few men, or
creatures that dwell with men ; the cry of the wild
birds or the sound of the sighing wind that brings
up the cold grey shower are the voices that befit it
best. It is a place that reminds us that nature can
get on very well without us and was not only made
for our beholding. In all his work Mr. Goodwin
seems to choose this side of nature : it is a great
and solemn one.

Now let us look at Mr. Ditchfield's pretty idyls.
He seems enamoured of fair lawns and the quiet of
green places. There are no brambles, or poor folk,
or bluebottle flies in his lands. They are really
sweetly pretty places, and we imagine that, perhaps,
if we had veiy pink cheeks and a nosegay in our
button-hole, and a lovely young lady with still
pinker cheeks to make love to, and if we were both
of us painted upon a fan, we might some day be
accounted fit to dwell within their borders. As it
is, Mr. Ditchfield must pardon us for only taking
in them a sort of fanciful interest They must be
views in the " Pays du tendre," and we should like
to have them as such, particularly as there is great
skill in their execution. Let us go back again,
however, to waters that drown and airs that stir
with storms sometimes.

Mr. Arthur Severn's " Moonlight on the Seine"
at Paris (No. 248) is a fine and largely-treated study
of night. The strong river and the white glittering
town are sunk deep in the shadow. There are no
lamps alight^ for it is late, and soon it will be day

again, and the truce of night will be over. Mean-
while the moon passes above the great city, making
to herself a pageant of the silver clouds, and, one
might think, reclaiming the spot for nature, minded,
by the silence, of the time when no man dwelt by
the marshy river and the wild swan built among
the reeds of its islands. Many a sight of misery
and wrong has she seen since that ancient time ;
and one fancies she must mastly love the quiet
pauses of the world when men and their works are
still, and are as if they were not. To our minds
this picture will bear out all this interpretation of
its sentiment ; and it is pleasant to find that on
the side of art it is sound and learned. The draw-
ing of the sky is very fine, and the great lines of
the picture well composed. The tone is good — if
not exquisitely so — and the colour of the halo round
the moon very delicately caught. It is well and
vigorously painted, and seems done with one impulse.
Mr. Severn has other works here, and we advise
our readers to study them to find what may be
found therein ; for Mr. Severn has the gift.

Mr. Henry Moore's "Strenshall Moor — Mid-day"
(No. 326) is a very beautiful sketch. There is a
sense of stir and gladness in it. The scene is wild
but not unkindly. One sees that the afternoon
will be fair after the showery morning. There is
nothing in the gallery more excellent for natuml
and delightful colour than this picture, and we
would call the attention of amateurs to the power
of light tone to harmonize all tints and dignify
the most commonplace subject.

"Old Morton Hall, Cheshire" (No. 377), painted
by Mr. "Walter Crane, must be a delightful old house,
and Mr. Crane has evidently felt it to be so. The
picture is also noticeable for the clever use made of
a black-and-white cow, to repeat and carry through
it the black and white of the old stud-work house.
If the sky were a little sweeter in colour, we should
class this work very highly.

Of Miss Spartali's three pictures, we like that
of the " Lady Prays' Desire " (No. 606) the best, in
spite of the somewhat weak drawing. It is through-
out imbued with high sentiment and most noble
grace. See, for example, how the delicate hand is
placed against the cheek. The colour also is of
such unusual harmoniousness, that we pass over the
slight unskilfiilness of execution, and will only say
that we trust this young lady may soon attain the
mastery in her art that her genius demands for its
expression.

Mr. Ford Madox Brown's large work, which he
calls "Cordelia's Portion" (No. 249), is undoubtedly
the most noteworthy figure picture exhibited here.
It illustrates the line, —

" The truth, then, be thy portion.'*

The true dramatic crisis has here been taken,
when Cordelia, conscious of powerlessness to defeat
the plots of her sisters, adheres with despair to her
foolish quibbling answer, like some gentle creature
that cannot strive.

Here is a great subject, and, we venture to say,
greatly treated. Of its faults we will respectfully
g2

THE DUDLEY GALLEEY.

(NAtnN AUd Art. Muthl. UCr.

speak presently, but for the present let us consider
the intelligent and skilful arrangement, the lovely
colour, the wonderful expressiveness of the heads,
the delicate inventive detail. Cordelia is one of
those typical characters for which each man finds
an embodiment according to his experience and
idiosyncrasy ; and so, if one is pleased to say this
is not the Cordelia of his 9wn musings, we feel
that the question does not admit of argument, and
would therefore only point out that this figure re-
presents the agony of a creature fine and gracious,
firm to bear, most gentle to protest, of few loves,
but many charities, of clear wise counsel, but of little
craft. And such was Cordelia. If you think she had
blue eyes, not brown ones, or that her hair was of
a paler gold, or that it fell in simpler braids j if
there are these or a hundred other differences be-
tween your conception and the artist's, you may
object : but the character of Cordelia, we aver, is
here adequately embodied. About those of the
other personages, no attentive person can be in
doubt. Lust, cruelty, craft, piide, all furious hates,
make pale the face of Regan, and bum in the fierce
eyes of Groneril ; see, too, her fleshy white arm
and sensual hand. Albany is noble by contrast,
and is, perhaps, the redeeming point in this part of
the picture as he is in the play ; and Lear, with the
coming madness gleaming in his eyes, is again a great
study of character. He is arrogant and self-willed,
for he has long been a king. Brave he is, and
somewhat cruel ; violent, but not vindictive. You
can find no lines of cunning in his gaunt face, all
haled by weather and fierce feasting. That he
should not do what he would, bewilders him. You
see him here blinded by rage against the inex-
plicable opposition to lus pleasure that Cordelia's
misunderstood answer has raised up. His eyes do
not see in her his daughter, but a stumbling-block
to be cast out of the way. His strong hands would
smite her, if so weak a creature could stand at bay.
Albeit, he is not wont to be harsh to the feeble, and
— if we may judge from the vigorous eyebrows and
large mouth — he, too, " haa fcaowen love and his
service," as Chaucer says.

There are, no doubt, things in this picture which
require some explanation. Why, for instance, has the
nose of the child been snipped off by the framel But
probably the artist who has carried so fine a work
to such a point had some good reason for this. As
to the colouring, there can only be one opinion of its
technical perfection. It may be reasonably held
that, in such a scene, the embroideries and details
would be little noticed, and that, in represent-
ing such extreme emotion, it is right to follow
this natural law of perception, and even to force
the face and hands of the personages into a promi-
nence which all who have witnessed any great crisis
of human life remember to have been its most
striking characteristic. Mr. Brown has not chosen
this effect, and we must take him as he comes before
us. There is gain in beauty of colour and interest
of detail, by the treatment he has adopted. How

lovely the clear green of Cordelia's robe. How
rich the black and orange strijied robe of Regan,
and how inventive the varied black of her hair
folded into the bosom of it The head of Albany
is fine in colour also 3 and if the arm of Goneril is
not very well drawn, it is very fair. All through
the picture there are beautiful inventions of orna-
ments and patterns, and a power of realizing the
costume of the remote time to which the story
belongs. We could write much more upon this
subject, but we think we have said enough to send
our readers to the picture itself. If, having seen
it, they do not like it, we feel that no eulogy of
ours can change their opinion ; for Mr. Brown's
work has no conciliation for a hostile critic: we
know of none that excites greater opposition ; nor
is any a more constant source of delight to those
who do admire it.

In great contrast to the passion and dramatic
intensity just described is Mr. Field Talfourd's
very lovely idyl of the "Summer Sea" (No. 215).
Here everything is of the simplest. There is no more
work than just explains the effect. The subject is
only an old boat drawn up upon the sand, under a
low bank — and the sea. And yet it is perhaps the
most suggestive work in the whole room. In the
first place, it is really simple. Simplicity is a quality
so often affected, that one begins to suspect the
word ; but true simplicity is one of the greatest
qualities a work of art can possess, and can only
be produced by clearness of idea, complete design in
colour and composition, and a mind capable of har-
monious thought

If you examine this little picture, you will
begin to perceive how many things might have
Ijeen put into it which are not there. It
seems impossible to have escaped sea-gulls, or
distant cottages, or fishermen, or (more dangerous
still) their children. Why is there nothing but
this old boat and the pausing sea 1 "Without a
guiding idea, such a pictui'e could never have
been composed 3 no canon of taste could have
taught the artist that these simple lines are all
that are required. Now that it is done, we know
that any living object, or object suggestive of neigh-
bourhood, would have disturbed the mute com-
panionship of boat and water, as they take their
ease in the summer calm. There is something very
touching in this sturdy little boat, lying at the edge
of all the great sea, nearly within reach of the soft
foaming and warm shallows of the waves. The sky
also is at rest ; the small clouds and films of
haze are, for the moment, anchored in the fidr blue
weather that shows between the banks of heat-fog.
All the artillery of tempest is there ; but it is the
armistice of summer. This picture is chaimingly
painted, with few colours, and apparently few
touches. The warm haze is wonderfully true, and
the loose sand-bank exactly right in hue. Mr.
Talfourd has never, we understand, exhibited
landscapes before. The loss has been ours.

.N,i.m';.ud All Um., .1.1 I ".<.:.

-v.i»J(WPR--<.'*^'~~

K«tin« tod Art, Marob 1. liC7.1

AN HERALDIC PUZZLE AND ITS SOLUTION.

By G. Chapman, F.S.A.

WHEN we visit the collections of a large
National Museum we usually come away
witli a general idea of the whole, but rarely with a
clear notice of any one individual object. Eacli
specimen has probably, however, its sj^cial interest
if properly studied; and, as an example, the
reader is invited to bestow his attention for a time
, upon one single article, among the almost countless
treasures now exhibited at the South Kensington
Museum.

Th6 object we select is a small metal box, covered
with enamels, of which the accompanying coloured
drawing affords a most faithful representation.
Placed as it is in the crowded xBases of the Museum,
the eye of the visitor rests upon it for a moment,
and passes on to others, little knowing the
interest that it would yield if its history were
worked out, — a threefold interest — Heraldic,
Historical, and Artistic.

And here we digress for a while to remark
how little justice is commonly done to the study
of heraldry ; its real importance in history,
genealogy', and other kindred subjects, being gene-
rally overlooked, and its follower being accounted
a mere trifler in a pretty, amusing, but very useless
study. A most instructive essay might be written
in refutation of this popular error. Perhaps the
present article may be regarded to some extent in
that light ; an apology for the study of heraldiy !

It may first be mentioned that reliquaries, or
ecclesiastical caskets of Limoges enamelled work, of
the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, are of
frequent occurrence; but that domestic caskets
(jewel or money-cases), of which the present is one
of the most beautiful and valuable of the period in
existence, are much more rare.

The dimensions of the casket are as follows : —
7 inches wide, 5 inches from front to back, and 2f
inches deep, on legs | of an inch long ; so that it
stands in all 3^ inches high. It is of copper gilt,
entirely covered, as is seen, on the top, fi'ont, back,
and sides with coats of arms in enamel, arranged
in the manner that was anciently termed diapree,
or lozenge-wise.

The number of different coats of arms is six, with
a portion of a seventh, probably a mistake of
the enameller. They ai-e repeated all over the
casket, each occurring thirteen or fourteen times,
in all 79 coats.

The arms are now considered to be as follows ;
the chief doubt having been as to the sixth : —

1. Valence, — Barry of twelve argent and azure,

an orle of martlets, gules.

2. Engoleeme or Angotderne, — Lozengy or and

gules.

3. England, — Gules, three lions passant gardant

in pale or.

4. Brahcmt. — Sable, a lion rampant or.

5. Dreux, Brittany, — Chequy or and azure,

a bordure, gules, over all a cantar ermine.

6. Lacy^ Earl of Lincoln, — Or, a lion rampant

purpure.

7. . — Azure, a lion rampant or. This

occurs once. No such coat is known, and
it is, doubtless, a mistake of the artist for
No. 4, Brabant.

Having determined to whom the coats of arms
belong, we pass on to the most interesting con-
sideration of all, — the historical associations of
the casket. The reader will not fail to see that,
in order to identify the person for whom this
casket was made, it is necessary to find some one
who, if not actually entitled to quarter all these
coats of arms, was connected, by marriage or
otherwise, with all these noble families, and would,
therefore, not hesitate to place them together on a
monument, casket, or the like. This has been the
puzzle, and many have been the unsuccessful
guesses at its solution. Various members of the
different families have been thought of; but, on
closely examining their pretensions, some flaw was
discovered in their title to the original owner-
ship of the casket, — till at length the riddle was
read, and a claimant uniting all the requirements
was found in the person of William de Valence,
Earl of Pembroke, son of Isabella of Angoul^me
(widow of John Plantagenet, king of England), by
her second husband, Hugh X., Count de laMarche.
To show this, it becomes necessary to sketch hei
biography and connexions.

Isabella of Angoul^me was the only child ana
heiress of Aymer, Count of Angoul^me, sumamed
Taillefer, the vassal of John, King of England and
Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine. She was,
when a child, betrothed to Hugh de Lusignan,
sumamed Le Bnin, the eldest son of Hugh IX.,
the reigning Count de la Marche, fellow crusader
with Cceur de Lion ; and she was, agreeably with
the custom of the times, consigned to his fitmily for
her education.

Chancing to meet her liege lord, John King of
England, on one of his occasions of visiting his
French dominions, he was much struck with her
great beauty ; and she, seeing him captivated, and
being carried away by the flattering prospect of so
grand an alliance, refused to acknowledge her
marriage contract with Count Hugh, and was
married to the king at Bordeaux, on the 24th
August, 1200. She bore him five children prior
to his death in 1216 ; and the following year she
returned to Angoul^me , and in 1 220, or therea-
bouts, was after all married to her first and constant
lover, Hugh, then tenth Count de la Marche. To

LA^NDSEER'S LIONS.

(Natar« »iid Art, )Uteh 1. 1M7.

him she bore five sons and three daughters, and
died in 1246. He died in 1249.

All the children of her second marriage, except
the eldest, who succeeded his father, were sent to
her son, Henry III. of England, who provided
magnificently for them ; and these, his brothers of
the half-blood, are connected with most of the
grievances of his troubled reign.

The eldest son was Hugh.

The second, Guy de Lusignan, who was killed at
the battle of Lewes.

The third, William de Valence, Earl of Pem-
broke, so well known in English chronicles.

The fourth, Aymer de Valence, Bishop of
Winchester.

A fifth son, Greoffery de Lusignan, Lord of
Hastings, is mentioned in Speed's Chronicle ;
but he is believed to be identical with the
second, Guy de Lusignan.*

These sons of Queen Isabella were named from
their places of birth; those called "de Valence"
were bom at her lord s castle of that name, the
others at his more celebrated castle of Lusignan.
William de Valence, and he alone of the sons, so
far as we can discover, bore one of the coats on the
casket.

Supposing then the casket to have been made
for this son of Isabella of Augouleme, the coats of
arms placed upon it are accounted for as follows : —

1. Valence. — His own arms. He was killed in

France in 1296. His only surviving son,
Aymer, succeeded to the earldom, and died
without issue in 1323.

2. Angoul^me. — The arms of his mother's father,

Aymer, Count of Angoul6me.

3. England. — ^The arms of his nephew, Edward I.

• See Art de vdrifier les Dates, ii. p. 383.

4. Brabant. — The arms of the husband of hk

great-niece Margaret, daughter of Edward
I., namely, John, Duke of Brabant, who
married in 1290, and died in 1312.

5. Dreux, Brittany. — The arms of the husband

of his niece Beatrice, daughter of Henry
III. ; namely, John, Duke of Brittany, who
died in 1305.—

6. Lacy, Earl of Lincoln. — The arms of Henry de

Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, who died without
issue male in 1312. His grandmother,
Margaret de Quincy, married for her second
husband, Walter Marshall, Earl of Pem-
broke, the uncle of William de Valence's
wife, Joan de Monchensi.

These facts show, almost beyond doubt, that
the casket was made for William de Valence, Earl
of Pembroke; in which case we are able to assign
to it the date of the latt,er part of the thirteenth
century. It may, however, have been executed for
Aymer de Valence, his son ; in which case the work
would be referred a little later, — probably a year or
two after the father's death, or, at latest, to some
time before the death of Henry, Earl of Lincoln, in
1312 ; for, if made for the son, we should assume it
to have been by the same artist as executed the
famous monument of William of Valence in West-
minster Abbey, which is enriched with similar
enamels. For the present only, we dismiss the artistic
consideration of the casket ; its workmanship is
undoubtedly French, probably of Limoges ; a very
fine example of that class of enamels known as
champleve. In a future article it is proposed to
give an account of the diflferent kinds of enamels,
illustrated with drawings ; a brief history of the
art, and a description of its processes, so far as they
are known ; and reference will then be made again
to the drawing accompanying this paper, when it is
hoped that the reader will find the casket yield
some further interest.

LANDSEBR'S LIONS.

IN the centre of the great square of the capital of
England, in the high place of national honour,
round the base of the monument which commemo-
rates the most characteristic achievement of our
race, are four great masses of bronze wrought into
lions, proud emblems for all future Englishmen, of
courage and endurance and stately honour. If we
say that we do not think Sir Edwin Landseer, to
whom we owe these fine works, has risen to the
height of such high argument, we in no way impugn
his power to do other things. No man need be
ashamed of failure in such an und ertaking. It would
seem almost as if the creation of great emblems was
only possible in certain states of society and to
certain races of men. The perfect abstract form of
any idea can only be reached when success is the
crown of many efforts. One cannot step aside from

the ordinary ways of life and say that for a day or a
month, or series of months, one will cultivate ideal
thought to some special end. When men constantly
live in the presence of a spiritual world, where the
phenomena of life are habitually regarded as the
mutable types of some divine quality, we may hope
to find an art capable of clothing an abstract idea
in clear, tangible foim. In the present day such
a thing is almost hopeless, for in this matter taste
and knowledge wiy not serve a man as guides. It
is not given to us of the modem time to create
such forms as the terrible creature that watches,
calm, invincible, imperishable, within the walls of
our Museum. Who would see what the terror of
a lion is, the terror of strength remorseless and
just, may there find sufficient reason for saying
that our English lions are not of the greatest art,

VAto* nd Art. Mweh 1, IHT.]

MUSIC AT HOME.

nor indeed in any way fit to rank with the works
in which national conviction has expressed itself
in certain ages of the world. They are lions such as
we have seen in our menageries, but not the British
lion. Their manes, too, are rather soft and woolly
— one does not see those large divisions where, when
the great beast frowns, the hair divides and seams.
Again, the uniform colour of the bronze does not
render the terror of the fangs, and we think the
expression of the mouth somewhat grimacing.
The muzzle, also, is perhaps a little sharp for so
large a work, which must necessarily be seen against
a great backgroimd of confused objects. The eyes
and forehead are certainly imposing, and wonder-
fully true to nature; the position of the ears
forcible and yet unexaggerated, while the drawing
of the head and neck generally is very exact.
The finest part, however, of these statues is the
back and loins ; this portion is really grand, and, if
the tail had been carried a little more out, would

be as perfect as anything modem art has produced.
The paws are not successful ; they may be true to
nature, but they are not right in art. They are
not sufiSciently modelled or marked, and have a
look of being swollen. We fancy, also, that if the
place of the claws was more sharply marked, the
truth would have been better expressed ; for, if we
remember rightly, there is a fine of dark hair
behind the fringe of white in which the claw-
sheaths are set Taking the lions, however, for
what they are, we must grant that Sir Edwin has
worked here as well as he ever did. They have
all his facility, his elegance of taste and sound
knowledge of the form to be rendered. The forms
are not of that typical perfection which makes us
foi*get the individual. There is an attempt to
render them vast by suppression of small details ;
but this has not been steadily kept in view, and
the lines are rather blurred than sublime.

MUSIC AT HOME.

" "VrOTHING venture, nothing have," is an old
JL 1 saying generally included among the wisest
of our English saws. " Fortune favours the bold,''
is another, and in both of them Signor Arditi and
the musical commonwealth, late of Her Majesty's
Theatre, must have implicitly believed. Imitating
the tactics of the old fighting Eomans, they formed
theinselves into a kind of harmonic wedge, and set
about forcing a certain theory or conviction upon
the modeim Britons, namely, that Promenade Con-
certs are good for them at any time of the year.
With Signor Arditi as "foremost man," this musical
phalanx conmienced a campaign against British pre-
judice on Saturday, January 12Sx, and withdiew
firom the contest on Saturday, February 16th.
The *• Orchestral Popular Concerts," as they were
termed, were given on Tuesday, Thursday, and
Saturday evenings ; and if the promoters ai*e not
to be congratulated on the pecuniary result of the
enterprise, they may be, at all events, complimented
upon their courage in taking the theatre and the re-
sponsibilities in the face of most formidable opposi-
tion. Promenade Concerts do not, and, probably,
never will, form part of our Christmas holiday-time
festivities ; and though the extensive " welkin " of
Her Majesty's frequently rang with applause, the
equally extensive area was seldom, or never, incon-
veniently crowded. The first concert was "popular"
in every sense of the word. Signor Arditi " con-
tributed " a new polka ; a new quadrille on airs
from Rossini's Guillaume TeU ; a new song called
" They ask me why," and sung by Signor Foli ;
and the valse ** L'Estasie." The active chef
d'orchestre scores cleverly, as his valse proves,
writes very independently, as his song demon-
strates, and, in the course of his quadrille makes

musical mincemeat of poor Rossini in the most
approved and ruthless fashion. Of a truth the
quadrille has somewhat altered since the early
days of Musard and his ** Echos " and " Danois " !
Mdlle. Agliatti, a new singer, "d6buted" in Lon-
don on the 12th, and vocalized at intervals to the
end of the brief season. Mdlle. Agliatti at present
carols indifferently well, but mademoiselle is young,
and in youth there is much promise. Miss Madeleine
Schiller, with a delicate touch despite cold hands,
and with a heart that evidently warms to the
"tchunes" of Hibemia, played Moscheles' " Recol-
lections of Ireland" unaccompanied by the orchestra;
and Mr. T. Harper, the champion trumpeter of the
civilized world, gave, "by particular desire," Dr.
Ame's "Soldier tired." The trumpeter mayhap
was fatigued or the instrument refractory, or the
crispness and certainty of execution to be expected
and desired did not, on this momentous occasion,
appear; nevertheless is Mr. T. Harper the trumpeter
par excellence, Signor Arditi treated the be-
nighted Londonei-s to an orchestral fantasia, " Sou-
venir d'une Nuit d'fite ^ Madrid," by the Russian
Glinka. The music of the extreme North was put
upon its trial at several succeeding concerts, but
was found wanting in interest and coherency. The
not strikingly melodious "Scythian" found a
stanch friend in Signor Arditi, who did all he
could to make the Russian's music understood and
appreciated. The third " Orchestral Popular "
(Jan. 17th) was entirely classical, and eminently
acceptable to connoisseurs. Beethoven's Pastoral
Symphony, a Scherzo and Finale of Schumann,
Dr. Stemdale Bennettis exquisite overture " The
Wood-Nymphs," Mendelssohn's violin Concerto (M.
Sainton), and Weber's Concert StUck (Miss Schiller),

' VENUS'S FLOWEE-BASKET."

[yaun and Art. Xweh 1,180.

with airs of Mozart and Handel by Mdlles. Lieb •
hart, Agliatti, and Signor Foli, were all included in
the progi-amme. These particulars of two of the
" Orchestrals " will prove the vigour of the manage-
ment. Mdlle. Sinico, and Miss Fanny Jervis, a
pianiste of no ordinary stamp, subsequently ap-
peared. At the second classical concert, Spohrs
magnificent Symphony commonly known as ** The
Power of Sound " was performed in a manner not
quite intended by the grand old musician.

Ballad Concerts are again in the ascendant, and
with them is specially identified Madame Sainton-
Dolby. Amateurs were at first sanguine enough
to believe that tbe cause of old English ballaids
would be advanced at these remunerative enter-
tainments. That musical antiquarian, William
Ghappell, and his "fellow-student," G. A. Mao-
farren, have done their duty in pointing out the
beauties of the true English school ; but concert
vocalists ap[)arently find it more profitable to sing
the songs of Queen Victorians time than those of
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Madame
Sainton-Dolby gave a ballad concert on the 1 6th
of January at St. James's Hall. Whittaker's and
Shield's names appeared in the programme for a
song each, and Bishop's for two. The veiy long
and dreary intervals between these illustrious
strangers were filled up by Nelson, Lemmens,
Blumenthal, Claribel, G. Hodgson, Virginia
Gabriel, Weiss, Glover, Boscovitch, Liiders, and
Miss Philp. Mr. W. Ghappell should collect
every copy of his heretical book which lovingly
proclaims the old English ballads worthy of accept-
ance, and serve them as Don Quixote's clerical
friend did his library of romances ; for it appears
the aforesaid ballads are to be henceforth quietly
dropped in fevour of modem inventions. Has
the hideous and pertinacious spectre which one
calls " Shop " nothing to do with the contemptuous
ignoring of the national ballads by the singers of
the present day 1 ** Once I loved a maiden fair,"
"Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain," "Ah ! the
sighs that come from my heart," and such-like, are
perhaps very well in theii* way; but they could not
be marked three or four shillings, and are hardly

available for the superscription, " Sung by Madame
or Miss So-and-so," or the autographs representing so
much per copy. Old ballads are, in some people's
estimation, "beautiftil for ever," like the arch
enameller's flavoured subjects ; but others in genteel
life seem to consider them eligible for the kind of
treatment old friends sometimes meet witL They
may be honoured and appreciated in private, but
they must be cut dead or be favoured with the coldest
of shoulders in public. It is somewhat hard that
the time for cleansing the gems of old English
melody from the dust of succeeding ages is so
systematically put off, especially as the dust afore-
said accumulates with alarming rapidity. It was
originally presumed, and naturally enough, that
the so-called " ballad concerts " would rescue some
of the loveliest melodies ever written from absolute
oblivion ; but their mission is apparently the
popularizing of a few songs which in ten years will,
probably, be remembered to the same extent that
Mr. Balfe's BlancJie de Nevera is now. Real lovers
of good music do not sigh for concerts composed of
Elizabethan melodies entirely, varied by Stasias
on the virginal, but they would be glad to see the
relics of antiquity treated with the consideration they
deserve. The concert vocalists are perhaps afraid
that old and new ballads introduced in equal propor-
tions would result in the humiliation of the former.
The old mighL pale before the new, but the experi-
ment would be worth a fair, open, and candid trial.
The admirable Winter Concerts are progressing
satisfactorily, and vague rumours are already
pointing to the possibility of a new music-room as
part of the forthcoming restoration at the Crystal
Palace. Messieurs les Birecteurs will, perhaps,
h^-ve a little consideration for those unfortunates
who do not occupy reserved seats, for their privi-
leges have been much cuitailed of late. The
" lower fifteen " appreciate a comfortable seat as
highly as the " upper ten ; " and if any new arrange-
ment may be in contemplation, it is to be hoped
the plain " guinea season-ticket " holders may find
room to rest and be thankful, and to bless the
executive body with as much fervency as they
have occasionally anathematized it.

"VENUS'S FLOWER-BASKET."

(Euplectella speciosa.)
By W. B. Loan, Royal Artillery.

IT is not among the endless variety of floral
gems which deck the forest and the plain, or
the glittering ores and crystals of the earth, that
our search for forms of perfect grace and loveliness
need be confined ; and however charming and ad-
mirable the wax-like petals and feathery fronds of
the choicest flowers of the Tropics may be, or
however radiant the mineral from the deepest mine,

there are treasures as exquisite as any of them,
scattered amongst the teeming gardens, or stored
up in the great reef-caverns beneath the rolling
billows of the sea.

The sponges, corallines, anthozoa, medus®, sea-
weeds, and the countless other productions of the
deep, each have their types of beauty ; myriads of
tiny ocean flowrets and fruitlets hang from rock

Nuni- .11.1 \.i M.:.i,l l.i".:

[IfAtnre aad Art.MarchLWOI

Fig. I.

Fig. 2.

S^'A**

•^1*^

^p*

Fig. 9. Fi^.iO.

Fig. 5.

Fig. 6.

Fig. 7.

Fig. 4.

Fig. 8.

Sratnn and Art. 11 ur«h 1. 1687.]

" VENUS'S FLOWEB.BASKET/*

and ledge, waving their thousand fringes and
gorgeously-shaded tentacles in the deep blue water ;
whilst fish vying with the rainbow in their radiance
of tint and banded beauty, flit bird-like. in n^tless
play amongst the ocean leaves and blossoms. Many
of the shells and molluscs are so perfect and
exquisitely beautiful, that from the very infancy of
art they have remained the favourite aud unsur-
passed designs from which the greatest triumphs
of ornamental work have been executed. The
wandering explorer and naturalist, who gleans his
harvest amongst the reefs, coral sands, and lagunes
of far-off islands and little-frequented coasts, like
the plant-hunter, who seeks his prizes in the vast
forests of distant lands, from time to time lights
on some new and unknown marvel of nature's handi-
work wherewith to delight not only the scientific
world, but even those least susceptible to the charms
of nature. Such are the subjects of our illustration,
which, being the result of photography, faithfully
show the form and structural arrangement of these
exquisite sponges (for sponges they are), although
the clear crystalline transparency of the lace-like
network of which they are built up, as though spun
by fairy craft, is such as to defy the efforts of art to
represent. Cornucopia-like in form, crowned with a
cover of elegant design, they have been appropriately
named Venus 8 Flower-baskets, or the Euplectellce fpe-
ciosce of the naturalists. This beautiful production
is a native of the warm and genial seas washing the
shores of the island of Zebu, one of the Philippine
group, where it was first discovered and brought to
light by fishermen, about a year since, and is said
to inhabit very deep water, forty fathoms or there-
abouts, where these sponges fix themselves to the
sand, or other suitable point of attachment. All
the specimens which we have seen appear to have
gi'own on a deposit of coral and shell-sand, and
have small shells entangled amongst the mass of
fibres at the bottom of the sponge. That they at
times attach themselves to other substances, there
can be no doubt, as Mr. Wright, of 90, Great Russell
Street, to whose courtesy we are indebt-ed for the
subjects of the illustration, states that there is now
in Germany a piece of timber brought from the island
of Zebu, on which are ten specimens, — a rich haul
for the fortunate fisherman who discovered it.

The first specimen obtained by Mr. Gumming
(now in the British Museum) was both bought and
sold by him for £30 ; others have been purchased
at from £10 to£15j whilst of late, from fresh
discoveries having been made, they have become
comparatively cheaper ; but are still costly enough
to render a successful search for them highly re-
munerative. Some specimens we have seen have
a portion of the sponge, of a brownish colour, still
adhering to them : those in the illustration are the
crystal frames only.

No doubt the careful search which will be
set on foot by the inhabitants of the coast,
when their value in the market is known, will go
far to clear up some of the mysteries now hanging
roiind their growth and formation. One of these
is the almost invariable presence of the remains of

one or more crabs in the interior of this, to them,
" crystal prison^' out of which escape is just as im-
possible as from a capsuled l>ottle. Many differences
of opinion exist as to the mode by which the crabs
first obtained an entrance. Thei*e appears, how-
ever, little doubt that this is effected whilst the
sponge is in an immature condition, and before the
cover is woven. There is a young specimen which
we have examined in the British Museum in this
incomplete state, and it is questionable whether the
basket-like tube is ever covered until it has reached
maturity, when, although the sponge appears to
cease growing in an upward direction, the power
possessed by it to secrete the silicious matter of
which the network is composed, remains unim-
paired ; and, like a skilful artisan as he is, he at
once repairs neatly such injuries as his crystal palace
may sustain.

Dr. Gray has in his possession a specimen in
which a repair pf this kind has been effected. A
hole appears to have been broken by some acci-
dent in one of the sides, about halfway between
the point of attachment and the crown. A new
network of fibres, in bunches, has been substituted
for the broken ones, of form much like the original
structure.

The peculiar curved or corrvucopiaAWie shape
usually, although not invai-iably, assumed by these
baskets, has also given rise to much speculation
amongst the scientific. Dr. Gray is of opinion that
the weight of the crab, when crawling through the
interior of the tube, may influence the direction in
which the basket is found to incline. He says :
** As the crab becomes imprisoned in the cavity, it
will be constantly walking up and down the tube
to procure food, and by so doing it will most likely
bend the tube on one side ; so that the free end of
the tube may become bent down nearly to the level
of the base." Whether is this the true solution of
the enigma, or, like the goblet forms of some
species and the rounded contour of others, may
not the cornucopia form, after all, be that most
common to E. speciosa ?

It appears to be the prevailing opinion amongst
the fishermen by whom the Euplectella is taken,
and by whom it is known as the Rigederos, " that
it is the work of two insects (meaning probably
the crabs found in the tubes) at the bottom of the
sea ; " and a French correspondent, in writing
recently to the authorities of the British jViuseum,
expresses his opinion that the Euplectella is the
work of the crabs.

There are many reasons why this opinion
should be received with the greatest caution.
In the first plac^ we know of no crustacean
possessing a like power of tsilicious secretion and
construction. Then the crabs which are found in-
closed are not always of the same species, or even
genera. Dr. Gray is of opinion that one which he
examined through the meshes was a PagtiruSy of
which the hermit, or soldier-crabs, so frequently
found in Vhelk and other univalve shells on our
own coasts, are examples.

On many of the coasts of the tropical sea«», crabs

" VENUS'S FLOWER-BASKET."

[K ftten and Alt. lUnfa 1. Ur.

of this description are of a very large size, and
unceremoniously seize on any tenantless shell of
convenient form they can discover, seeking a new
habitation as their growth increases, and leaving
the old one for another tenant of less ambitious
requirements. Crabs with habits such as these
would not fail to investigate a hollow tube of such
a tempting appearance as the young, growing, and
coverless Euplectella would present; and what
more probable than that, as the tube became
perfected and the lid partly made, the crab or
crabs might still continue to inhabit it, until the
orifice being at last closed up, Cancer had to remain
a captive. His cast-off shells, like old worn-out
garments, would remain sealed up with him, and
give the idea that many crabs, instead of one, had
there resided.

Crabs do strange things at times, it is true, as
we shall probably state in a future communication.
But a Venus's Flower-basket, we opine, is a work
of too high an order for crustacean constructive-
ness to grapple with. Sponges, on the other hand,
we know to be workers in flint of the very highest
order; forming perfect tubes as their spicules,
the external covering, like that of the wheat-straw
or bamboo cane, being of pure silica, and the
lining of a material allied to, if not actually,
keratodey noticed by Dr. Bowerbank, and by him
spoken of as *' one of the most elastic and durable
animal substances." No combination of material
could be more perfect and comparatively inde-
structible than this, combining, as it does, extreme
flexibility with an almost indestructible surface.

The silicious material of which these crystal-
like tubes are composed is deposited in a series of
concentric layers round a central tubular cavity,
which gradually grows less as the spicules arrive at
mature growth {vide ^g, 9, plate 2, which repre-
sents the adult or full-grown specimen of Spongilla
Jlimatilis under the microscope, after having
been subjected to heat, in order to char the con-
tents of the interior, and so make them more
evident).

Fig. 10 shows a portion of a young and immature
specimen from ^S'. Ia>custrinu8y treated in the same
manner in order to show the greater size of the
internal cavity and membrane lining it The
researches of Dr. Bowerbank, to whom we are
indebted for our microscopic views, go to show
that the silica is secreted bv a double membrane,
the inner surfaces of each alike possessing secretive
powers. It will be seen that the EuplecteUas are
not the only sponges by many which secrete this
curious flinty material, at times elaborated in the
most beautiSful and curious form. Fig. 1 is from
E. aspergillum (Owen) ; fig. 2 from a species of
Euplectella deposited in the museum of the Ja/rdin
dea PkmteSy Paris. Fig. 3 is also from E, asper-
gillum : whilst the curiously-hooked double grapnel
or anchor form of spicule found in fig. 4 is from
an uudescribed sponge found on the coast of
Sicily. Fig. 5 is from Halichondria incrustana ;
flg. 6 from a spongeous mass found about the
base or roots of E, Cucumer (Owen); fig. 7, from

Tethia vngcdli (Bowerbank) ; ^g. 8, from T. robusta,
an Australian sponge.

The form of some of these, especially that of
fig. 3 and the two latter, are such as to make us
devoutly thankful that these highly useful creatures
the sponges confiaie the manufacture of their spicules
to microscopic minuteness, or using them for toilet
purposes would be anything but an agreeable oper-
ation ; but flint is not the only material of which
a number of very curiously formed spicules are
formed ; some sponges are most abundantly fur-
nished with them, but composed of carbonate of
lime. It has been, however, observed, that al-
though certain sponges have their eur&ces covered
with the carbonate of lime material and their in-
teriors literally crammed with silicious spicules,
they do not naturally accompany each other, and
are not secreted in conmion. The forms of the
sponges of commerce are too well known to need
description, and although the life of a sponge may
be a matter prosaic in the extreme and utterly
devoid of the sensational element, there is much in
it to interest the thoughtful observer of nature.
Sponges are generated by what are called gemmulca
or minute atoms of gelatinous substance formed in
the interior of the parent. These, as the flowing
tide is absorbed and again expelled by the count-
less orifices or oacula which cover the surface, are
borne away with it> in association with the thou-
sands of minute atoms from which the nutritious
particles or organisms have been strained by the
perfectly-formed structure through which they
have passed. These tiny sponge-seed are in some
species covered with minute cilia or hair-like
down ; others come forth mere gelatinous atoms,
but possessed of rapid locomotive powers, moving
here and there with surprising agility and
speed. These after a short time become attached
to a favourable object ; their secretive members
are formed, and they remain, unless disturbed, in
the position in which they first established them-
selves.

There are two theories to account for the absorp-
tion and expulsion of water by the sponges. That
of Dr. Grant favours the belief that the vast
numbers of moving and vibratory cilia lining all the
canals and cavities and bending their tiny arms
like waving com, thus set up a disposition in the
water to flow ever onward th rough them. Dutrochet,
however, attributes it to the law of endosmose, a
very familiar example of which may be found by
filling a common bladder with carbonic add gas,
when, after a short time, the gas, although of much
greater weight than atmospheric air, will pass
through the pores of the bladder and admit air.
We leave the reader the option of selection between
these theories, contenting ourselves by repeating
that the sponge is fed and nourished by that which
the flowing tide brings "Within the reach of its
influence. Unlike the Actinia and some other
stationary inhabitants of the deep, it has no arms
or tentacles with which to reach forth and secure
its prey ; therefore it makes of itself a living filter.
The sponges, as a rule, are marine productions.

IVaton Md Art. Mtfeh 1. 1887.]

" VENTTS'S PLOWEB-BASKET."

although there are certain kinds found in fresh
water. Like many other inhabitants of the deep,
the sponges thrive best in the warm genial seas of
the tropics, and perhaps in no part of the world are
they to be found in greater variety and perfection
than among the Australasian islands. The West
Indies and the Mediterranean also yield them in
considerable quantities; those of commerce being
chiefly from the two last-mentioned sources. Our
colder seas, although containing their si>onges, are
by no means rich in them. Dr. Bowerbank
enumeiutes twenty-four genera as being found on
the shores of Great Britain. These differ much
from the huge vase or chaHce-sh&^ed Pin sponges
(Raphidophora patera) found in the Indian Ocean.
We have seen some of these which would readily
hold from three to four gallons in their cup-shaped
cavities. Venus's fans {Gorgonia flahellarn) are
there, too, found on the coasts of Bermuda, large
enough for the toilet-table of a giantess, and fit
companions for the huge sponge goblets above
referred to. The sea- feather, or plume coral, is
found sprouting, like some ocean fern-leaf, from the
rock-cave's edges, far down in the clear, tranquil
water, amongst the reefs, and we shall see how one
of them proved a guide to fortune, station, and
nobility. Thus goes the tale, which, unlike many
such, has the inestimable advantage of being strictly
tme.

In the year 1650, one Phipps, a blacksmith of
Pemaquid, in New England, was blessed with a
son, who was christened William, and who, in very
early life, manifested much ingenuity and a passion
for ship-building. Very shortly after the term of
his apprenticeship to a shipwright had expired, he
built a vessel for himself, which he navigated in
person, and hearing it reported that a Spanish
merchant ship freighted with bullion had sunk in
the neighbourhood of the Bahamas, he at once be-
took himself to the scene of the disaster, and made
the most determined but fruitless efforts to recover
the lost gold. Treasure-seeking now appears to
have become a fixed occupation with Captain
Phipps. In the year 1683 we find him employed
by the English Government to discover another lost
Spanish ship of immense value. This he failed to
do, but was convinced that perseverance in the
search would be ultimately crowned with success.
For ^\G years he was imsuccessful in his applica-
tions for funds to renew his investigations, when the
Duke of Albemarle, the then Governor of Jamaica,
not only believed in the assurances of Captain
Phipps, but furnished him with ample means and
fitting apparatus for his new expedition. How he
reached the scene of his labours ; how every lagune
and gulf between the reefs was searched in vain,
until hope well-nigh vanished, we need not dwell
on here. No wreck could be discovered, and he
had almost determined to abandon the undei'taking
in despair, when, after a day of more than ordinary
fotigue and anxious exploration amongst the coral
rocks, his boat's crew were rowing him slowly and
dejectedly back to his ship, one of the sailors
directed his attention to a beautiful seorfeonth&r

growing from the ledge of a sunken rock. "Alas !'*
said poor Phipps, " there is a sea treasure indeed, I
wish I could get it." One of the good-humoured
black divers who accompanied him, anxious to
oblige his commander, shot rapidly down to the
coveted specimen, and just as rapidly returned with
it, exclaiming, " Featlter safe, jme feaihefi' ; hut
plenty big camion down wJiere feather live" This
report, as may be readily imagined, made the sink-
ing heart of poor Phipps leap again. Blackey was
despatched to the regions below to have another
look, and returned with the glorious news that
there were " plenty big boxes too, and lots of tliis,'
exhibiting his hands filled with silver. Now the
captain was in his true element, and there lay his
work cut out for him. He was quite equal to the
occasion, for from that deep gulf, far down among
the corals and the sponges, where it had lain con-
cealed for more than half a century, he brought to
light thirty-two tons of silver bullion, besides large
quantities of gold, pearls, and other valuables. We
find that Phipps was knighted by James II. He
was also appointed sheriff of New England, and
took command of a large expeditionary force against
the French. We afterwards find him in command
of a fleet fitted out to oppose the French in Canada,
and subsequently taking part in the border warfare
of the period, as a leader of note. And at this
point of his career we bid adieu to Sir James
Phipps, and the featlier which led him on to fortune.
Amongst the endless objects of interest which
each hour passed on the sea brings to notice, few
are more curious than the family of Medusidce : — ■

*' There's not a gem
Wrought by man's art to bo compared to them ;
Soft, brilliant, tender, through the wave they glow,
And make the moonbeams brighter where they flow."

The rippling waves as they divide beneath the
good ship's cutwater, the dipped oar-blade, and
the fisher^s net, glisten in the moonlight like molten
metal, and the boat's track is marked out as in
liquid fire. We are passing through myriads of
Noctihica miliaris, members of the order we are
glancing at. From the most minute and micro-
scopic size to the most gigantic dimensions do these
strange organisms exist, and there appears no known
limit to the vast size to which they can grow in the
tropic seas. The ponderous jelly-like masses at
times cast by storms on our coasts, or left by the
receding tide on our beaches, are as mere pigmies
to the huge creatures of this class found in the
Indian seas ; and if northern latitudes were as con-
genial to their rapid and prodigious development as
the warmer seas of the East, the kraken might not
prove as great a myth as has been generally supposed.
Thus Mr. Telfair writes of one he saw washed on
shore near Bombay, in 1819, which, as he says, must
have weighed many tons : — " I went to see it when
the gale had subsided, which was not for three days
after its being cast upon the sand; but it had
already become offensive, and I could not distin-
guish any shape. The sea had thrown it high above
the reach of the tide, and I instructed the fisher-

EEVIEWS.

[KAton MBd Art. SUi«h 1 , UST.

men, who lived in the immediate neighbourhood, to
watch its decay, and if any osseous or cartilaginous
part remained, it might be preserved ; it rotted,
however, entirely, and left no remains. It could
not be less than nine months before it entirely dis-
appeared, and the travellers were obliged to change
the direction of the road for nearly a quarter of a
mile, to avoid the offensive and sickening stench
which proceeded from it" Vast fields of medus<e
are at times encountered at sea, extending for
miles in every direction.

We have had an opportunity of sailing through
some of these vast assemblies, and examining
them. On one occasion, in the Indian Ocean, we
encountered incalculable numbers of the red
species, the " Brit "or " Bret '* of the whalers.
Nearly the whole of one day was* occupied in passing
through fields of these curious organisms, whilst the
whales, who were following up and feeding on the
floating millions, came up to blow in all directions
around our ship, tossed their flukes in the air, and
resumed their banquet, regardless of our close
proximity.

Dr. Scoresby has made a curious calculation in
order to show the innumerable numl)er of medusre
at times found inhabiting comparatively limited
spaces of ocean. He says, when si)eaking of a
specimen of olive-green sea he was engaged in
examining: — **The number of medusae in the olive-
green sea was found to ha immense. They were
about one-fourth of an inch asunder ; in this pro-

portion, a cubic inch of water must contain 64 ; a
cubic foot, 110,592; a cubic fathom, 23,887,872;
and a cubical mile about 23,888,000,000,000,000.
From soundings made in the situation where these
animals were found, it is probable the sea is up-
wards of a mile in depth ; but whether these sub-
stances occupy the whole depth is uncertain. Pro-
vided, however, the depth to which they extend be
but 250 fathoms, the above immense number of
one species may occur in a space of two miles
square. It may give a little conception of the
amount of medusae in this extent, if we calculate
the length of time that would be required, with a
certain number of persons for counting this num-
ber : allowing that one person could count a mil-
lion in seven days, which is barely possible, it
would have required that 80,000 persons should
have started at the creation of the world, to com-
plete the enumeration at the present time.

Some species of these strange organisms, as the
AcahpluBy or sea-nettles, possess the power of
stinging severely thase who incautiously handle
them. Some are remarkable for the length and
beauty of their long twining tendrils and delicati*
crystalline fishing-lines. " 2'he Portuguese man-of-
war,'' in all her grace and loveliness, lures us on to
voyage with, and gossip about, her, but the task,
although a pleasant one, must be postjwned until
our next expedition to the gaixlens and pleasure-
grounds of the sea.

REVIEWS.

India, Ancient and Modern, Delineated in a Series of
Water-colour Drawings made on the Spot by William
Simpson. The literary portion of the work by J. W.
Kaye. Day & Son (Limited)^ Gate-street, Lincoln's Inn
Fields.

rpO the student of the beautiful the first views of India
X must be full of delight. He may imagine himself to
be transported to some realm of enchantment, as he finds
himself, for the first time, among the vivid verdure of the
fantastic tropical foliage, or opposite the g^raceful dome
and slender minarets of some fandful Eastern edifice.
Both nature and art are here adorned in fashions, charm-
ing in themselves, and interesting from the completeness
with which they diflfer from those of the Western world.
The broad-leaved plantains, with their clusters of yellow
fruit, the fan-like palms, the tall cocoa-nut trees, the
feathery bamboos, the wide-spreading banyans, almost
resembling the Druidical oaks of old England, with their
dark twisted tendrils drooping, Uke bewitched rain-drops,
to the ground, — the tamarinds, guavas, and hosts of other
trees, present to him Dame Nature in a dress totally
new to him ; unless he has studied the specimens in the
palm-house in Kew Gardens, or in that which was the
pleasant tropical compartment of the Crystal Palace.
Then, as he comes upon a little temple nestling in a grove
of trees, from whence fly bright cr^een parrots scared at his
intrusion ; or approaches the grander structures of Eastern
art, with their airy forms and delicate embellishments, or
massive proportions and quaint ornamentation, he will

understand how widely the fancies of man*s mind are varied
by local influences. As he penetrates into the narrow
streets and bazaars of the towns, under the carved bal-
conies and fretted work of the flat-roofed houses, he will
not perceive the slightest vestige of European manners.
Every sight, sound, and smell will be essentially the pro-
perty of the East ; and even the method of sitting adopted
by the natives will appear particularly strange to him, as
they neither sit upon chairs like ourselves, nor cross-legged
like the Turks, but squat upon their ankles after the fashion
of monkeys. And it is decidedly mirth-inspiring to the new
arrival, to see two of them thus sitting together in one of
the low stalls of a bazaar and chatting volubly, while they
negotiate the sale of grain, or of an earthenware pot or
shawl ; or while the one, in his capacity of barber, is occu-
pied in shaving the head of the other, leaving only the tuft
of hair by which the angel is eventually to convey him to
Paradise.

The crowds in the streets will be in numerous and
picturesque varieties of Eastern costume. Some will be
attired in tawdry silks and brocades ; more will be dressed
in white or coloured cotton, with turbans and red slippers ;
more will be black and naked except a scanty covering
round the waist. Then there will be Baboos, or Hindoo
gentlemen, frequently employed as scribes and the like,
in long white robes, with their heads only covered by
their own short, curly black hair, and their bare dusky
legs and feet in European patent leather shoes ; Parseea
with their eccentric chimney-pot-resembling head-pieces;
women with rings through their noses and heavy silver
ornaments on their arms and ankles, dressed in a style

StAnn and Art. lUrub 1. 18C7.)

EE VIEWS.

which renders them like perambolatin^ bundles of old
window-curtains ; none but women of the lowest class, and
those generally old and uglj, being permitted to be seen
abroad. Then, perhaps, he may meet a cavalier in a com-
bination of snowy-white and gay or gorgeous garments,
mounted on a saddle like those used in an English circus
for the daring feats of horsemanship, on a white horse with
his nose, hoofs, mane, and tail painted pink ; or a native
conveyance resembling a gig with an awning, covered with
bells and jingling ornaments. Bude carts, drawn by bullocks,
will nearly block up the narrow thoroughfare, and the tout
ensemble of the scene will be completed by the creaking of
the ungreased cart-wheels, the incessant beating of tom-
-toms, ringing of bells, and Babel of voices ; with odours of
burnt wood, rancid oil, and stagnant ditches. The romances
of the ** Arabian Nights* Entertainments " will be recalled
to his mind, and afford him a glimpse of the inner life of
this new world presented to his notice, and he may rejoice
in being perfectly rid, for a time, of black hats and crino-
line.

Even if, however, he seeks the European habitations, he
will still find much to astonish him. He will behold well-
appointed English carriages driven by native coachmen in
Eastern costumes ; and, up country, the European bunga-
lows, with their high- thatched roofs, painted clay walls, and
verandas are sufficiently characteristic. Indeed, existence
would be impossible in such a climate without considerable
modification of our English manner of life. At Meerut, for
instance, which is a large station in the North-west pro-
vinces of Bengal, at nearly a thousand miles' distance from
Calcutta, for eight months in the year the sun renders im-
prisonment in the house compulsory from about seven in
the morning till six in the evening. It is i>088ible, certainly,
to struggle through the scorching heat, with a pith hat, two
or three inches thick, upon the head, and an umbrella;
and, under the influence of strong excitement, men have
been known to brave the effects of the sun with impunity ;
but confinement to the house must be the normal condition.
Here, in the season of the hot winds, the air comes from
the arid deserts of Caubul, like the blast of a coke-fumaco
-when the door is opened, at times laden with storms of hot
and penetrating sand. But the window-sashes are removed
and a species of mats called khuskus-tatties substituted for
them; through which, kept constantly damped by water
thrown over them by the bibisti, or water-carrier, from his
pig-skin, the air blows into the house cool and fresh. When
rains succeed, for a brief interval, the air is deliciously
cool and fragrant. The parched vegetation springs up to
luxuriance in a single night ; but myriads of reptiles and
insects likewise rejoice in the change. Black ants half an
inch long, with curly tails, overrun the bath-room ; another
species of ants take wing and, in numbers, ierminate a
fihort existence by immolating themselves in the candles or
soup at dinner. Centipedes drop from the roof of the
veranda, snakes make morning oiUls, and nature generally
awakes to diverse existence, in which the Briton appears in
the light of an intruder into a domain the inhabitants of
which exhibit their animosity by tickling him in the shape
of flies, stinging him as mosquitoes, and alarming him as
venomous reptiles.

A lady in England would probably make strenuous objec-
tions to the presence of little green lizards and bloated
spiders, with hairy legs, on the walls of her drawing-room ;
but in India, their society is welcomed for the havoc they
commit among the mosquitoes and flies. The almost im-
perceptible white ants, as is, of course, well known, will eat
anything, from boots to lath and plaster ; and in an old
bungalow inhabited by the writer of this article, they ac-
tually excavated their way up a door-post to the height of
about six feet, and then cut through the woodwork and con-
structed a kind of hanging-palace of earth, some three
inches in length, and one in thickness, in which they de-
posited their king and queen, two fat white grubs, of half
an inch in length. Then there is the notorious musk rat,
which, by simply running over a securely corked and sealing-
waxed bottle of wine, con impart to it such a disg^usting
flavour of musk as to ruin it entirely. Add to all this insect
and vermin life, the packs of ill-bred and mangy curs which

infest the villages, and the multitudes of hawks, vultures,
and carrion birds of divers kind, which swarm in the neigh-
bourhood of the abodes of mca, and kindly supply the
want of drainage, and it may be conceived that nature in
India is exceedingly animated. To the hot winds succeed
long months during which the air is so stagnant that it
seems scarcely possible to breathe, unless it is put in motion
by the punkah swaying from the ceiling ; when even an
ordinary sheet is too heavy a covering as slumber is courted
at night, and loose trousers and shirt of the lightest muslin
hdve to be worn instead. But at length the cool weather
comes, when with a puggeree, or doth bound like a turban
round the wideawake hat, the sunbeams can be endured,
and Anglo- India arises from summer torpor to balls, races,
theatricals, and dinner parties. Then may the traveller
betake himself to view those grand old edifices, which
Moguls and Bajahs have left to attest their magnificence ;
and cities such as Benares, Delhi, and Lahore, where palaces
and temples for the living and shrines for the dead vie with
cue another in costliness and beauty.

The scenes of Bible history will be vividly brought to
his recollection as he journeys through the country. The
rude agricultural implements, the yokes of oxen, the wells
from which water is drawn in leathern buckets by the hand
(pumps as well as drains being unknown luxuries in India),
the women on the housetops, the process of two women
grinding at the mill, which may be constantly observed in
all parts of India, and numerous other customs, are won-
derfully suggestive of those pictures with which we have
been familiar from childhood, but which appear to be drawn
from life so foreign to our own habits. Much of the scenery
is extremely picturesque. Sometimes the road traverses
richly- wooded tracts almost resembling English parks : then
it crosses vast plains, covered with the white rice-harvest or
fields of corn, sugar-canes, or tobacco, relieved by villages
embowered in groves of palm-trees. Here the men may be
seen smoking their hubblebubbles, or rude hookahs, as they
loll lazily upon their couches at the doors of their mud
huts, or perform their ablutions by throwing water over their
swarthy carcasses from brass pots, while their little naked
children tumble about in the dust of the road, or stare at
the stranger with their great, bright, black eyes. Then,
perhaps, we enter the shades of some gloomy forest, whose
impenetrable depths harbour tigers, wild boars, jockaln,
porcupines, monkeys, and various species of deadly serpents,
and, again emerging upon open plains, come to the banks
of the sacred Ganges, or some tributary stream, where the
alligators lie basking in the sun on the yellow sand-banks,
and in which to bathe when living, or to be cast when dead,
is the most important article of the religious practice of
millions. But the old method of travelling through the
country by ddk gharrie, or one-horse post-chaise, is becoming
as much an affair of the past as the stage-coaches and post-
chaises of England. The dak bungalows, too, or resting-
places erected by Government to supply the place of inns,
will probably fall into more desuetude than our own old
I>ost-houses ; for the last can still carry on an impoverished
existence by the aid of market-days and commercial travel-
ling. The railways that now run throughout the length and
breadth of British India will convey the traveller, reclining
too luxuriously to take more than the most fleeting glances
at the panorama of varied scenery he is so rapidly passing,
from one salient point to another. In fact, we believe that
tourists will soon be found to scamper through the more
strikingly interesting cities of Hindostan, as through those
of the Continent, doing the lions thereof with similar ardour,
and contenting themselves with such views of the rest of the
country as can bo obtained from the window of a first-class
railway carriage, when they are not absorbed in a newspaper
or book. Now ez^oying fresh sensations, now te wailing
novel miseries, they will hurry from the holy Benares with
its golden temple and celebrated ghauts, or landing-places, on
the banks of the Ganges, thronged by their bathing, praying,
sleeping, or gossiping crowds, to Cawnpore, with its marble
monument over the well of terrible memories ; from Agra,
with its gem-bedizened Taj Mahal, to Delhi, with its Bub«
lime ruins and present grandeur; from Lahore, with its
•< mausoleums and shrines, magnificent and numberless,

EEVIEWS.

fNatan and Art. Mwi^ 1. \m

where death seemed to share equal hooours with heaveii,"
to Cashmere.

" Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,

With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave,

Its temples, and grottos, and fonntains as clear
As the love-lighted eyes that hang over their wave ?

Oh ! to see it at sunset, when warm o'er the lake,
Its splendour at parting a summer eve throws."

But to pursue the path travelled by Moore's sweet '* Lalla
Bookh," on her romantic love-errand, it is necessary to get
far beyond the range of English mechanical and engineering
science. Bugged mountain-passes must be crobsed by hard,
old-fashioned means of travelling, before the loveliest valley
in the world can be reached. But, really, it would scarcely
be astonishing, within the next few years, to see the an-
nouncement of an excursion Peninsular and Oriental boat,
in connection with the railway, d&k gharrie, and palkee ddk,
or journeying by palanquin, to Cashmere and back, proceed-
ing thither by Calcutta, stopping at Ceylon for prawn curry
and cocoa-nut chutney, and returning down the Indus to
Kurrachee.

Meanwhile, however, we are happy in being able to re-
commend to those of our readers who do not possess the op-
portunity, or the ambition, to extend their tours so far, yet
are interested in this great, glittering Eastern realm of ours,
a means by which they may most agreeably gratify their
very laudable curiosity. Mr. William Simpson, who recently
exhibited at the German gallery, his admirable collection of
water-colour drawings of India, Thibet, and Cashmere, is
aboi^t to publish them, reproduced by the chromo-litho-
graphic process, with an account of the country under its
historical, religious, and other aspects ; and we cannot con-
ceive anything calculated to give a more complete idea of
the scenery and life of our Asiatic dominions than
these pictures. A specimen of the forty-two monthly
parts of which the work will consist, is now before
us, containing six fac-simile drawings, of the full
size of the originals, and preserving their brilliance of
colouring. We have the " Chitpore Boad, Calcutta^"
a very good specimen of the native part of the town,
and affording an accurate notion of Indian customs, from
the artistic skill with which oharacteristio details have
been inserted in the picture : such as the man in the comer
cleaning his teeth with a bit of stick, and the illustration of
the manner in which mothers carry their children. Then we
have the " Lanka Cave, Ellora," one of the most artistic of
all the excavated works of the Brahmins ; and the *' Summer
Palace on the Lake of Oodeypore," a beautiful structure of
white marble, picturesquely situated on an island, to which
the Bana goes in state, accompanied by his hareem, in an
enclosed barge ; cotton-boats on the Ganges, and two scenes
of Cashmere life, occupy the remaining places. The style
of the accompanying literary portion of the undertaking, by
Mr. J. W. Kaye, the accomplished author of *' Christianity
in India," and the official editor of the Canning, Clyde, and
other papers bearing upon the Indian Mutiny, is in every
way worthy of the really exquisite sketches it is designed
to illustrate. The illuminated dedication to Her Majesty,
printed in many colours from an oriental design of rare
elegance composed by Mr. Owen Jones, is not the least re-
markable feature of the work. Mr. Simpson remained for
three years in India, during which he visited nearly every place
of interest in the great continent, from Cape Comorin to Pesha-
wur ; and some of the picturesque regions beyond the British
frontier, as Cashmere and Thibet, as we were informed in
the publisher's preface to the descriptive catalogue of his
exhibition. He enjoyed peculiar advantages for seeing the
country under its most favourable aspects, as he was
invited by Lord Canning to join the vice regal camp on the
triumphal march through the scenes of the defeated re-
bellion; during which tour numerous great durbars, or
levies of Indian princes, were held, some of which are
depicted among his drawings. Altogether, we think that
it would be impossible to find a country more adapted for
the exercise of the artist's taste and skill, from the beauty
and variety of its scenes, both of nature and art ; or an
artist more capable of giving a correct and pleasing im-

pression of the scenes which he has made it his occapation
to portray.

A Fox's TalCf a Sketch of the Hunting-field. Day and Son
(Limited) London.

This is a most worthy pendant, by the same author, to
** The Autobiography of a Salmon," of which wo expressed
such unqualified approval in our last. "The Fox's Tale"
is an unaffected narrative ** by one of themselves," of the
joys and sorrows of the Vulpine race, interspersed with
sketches of the characters and characteristics of a hantand
hunting-field, but with no tinge of the fast or trace of
slang to mar its agreeable flavour. It would seem im-
possible to have compressed into less than one hundred
pages more or prettier cabinet studies of landscape and
figure than we have found here. The life of a vixen and
her cubs in haystack and gorse, the gentleman farmer,
the master of hounds, the huntsman and his atcZes, the field,
and the meet, are all sketched with singular brevity and
precision, and " the Bun," with its every incident, is so
felicitous that we defy any lover of the country and the
si>ort to lay it down unfinished. Poor Benard, indeed, tells
his story so well as to enlist our sympathy, and the read»
is exceUently well pleased with the dramatic artifice—
albeit a true story — ^by which the editor avoids so unpleasant
a catastrophe as the fall of the curtain over a scene of
blood.

Maniiel Pratique et Raisonnd de VAmatcur de Tahlcaui.
By Dr. Laohaise. Paris. 18mo.

A VERT useful work by a well-known art critic. The
manual, which contains a large amount of information
in a small compass, includes an excellent chapter on the
history of art ; valuable hints on the distinctive character*
istics of all the schools and of the principal masters ; on the
means of judging whether a picture is really an original, an
imitation, or a copy, and whether it remains intact or has
been submitted to the tender or other mercies of the
restorers ; on the perils of public and private sales, and the
laws and regulations relating thereto ; and on the preser-
vation of pictures, and the precautions necessary to be
observed in their restoration.

Dr. Lachaise naturally devotes a considerable part of
this work to the French school, and a short extract from his
observations under that head will give an idea of his views
relative to the painters of the nineteenth century : —

"In the eighteenth century French art went throngh
three marked phases. The first was that of gaUantiy or
courtly politeness, personified in Watteau, and which was
endowed by a veritably official character by the creation, in
the Academy of the Fine Arts itself, of a section of painting
entitled F^tes (jalantes. The second, quite as distinctly
defined as the first, was the reigti of pure sensuality, and
had for its leader Fran9ois Boucher. The third, still
marked in the comer, as it were, with the same stamp, that
of love, accommodated itself to the feeling of the time, and
exhibited, in the works of Fragonard, a tendency towards
sentiment. Greuze and Prud'hon, without forming a school,
took up the moral and the poetic side, and remain the
masters of the transition. In truth, the poetic transfor-
mation through which France was then passing, and which
culminated in 1789, occupied all minds and demanded of
art something more than the frivolities with which the pre-
ceding century was satisfied.

" From the epoch we have named, painting seemed to
have no other mission but that of inspiring the masses with
feelings of abnegation and disinterestedness, with the senti-
ment of liberty and devotion to their country. The Oath of
the Horatii, Belisarius asking alms, and the Death of the
Sons of Brutus, placed David at the head of those who oonld
comprehend the powerful aid which painting could give to
new ideas, and made him the chief of a school which had
great ^clat, but which did not sufficiently understand its
own origin to see that, in matters of art as in politics, to

Vfttan Mid Art, Manh 1, 1887.]

OLLA PODEIDA.

destroy is not to create, or to escape a despotic spirit which
rendered it hostile to whatever was produced beyond its
own breast. This school, in fact, had scarcely received the
public sanction, and proved that art was in a bad road,
when it felt itself called upon to regenerate art, treated with
disdain all its predecessors, and carried fatuity so far as not
only to give insulting nicknames to many artists then held
in esteem, but to carry one of its own adepts, Drouais,
in triumph to the Pantheon, forgetting that the Tarpeian
Book is not far from the Capitol.

*'Thns the public mind no sooner recovered from the
astonishment created by this school, than it began to doubt
if art consisted in nothing more than the good drawing of a
fignre ; if the models of the atelier, covered with Greek and
Boman tunics, and wearing sandals borrowed from the
opera, really presented a fair representation of the antique ;
if stiff, outstretched arms could really assume any other
position — ^in fact there were not wanting opponents with the
boldness to proclaim that the respect professed by David
and his school for the antique was simply a mannerism
under which they hid the barrenness of their imagination
and the uncertainty of their object.

** The doubt once admitted, was soon changed to certainty,
and the law of retaliation was so rigorously applied to
the school in question, that the very expressions it had used
against its predecessors were now turned against itself.
Does the school of David merit the neglect, nay the
disdain, with which it is treated at the present day P No !
a thousand times, No ! In the first place there was reason
for its existence, in order to rid the domain of art of frivolity,
prettiness, and conventionality, and it did its work in a
satisfactory manner ; only, it persisted in the means when
they were no longer necessary. Further, if in attempting to
reduce art to absolute theories, it deprived it of those charms

which it derives from imagination, it also presented its
wanderings, and showed that without certain principles art
would be but an allusion or pure fantasy. The school may,
moreover, quote, in opposition to its detractors, names
before which all men of sense must bow, and historical pages
worthy of the imperishable glories which they are destined
to celebrate. If all the works produced by the pencils of
these chiefs leave something to be desired, it is equally
incontestable that in the greater part of them many of the
most essential conditions of art are exhibited in a high
degree. . . . Let us then render justice to this school ;
let us adniit that it too often sacrificed spirit for theory ;
that in order to reach the mind of the masses it contented
itself with drawing correctly, even to hardness; that it did
not sufficiently occupy itself either with the seductions of
colour or the effects of chiaroscuro; that it therefore
often remained formal and cold ; but let us admit that it
possessed great skill in composition, a well-expressed in-
tention and a constant effort to raise itself to the level of
the brilliant period which it had to traverse, great care
with respect to details, and a practical skill which enabled
it to triumph over the difficulties presented by given official
subjects and the strange costumes of the period."

Every one will not of course agree, as we do generally,
with the above appreciation of the school of David, bat all
must see that Dr. Lachaise has studied his subject with
care and, we may add, success.

A chapter at the end of the volume will be highly
acceptable to connoisseurs ; it contains a list of the most
important works of art in all languages, to be consulted, not
only on the subject of painting in general, but on that of
each school taken separately.

OLLA PODEIDA.

Thb PiOTtJBES FOB THE AcADEMY are beginning to
assume shape, and some of them are already being much
talked about. Most notable is Mr. Frith's, which will
be one of the great, if not the greatest picture of the
season; the subject is "Evelyn visiting Whitehall on a
Sunday, a few days before the death of Charles the
Second," and shocked at the dissolute exhibition of
mannerii by which the king is surrounded. Mr. Elmore
will exhibit the first-fruits of his visit to the East
last winter. It will be a telling subject, and will be
familiar to all Scripture readers. Although 'tis old as the
Bast itself, and still daily to be seen, it is strange that none
of our many artists, who now travel so far for subjects,
have ever treated it. John Phillip is recovered from his
severe illness, and has three pictures on hand for the
Academy. O'Neil has two fine subjects, one an incident in
the life of Luther, and the other an incident connected with
Titian. Leighton has four contributions getting re&dy ; and
Prinsep will have a Venetian interior. John Burgess is
preparing a successor to his " Bravo Toro " of last year, by
which his established repute will not suffer.

In the Water-Colour Exhibition, Mr. Louis Haghe will
have a very fine picture, an interior of a monastery at
Bome.

New Music. — We have received the following songs and
pieces from Messrs. Boosey & Co. : ** The Express Quadrille,''
by Charles Coote ; ** La Vie Parisienne Valse, sur TOp^ra
d'Offenbach," par C. H. B. Marriott ; " La Vie Parisienne
Quadrille," by the same arranger; ** Marie Valse," par S.
Hugh BaUlie (Colonel Boyal Horse Guards) ; '^ Balouka,
Marche Turque," compos^e par Blumenthal ; ** Fantasie sur
la Priere et Chasse du Freischiitz," par B^n^ Favarger;
•• Biding thro' the Broom," " Strangers yet," and " Only
a Lock of Hair," by Claribel ; " She is not Fair to outward
Tiew," and "Thou art lost to me," by Arthur Sullivan;
"Come Home, Father" (Christy Minstrel ballad) ; "Douglas,

Douglas, tender and true," by Bernard Althaus ; " The Bells
of Aberdovey," words and accompaniment by George Linley ;
and " Gathered Treasures," words by Tom Hood, music by
Elizabeth Philp.

The dance music of M. Marriott is within the means of
comparative beginners at the pianoforte. There are no
quadrilles now of the Henri Herz and Dos Santos type, and
pianists need not anticipate finding their capabilities very
severely tried in quadrilles, valses, &c. Mr. C. Coote's
descriptive quadrille is, in plain terms, easy to play, and
good to dance to. Some years ago M. B^»n4 Favarger*s
fantasia on " Oberon " at once established his credit as an
arranger of the " brilliant, but not difficult " order. This
new specimen of his talent now before us is a very favour-
able instance of what may be done to secure a brilliant
effect without putting serious difficulties in the way*
M. Blumenthal' s quaint and original march may be re-
commended to all classes of pianists, and is by no means
difficult. Among^ the younger English musicians Mr.
Arthur Sullivan holds a very high position. Latterly he
has become more widely known as a song- writer, and we
can pay him no higher compliment than to predict that
many of his compositions will live in the future when other
commonplace productions are entirely forgotten. "Thou
are lost to me " might be sung by a contralto or baritone.
Its companion is in A flat, and ranges to the G above the line.

" Strangers yet "is in E flat, and in all probability will
rival in x>opularity some of Claribel' s most famous songs.
It is signed by Madame Sainton*Dolby, and is a remarkable
instance of the steady increase in the market price of these
things. Four shillings is demanded for Lord Houghton's
tender and graceful words, and the fair Claribel' s setting
thereof. " Only, a Lock of Hair" is expressive and flowing
in the melody, and is adapted for a tenor voice. The song
is in B flat, and ranges upward to A, first line above.

Messrs. Bobert Cocks & Co. have issued the under-

OLLA PODRIDA.

rVatanand Art. JUrcfa 1. UUT.

mentioned publications: — "Kosabella Valse," by Adam
Wright; "Bon Soir Galop," by Fred. Godfrey ; '•Blossoms
of Thought," by Kobert William Pearse; '*The Wishing
Cap," a song by W. T. Wrighton ; and " Sing me that
song again," a serenade by Guglielmo. " BloHsoms of
Thought" are original preludes for the pianoforte, and
some of them indicate the composer to be gifted with real
musical feelings. There is a certain originality about the
greater number of these studies. In Band-master Godfrey's
galop, a very short song is introduced, the melody being
founded on the " Coldstream Guard's Valse." The galop, of
its class, is good. Mr. Wrighton can write expressive and
plaintive ballads ; but he is not so happy in treating the
" Wishing Cap " description of subject. The words are by
Charles Mackay.

The Japanese JuoaLEBS. — Novelty, though sometimes
very startling, is not always genuine ; but in the case of the
Japanese troupe, now flying paper butterflies and spinning
tops at St. Martin's Hall, it is eminently so. The party of
middle-aged men, young women, and children, from the
country of the Tycoon, twelve in all, began enlightening the
Saxons, at a private performance, on February 9th.
Asi-Kitchi-San is the artist and the gentleman of the party,
and his butterfly trick must be seen to be believed. The
Japanese manner is easy, and almost carelessly self-possessed,
though undisfigured by any show of vulgar confidence.
Native dignity, and a calm consciousness of excellence in
some branches of their art, the males of the company
certainly seem to possess. Ckiensee, " top-spinner to the
Tycoon," and Asi-Kitchi-San are especially intelligent-look-
ing. " Beauty is but skin deep," and hardly that, with the
actresses of Japan ; but then in England we can ensure the
finest complexions in, the world ; for if the white and pink of
nature are not forthcoming, the artistic substitutes are to be
procured in Bond Street. The Japanese ladies are sallow,
and, in comparison with their masculine companions, sleepy-
looking. To this rule there is one exception, namely, a
young girl with an almost European complexion. After
twelve simultaneous salaams from the entire and richly-
dressed party, this fair-skinned maiden puts on a head-dress
something like an exaggerated mitre, and dances after the
rather ungainly fashion of her native land. There is nothing
of the languid, dreamy, and poetical " Almde " spirit in this
performance ; but, on the contrary, a decided angularity of
movement. The peculiarity of the dresses is their extra-
ordinary richness and roominess ; and the neatest figure in
Japan is apparently doomed to be encased in habiliments
which would fit a Celestial Chang.

The Japanese bring their own music, and lamentations
will not be general when they take it back again, for it is
very irritating to the susceptible European nerves. Tone
seems no particular object ; time but imperfectly understood;
and tune not at all. The very thin strings of a distressing
kind of banjo are sometimes twanged by the ladies' fingers,
and sometimes worried by a wooden implement, neither a
miniature cricket-bat nor a spoon, but something of both.
There is also a small toneless drum, and a drum major, who
divides his time between this excruciating instrument and
an invention in the shape of a vivandi^re's spirit-keg. He
taps both with two sticks, but extracts nothing like sweet
sounds from either. A running fire of the songs of Japan
accompanies the various performances, and one of these
vague effusions is given with most amusing seriousness by
the youngest of the three children. Gaensee's top-spinning
is a wonderful exhibition of its kind. He throws the tops
in the air and catches them, still spinning, on a cane ; "sends
them to sleep," as Young England says, now on the edge
of a sword, and now on the top of a fan, and, in point of
fact, does precisely what he pleases with them.

Both conjurers and acrobats are, as was anticipated,

clever. Two of the latter, who are attached to this troupe,
climb and clamber about a light bamboo scaffolding in St.
Martin's Hall, after the manner of the late chimpanzee at
the Ch7stal Palace; and one of them, owing to the accidental
breaking of a cane from which he was hanging, was for a
few moments in great danger. Bamboos, however, are
tough and fibrous, and the courage and presence of mind,
fortunately belonging to the Japanese as well as to the
English fraternity, saved the performer from death, and the
spectators from a sad shock.

Asi-Kitchi-San's " butterfly trick " is the crowning glory
of this remarkable entertain ment. He tears a small piece of
rice-paper into the shape of a little white butterfly, and
with the current of air from a fan keeps it moving in the
exact imitation of the insect. He talks to it in evidently
persuasive and facetious language, and at length it quietly
settles on the top of another fan carried in the left hand.
The artist, — ^f or u thing of this kind is artistic in the highest
degree, — manages two with equal success ; and anything
more delicate, pretty, and really marvellous as an imitation
of nature, it is impossible to conceive.

Herb Ernst Schulz, a PHYSioaNOMisT and a very
remarkable man, gave a lecture, or private performance,
on the 29th of last November, to an invited few at the
Egyptian Hall. He has since been lost to sight, but
under the suggestive title, ** Masks and Faces," his
entertainment is now heralded to the London publio. We
liave a few broad, abstract, ideas of physiognomy, and
know that raised eyebrows express surprise, that when
lowered they help to indicate anger, and that a curled lip
implies scorn and contempt. It is, however, reserved for a
philosophical mind, and extraordinarily mobile features,
such as Ernst Schulz possesses, to demonstrate how truth-
fully human nature and temperament may be illustra-ted
by one man. Grima.ce is despised, and caricature quietly
put on one side by this student of humanity, who creates
effects which could hardly be credited, and never desoends
to violence or vulgarity. Ernst Schulz presses down his
hair, turns his collar down, and settles his marvellously
plastic features into a representation of scmi-imbedlity
absolutely startling from its simple truth and fidelity. He
does not show us a maundering idiot, which picture to a
certain extent must always be repulsive, but he brings us faco
to faco with a simpering fool we all immediately rooo^^izo
as a common object in every-day-life. The lecturer's facial
illustration of the " phlegmatic " temperament, the pnrse-
proud man, and the '* pious person " are living photographs
of the highest artistic exceUence. Herr Schulz, in the second
part of his lecture, treated of the " Lights and Shadows of
Character betrayed in the Beard," and here made use of fwme
peculiarly cunning arrangement by which he threw a shadow
on his face of the exact shape and size required for the
" military moustache," the " millionaire's whiskers," or the
** diabolical beard." The portrait album was rather a
mistake, inasmuch as the bodies of the subjects were badly
drawn and painted. Herr Schulz, of course, put his head
through the canvass, and perhaps he treated the " working
man " somewhat unJdndly. By the assistance of dreaan
and the mysteriously arranged light, he finished with a series
of typical portraits. A Tyrolese, an American Indian, and
a specimen of Bosjesman female beauty, were indnded
in this section of a highly intellectual entertainment.
He sits at a table, and manages the complexion, whiskers,
and beard-imitating apparatus with unerring certainty
and without assistance. It may be some artful com-
bination of mirrors and rofiectors that enables him to
throw the light, flesh-tint, beard, and moustache on his
face at the same instant. Whatever may be his means at
command, the result is extraordinary, and Herr Ernst
Schulz' 8 entertainment is a thing to be seen.

April 1, 1887.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE EARTH.

By J. Cabfsnteb, P.B.A.S., of the Boyal Obeerratory, Greenwich.

HE Mosaic record of the
Creation tells of the period
when " the earth was with-
out form and void." With-
out this authoritative testi-
mony, the evidence of our
senses alone would lead us
to the conviction that the
materials of which the world
is composed must have ex-
isted, at some time, in a form different from that in
which we now find them. In the smaller pheno-
mena of nature we are for ever witnessing a constant
succession of changes taking place — a perpetual
mutation in form and nature occurring in the same
material substances. All is transitory, nothing is
finite. Everything that is has already existed in
some other form before, and will exist in yet another
form again. The operations of natuml laws vary
quantitatively, but not qualitatively ; and if the law
of transformation governs the lesser works of the
Creator it governs the greater also : the earth, like
every object that exists upon it, must have had an
origin from some simpler and more elementary
form of matter. Guided by the light of modern
science, let us endeavour to discover what that
origin was.

Our earth is but a small and insignificant member
of a vast planetary system, all the components of
-which must have had a common or a contempo-
raneous origin : to inquire into the origin of the
earth we must embi*ace in our inquiry the
formation of the whole solar system. The first
physicist who attempted a solution of this question
-was the celebrated French naturalist, Buffon :
although several romantic theories for the for-
mation of the earth alone had been put forth by
the fantastic cosmogonists, Burnet, Whiston, and
"Woodward. These, however, scarcely need mention
here : as much as is worth knowing concerning
them is to be found in popular shape in Goldsmith's
** History of the Earth and Animated Nature."
Buffon's hypothesis supposed that the sun existed
at some period of remote antiquity without any
attendant planets, and that a comet, dashing
obliquely upon it, ploughed up and drove off a
portion of the solar matter suflScient in bulk to
VOL. II. — XI.

form the various planets of the system : that the
earth and planets at the time of their quitting the
sun were in a liquid, burning state, and that by
degrees they cooled; while in their liquid state
assuming their spherical form. But this hypo-
thesis is in many respects untenable ; principally,
because it assumes the sun to be already existent,
whereas any explanation of the origin of the solar
system must include that of the principal member ;
secondly, because it is insufficient to explain the
mechanical conditions of the system. The theory,
howeVer, deserves notice, as haviog induced inquiry
into one more probable.

Kepler, and others among the early astro-
nomers, imagined that the sun and stars — the suns
of distant worlds — had been formed by the con-
densation of celestial vapours : Kepler basing his
supposition upon the phenomena of the sudden
bursting forth of new stars upon the margin of the
milky way — ^the only celestial appearance then
known which seemed to be of' vapoury nature.
But when the telescope fathomed the depths of
celestial space and revealed to our knowledge the
existence of those mysterious patches of hazy
luminosity that received the name of nehtUce,
strong evidence was afforded of the possible
validity of the old astronomer's supposition. It
may be necessary to inform those who are un-
initiated in the details of celestial nature that these
nebulse are faint patches of diffused light which
abound in great numbers all over the heavens ;
assuming an infinite variety of form, and looking
like little wisps or spots of thin cloud, or fog, in
the field of the telescope. The earliest telescopes
served to discover but a very few of them : it was
only when the immense and powerful instruments
of the elder Herschel swept every nook and comer,
as it were, of the heavens with their stupendous
eyes, that their exceeding abundance came to be
recognised. This giant among observers found no
less than 2,500 of such nebulse, and yet he over-
looked the thousands that have been detected by
various subsequent astronomers.

During the earlier course of his nebular re*
searches. Sir William Herschel appears to have
inclined to the opinion that all nebulae were in
reality remote clusters of stars, so remote and so

THE FOUNDATIONS OP THE EABTH.

[Hatut aad lit, April 1, Ui7.

thickly clustered as to affect the eye only by their
united lustre — just as a handful of sand thrown on
the floor would look only like a dusky patch to an
eye so distant that it could not perceive the
individual grains. Some of them were clearly
resolvable into their component stars with high
telescopic power, and it was thought that a aufficierU
increase of optical power would resolve the whole
of them. But as his familiarity with their features
increased, he was led to an opinion analogous to
that of some of the older astronomers : that was,
that they were immense heaps of some vapoury or
elementary matter out of which stars were, in the
course of countless ages, formed by a process of
condensation, such as the attraction of one particle
by another would produce. "With this theory in
his mind he was led to classify the various
descriptions of nebulse that had passed in review
before him, according to a plan or scheme of pro-
gressive development : sorting together into one
grade all those of a certain extent of diffusion, and
thode of a more condensed nature into another.
His first class included the extensively diffused and
shapeless nebulosities that are faintly discernible
and traceable over large areas of celestial space;
his second embraced those that exhibited a stage a
little more approaching a regular form ; and so on
through about thirty classes, the latter of which
included those in which the condensation had
proceeded so far as to give them the appearance of
planets or nebulous stars. Between the descriptions
of the members of one class and those of another,
there was not a greater difference than — to quote
his own words — " there would be in an annual
description of the human figure were it given from
the birth of a child till he comes to be a man in his
prime." He further adds: — "the total dissimi-
litude between the appearance of a diffusion of the
nebulous matter and of a star, is so striking, that
an idea o the conversion of the one into the other
can hardly occur to any one who has not before him
the result of the critical examination of the
nebulous system which has been displayed in this
(his) paper. The end I have had in view, by
arranging my observations in the order in which
they have been placed, has been to show, that the
above-mentioned extremes may be connected by
such nearly allied intermediate steps as will make
it highly probable that every succeeding state of
the nebulous matter is the result of the action of
gravitation upon it, while in a foregoing one, and
by such steps the successive condensation of it has
been brought up to the planetary condition."

The observations of Herachel paved the way for
the speculations of the illustrious Laplace.
Herschel, from the evidence afforded by hw ob-
servations, explained how, by the mere action of
gravitation, a chaotic mass of primordial matter was
probably transformed into a body of definite form
and dimensions, though still of a somewhat diffused
and nebulous nature : Laplace demonstrated how
the known laws of gravitation could, from such a
planetary mass of diffused matter, produce a system
of bodies revolving about a great central one, such

as we have an example of. in our solar system.
This theory has ever since been known as Laplace's
nebulcM' hypoifiesis. When its illustrious author
put forth his conjectures he did so, to use his own
words, " with the deference that ought to inspire
everything that is not a result of observation and
calculation ; " at the same time he expressed his
conviction that the striking coincidences of all the
planetary phenomena with the conditions of his
hypothesis, gave his conjectures a probability
strongjy approaching certitude.

It is not easy to giv^ an intelligible description
of such an intricate subject as the nebular hypo-
thesis within the limited confines of a popular
article ; nor is it necessary : those who wish to
pursue it in all its details will hardly resort to a
periodical like ours for their information, as they
know, or would soon learn, where to find the
original work in which it was put forth. All that
is necessary, is to give the reader such few of the
leading features of the theory as will suffice to
explain its principle.

Laplace supposed, then, that the whole solar
system was once a huge nebula, with a slight con-
densation in the centre, like many which we now
find scattered about the heavens ; and that it was
endued with a rotary motion around its centre.
(It must be borne in mind that a nebula as
extensive as the limits of the solar system would be
a very small one compared to many hundreds of
those that are known.) He supposed that in the
process of condensation, combined with the eflfect
of the rotary motion, this nebula threw off or
abandoned certain of its outlying portions from
time to time : first throwing off a zone or ring of
matter which was to form the remotest planet of
our system^Neptune : then condensing a little
more and casting off a second, within the former,
which was to form the next planet — Uranus : then a
third to form Saturn ; a fourth to form Jupiter ; a fifth
to form Mars ; a sixth to form the earth, and so on.
These various concentric rings or zones of matter,
he supposes, themselves broke up and condensed
and formed little nebulae, revolving about the
central one which was left when all the above
wei'e cast off, and which of course constituted the
sun itself; and these little nebulaj, throwing off, in
their turn, successive lesser rings, which were to
form the satellites of each, the whole of tlie
detached portions, the earth among the rest, in the
course of time — immeasurable time — condensed
into globular form, that form which all bodies left
free to take their own shape, naturally assume.
One exception only to a globe occurs in the solar
system, and that is the ring of Saturn, which
Laplace considers to be an exception that proves
the rule, inasmuch as it gives a strong confirmation
of the probability of the original ringed condition
of the various members of the system. The reason
why this annulus is not found in other cases is that
the mechanical conditions requisite for the perma-
nent maintenance of a ring form would be very
seldom fulfilled. Lest any one should be inclined
to doubt the possibility of the solid earth and all

Natimuul Art. April 1. 1887.

THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE EABTH.

its kindred planets ever having been a mass of
vapour, we may state that if all the matter com-
posing the whole solar system were so spread out
and diffused as to be equally distributed over an area
as laz^ as the orbit of the planet Neptune, the
expanded matter would be so light and thin as to
exceed in rarity atmospheric air ; its condition in
such a state has been compared to the infinitesimal
density of what is called a vacuum in the receiver
of an aii^pump. A ton weight of matter that
would fill the space of a cubic mile must be as thin
as a gas ; but if that ton of matter could be con-
dens^ into the space of a cubic foot, it would be a
material denser than ii-on.

When we consider the fact that the nebtdar
hypothesis of Laplace satisfies nearly, if not
actually, all the conditions that we observe in the
solar system ; when, too, we regard the character
of its exponent, his stupendous mathematical
achievements, and the improbability of his pro-
posing a mere fantastic scheme without satisfying
himself of its validity* on all points, we shall have
no difficulty in appreciating the assertion of the
illustrious Arago, that the ideas of Laplace upon
the constitution of the solar system "are those
only that by their grandeur, their coherence, and
their mathematical character can be truly con-
sidered as forming a physical cosmogony."*

But sceptics had a good reason for disbelieving
this theory. It depended solely upon the existence
of this neb\dous matter, of which the only evidence
was the visibility of patches of nebulous light
scattered about the heavens ; and many of those
were undoubtedly proved, upon scrutiny by power-
ful telescopes, to be nothing but remote clusters of
thickly aggregated stars, so remote and so closely
clustered that they were visible to the dimmer
vision of less powerful instruments only by their
united lustre. Why should not all the so-called
nebulfe be clusters, which future and yet more
powerful instruments would resolve into their
component stars 1 The question was one fraught
with interest to speculative astronomers. One of
the brightest nebulse in the skies, that in the
sword-handle of Orion, although its brightness
indicated a proximity that would have allowed its
component stars to be seen with comparative
facility, nevertheless baffled all attempts to resolve
it, untU at length the stupendous telescope of the
Earl of Rosse was completed and turned upon it.
Then, as was thought, it succumbed, for the Earl of
Rosse declared, upon the authority of his obser-
vations, the greater part of the nebulsa to abound
with stars, and to exhibit the characteristics of
resolvability strongly marked. With the supposed
resolution of this nebula the last stronghold of the
nebular hypothesis was thought to have been over-
thrown.

Thus the matter stood twenty years ago, and
thus it might have remained till now, had not one

* It is a noteworthy fact that the French Bureau des
Longitudes has Bignifioantlj expressed its opinion concerning
Laplace's views by republishing his original notes, in the
last Yolome of its J.nntuurc— that for the present year.

of astronomy's sister sciences stepped in within the
past few years, we might even say months, to lend
her aid to the solution of the mystery. This
science is optics, and that branch of it to which we
are about to allude is the newly-found means of
discovering the chemical constitution of celestial
bodies by analysis of the light they emit. Every
one knows that when a beam of light passes,
through a prism of glass and falls upon a wall, it is
formed into a beautiful luminous band tinged with
all the colours of the rainbow ; this luminous band
being known as the prismatic spectrum. But it
may not be known that this spectrum is not the
same for every sort of light ; that a difierent one
is produced, according as the light emanates from
one luminous source or another. For instance, a
solid body in combustion will give one species of
spectrum, while a flame of a particular gas will
give one of a totally difierent class, and the light
emittecl from a metallic substance in a state of
fusion another. So that if an astronomer applies
a prism to the eyepiece of his telescope while
observing any celestial body, he can tell something
of what the chemical constitution of the body may
be. The sun has been found to be a solid body, in
a state of incandescence, surrounded by the in*
tensely heated vapours of a variety of chemical
substiuices. The fixed stars have been found to
resemble the sun generally, but with slight vari-
ations attributable to a difference of some of the
elements composing them. Now, if the nebulae
were clusters of stars, it would be found that their
light woidd yield spe.ctra analogous to those of
the stars; but, on the contrary, many of them
yield spectra which leave no doubt whatever
that they are composed of immense masses of some
gaseous or vapoury matter. The observations of
this class are exceedingly difficult and delicate, and
the subject is as yet comparatively in its infancy ;
but all that has been done, as yet, goes to support
the nebular hypothesis, by at least proving that cUl
the nebulae are not remote clusters of stars.

But, thanks to the scientific achievements of the
past quarter of a century, we have yet another link
between the facts that we observe, and the theory
by which we would explain them. That the
foundations of our earth were laid under the
action of a fervent heat, is a fact of which the
igneous rocks that form those foundations yield
abundant testimony : and whence was such a heat
derived ] 'I'his question carries us on to another,
for we are led to inquire, what is heat V A few
years ago we should have been told that it was a
subtle fluid pervading the inter-atomic spaces of
matter : now we learn that it is only one of the
many phenomena of motion. The "mechanical
theory of heat," — " the great philosophical doctrine
of the present era of science," as it has been justly
termed, teaches us that heat is nothing more than a
species of motion amongst the atoms or molecules
of bodies. Arrest the motion of a cannon ball by
placing a target in its path; and what is the
consequence 1 The ball is raised to a fiery heat
by the concussion. We rub our hands briskly
h2

100

THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE EAETH.

'[N«foN and Art, Apra 1, 1M7.

together, and they become -warm. A blacksmith
beats a bar of iron with his hammer, and it
becomes red hot Why is this] "We appeal to
the " mechanical theory," and we are told in reply
that — wheftever motion (t. e. force) is arrested, the
motion of the mass becomes transferred to the
atoms or molecules composing it, and this molectdar
motion is heat.

And now to apply this to our subject. In the
collision, or condensation, or aggregation of the
particles of matter that the nebular hypothesis
affirms to have produced the various bodies of our
system, an immense amount of motive power must
have been arrested; and inasmuch as this great store
of force could not be lost or turned to nothing, it
appeared as heat, and an intensity of heat was
generated sufficient to reduce the whole mass to a
state of fiision. To quote the words of one of the
most famous exponents of this new philosophy —
Dr. J. R. Mayer — "Newton's theory of gravitation,
whilst it enables us to determine, from its present
form, the earth's state of aggregation in ages past,
at the same time points out to us a source of heat
powerful enough to produce such a state of
aggregation, powerful enough to melt worlds ; it
teaches us to consider the molten state of a planet
as the result of the mechanical union of cosmical
masses, and thus to derive the radiation of the sun
and the heat in the bowels of the earth from a
common origin." And, as an example of the
amount of heat this collision of cosmical masses
would produce. Dr. Mayer cites that, supposing the
earth to have been formed by the union of the two
masses only, coming together from a great distance
by the influence of their mutual attraction, the
generated heat would have been sufficient, if the
masses had been of nearly equal size, to raise the
temperature of the whole body to from 30,000 to
40,000 degrees of the centigrade scale — twenty
times the temperature of the melting point of
iron ; and the greater the number of parts thus
brought into mechanical combination, the greater
the quantity of heat that would be developed.

" The form of the earth is its history ; " and
this form indicates with mathematical certainty
that it was once a more or less fluid body ; the
flattening at the poles being precisely of that
extent; which a liquid mass rotating at the speed of
the earth would be subject to ; and the igneous
phenomena of the earth's crust, and the store of
heat yet embowelled in its interior, are ample evi-
dence that its former fluid condition was that of a
molten mass rather than that of an aqueous
solution.

But, assuming this to have been the origin of the
primary condition of the earth, there must have
been a time when the igneous body began to part
with its heat, by radiation into surrounding space ;

and it is in this cooling process that we are to look
for a cause for the diversity of geological features
that the surface of our planet presents to view.

We may reasonably suppose, and the heated
state of the earth's interior supports the sup-
position, that the first portion of the globe to cool
was the exterior. The cooling and solidification of
this portion would result in the production of a
solid shell enclosing a molten nucleus, somewhat as
we now find to be the case. Now between this
solid shell and molten interior there would be a
constant succession of conflicting actions: the
shell, contracting as it cooled, would squeeze up, as
it were, the interior : the interior, in its turn
solidifying, would expand — for all substances expand
in passing frt)m the molten to the' solid state— and
thrust outward the confining shell; then, contracting
as it further cooled, it would shrink away fbmthe
shell which, now unsupported, would fall in upon
the retreating nucleus. By actions like these, the
smooth surface which the planet might otherwise
have retained would be broken up and distorted ;
mountain ranges would be formed by the ejection
of the molten interior through the broken shell;
continents be produced by the alternate thrustings-
out and fallings-in which the shell would be subject
to; and all those irregularities be occasioned which
manifest themselves in the igneous foundations of
the globe.

Fire on the one hand, and water on the other, are
the two elements to which all the geological
features of the earth are referable. With the
-second of these elements we have no concern in
this sketch, for it is tolerably well known that its
action produced those deposits which constitute the
secondary and tertiary formations of the geologist,
and which we may regard as superstructures reared
upon a foundation that had a fiery origin. In-
credible as it may appear to those who look at the
present condition of the world they inhabit, there
can be little doubt that that world was once a fiery
globe, glowing possibly with a fervour comparable
with t£it of the sun as we now behold it, though of
far less significant size. How many centuriesr— how
many himdred centuries — have elapsed since this
was the case ? "We have an approximation to the
period, but it may be enormously in error. Sir
William Thompson, from a calculation of the rate
of cooling of earthly bodies, assigns for the cooling
of the crust of the earth, from a state of fusion to
its present temperature, a period of 98 millions of
years. And if this incomprehensible inter\'al has
elapsed since the earth took its finite form, how
great, how stupendous, must be^theTlapse of time
that has intervened since the matter of which it is
composed, wandered through space a chaotic mass
" without form and void !"

itnH Ar».Ai.iil 1 1;.«;7

JbtanuMl Art. April 1, 1M7.]

ON SKETCHING FROM NATTJBE.

101

ON SKETCHING FROM NATURE.

By Aauon Penlst, Professor of Landscape Painting at the Boyal Military Academy, Woolwich.
No. IX. A SPUR OP BEN LOMOND.

1)HIS is the first Runset drawing introduced into
. the pages of Nature and Art. The effect
is that of a summer's evening when the sun has
just sunk below the horizon, leaving the heavens
illumined in softened, but still golden, light At
this particular time such an amount of warm
reflection is diffused over the landscape as finds its
way to the feelings of most people — at any rate, of
all who are nature-loving, and who delight in the
study and practice of transmitting her effects to
paper. We all like warmth of colour — ^it is natural
to do so ; there is something cheering and exciting
in it; and for this reason, apart even from that
mingling of harmonizing and contrasting hues, a
sunset effect i» always looked upon with pleasure.

To give a simple, yet an agreeable illustration, I
have avoided any complicated arrangement of
clouds, whereby the pupU would be confused, and
have sought to produce a breadth of effect and
singleness of character which will tend to show the
blending of tones peculiar to the sunset I have also
selected for study a description of scenery calculated
to convey instruction and manipulative dexterity —
the latter being requisite, truly requisite, for the
expression, of intention. And this being the case,
I cannot advocate too much a neat and careful
method of handling the brush, or a careful study,
before applying it, of what has to be done, and of
the manner in which it is to be done. A little
halting, with some thought upon " the why and the
wherefore," will greatly help to success, whereas
the want of it will always be accompanied by
^Bulure. An esteemed friend of mine, who really is
an excellent amateur artist, once told me that im-
mediately he began to put on the first wash of the
sky, it was "a case of sal volatile, he felt so
nervous." That this is a general feeling I can pretty
well testify, having witnessed it so constantly in
my numerous pupils ; therefore I the more earnestly
recommend the exercise of thought, first upon the
matier and then upon the manner of treating it.
In addition to all this, cleanliness is most desirable,
and should be observed in respect to the Colour-
box, Brushes, and Paper. The first should (at least
in my opinion) always be sponged clean, and wiped
with a pallette cloth after finishing the day's paint-
ing. It will then be ready for further use, and the
most delicate tints may be produced without danger
of unnecessary mixture. The brushes should dso
be washed and put into form by passing them
through the pallette cloth. As for the paper, too
great care cannot be taken in keeping its surface
free from dirt or abrasion of any kind ; and, to
preserve the equality of texture, bread will be found
preferable to india-rubber in making corrections.
With these prefatory remarks, I begin to place

before the amateur directions for copying the
present subject upon Loch Lomond. It is only in
the first stages of progi*ession, and yet sufficiently
coloured to give a somewhat true and pleasing
impression.

I have said much — but not too much — ^upon the
necessity of having a correct and well -drawn outline
before thinking of commencing to colour. I will
now only say, let it not be neglected. After the
paper has been washed with clean water and a
lai^e brush, prepare some rose madder (or crimson
lake) and yellow ochre in two different tints —
the one inclining to a roseate hue and the other to
a L'ght amber; and, while the drawing is still damp,
commence at the top with the i*ed tint and join the
yellow midway, then add the red just above the
mountains, and also over them as far as the water,
where again change for the yellow, passing over the
middle distance and foregroimd to the right, and
then again taking more red over the immediate
front. While in its wet condition, take a piece of
blotting-paper, folded once or twice, and touch with
its sharp edge upon the white light on the stones
by the water's edge, which will remove the colour
very softly, and regain the white of the paper.
This method of obtaining light is frequently put
into practice when fleecy clouds or a mackarel sky
are to be represented. When this first blotting in
(or washing in) of colour is dry — quite dry — the
drawing should be turned upside down, and the
yellow portion of the sky passed over with clean
water, and then a tint of cobalt, with a little
rose madder (or lake) introduced into it, and
carried to the top of the sky. This will give the
grey warmth of tone seen above. After this, make
some tints of the amber, roseate, and blue hues,
and apply them over the mountains, observing
where the several changes occur. Take care not to
let the blue mingle with the orange tone, which
would completely spoil the purity of colour, but let
it rather amalgamate with the roseate tint, where
it will unite agreeably into the soft clear greys,
away from the influence of sunlight. Attention to
these contrasting as well as harmonizing varieties
must be observed, as by them the effect of lustrous
light, if I may so speak, is preserved. The water
will also receive light washes from these colours.
The warm yellow tones of the middle distance, as
well as the grass, are to be put in with yellow
OCHRE and a little rose madder. The grey shadows
(warm in character) must also have their first
washes placed correctly, and somewhat strongly,
with the edges decided and clear.

At this stage, when the whole of the above flat
tints are satisfactorily done, it is desirable to wash
an over them with a soft brush and clean water, to

102

THE DBAMA. AUDIENCES AND PEEFOEMANCES.

[Naton And Ax< Aptil 1,110.

remove the coloimng matter from the upper surface
of the paper. If propei'ly washed, scarcely any of
the colour will come off : nor should it, the object
beiog simply to produce a more perfect blending,
and to adapt the paper better to receive eveiy
subsequent wash. I find the safer plan to do this
successfully is to place the drawing a short time
before the fire, so that the colour may become
hardened, and have some hold upon the paper, and
then the washing may generally be depended upon.
Different papers, however, have much to do in this
respect, as well as the grantdation - of surface. A
very fine texture, much sized, does not absorb the
colour so well as a more open grain with less size :
therefore too smooth a surface should bo avoided.
On the other hand, too rough a grain will not admit
of the brush giving that clear and decided handling
so much to be desired — at all events, by the tyro —
in water-colour painting.

The washing having been accomplished, other
tones* have to be passed over the mountains (and
sky if too light), with precisely the same colours,
giving to each part the tint of which it partakes.
The trees in the middle distance are of a variety of
tones, produced from cobalt, yellow oonRE, and

CRIMSON LAKE (uot roso madder). For the middle
distance and gi*ass in the foreground use gamboge,
RAW SIENNA, and SEPIA. The stones are also con-
tinued in their darker touches and shadows with

COBALT, YELLOW OCHRE, and LAKE, which ColoUTS

are also to be employed for the stems of the trees.
In the foliage of the nearer trees there is much
diversity, and it is requisite to observe the exact
character of the green tints, giving them precwely
according to the copy, as their position is of mudi
value to the effect of the whole drawing. Gamboge,
BURNT SIENNA, and INDIGO, with the addition of
LAKE for one of them, are to be the colours £}r
these several gradations or varieties of hues. The
brush should be tolerably well filled for putting in
these washes. The road is to have a slight wash of
COBALT and rose madder over the front part, in
order to send the light upon it to that part by the
trees.

Beyond the foregoing instructions I say nothing,
thinking it as well that, in the more immediate
details, the pupil had better exercise the knowledge
already attained. In a future number I purpose
giving the same drawing in its finished state, wh^
I shall speak of its composition at some length.

THE DRAMA. AUDIENCES AND PEEFORMANOES.

SOME of the reflective people who go to the
theatres more to oblige others than them-
selves, are beginning to make philosophical in-
quiries as to the kind of entertainments they find
there. The majority are not so inquisitive, and
take the goods the managers provide for them
without much inquiry or criticism. Of course
when a London man goes to a theatre and pays, he
goes because he has some liking for the class of
entertainment announced ; and therefore, if he
does exercise any judgment upon it, it is not upon
the species, but the individual specimen of it
which he witnesses. Having selected a 'theatre
which announces a burlesque or a pantomime, he
confines his comparisons to the performance he sees.
There are, however, large numbers of persons — and
they consist generally of those from the country —
who, having to " do " the theatres in a few days, go
haphazard into them, taking the performances as
they may chance to turn up. It is this class of
playgoers, though they have little critical capacity
and no experience, that is most dissatisfied wiii
the theatres; and if they happen to bo of the
educated order, such as country magistrates, local
professional people, or clergymen, it is from them
that the deepest cry issues of the decline of the
British drama. In their youth, when they were
more capable of enjoying and less inclined to
criticise, they recollect seeing some peerless actor,
some extraordinary genius ; and to this standard they
rack every performer, expecting from a walking

gentleman the intensity of an Edmund Kean,
or the grandeur of a Kemble. They have also
read, as a part of the literature of the country, the
dramatic collections ; and thus unprepared for the
modem drama, it seems to them a mass of either
vicious intrigue, outrageous exaggeration, or in-
comprehensible nonsense. It may be said, if this is
the impression produced on our country cousins,
how is it that they throng the theatres and contribute
so very largely to their support 1 There are two
replies to this assertion. First, provincial persons
are very chary of giving absolute judgments ; and,
secondly, there are such influxes every hour of
them into London that it is the succession of visitors,
and not the repetition of visits, that constitutes
our great London audiences. There are also many
metropolitans who are in the same condition as the
country visitors, as living in the suburbs, and only
occasionally going to the theatre ; though they are
somewhat more influenced by the actual per-
foimance, and proportionally drawn by the par-
ticular entertainment announced. Still, both classes
of these kinds of visitors are in the main actuated
rather by the idea of " going to the play," than
by any other motive. ^

Although, then, country and suburban visitors
form a very large proportion of theatre supporters,
yet there are still a large class of persons who are
regular habitu6s and frequenters of them. The
million who dwell within a two-mile radius of St
Paul s still furnish a large proportiou of theatre

ira*nT% and Art. ApzU 1, 1887.]

THE DRAMA. AUDIENOES AND PEBFOEMANCES.

103

frequenters, and these, each in his degree, are
critics, and discnminate after their fashion veiy
precisely on the performances. They lead and,
indeed, generally make the demonstrations on the
part of the audience. But even of these many are
only occasional visitors, and therefore are perfectly
passive. The young butcher and Matilda Mary
Anne at the play have other thoughts in their
heads than the precise amount of intelligence Mr.
Phelps displays, or than even the exact amount of
vivacity shown by the Harlequin and Columbine.
Still, the majority of London play-goers have a
standard of excellence, and expect a fulfilment of
it, and if the English drama has any patrons who at
all affect its performances, it is tlus class, which is,
however, subdivided into many departments. The
chief divisions are the youths of the lower class,
who frequent the galleries, and the young men of
the upper class, who frequent the stalls and the pits,
according to the capacities of their pockets. The
boxes are more frequented by families ; and mater-
familiaa is anything but critical on fine-art matters,
so that her children are pleased. As it is only by
analyzing audiences that we can come to the
rationale of stage performances, we have indulged
in this dissertation. There is of course a great
action and reaction in the matter of public
amusements. The manager is anxious to attract,
and the audiences expect to be pleased. In ful-
filling these efibrts, many mistakes are made, and
theatrical management becomes a very tentative
occupation. Certainly many pieces have achieved
extraoi*dinary runs that no one anticipated. It
-was a mere experiment that brought Mr. Sothem
before a London audience ; and we well recollect
that, in the theatre he was to appear at, great
doubts were expressed as to his success. That he
would be endured was doubtful, yet the town,
including those presiding young men of the pits
and galleries, so took to him that he performed the
same character every night for a year. When the
" Colleen Bawn " came out, there was nothing in it
to show it would become the most popular piece of
the time ; and even now it is difficult to say why it
was so. Taste, however, in matters of amusement,
^^ vires acquirit eundo : " and this vis is commonly
called fashion. What many admire, all wish to see.
Theatrical people, whom many suppose to be the
most reckless of mortals, are, on the contrary, the
most cautious and careful in professional matters.
A successful modem manager is the most pains-
taking of men ; actors the most punctual. Neither
military nor commercial men are more exact in
their business matters. Nothing will induce a
manager to voluntarily run the risk of the failure of
a piece ; nor will any actor of repute take a part he
thinks likely to be damned. Neither of them has
any very strong perceptive powers as to the capacity
of an untried drama ; nor of an entirely original
part. They are almost wholly guided by fects.
A successftil French melodrame will be played at
every theatre in London, and become a model for all
dramas until some other piece of a totally diflTerent
^ind unexpectedly arises, when there is another

flooding of the managerial mind. The " Ticket-of-
Leave Man" succeeds; and there is no end of
burglarious plays. "Lady Audle/s Secret" is
dramatized, and all the authoress's novels are put
on the stage. An old comedy which has a literary
but no theatrical repute, revived in mere despair,
attracts, and all the most celebrated of a like
kind are produced. In the theatre, all is tentative
that is original ; but the staple of the stage is a
manufacturing to pattern.

To manufacture is the genius of this age ; and
he who does not manufacture may become famous,
but he never will become rich. The premium of
millions is given to successful manufacture ; but no
man without multiplying talent can be a million-
naire by his own efforts. The tenor singer may earn
large sums, but the spinner of popular melodies
will make infinitely more. The dramatists are
beginning to learn this ; and therefore their entire
aim is to be popular. They no longer conduct
themselves as literary men, but avow they are
manufacturers. Mr. Boucicault is the least literary
and the most successful of stage-play manufiEu^turers;
and he not only knows how to manufacture, but he
has a complete commercial knowledge in the
vending of his wares. He gets every penny out of
them. It must be owned, his scientific knowledge
of the construction of dramatic wares is very exact
and ingenious. He has carefully studied what
tells on the stage ; he is very diligent in collecting
interesting material; he is most unscrupulous as
regards taste in using it It is not that he writes
dramas that exemplify human nature, or reflect
human events, or even human probabilities; but
that he knows how to excite the mind of his
audience, and put them in a state that the grossest
impossibilities will be received for facts. He is at
present the first of stage manufiaxiturers. Many
others emulate him ; but they have not his finish.
" Arrah na Pogue " was finished so completely that
it seemed to have something of the creation of
literature in it ; but it had not. Mr. Tom Taylor
has more of literary power; and he has not yet
quite come to studying nothing but stage effect.
His characters say, as well as do, something. Yet
in this author the artisan manipulation is becoming
far more ^,pparent than the art work. His last
production at the Haymarket, " A Lesson for
Life," is extremely mechanical, although the first
two acts are manipulated with great skOl. The
last act is absolutely coarse work : probably the
chief actor has set his clumsy hand to it to make
the relief higher ; but, in so doing, he has become
fulsome and exaggerated. The manufacturing
system is strongly shown at the Lyceum Theatre ;
although it is rather in the accessories than the
drama that the handici-aft is exercised. Here the
stage business is faultless. The scenery in " Eouge
et Noir" is all of the best kind of manufacture.
Ditto the costumes. Ditto the upholstery. Ditto
the realities of all kinds. Ditto the acting. Conse-
quently it is impossible to find fault ; but it is equally
impossible to be interested. Like the domesticated
game sold iu the markets, it is fresh, it is plump, it

104

INGBES.

»•*«« Mid Alt, April 1. IBV.

looks all that pheasants and partridges should ; but
it is flavourless. Truly the feasts of the Barmecides
are not confined to taverns ! everywhere we have
all the outward show of literature, drama, art ; but
we test them — and lo ! they are a mockery.

And why is it that riches can command every-
thing but excellence 1 Truly because excellence is
scarce ; and the thorough appreciation of it almost
equally so. The nightingale sings in the bush ; and
if nightingales were to become the rage, they would
be manufactured by thousands ; but the incessant
little warbler in the artificial bush in the conserva-
tory or at the theatre, would be a very different
thing to the lonely songster at the edge of a moor
warbling to solitude and a distant listener. Yes !
everybody wants to make money, in order, as he
thinks, that he may have everything else. But the
multitude can only be supplied by manufacture ;
and nature is still so kind ^at she gives her setting
suns, her nightingales, and her balmiest airs to the
poor ploughman, who " homeward plods his weary

way.'' It comes all then to this : the miUions can
only be supplied by manufacture ; and noble art,
— which is but another name for the highest
excellence, — is only the produce of some one rare
mind; esteemed by the few of a congenital nature;
and only gradutdly and gently disseminated to
the many. Whether the many can ever be so
enlarged and so elevated as to at once see and
approve the highest, cannot be discussed here.
All that is sought in these desultory utterances
is to show that the present state of the stage grows
out of circumstances — ^perhaps out of uncontrollable
circumstances ; that it is no better and no worse
off than other branches of art and literature;
and that the drama of the present day is as much
a manufacture as clocks and watches are. There is,
however, this vast difference, that the stage is more
at variance with the mind of the age than the
watch machinist is, because in matters which bear
the semblance of art, the soul seeks for delight, and
is not satisfied with utility.

INGRES.

FULL of years and honours the greatest of the
French painters has gone down to his grave.
He survived his favourite and most devoted pupil
scarcely three years ; for Hippolyte Flandnn died,
it will be remembered, in the spring of 1864.
The distinction which Ingres had attained and
the success he had achieved are well known to
those who are interested, however little, in the
Art of France. But the struggles of this painter's
youth — stru^les prolonged, indeed, into middle
age — the ^erce controversies as to his claim
to honour and fame : these are not so widely
known. With the mention of his name there
rises in our minds the image of the great artist,
incontestably successful ; the artist whom a king of
the house of Orleans, and an emperor of the house
of Bonaparte agreed to distinguish ; who was made
a grand officer of the Legion of Honour and a
senator of France. But the name of Ingres is not
less truly associated with the toils of years, and
with wearisome struggles for recognition, • made
almost alone and in the hce of the most powerful
opposition. Ingres found no royal road to fame
and fortune : he beat out his own track painfully
and laboriously, and in the midst of profoimd dis-
couragements. He was bom at Montauban, on
the Idth September, 1781 ; and he showed a taste
or a talent for painting when he was a very young
child : but his father had designed that he should
devote himself to music. The fathers of men of
genius generally have some cherished plan for
their sons, which they at last reluctantly abandon :
and so it was with the father of Ingres. Fearful
lest his own wish should never be realized, he
actually forbade his son to draw or to paint. But

at Toulouse, where the boy was receiving his
education, he got this prohibition withdrawn ; and,
later still, the paVent consented that young Ingres
should be a painter. The youth went to Paris, and
placed himself under David, who was then at the
height of his fame. He was nineteen years old
when he obtained the second prize from the
Academic des Beaux Arts ; and not long afler-
wards he took the first prize, through the merits
of his Embassy to the Tent of A^ilUs, Such
early successes may seem to belie the statement
that his upward course was a course of struggle ;
but it should be remembered that in those early
days the school of David was in the ascendant;
and the trying days for that school were still to
come. When the tide began to turn, and a
different class of painters became popular in
France, it was urged that M. Ingres — ^the obscure
young man from the country — had been too pro-
fusely rewarded ; and if the decisions of the last
few years could have been reversed, reversed they
would have been. In 1808 he painted a portrait
of Napoleon, which was purchased for the Hotel
des Invalides ; and when that work was finished he
left Paris for Home. It was his intention to
remain in Rome four or five years ; but that
l)eriod was greatly exceeded, on account of the
coldness with which the works he sent to France
were received in his native country. At Rome, in
1813, he married ; but his worst days were still to
come. From that time forward, for some years, he
was dependent for his daily bread upon the sale of
pencil sketches. Nevertheless, this period saw the
beginning and completion of some of his best
pictures. They are known chiefly in Italy ; or, at

iNaluw nh*l Art..V|jril iJW'.T

Li:*"'

ir.tat««d Art. April 1,1887.] A FEW NOTES, mSTOBIOAL ANB HEBALDIO, ON THE LION.

105

all events, they were at the time of their pro-
duction, though the knowledge of them has now
reached the country of his birth. In 1820 M.
Ingres moved to Florence, where he painted the
Entry of Charles V. into Paris, and ihe Vow of
Louis XIIL, both of which are in the cathedral of
Montauban. The Apotheosis of Homer, which is
generally r^arded as his master-piece, was painted
when the artist was back again in Paris, in the year
1827. Perhaps it represents, as well as any single
picture can, the range and power of his genicis —
his ideal composition, his correct drawing, his sober
colouring. Yet the claims of this picture to praise
were, at the time, fiercely contested ; though now
the great classic artist had his own band of
supporters, who made a good fight on his behalf.

In Palis Ingres established a school, to which
those young students who had the best judgment
and taste, or the wisest advisers, quickly resorted.
Hippolyte FJandrin joined this school on his arrival
from Lyons ; and he was never slow to avow hia
obligations to its master. As a man the pupil
loved M. Ingres: as an artist he almost adored
him. And if we desire a more impartial testimony
to the beneficial influence of Ingres than the
£Eivourite pupil and attached friend himself could
give, we ^d it in the words used by the Yicomte
Delaborde to describe that influence : — " C'est nn
honneur pour le peintre de VApotheose cPffom^e
d'avoir form6 le peintre de Saint- Vincent de Paul,
et cet honneur est d'autant plus grand que les
exemples foumis au disciple ont, en instruisant
celui-ci, moins d6natur6 son propre sentiment,
moins compromis Tind^pendance de sa pens6e. M.
Ingres a pu transmettre, et il a en effet r6v616, it
Fltmdrin les secrets de Tampleur et de la finesse
dans Texdcution, d'une correction s^vdro dans les
formes."

In 1834, and not five years before that date, as
has been incori*ectly stated, Ingres was appointed
director of the French Academy at Home, on the
resignation of M. Horace Yernet. Some of his
friends thought it a pity for him to leave France
just as his name (so they thought) was becoming
more famous and his teaching more honoured.
But Ingres accepted the situation ; and, if the truth
were known, he was probably glad to escape the

endless and wearisome discussions to which his
pictures gave rise, and which so long as ho remained
in Paris he could not altogether avoid. Truth was
on his side. It was great, and he knew it would
prevail. So he could afford to wait the issue, and
give himself to work. It was from Home, we
believe, that M. Ingres sent his great picture of
Stratonice — the famous picture bought first by the
Duke of Orleans, then acquired by M. Demidoff*.
and afterwards in possession of the Due d' Aumale.
About 1842, the painter returned to France, and
from that time till 1855, he was busily engaged in
painting. At the Universal Exhibition held in
Paris in the last-mentioned year, he was fortunate
enough to have a room assigned entirely to his own
works ; and a noble disjday they made of all that
is most graceful and pure in allegoric^ or in simply
religious painting.

Since 1855 M. Ingres has painted less than in
the days of his middle life ; yet his brush has not
been idle. The Source, a girFs figure entirely
"undressed," attracted the notice of everybody
and the admiration of artists, at the International
Exhibition held in London in 1862. It was said
to be a portrait, very much " idealized," of the
daughter of his concierge.

In these latter days no voice has been lifted up
to contest the great painter's supremacy; and,
though many artists in his own country stray from
the broad clear lines he has laid down for them to
follow, there are few who would not admit the
excellence of his teaching and of his own practice.
King Louis Philippe named him a knight of the
Legion of Honour, and subsequently a commander.
A sovereign yet more apt to distinguish genius and
to reward it, promoted him to the rank of Grand
Officer in 1855. In 1862 that monarch named
him a senator of France : he could bestow no
higher compliment upcm the veteran painter.
Happy in his domestic relations, at peace with the
world, and soothed with the thought that full
recognition had after many days been made of his
genius and laborious efforts, Jean-Auguste-
Dominique Ingres died, in his eighty-sixth year, on
the 14th of January, leaving the classicists, who
had so long clustered round him, in grief and in
embarrassment where to find a new leader.

A FEW NOTES, HISTORICAL AND HERALDIC, ON THE LION.

THE probably wide-spread existence of the
Lion, in the early ages of man's history, is a
point which appears to us to have been somewhat
overlooked by the numerous writers who have
undertaken to describe the so-called " Monarch of
the Forest." The intimate acquaintance with the
peculiarities of these animals, which we observe
in the works of ancient artists, and of writers
sacred and profane, though it may not wholly
determine, at least appears strongly to favour the

supposition of such existence. The subject is an
interesting one, both to the student of history and
to the naturalist, as affording presumptive evidence
of a former prevalence of the species which must
have exerted an importsmt influence on the ex-
tension alike of the human family and of other races
of the animal kingdom,* in regions where all

* M. Jules Gerard estimated the destruction of cattle by
each lion in Algeria at ^300 per annam.

Another French writer (M. Chaissaing) caloolates it at

106

A FEW NOTES, HISTOEICAL AND HERALDIC, ON THE LION. [KttuwMid Art, April list.

traces of its presence (in the shape of organic
remains or otherwise) have been lost.

Let us turn in the first instance to the writers of
the Old Testament of every period, from the days
of the patriarch Job to those of the Babylonish
Captivity, twelve centuries later. Biblical comment-
ators enumerate &ve different terms thus applied by
those writers ; viz., gur, a Lion whelp ; chephir, a
young Lion just leaving his parents ; a/ri, a young
Lion just paired ; sachel, an old Lion ; laish, a
fierce (or more litei-ally a black) Lion.*

Thus we have in Ezekiel, chap. xix. : " She
brought up ^one of her whelps' (gti/r), and it
became 'a young lion* (chephir), and learned to
devour men."

And in Numbers xxiiL : " The people shall rise
up like a great lion, and lift himself up as 'a
young lion ' (cm) ; he shall not lie down till he eat
of the prey, and drink the blood of the slain."

And in 2 Sam. xviL 10 : " Whose heart is valiant
as the heart of a lion " (art).

Again in Job iv. 10 : "The roaring of the lion
(aachd), the voice of the * fierce lion ' (laish), and
the teeth of the * young lions ' " (arim).

And in Proverbs xxvL : " A slothful man saith
there is a lion (sctcheT) in the way, a lion (sachel) is
in the streets j" and in chap. xxx. : " A lion {laish),
which is the strongest among beasts."

Many more passages might be quoted, but the
above are, we think, suflicient to show, not only
an intimate acquaintance with the peculiarities of
the Lion on the part of the sacred writers, but also
that the similes they used (the points of which are
partly lost in the translations) were assumed to
have the force of familiar incidents to those to
whom their writings were addressed.

The Assyrian antiquities are an example of the
same familiarity with the Lion, among ancient
artists. If due allowance be made for the material
in which these bas-reliefs were executed, and for the

1 sheep every day ; 1 ox every month ; 1 horse every two
months, besides many camels, and a considerable number
of human lives for each adnlt lion dnring his career. He
quotes the probable deetmction, nnder the first three heads
alone, in two departments of Algeria, at .£27,000 per
annum. Neither will these accounts api>ear exaggerated,
if we bear in mind the immense loss of human life and the
frightful slaughter of cattle, in certain districts of India,
by wild animals (chiefly tigers and wolves), in despite of
the large sums paid annually as rewards for their destruction.

• Lions* whelps (gurim) when small are, as the writer can
vouch, playful and affectionate, though very destructive
pets.

When between one and two years old, they begin to kill
on their own account (chephir), and according to M. Jules
Gerard, at two years are able to strangle a horse or camel.
He adds, the destruction they then cause is frightful ; they
appear to kill in order *' to learn to kill."

The Lion attains maturity at eight years, and when he
first pairs appears peculiarly daring (ari). When he gets
old and unable to pull down game, he frequents the
neighbourhood of villages and becomes a man-eater
(sachel). Both in North and South Africa, black lions,
i.e. those with dark tips to the hairs of the mane, are
reputed the most fierce. Becent naturalists incline to the
belief that size, colour, &c. depend on locality and the
nature of the cover the animal frequents, rather than on
difference of species.

fact of the figures being invariably in profile, and
in outline only, the spirit and fidelity with which
the lions are rendered will, we think, be allowed by
every close observer to be remarkable, and to
contrast strikingly to the disadvantage of many
" Studies from the Life " of artists of later date.*

It must be remembered that in those days
Chaldsea was not the wilderness it has since
become, but teemed with a busy population, pos-
sessing a degree of civilization and refinement,
such as recent discoveries have at length enabled us
in some measure to recognize and imderstand.

In ancient profane writers, the same &ct is ob-
servable. Let us take the frequent allusions to the
lion which are to be met with in the Iliad ; without
going to extremes, like the learned commentators of
whom Swift wrote, —

" Who view
In Homer more than Homer knew,"—

we must allow, with a recent critic, " that there is
not a single passage among the many in the Iliad
relating to the Lion, which contains anjrthing that
is not true to nature," and "that whenever and
wherever the bard lived, lions must certainly have
been tolerably plentifuL"

The writings of Aristotle are another example in
point ; wherever he may have acquired his infor-
mation (and this we presume will ever remain an open
question), his description of the Lion is, save in a
few details, correct ; and ais such, differs widely
from the absurdities he has recorded of other equally
common animals, as the camel and the elephant.
It is frequently assumed that many of his details
were drawn from the pages of Homer and Hesiod,
and the resemblance is certainly often very close ;
we may cite his account of the Lion's slow and
deliberate retreat when attacked, turning himself
about at intervals, to glare on his pursuers, the
simile used by Homer to describe the retreat of
Ajax from the Trojan host : —

" Otjpi loiKMC

*EvTpoira\iZ6fiivoe dXiyov ySvv yovvbe dfitiPbtv,**

n. 3d. 486.

Aristotle (quoting, however, most probably, firom
Herodotus) asserts the existence of lions in Europe
in his day.

As a further example of intimacy with the
minuter details of the subject, we would instance
the small claw on the Lion's tail, the existence of
which was denied by modem naturalists, until the
fact was vouched for by Blumenbach ; but which
appears in the Assyrian remains, and is alluded to
by Homer.t The writings of Aristotle no doubt

* The spirit of the originals is, generally speaking,
altogether lost in the f ac-aimiles of the bas-reliefs which are
given in popular works on these antiquities.

fThe following remarks on this point, in Mr. F.
Buokland's entertaining volumes of " Curiosities of Natural
History," Third Series, may not here be out of place.

" In the Proceedings of the Zoological Society, September
11th, 1832, we find it recorded that a specimen was ex-
hibited of a claw, obtained from the tip of the tail of a
young lion from Barbary. It was first seen on the living
animal by Mr. G. Bennett, who pointed it out to the keeper.
They secured the beast, and while handling the c|aw i^

ibtaM And Art, ipra 1.1887.] A FEW NOTES, HISTOBICAL AND HERALDIC, ON THE LION.

107

formed the groundwork of Pliny's well-known
aooount of the animal ; most of the additional
information given by the latter writer consisting of
the absurdest fables. In the case of the I^on
these marvels have always appeared to us somewhat
remarkable, when we keep in view the habits of
personal observation for which the Eoman naturalist
was proverbially noted, and the number of these
animals which it would seem were then brought
to Rome. Thus he relates having himself witnessed
the triumphal entry of Marc Antony, in a oar
drawn by lions;* and a few years later, 800 of
these animals are said to have been brought from
the province of Numidia to the Roman arenas in
the course of a few months. The works of Pliny
and other writers of his day, in their turn, doubtless
furnished the marvel-loving minds of our forefathers
with abundance of pabulum. Not only do we find
traces of their stories in the writings of Bossewell,
Gwillim, and other old heralds, but the illustrations
of many mediaeval MSS., and the carvings in some
of our older cathedrals, abound with conceits of
evident classical origin.

The Idon, however, plays so important a part in

oame right off, and was brought under the notice of the
Society. It is formed of corneous matter, like an ordi-
nary nail, being solid throughout the g^reater part of its
length ; towards the apex it is sharp, at the other end it is
hollow and a little expanded ; it is flattened throughout its
entire length, which does not quite amount to ihree'eighths
of am, inch. Its colour is that of horn, but it becomes dark
OTen to blackness at the tip. Its presence or absence does
not depend on size; as the Lion in Paris, on which it was
found, was of considerable size, while that belonging to the
Society, from which this was taken, was small and young ;
nor upon sex, for, although it was wanting in the female in
London, it existed in the Lioness in Paris." Mr. Bucldand
adds, ** it is evident from their smallness, their variable
form, their complete envelopment in the fur, and especially
from the readiness with which they are detached, that these
can fulfil no very important design, let it be what it may."
He expresses his own belief that the claw is no more than a
bit of the ordinary scarf skin of the tail, which, confined
to its place by the dense hairs which form the tuft at the
end of the tail, is prevented from falling out of its place,
and in time becomes hard and horn-like. — Curiosities of
Natural Historyy Third Series, vol. i. p. 220.

* Lions are occasionally depicted in the Egyptian remains.
One instance, which is specially noticed by Sir G.. Wilkinson,
represents figures hunting with tame lions in place of
hounds. This, if we accept the examples on these remains
as sober representations of fact, and not as having been
occasionally vagaries of the artist's fancies, was but an
instance of that skill in domesticating animals by which
cats were taught to ret^rieve wild fowl in the fens, and apes
to assist in the labours of the husbandman. It is curious,
however, to note that this familiarity with the lion does
not seem to have led to the depreciation of his powers and
attributes observable in the writings of some recent travellers.
The Lion was, on the contrary, a favourite symbol of power
and majesty among the ancient Egyptians. Many examples
of this being the case occur in the hieroglyphioal inscriptions
which have been brought to light of late years. We may
instance one at Beitou-Ally, in honour of Bameses 11., given
by Bosellini, and quoted by Mr. Birch, in his " Introduction
to the Study of the Egyptian Hieroglyphs : "

" O perfect god, very terrible.
The strong Lion ; mighty lord ;
Strangler of hostile lands.

Fallen are the T<ahennu [European] to thy blade,^
Killed lies Phut [Asia] under th^ sandals," &c., ko»

our national heraldry, that we must be permitted to
devote a few words to this point.

The lion appears to have been a £3Eivourite alle-
gorical device, in the earliest times. A golden
Lion was the emblem of the tribe of Judah, a
silver Lion was the badge of the Macedonian
conqueror. Lions (not tigers) were, we are told, the
insignia of many early Indian dynasties,* and the
" ruddy Lion rampant," of Scotland — -though we
may not be prepared, like certain Scotch anti-
quaries, to refer it to the days of the mythical
king Fergus, centuries before the Christian era
— can unquestionably lay claim to great antiquity.
It is remarkable that, with the exception of the
Eagle, the Lion is the'only living creature figured
in the early Rolls of Arms. lions have so been
borne by the sovereigns of England, from the time
when first they possessed armorial insignia. A
Lion was the ensign of the native princes of
Wales; t of the kings of Norway, of Denmark, of
Leon, of Bohemia, of Hungary ; of the counts of
Holland, of Hainault^ of £u, <!bc. &o. It occurs,
in like manner, in the arms of the most powerful
English barons.

The lion was at first represented by heralds as
rampant, i,e. in the attitude of combat OTtZy, and as
such waa typical of all the nobler attributes, —
courage, fortitude, magnanimity, &c. The colours
were varied heraldically, possibly as much for the
sake of increasing the armorial significance as for
the purposes of distinction.

Lions in a walking position were termed herald-
ically. Zeoporcfo, a practice which continued as late
as the fifteenth century, and which has given rise to
many mistakes in the descriptions of the Royal
Arms of England. Two Leopards or Lions
leopard, gold on a red ground, were thus the Royal
Anns until the reign of the first Richard, when a
third lion was added thereto, and the shield
became what it has since remained.

In addition to the Lions in the Royal Arms, these
animaLs were frequently assumed as royal badges or
devices, and adopted in the arms of royal retainers.
Thus the sable Lion of Hainault was a badge of
Edward III., being the arms of his queen, Philippa
of Hainault, and as such, it appears in the coat
armour of many old English famUies. A sable Lion,
" fhe black Lion of Powys," was also the arms of
Madoc ap IVIeredyth, and the device of his de-
scendant Owen Glendower; hence its frequent
occurrence in Welsh armoury. The gules lion
in the arms of Scotch families, usually points to
some intermarriage with Scotch royalty ; but in
English coat armour it would seem to have origi-
nated in the fact of its having been a favourite
badge of the Lancastrians (the Lion of Leon, the
arms of Constance, daughter of Pedro the Cruel,
and wife of Henry, duke of Lancaster) ; and thus it
was probably often adopted by families on the

• Pocook's " India in Greece.'*

t The names of the Lion in Welsh, in Gaelic, and in the
Scandinayian dialects, appear to us to indicate that the
cognomen, and probably the idea of the animc^, was d^y^
frpQ) a Lf^tin source,

108

THE COCOA-KUT PALM.

[Kafenre tad Alt, Ipril 1. Uir.

Lancastrian side.* The silver Lion of Suffolk,
borne by the Howards, of which Scott speaks, —

" "Who in field or foray slack
Saw the blanch lion e'er fall back " —

was, in like manner, a favourite device of Edward
III., and descended to the Howards through the
Mowbrays. Neither was this symbolical use of the
Lion confined to the Western nations. We have an
example of the contrary in the modem inhabitants
of the Punjab. The Sikhs were so named from the
Hindostanee verb aikna, to teach, and they claimed
to be men of peace, from being taught ; but the

* This badge (a lion rampant, gnles) was adopted by the
Dnke of Lancaster in token of his supposed claim to the
crown of Leon. A glance at Sir Bernard Burke's " Ency-
clopedia of Heraldry ** will show how freqnenUy the charge
occurs in English armoury.

cruelties of the Mahomedans in the North of India
caused them to become men of war, and they called
themselves Lions, which in their language is Singh.
Every Sikh now calls himself by this name.
Dhuleep Singh is the Lion Dhuleep, and his father,
Kimjeet Singh, was, in like manner, the Lioh
Runjeet.

No more appropriate pictorial illustration of this
paper could have suggested itself than a chromo-
type after one of Mr. Vernon Heath's now famous
photographs. Our artist has very happily availed
himself of the facilities kindly placed at our dis-
posal, and done injustice neither to the subject nor
the eminent modeller. With this brief allusioh to
the speciality of our magazine, we must now bring
our notes on these, " the chiefest of all terrestrial
animals " (as the old Herald Gwillim terms them),
to a close.

THE COCOA-NUT PALM.

(C0CO8 nucijera.)
By W. B. LoBD, Eoyal ArtiUery.

AMONGST the pleasant memories and " green
spots" scattered here and there along the
path of the traveller to distant lands, few will
perhaps have made a more lasting and pleasing
impression than his first visit to a grove of cocoa-
nut trees; and the cool refreshing rustle of the
long graceful fronds as they ripple and wave feather-
like before the fresh trade wind, is a sound so
unlike most others, that, once heard, it is rarely
forgotten, but comes back in far-off scenes like some
old familiar tune or the voice of a dear friend.

The coral reef, reared from the ocean's depths
by the labours of myriads of tiny coral insects,
year by year and age by age, growing ever upwards,
at last reaches the surface, and the crisp-green
waves break in snow-white foam on the mighty
barrier which the legion of pigmies have built up to
dispute their dominion. Sea-weed, drift-wood, the
dead echini, the broken empty shell, the stranded
fish, and the thousand and one waifs and strays ever
drifting with the tidal currents, accumulate on the
new-formed rock : all these in time decay or break
up, but are ever added to, until at last, wave-
borne in^^its tough and buoyant husk, a cocofi^■nut
arrives, germinates, and sends its roots far out
amongst the congenial elements with which it is
surrounded, and, watered by the tropic shower and
the surf-spray, shoots boldly up, towers aloft,
becomes a tree, and in due time bears fruit, which,
when matured, falls, and again germinates like the
parent. The passing sea-fowl and migratory birds,
tempted by the havens of rest thus aSbrded,
alight to rexsruit their weary pinions, bring seeds
of trees and plants from far-off islands and
continents, undigested in their cro^w; these, too,
spring into life, bear seed, flourish in their new

home for the brief period of their existence, and by
death and decay help to furnish the materials for
the sustenance of succeeding generations of plants.
•At length man appears on the scene and claims
the little kingdom Nature has prepared and made
ready to his hand. Thus it is that the innumerable
coral islands dotting the tropic seas are formed, and
these are the favourite homes of the cocoa-nut tree.
There are other situations in which it grows and
where its cultivation is carefully attended to ; but
the cocoa-palm loves the sea breeze aa heartily as
an ancient mariner, and thrives best within its
influence, rarely arriving at perfection at a greater
height than six hundred feet above the sea level.
Numbers of coral isles, formed as we have described,
are perfectly destitute of water, and contain neither
wells nor springs. These islands, beautiful as thej
are, would be perfectly uninhabitable had not a
bountiful Providence provided a substitute in the
deliciously cool fluid yielded by the young cocoft-
nuts, of which any quantity can be obtained by
climbing. Each nut, when of the proper stage of
growth, contains about a pint of liquid, cool as
water from the depths of a cavern, and possessing a
combination of acidity and sweetness most piquant
and highly refreshing. Sheltered from the noon-
tide sun by the fern-like canopy overhead, and
with a cluster of freshly-gathered nuts before him,
the traveller will scarcely fail to remember
Thomson's lines : —

*' Shelter*d amid tho orchards of the ann,
Where high palmetos lift their g^acefiil shade ;
Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl,
And from the palm to drain its freshening wioc :
More bounteous far than all the frantio juice,
Which Bacchus pours ."

N'.iin hu^'I \ii A|i(il i\mr.

ITataM and Art, Ipril 1. 1887.]

THE COCOA-NUT PALM.

109

The range of this invaluable tree is very extensive,
it is found in Africa, the East and West Indies,
South America, and the countless islands of the
Southern seas. There are manj varieties of cocoa-
nuts, each distinguished by some well-marked
peculiarity : in TaJbiti (one of the Society group)
there are six kinds, each known amongst the
natives by some distinct name; in Ceylon four
well-marked varieties exist. The Buddhist priests
generally contrive to have a number of the choicest
kinds in the neighbourhood of their temples, as
they not only, like the monks of old, keep a bright
eye on the good things of earth, but secure a stock
of the best nuts as propitiatory and alms-producing
offerings to the passing wayfarer. The TenJnli, which
is a very well-formed handsome nut, of oval form
and bright rich orange tint, is usually selected for
this pui-pose; there are also sub-varieties of this
nut. The Nawasi is slightly heart-shaped, of
lighter colour than the preceding, and bears an
edible husk : when the outer skin is stripped off, the
rind within turns to a pale red colour, and is fit for
use. There is another kind which bears a somewhat
small and round nut ; but in colour much like the
TembilL The fourth description is the common
cocoa-nut, too well known to need description. In
the cabinets of the curious there are frequently
preserved specimens of what has been called the
Double, or sea cocoa-niU (Ladoicea Sei/chellarum),
and in old days the most marvellous medicinal
virtues were attributed to it, and nuts of this kind
were considered unfailing antidotes to all kinds of
poison : their origin was veiled in obscurity, as
those obtained were either picked up floating at
sea or on the coasts of the Maldive Islands, where
they were washed by the tides and currents. At
one time the most extravagant sums were asked
and obtained for them. A merchant-ship, with
her freight and stores complete, has been given in
exchange for one. £400 have been refused, and
it is recorded that the Emperor Rodolph the Second
caused an offer of 4,000 florins to be made for one
which chanced to be for sale ; but that sum being
considered insufficient, the precious mit passed into
other hands.

The natives believed that the trees producing
these nuts grew at the bottom of the sea, and were
enchanted palms, which vanished the instant the
adventurous diver attempted to reach them ; others
believed that huge griffins resided in these magic
groves, visiting the land at night for the purpose of
supping on elephants and tigers, and spending their
time during the day in luring ships within their
reach, when they at once inade a meal of the
mariners navigating them. Instant death was the
portion of any secretive native who failed in at
once handing over to the king such nuts as he
might find on the coast. These, when sold by
royal authority, proved by no means an insignificant
revenue. The kernel of the nut was the part in
which the miraculous medicinal virtues were
supposed to reside; and the most ridiculous and
anomalous ingredients were mixed with it for use,
such as the antlers of deer pounded, ebony

raspings, red coral dust, and several other matters
equally useless. These once coveted treasures are
now by no means as rare as they used to be, being
easy of obtainment in the Seychelle Islands, the
place of their growtL Attempts have been made
to introduce this description of nut into the Isle of -
France, and there appears no reason why they
should not thrive there. The palm bearing it is
said to require 130 years to bring it to maturity ;
this we are soniewhat sceptical about. Cups made
from the shells are in high repute amongst tiie more
wealthy natives of India, by whom large sums are
expended in gold and precious stones for mounting
and ornamenting them. The religious mendicants
of Ceylon set a high value on these shells, and use
them as alms-boxes, believing that there is some
attractive influence possessed by the nut-shell
which irresistibly draws the contributions into
them. If this were really so how great would be-
come the demand for sea cocoa-nuts, even in this
enlightened island ! In favourable situations the
palm bearing the common cocoa-nut grows to from
sLxty to eighty feet in height, but rarely exceeds
from one to two feet in diameter at the basa

An upright cocoa-nut tree is nearly as great a
rarity as a black rose or blue dahlia; almost every
angle of inclination may be seen among the trees
forming a grove, the prevailing winds often in-
fluencing their line of direction. The roughness of
the bark covering the trunk throughout its length
is caused by the progressive falling off of the fronds
or leaves as the tree shoots upwards, the tufted
crown alone retaining the living foliage. Here the
graceful fern-like leaves may be seen in every stage
of growth and development, the lower tiers drooping,
those above spreading out feather-like, whilst the
centre stands up plume-like in all its beauty. The
nuts grow in clusters, and from forty or fifty to two
and even three hundred in different stages of
development, may at times by careful examination
be counted on one tree. Many members of the
palm family produce incredible numbers of blossoms
on the spathes, which are thrown up amongst the
leaflets of the crown. The sago palm of the Orinoco
has been said to have produced eight thousand fruits,
whilst one spathe of the date palm has been com-
puted to contain over twelve thousand male flowers.
The spathe of the cocoa palm is often nearly four
feet long, and six inches in circumference. The
annexed cut, on a diminished scale, will serve to
show the form of the blossoms, and the manner in
which they are encased. In favourable seasons these
plumes of flowers are shot forth eveiy four or five
weeks, and as the blossoms pass away the young
nuts are formed progressively, affording a store from
which a hungry or thirsty man may provide and
refresh himself all the year round. When the sap
of the palm is sought for the manufacture oi toddy
and some other products, the soft young fronds,
together with the flower spathe, are bound together
with ligatures in order to prevent the development
of the blossom^. A puncture is then made at the foot
of the spathe with an instrument called a toddy-knife,
and numerous taps administered to the neighbour-

110

THE C<X50A-NUT PALM.

Natoie and Art, April 1. Ur.

hood of the cut with its handle to set the sap flowing.
An earthen chatty-pot is thqn suspended in a suit-
able position for the cool sweet juices of the tree to

i </fnkoltfnu

slowly drain. At early mom, before the sun poui-s
down his consuming rays, the toddy-drawer with
monkey-like agility again ascends the tree, lowers
down his well-filled pot at the end of a string {vide
cut), and replaces it with an empty one. From
two to six pints, according to the state of the
weather and other conditional circumstances, are
generally collected as the result of one night's running,
but the trees thus treated yield no fruit. The toddy
or Uvrce thus obtained was the paha-wine of the
poets. Immediately after collection it is extremely
sweet and cool ; in the course of veiy few hours a
change takes place, and a peculiarly agreeable acidity
takes the place of its foimer luscious condition. In
this state it is deliciously refreshing, but in four-and-
twenty hours it becomes quite sour. To make arrack
or rack as it is sometimes called, so celebrated in
the old days of deep potations, Yauxhall Gardens^ and

" crown howU of punchy " the toddy is fermented
and distilled. An inferior spirit is often made from
both rice and sugar, being merely flavoured with

■"■'1:^<^£f^^

cocoa-nut juice, but the imposture is easily detected
by the experienced. Vinegw is made by allowing
the toddy to stJ^d in earthen jars fitted with

XtAan and Art. Apdl 1,1887.]

THE COCOA-NUT PALM.

Ill

covers for about a month : the liquid, after being
carefully strained, is replaced in the jars, and a little
red pepper, a smaJl piece of the fruit of the gamboge
tree, and a j)od or seed-vessel of the horse-radish,
which in the East is a tree {Hypertanthera moritiga),
are added to each vessel of fluid. In about five weeks
vinegar of most excellent quality is the result.
From the sap, before fermentation, when boiled to a
syrup with quick-lime, and roughly crystallized, the
material known as Jaggery , or native sugar, is made.
Great quantities of this are both exported and con-
sumed where it is made for the manufacture of the
commoner kinds of confectionery. So much for the
sap of the tree.

The fruit is consumed in an almost endless variety
of ways, and not one single portion of it, or of the
palm it grows on, is without a use. The young,
green, undeveloped nut, as we have before stated,
contains a rich store of cool and delicious drink which,
when habitually partaken of by the fair sex, is said
by the elderly dowagers of the East to render the
complexion permanently clear, remove all wrinkles,
and, in fact, like a Madame Hachael of the vegetable
world, make beaviiful for ever. However painfid
it may be to our feelings to cast doubt on this very
agreeable little belief, experience in countries where
cocoa-nuts in every stage of growth are easy of ob-
tainment, compels us to state that beauty even in
these favoured lands is not invariable ; that com-
plexions are not always clear; and that wrinkles are
no rarity. Perhaps some heedless fair ones neglect
to avail themselves of the potent virtues of the nut
Quien sabe (who knows) f We tread on dangerous
ground : so will proceed.

This same liquid, when duly prepared, makes an
indeUble black dye ; the young nuts which contain
it also hold withm their soft rich crusts, veritable
vegetable Blanc Mange, so delicious that one is
tempted to habitually carry about a spoon in some
convenient pocket, wherewith to extract the delicacy.
A number of very excellent dishes are made from
it. When a short time has passed a species of pulp
of firmer consistence is formed, constituting quite a
difierent kind of food, and allowing for the scope of
more ingenuity on the part of the cooks; in the
South Seas it is often worked up with the Taro root
(Arum eaculentum) into balls as large as thirty-
two-pound shot, and baked in the earth ovens of the
natives. The kernel of the nut when ripe, and in
some respects resembling the condition in which it
is usually eaten in this country, is treated in a
variety of ways for the preparation of food, and the
manufacture of oil, in which it abounds. A per-
fumed oil in high repute amongst the native beaux
and belles of some of the Islands, together with a
substantial and durable article of diet, is thus made.
The kernels of a large number of nuts are scraped
and i-asped fine, and pressed through the close fibres
of a sort of bag formed by the natural cloth en-
veloping the embryo nut clusters and young fronds.
A sort of soft paste being thus obtained, certain
highly perfumed grasses, roots, and chips are pro-
ciured and well stinred in; the vessel containing the
mixture is then placed in the sun, the heat of which

soon causes a flow of oil. This on rising to the
surface is carefully skimmed off with shells from
the beach, and preserved for use. When no more
oil is to be obtained, the remaining mass is thoroughly
pounded, folded in green banana leaves, made into
secure packages, and laid amongst the deep rock
pools in the sea, where they are securely retaiued
by placing heavy lumps of coral rock upon them.
This prepared paste or " Kora,'' as it is called, re-
tains its goodness for a very long time, and is a food
extensively consumed, and to which the Islanders
are very partial.

There is another native inhabiting these cocoa-nut
isles, who, although no cook, consumes his share, or
perhaps rather more, of the tree treasui'es. This
worthy is the " Ou Ou^^ or great robber crab (Birgus
latro)y who, miner-like, excavates deep galleries in
the coral sand beneath the roots of the palms or other
trees in the vicinity of the cocoa-nut groves, sallying
forth in true brigand-like manner to feast on the
fruit. Strange tales have been told of these ma-
rauders climbing the tall stems of the cocoa trees,
for the purpose of detaching and casting down the
nuts. We are not prepared to say that certain
varieties may not have been known to do so; our
own experience, however, leads us to believe that
such nuts as fall to the ground constitute the
ordinary spoils appropriated by B, lairo. These
his enormously powerful and heavy nippers enable
him to husk, and rend from their tough coverings
with surprising facility ; and it is only necessary to
examine a cocoa-nut husk with the nut enclosed, as
they are brought to this country, to be convinced
that our nut-eating friend must be a sort of crusta-
cean Hercules to be able to drag it forth. And so
he is, for the tenacious, wire-like network of cocoa-
nut fibre in which the prize is enveloped is split
and rent asunder as though with large iron pincers,
and the brown nut set free. The end on which the
three well-known holes, or monkej/aface, are situated
is then attacked, and a succession of heavy raps
rapidly delivered with the large claw. A breach is
thus soon made into which the narrow nippers are
inserted, and the sweet, white, oleaginous kernel
deftly scooped out.

B, latro is not only a gourmand, but a utilitarian :
so he cards up the masses of coir, the result of his
rending operations, almost as fine as tow, and then
transports them to the inmost recesses of his burrow,
to form a sort of bed on which to recline, as well as
a convenient covering and protection when debarred
from the pleasures of society during the progress of
shell-shifting. The Islanders are fully aware of his
provident habits, and often take advantage of the
stores of coir thus collected, making use of them
for the various purposes to which fibre of this kind
is applied. Nature has wonderftdly and wisely
provided for these creatures, during periods in which
they remain comparatively torpid, stores or magazines
of oil, which they carry beneath their tails. Those
of some of the large crabs have^been known to yield
over a quart of excellent limpid oil.

Nocturnal visits are from time to time paid to
the sea, but we are not of opinion that, as some

112

THE COCOA-NUT PALM.

[Katan sad Art, Apdll,UV.

writers have stated, these journeys are performed
efoery night. In the breeding season some time is
spent by them in and about the salt water pools of
the reefs, and the juvenile crabs appear to remain
there until strong enough to seek their fortunes
with their larger brethren amongst the diggings
beneath the tangled roots. When the natives
desire their capture they set resolutely to work and
dig them out, much as the game-keepers of
England proceed with secretive, perverse badgers.
Unfortunately for the crabs they are good to eat,
and are therefore ruthlessly dragged from their
retreats, ignominiously bound with cords (a very
necessary precaution by the bye), and carried off
into captivity. Some of them grow to a monstrous
size, possess nippers of the most formidable de-
scription, and often snap the coir ropes with which
the crab-hunters tie them, as if they were pack-
threads. There are times when a change of diet
appears congenial to our friend, when he levies
indiscriminate war on all the shell-bearing molluscs
he can lay his claws on. He extracts them from
their snug shell castles with all the dexterity of an
accomplished shell-fish dealer, and then, not content
with having eaten up the tenant, he performs a sort
of grotesque and triumphal march with the empty
house in his claws as if for the purpose of inciting
other crabs less nefarious in their dispositions to the
perpetration of crimes of a like character : on the
whole B. laJtro may be considered by no means a
respectable member of the family of crabs, and
well deserving of his name. He, however, is not
the only robber of the grove, there are several
species of coleopterous insects {Oryctea Rhinoceros
especially) whose larvae feed on the embryo leaf-buds
of the palms and are at times exc^dingly de-
structive to the trees, not uncommonly causing
their death. These destroyers hollow out their
galleries through the substance of the rolled up
bud, and feed on the succulent young fronds
before they expand, thereby greatly disfiguring
them. The most generally known of these burrow-
ing grubs is the Tucuma or Qrugrv^ which is about
two inches and a half or three inches long, and
thick in proportion. It has a hard, black head,
and a strong pair of shears-like jaws ; but woe be
to the luckless colony of Grugrus which may
chance to be revealed to the prying eye of the epi-
curean " black fellow." They are not long allowed
to pursue their mining operations, but are lugged
forth from their retreats, and either fried crisply
like Epping sausages in cocoaruut oil, or with a
little lime-juice squeezed into an empty cocoa-nut
. shell, made an extempore meal of, by firmly seizing
the bead-like head between the finger and thumb,
dipping the grub daintily in the lime-juice, and
then disposing of the treat, much as we deal with a
nicely-shelled prawn and with equal gusto. An
ingenious method is adopted by some cocoa-nut
growers to rid the trees of the destructive beetles ;
a number of boys are employed to carefully search
for the orifices in the bark ; into these, when found,
they dexterously insert a kind of beetle-spear,
with which each lad is provided ; this spear is a

long, needle-shaped instrument, with one end barbed
like the head of a diminutive arrow or double-
bearded fishhook, and the other with a ring turned
in it j with this the beetles are either transfixed in
their holes or brought forth on the barbs and
killed.

The cocoa-nut oil and nut trade throughout the
Eastern and Southern seas is of great extent and
importance. It has been estimate that the annual
importation of merchandise at a place comparativelj
little known, except by traders (Samoa), in ex-
change for cocoa-nuts and oil, amounts to £30,000.
A vast number of the Polynesian and other islands
furnish incredible quantities of both nuts and the oil
obtained from them; whilst in the Eajstern seas,
Ceylon, the Malabar coast^ the Seychelle Islands,
the Mauritius, and many other islands enjoy an
extensive trade either in one or both productions.
A number of methods more or less primitive are bad
recourse to for the obtainment of the oiL In some
localities the kernels of the nuts are cut up and
boiled in large kettles, then poimded in a hollow
tree trunk with a heavy pestle, again boiled, and on
the oil rising to the surface it is collected; the
contents of about seven nuts thus treated yield a
quart of oiL In Ceylon and many parts of the
East Indies the quaint contrivance represented in
the annexed cut is made iise of for crushing the nut
kernels ; the upright portion in the centre is a sort
of round-bottomed cylinder (not unlike a short
cannon or mortar) hewn from a block of basalt or
other hard and suitable stone ; in this the end of a
heavy beam of Bomhul wood is set at an angle and
kept constantly travelling round by the bullocks at
the end of the yoke-piece. Well do we remember
our first introduction to one of these contrivances,
and the perplexity and difiiculty we experiaiced to
reasonably account for the unearthly shrieks and
fiendish sounds we heard when shooting in the
jungle. Forcing our way through the tangled
thicket, and trailing monkey ropes, expecting to
discover it was hard to say what ; an open space
between the trees was reached and the whole
mystery was solved. We beheld a native oil-mill
with the patient old buffaloes plodding onwards on
theii' endless journey. We did not, with the head-
long valour of Don Quixote, proceed to attack oiu:
mill, but sat quietly down on a stone to make a
sketch of it, which we, in our prosaic way of
viewing matters, thought the wiser course of the
two.

When the extraction of the oil is undertaken by
merchants or European finQS, ponderous iron
machinery is erected and used to express it, when
about two gallons and a half of oil are obtained
from one hundred nuts. Besides that used for
home consumption, very large quantities are ex-
ported to England, the United States, and other
countries, where it is made use of for a variety of
purposes, the manufacture of soap and candles
amongst them. A great deal of soap thus made in
America is sent back to Polynesia to be again
bartered for more oil. The dry cocoa-nut chip, after
the oil is expressed, is sometimes used as a food for

Kainn and Art. Iprll 1. 18S7.]

THE COCOA-NUT PALM.

113

pigs and poultiy, and is an excellent manure.
The trees are not uncommonly cultivated with great
care ; heavy ripe nuts being selected for planting.
The young shoot forces its way through one of the
eye-holes, and when the young trees are about three
or four feet high they are with a little salt placed in
pits prepared for their reception.

A strange notion prevails amongst the cocoa-nut
planters that the gi'oves are much benefited by
having walks arranged and conversations carried on
amongst them. " The cocoa-nut tree loves to hear
the sound of footsteps and pleasant voices," say
they : the idea is a very poetical and pleasant one
in its way, no doubt, but, like many others of that
order, has its practical disadvantages, as any
sauntering, gossiping group would find out to their
cost should a ripe well-developed cocoa-nut drop
** plump down" on the top of one of their heads.
In such a case wo are disposed to think the nut
would have the best of it, and the thoughts of the
luckless saunterer, should any be left to him,
would change, like those of Newton when the pippin
fell, " from mirth to gravity."

In moderately favourable situations the cocoa
palm commences bearing at from ten to thirteen
years of age, and remains at full maturity for between
fifty and sixty years, producing, at a rough calcu-
lation, one hundred nuts annually. The tree then
usually begins to deteriorate and fall off in its
yield, continuing in this failing condition for about
twenty years, when it ceases bearing altogether
and shortly dies. It is rather curious that wood of
the best quality should be obtained from trees in
this state j the Porcupine wood of commerce is
thus procured, as is the timber of which many of
the war clubs and other matters of equipment
possessed by the natives are made. The palisades of
their fortified villages, the beams, uprights, and
rafters of their huts and council chambers are
made from the trunk of the cocoa tree, as are the
II.

water-pipes used for irrigation, <fec. The thatch
covering the houses is laid with the prepared mid-
ribs of its leaves, and secured with cord twisted
from the cocoa fibre ; the nets and fishing lines
are also made from it ; beautifully woven baskets,
usually filled with fi'eshly-gathered nuts for the
day's consumption, are made from the plaited
strips of the leaf; and cocoa cloth protects the fresh
green firuit from the sun. Torches are made by
binding together a sufficient number of dry leaflets,
the end of the mid-rib serving as a handle to hold
them by ; the trunks of the fruit-bearing palms
growing in and about native villages- often have
numbers of the dry leaves lashed fast to them, so
that on any prowling urchin, on plunder bent,
attempting to climb the tree, a sharp rustling
sound is made and the culprit at once detected.
A number of methods are had recourse to for
ascending the tall stalks of the palms, according to
the district in which they grow. By some persons
they are climbed by fastening the two ankles
together with a strip of tough bark, making it act
as a support by causing it to partly embrace the
tree ; others cut a row of notches just large enough
to admit the end of the great toe, and thus make a
sort of staircase of the tree. In some localities a
band is cast round both tree and native, when the
soles of the feet are applied straight against the
trunk, and he literally walks up. The toddy-
drawers often throw coir ropes from tree to tree like
huge spiders' webs, and then travel about on them
much as an overgrown spider would do. An
endless variety of beautiful mats are woven from
the split leaflets, whilst floor-cloths, bags, and
rubbers are made from the fibrous coir of the nut
husks and the envelopes of the young fronds. In-
credible quantities of coir are now used in this
country. The mighty cable, the tough and trusty
hawser, and the buoyant life-line are of this
curious fibre, some of which may perchance have
1

114

THE PABIS EXHIBITION OP 1867.

[ITfttan aad Art. li«il 1. 1M7.

been filched from the stores of our dishonest,
miserly old friend, Birgtis Latro, Esq. The cups,
bottles, and drinking-vessels for native use are of
cocoa-nut shells, ingeniously freed from their
contents by pouring out the milk, filling them with
salt water, and burying them in the hot sand of the
beach, when the kernel decomposes and is removed
through one of the eye-holes. Many of these
natural vessels are poUshed with powder made
from the burnt kernel and elaborately carved.
When moimted with silver they are often used in
this country as sugar basins and goblets. Some of
the Islanders construct very curious seolian harps
from the stretched fibres of the leaves ; these they
either place about their huts, or on the stems of the
canoes, in order that the breeze may play through
them. The leaf of the cocoa palm is often used as
an emblem of authority, and carried by those
empowered to collect any special tribute ; and in
some districts an o£fer of marriage is made by
presenting a cocoa-nut to the chosen fidr one. The
lateral leaflets are used to count prayers on, just
as a rosary is made use of When arranged like
the leaves of a book, these leaf strips are used to

write on with a stylus, much as papyros was
written on by the ancient I^yptians. The Pia
Fia, or gum which exudes from the tree, is used bj
the ladies of the islands to dress their hair wiUi,
and both the root and flowers are extensively used
as medicinal agents. Many of the canoes used
amongst the coral islands are composed of cocoa-nut
wood ; this, when properly grooved and bored, is
stitched together with twine made frt)m coir, a
slender young palm trunk is set up as a mast, with
a rigging of, coir cordage : a cargo of nuts, oil,
lamp-black, vinegar, sugar, and arrack is securdy
stowed away, with nut food for the voyage, —

** The Indian's nnt alone
Is clothing, meat and trencher, drink and can ;
Boat, oable, sail, and needle aU in one."

The fresh breeze fills the mat sail, and thrills in
plaintive cadence through the harp, the cocoa wood
paddle steers the course, and the little Argosy dashes
away through the broad sunlight, amongst thecnsp-
blue waves with her gleanings from the palms. So
we bid her and the reader adieu until we meet again
to collect together another of nature's cargoes.

THE PARIS EXHIBITION OF 1867.

By G. W. Yapp.

TtiE ilxhibition arrangements have now entered
upon their last stage, and on the day that
these Hnes reach the public eye the doors of the
Industrial and Artistic Congress will be thrown
open, according to promise. Considerable doubts
have been raised upon this pointy but with no
good reason, for the preparations are at least
as forward as those of any previous Universal
Exhibition, and, as regards the structure itself
flEu: more so.

The building, its glaring, painting, and flooring,
were all finished in ample time for the com-
mencement of the exhibitors' fittings, and nothing
left to a later moment but the grand vestibule, now
completed, the entrances and the decoration of the
exterior.

Of the general arrangement of the building we
have already spoken, and see no ground to alter
our view. The adoption of a curved outline was a
grand mistake ; it allows of no vistas, prevents any
fine perspective effect, produces a most unpleasant
sensation in the smaller walled galleries, in which
the sides advance or recede from the eye, de-
stroy all repose, and cause an immense deal of
extra trouble in the arrangements. To select one
glaring instance : there is an admirable system of
service railway and tram-ways j the line is brought
into the park close up to the buildiiig itself^ is
continued round the whole of the exterior, and is
placed in connection, by means of turntable at
tlearly the whole of the sixteen doors, with two

tram- ways, which make the complete circuit of the
interior of the great outer ^llery or machine
court, one on each side. Had the plan of the
building been rectangular, the railway would
merely have been carriSi up to the entrance of the
machme court, and continued straight through it
from end to end.

In an artistic point of view the effect is equally
unfortunate ; the present edifice is all facade ; and
what architect, engineer, or artist would undertake
to render four thousand feet of frontage beautiful,
or even simply elegant^ unless he had several years
and a rich treasury at his disposal 1 As it is, half
a dozen modes of colouring have been tried, the
prevailing tints varying from white to dark maroon
or chocolate; but the colouring had little effect
upon its boiler-like sides, and the Commission has
apparently determined to give a uniform coat of
colour. A large portion is now painted with a
metallic paint which very nearly resembles in effect
black-lead : whether any other colours will be used
to brighten up the work does not appear. The
only hope is that the introduction of gay flags and
other accessories will draw the eye away from the
body of the building ; and the great pillars are
now being dressed with very bold flagstaffs with
coloured escutcheons and large^ gold knobs ; when
each of them has its bunting, the general ap-
pearance will be infinitely improved.

As already stated, there is no grand nave, no
magnificent avenue in the building ; the only part

liAtiire and Art, IprU 1, 1867.]

THE PAEIS EXHIBITION OP 1867.

115

in -which anything of the kind has been attempted
is in the grand vestibule, or principal radial passage,
which leads from the chief door to the inner
garden, and is bounded on one side by the French
and on the other by the British section of the
Exhibition. This vestibule is more than three
hxmdred feet long, ^fty feet wide, and nearly
eighty high ; but IJiere is nothing imposing in its
appearance. Its roof is of iron, and nearly flat, and
the light is almost entirely inclosed from each end,
80 that the clerestory windows being at a great
height fit)m the ground, the lower part of the
vestibule is too sombre ; and when these windows
are filled, as they are intended to be with specimens
of Erendi and English stained glass, the vestibule
ynJl have more the air of an ecclesiastical edifice
than of a crystal palace.

Our neighbours are not to be blamed for the
failure in these particulars, and certainly we have
good cause for modesiy in matters of art ; but it is
important that failures as well as successes should
be carefully recorded for future guidance. The con-
struction of such huge buildings can never be a
common event, and therefore each lesson is the more
precious.

The iFrench, however, have so much ability in
ornamentation, that where the materials or the forms
are not unmanageable, they rarely fail to produce a
gay and pleasing effect. The iuclosed court and
garden of the Exhibition, for instance, offered them
a fair opportunity, of which they have availed them-
selves. The surrounding wall is painted in panels,
and the upper part relieved by a course of imitation
rose-coloured marble, which is exchanged for green
marble over the doors leading into the building;
the veranda, or marquise, which surrounds the
garden, is also light and pretty, and apple-green
curtains are now being fixed on rods between
the pillars, to protect the visitors on the sunny
side. The garden within is now laid out geome-
trically, with one main walk down the centre and
three crossing it at right angles; the centres of
the four chief flower-beds are occupied by long
basins, &x)m which numerous jets of water will
enliven and refresh this floral retreat from the
Picture Galleries and Retrospective Museum.

The French and English Commissions have
entered upon a spirited competition in the matter
of fitting and decoration, and the work on each
side is now sufficiently advanced to allow of a few
critical notes on each. In the first place, the
walls of the French Picture Galleries are painted
of a low-toned red ; those of the English Gallery, of
a neutral green or] rather olive tint. The former
have nearly opaque screens half the width of the
galleries, himg from the tie-rods of the roof ; thus
throwing the centre of the gallery into shade,
while the light falls on the walls through white
awnings extending from the screens to the walls.
In the English Galleries a white awning stretches
nearly across, and meets opaque screens at the
sides. Here we have two systems which contrast
with each other, and the experience of which will
be valuable. The general opinion at present is, that

whatever may be the relative values of the two
plans, there is too much light shut out in both
cases. As regards the industrial portion of the
Exhibition, tha modes adopted by the two com-
missions are in all^respects the antitheses of each
other. The French department presents, with few
exceptions, a series of courts, or salons, each with a
design and plan of its own, and in some instances
presenting a very artistic appearance ; but they are
somewhat intricate, and a casual visitor will be
extremely likely to miss many things that he would
like to see. On the English side, partitions are the
rare exception, and the view is nearly uninterrupted
all over the court. Standing in almost any position,
the visitor will be able to say at a glance, " Ab I
there are the beautiful Indian carpets and splendid
shawls; I see the colonial riches cropping up
there ; there is the cut glass ; there again are the
noble vases from Staffordshire ;" and so on ; — the
world is all before him where to choose, and the
pathways are clear and straight. Surely that which
is desirable in life in general is advantageous in an
exhibition in which no man can see everything, and
every one has his peculiar inclinations. There will
be no unifoimity on the English side, except that a
very large proportion of the show-cases will be
black relieved with gold, and that all the counters
will be covered with maroon-coloured cloth. The
management of the space above the avenues of
circulation presents the same contrast. On the
French side most of the courts are covered with
neat white awnings, and the same plan is adopted
for the main avenues throughout; so that the roof of
the building will scarcely be seen, and .the latter
will be mostly masked. The English Commission
has no awnings, either over coui'ts or avenues ;
from the top of the cases and counters all is clear to
the roof-lights, except where tall objecte tower
above their neighbours, or where some splendid
product of the loom is raised to show its beauties^
and the tempering of the light has been managed
in a singularly happy manner. In place of white
calico, which at flrst is too glaring, but soon be«
comes stained and baggy, each glazed compartment
in the roof has its own blind made to fit, stretched
tightly beneath it. These blinds are not white, but
unbleached, and have a diaper pattern all over them,
with a garter ornament in the centre, in which the
cyphers of Her Majesty and the emblems of the
various portions of her dominions alternate with
each other. The effect la admirable ; and the plan
adopted in the British section will render it the
best ventilated portion of the Exhibition, "which is
a very important point.

The original colour of the iron-work in the
Industrial Galleries was chocolate, and it still
remains so, except on the British side, where it is all
visible, and where it would not have harmonized
with the colour of the cloth selected ; so the whole
has been repainted of an olive tint, like the walls
of the Picture Galleries.

There is much to do between this time and the
opening day, and some complaints about the slow
service of tiie railways on this side of the water
i2

116

THE PABIS EXHIBITION OF 1867.

[Zraton Mid Irt, IprU l.Ut7.

bufc the work is well advanced, and there is no reason
why there should be more than the usual pressure
at the last moment.

Every department on the British side is in fuU ac-
tivity, — Home, Indian and Colonial, Machinery,
Manufactures and Art In the machine section
heavy pieces and foundations are appearing every-
where; and no less than three steam cranes are
employed on the rails there. The red jackets of the
Royal Engineers recall the exhibitions at home;
and the other day these were relieved by the blue
cloth of a few of the* Royal Artillery, sent over
probably in charge of some of our specimens of
armament.

In the industrial courts the cases spring up with
surprising rapidity, and some of our friends here
were struck with the method adopted : they saw the
soldiers mark out the floor with a red line, and
paint an Anglo-Saxon name in the space; presently
they saw arrive on the spot a number of pieces of
timber of various shapes and sizes, and the day after
perhaps there was a skeleton case in the place, and
sheets of plate glass being inserted between its
empty ribs. The effect on the minds of our neigh-
bours seemed to be, an impression that there was a
considerable chance of Great Britain occupying
an excellent position in the field, if not of her
absolutely distancing her competitors in the
honourable race.

France, Austria, Prussia, Belgium, and other
countries, have adopted much the same system
upon the present, that they did on former occasions,
and, with the exception of what we have already
said respecting the first-named, demand no special
mention at present ; but other commissions present
remarkable novelties in the way of ornamentation.
The Russian court, for instance, which is quite
ready as regards its furniture, presents the most
complete arrangement in the building, the whole of
its cases, tables, and stands, though varied in shape,
are in the same national style, and form an
admirable exhibition in themselves ; the work is the
perfection of solidity, simplicity, and good taste ;
and, moreover, thoroughly national It is the usual
custom of the country to leave the whole of the
surface of the wood of its natural colour, but to
colour the interstices and undercuttings; and it was
intended to do the same htfre ; but the work itself
has attracted so much attention, that M. Gngorovitch,
the Commissioner, has, with the advice of several
artists, determined to leave the fiimiture as it is, in
order to exhibit the design and workmanship in its
purest condition.

Sweden and Norway stand back to back with
Russia, and Denmark faces the foimer. Each of
these will exhibit a mass of highly characteristic
woodwork, but of a totally different class. It should
be mentioned, by way of parenthesis, that as each
country has a long strip of space bounded by radii
of the building, each presents a veiy long fa9ade,
and this has been taken full advantage of by very
many of the commissions. Russia only marks her
frontage by a low wooden railing and • a series of
banner frames ; but Sweden and Norway, and several

other countries, present a long architectural front
That of Sweden is solid, like the wall of a fortified
town; bold arches with overhanging penthouse
roofe, odd spires, and castellated work, all speak of
the middle ages. Denmark faces her with a frontage
of northern renaissance; large flat arches with pine-
apples or grapes pendent from the keystone, give
the court rather a Bacchanalian air. Portugal abo
presents a long fa9ade in woodwork, with arches of
the same form, but with ornaments, again, of a
totally different character.

The geography of the Exhibition is curious.
From Gfermany, passing through Switzerland,,we get
into Spain and Portugal; then to Greece, Denmark,
Sweden and Russia, and Italy. The last-named com-
mission is not quite so far advanced as some of its^
neighbours, but promises to make a goodly show.
Beyond Italy are the Danubian Principalities, Tur-
key, Egypt, Morocco, and Tunis. Each of these
countries makes a thoroughly characteristic ex-
hibition ; each has a frontage of the same length,
though iie depths of their courts vary from two to
twenty or more feet, and ail are ready, or will be
by the opening day.

The Danubian Principalities have never before,
that we recollect, taken part in a Universal Ex-
hibition, and we do not know whether the decoration
adopted is strictly national, but it is very showy
and effective ; the fa9ade is composed of a series of
arches, and the decorations consist of interlaced
work, and foliage in brilliant colours on a dark-blue
ground.

The next court is at once recognized by a tablet
bearing the Sultan's cypher in gold on a scarlet
ground, and the court, which is of considerable size,
is laid out with a series of small shops, like those of
the bazaars at Constantinople, on one side, and with
counters, stands, and etagkres on the other. The
decorations of this court are not yet finished, but
the framework and such ornamentation as is exe-
cuted have the true Oriental air.

Egypt occupi^ a much narrower space than that
of its suzerain, but its fa9ade is highly characteristic,
and almost completed; the ornaments are of the
kind with which we are well acquainted, and the
whole is being brilliantly coloured.

The next slice of the Exhibition is divided between
Morocco and Tunis, the former appearing for the
first time in such an exhibition. Here we have
the horse-shoe arches, and a perfect blaze of colour;
each commission has divided its space into two or
three pavilions, all of which are covered within and
without with geometric patterns of the most brilliant
hues, surmounted by inscriptions and paved with
partl-coloured cements. The painting in these
courts has been executed by native artists, whose
Oriental figures and garments have been a source of
great curiosity with the visitors. The group thus
summarily noticed, presents very curious features
and striking contrasts, and will certainly form one
of the most interesting portions of the Exhibition.

Between this gay troop and Great Britain there
lies only'America, which makes but little show yet
The frontier of the British department will vie in

VAtut and Art. IprU 1. 1687.1

THE PAEIS EXHIBrnON OF 1867.

117

splendour with its neighbours ; here the India
Board is setting up its cases, and the shawls, muslins,
embroidery, and carpets of our Indian possessions
need fear no rivals under the sun. England herself,
too, promises to show more art than usual, or rather
a greater proportion of art than usual, especially in
connection with house and ecclesiastical decoration.
The Art-Manufactures court is beginning to take
shape, £ind promises to be rich in decorative work
in wood, metal, and terra-cotta; but the great show
of works in the last-named mateiial is to be found
elsewhere. In the great machine court, two speci-
mens of the new Museum at South Kensington, now
being erected, attract attention, and the pieces of
terra-cotta are much admired for their colour and
the sharpness of their outlines : when finished,
these architectural specimens will be sixty feet high.
Another kindred work is just commenced in the
garden; namely, the temple to shelter the boilers
which are to supply the machinery of the British
department with steam. The boilers are all in their
places, and the columns, which are of terra cotta
and each in one piece eight or nine feet high, very
slender and highly decorated, are now being set up.
If the other parts of the structure are as good as the
columns, — and the mass of pieces of t<erra-cotta seem
to promise that they will be,— this temple will be
one of the atti'actions of the park.

Close at hand is the Queen's Pavilion, as it was
first nsimed, or the English Cottage, as it is now
genenOly called. It is neither a royal pavilion nor
a cottage, but it is a characteristic building, exhi-
biting the features of English domestic architecture,
the materials of such structures, such as cut bricks
and tilefl, and the methods of construction. Until
the work is a little further advanced, it is impossible
to say what will be the general efiect; but the
details which are finished hold out good promise :
there are ^ve stacks of chimneys, — one square, the
others clustered ; and nothing can exceed the ele-
gance of these monumental chimneys, which are ex-
tremely complicated in form and beautifully sharp
in outline ; they are, moreover, capped with terra-
cotta shafts, some white and others red, which are
singularly graceful. Workmen are now busy
decorating the front with encaustic tiles and tile
mosaics, which are at once novel in style and gay
in effect.

In the French part of the park the Renaissance
house is now a very picturesque and beautiful
object ; it is a large structure, with a rusticated
basement of imitation stone — heUm agglomere, — two
main floors, and a dormer story. In the front is a
projecting bay with gable, and at one comer a
large tower, which will probably support a belvedere;
the roof is sharply pitched and overhanging, the
dormer windows are very bold, and beneath is an
el^ant veranda or balcony. The whole framework
of the house is of oak, charmingly designed, and
put together in a most artistic manner, and the
whole of the woodwork is unmasked, the interstices
between the timbers being very small and filled in
with plaster, party-coloured white and grey.

The Sultan's mosc^ue is qnotjier elegant building

approaching completion. It has a graceful dome and
a tell minaret, with the muezzin gallery. Two of
the angles of the building have circular pavilions pro-
jecting boldly from the main structure, and these,
as well as the door and windows, ai'e profusely
decoi-ated with arabesque ornamentation. It is a
complete reproduction of the Eastern mosque, down
to the small grated window, whose office seems
rather to exclude than to admit light.

Behind the mosque of his suzerain stands the
imposing group of buildings of the Pasha of Egypt,
which have already been partially described in the
columns of Nature and Art. The interior of
the Great Temple is being covered with copies
of the mural paintings of Upper Egypt, and the
exterior is elaborately decorated in colours, the
caps of the columns of the front representing the
face of the goddess who seems to have held in
Egypt the place of the " goddess Juno with the
cow's fair eyes." The building which is to in-
clude an Eastern caf6 and the Viceroy's pavilion, is
also approaching completion, and wUl present a
rich mass of Oriental decoration analogous to that
of the Sultan's mosque. Still further in the rear is
the Fellah dwelling, with its cattle-shed, which is
intended to exhibit the habitation and arrangement
of a peasant dwelling of Lower Egypt at the
present day. The Kussian and Swedi^ structures
are now almost completely finished, and create
great interest; but as these have already been
described in our columns, notice of the details
connected with them must be deferred to a future
period. One of the most conspicuous buildings is
that of the Bey of Tunis ; it is a structure as large
as the town-hall of a great city, and will contain
not only a museum, but workshops, a collection of
wild animals, and a divan for the Bey, should he
visit Paris. It is rectangular, with small cupolas
on each side of the facade, and a bold flight of horse-
shoe-shaped steps leading to the grand entrance.
At the other end of the park the Dutch Com-
mission has just completed a special gallery for its
pictures, and a workshop in which the process of
cutting and polishing diamonds is to be exhibited.
The Swiss, too, are hard at work on their picture
gallery.

The French electric iron lighthouse has the
framework of its lantern in place, and forms a
very striking feature in another comer. This will
not be the only electric lighthouse in the park ; the
English Commission has brought over the frame-
work of another, in wood, which will be erected
immediately, so that two systems will be sub-
mitted to the judgment of the assembled world.

The reserved garden, or, in other words, the
horticultural portion of the Exhibition, exhibits as
much, if not more, progress than any other
portion ; the hothouses and conservatories, one of
very large size, are nearly all finished, and some are
being glazed : they amount to twenty or more in
number, and are of all forms and sizes.

The two great aquariums are also finished as
regards the main portions of their structure ; and
now that the whole of their arrangement is visible^

118

THE PABIS EXHIBITION OP 1867.

[Nalnze Mid Alt, Ifvll 1. isar.

thej are even more remarkable than the accounts
of them led us to expect. They will contain an
immense number of specimens, and the two
systems of construction — one consisting of a
series of niches in the sides of a large cavern,
while the other consists entirely of iron and glass,
open to inspection from the sides as well as above
and below — ^will offer useful means of comparison.
The cavern system, as adopted in the aquarium of
the Jwrdin d'Acclimatation, certainly shows small
creatures to considerable advantage, but it has the
great disadvantage of presenting only one face to
the world, so that only a small number of persons
can see at a time. The other system, on the
contrary, will accommodate the largest possible
number of visitors. The canal, lakes, cascade, and
all works connected with the aquariums ai'e ready.

While speaking of the aquariums and their
tenants, we must not forget to state that a number
of the great carp from Fontainebleau are to appear
in a IflJke in this garden. Some of these fish are
very old and of enormous size, and it is a question
whether they will take a great interest in the
Exhibition; but the Fontainebleau carp are amongst
the lions of France, and of course the Exhibition
would not be complete without them.

There will be many other attractions in the
garden : large collections of living birds, — a number
of humming-birds, it is said, amongst the rest ; a
botanical diorama, in which representations will ap-
pear of rare trees and plants which cannot be shown
otherwise; and lastly, though not at all consequently,
the jewels of the French crown. These will be
exhibited in an iron and plate-glass case, which will
be let down at night into a strong safe sunk in the
ground. In the centre of the garden will be a
pavilion appropriated to the use of the Empress.
The shrubberies and flower-beds are being planted
and arranged, and the greater part of the walks
are already gravelled and in fair condition, so that
there is little anxiety about this part of the Exhi-
bition.

Another recent visit has furnished us with yet
more memoranda. Stained glass is now being placed
in the clerestory windows on the French side of the
grand vestibule ; the floor is being paved with tiles
composed of concrete and asphalte, black, with
white figures. The model churchy has also two or
more painted windows in place, and the interior is
being brilliantly decorated with sculpture and
colour.

To the above may be added a few observations of
general interest. The great extent of the building
and grounds has given rise to an interesting
nomenclature. Of the sixteen radial avenues in the
building, one is the grand vestibule, mentioned
above, and the others have been named as follows :
Hues de France, d^Ahace, de Nomiandie, de Flandre,
de Lorraine^ and de Provence (an extra secondary

avenue, which limits the French section, being called
the Rue d^Alghie), Btiea des Pays Bets, de Belgigve,
de Prussey d'Autrichey (TFapagney de Ritssiey d Afriquey
dealndeSy et d^Angleterre. In like manner the two
great roads in the park are called the Avmw
d^Ev/rope and the Ckemin circulaire des deux Monda.
The secondary promenades are called AvermeSy and
the lesser AlUeSy and are named after the French pro-
vinces, Scotland, Ireland, the Cnited States, Tunis,
Morocco, Japan, Germany, Bohemia, Hungary,
Brabant, Zealand, Holland, and other places. The
Imperial Commission has also commenced fixing
indications, outside the building as well as in ^e
central garden, of the countries to be found in the
vicinity of each of the avenues within, the names of
all the countries contained in each part being
inscribed in very conspicuous characters.

Another arrangement which men of business and
others will appreciate, is the establishment of a
regular post and telegraph office, with poste restarUe
attached ; there will also be a branch office in the
Club-house, which is situated at another extremity
of the park.

The waters of the Seine have not been friendly
to the Exhibition. The river was so full for weeks
that little or nothing could be carried on by the
water-side; two immense sheds were, however,
erected some time since, and they are now being
filled with gigantic marine boilers, and other ap-
paratus connected with nautical mattei's. By the
side of these marine sheds are several smaller ones,
which are intended to contain yachts, pleasure-boats,
and models.

In connection with thegeneral arrangement, it may
be mentioned that more than five hundred pages of
the catalogue are in type in the office of M. Dupont,
the printer for M. Dentu, the concessionnaire,
and the sheets, as fast as they appear, are, in pur-
suance of an arrangement with the Commission and
M. Dentu, being translated into English, and setup
by Messrs. J. M. Johnson & Co., of London. This will
be the first instance of the whole of the catalogue
of an universal exhibition being published in any
other language than that of the coimtry in which
the exhibition occurred. Another very great ad-
vantage will be that each of these catalogues will
be published in sections, each section containing
the whole of the exhibitors of all countries in the
same group. This is a collateral advantage arising
out of the arrangement of the contents of the Ex-
hibition systematically as well as geographically.

Lastly, we may state that the opening of the last
preliminary act of the Exhibition has been marked
by the opening of two or three of the French cafes
and an Austrian beer-house; and in afewdays, after
taking a walk in the avenue of Tunis or the alley
of Japan, the visitor may lunch in Russia, dine in
Great Britain^ and take his cofiee in France.

I ff Atairi' 3jk1 An, April L ISB

^issm

THE LORD

IS RISEN.

CMM

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mliMi,

ttlpitltfalfqi;

KstdN ud Art. April h 1867 ]

FLORAL DECOBATION OP CHTJECHES.

FLORAL DECORATION OF CHURCHES.

By W. & G. AupsLBT, Axohiteots,
EASTKB.

HAYING in the December number of Nature
AST) Art given general bints in connection
witb the Floral Decoration of Churches, and
directions with special reference to the Festival of
Christmas, we have now to say a few words on the
decorations suitable for the Easter Festival, which
must be taken as a short appendix to our former
article.

All the general hints, or those pointing out the
methods of arranging and applying Flortd enrich-
ments to buildings of the several styles of church
architecture which we gave in our Christmas essay,
hold good with reference to Easter, as do also the
directions for the construction of the devices and
general decorations: therefore it is unnecessary
to reiterate either here.

Easter occurs too early in the year to enable us
to use many flowers in the decorationa Therefore
they have still to partake of the Christmas character
and be composed, for the most part, of evergreens.
It is advisable to use holly more sparingly than at
Christmas, with which season it is so closely as-
sociated : the other common evergreens, such as
laurel, box, flr, <!bc., may be used ad Ubitvm, For
the smaller and more choice decorations, holly,
from the beautiful and crisp character of its leaf,
should still be used; but the variegated species should
be preferred, being lighter and more cheerful than
the sombre green.

In Saster decoration all the varieties of flowers
that can be procured may be used ; those which grow
out of doors or are more plentiful being adopted
for the general decorations, those from the green-
house being applied to the enrichment of the
Sanctuary.

For the Easter Fesiival it is not so usual as at
Christmas time, to carry decoration through all
portions of the interior of a church: but there is no
reason why the same amount of enrichment should
not be provided. Whatever may be done for the
body of the church, it is important that, at Easter,
the chancel should be decorated richly, and with the
choicest materials. On no account should artificial
or everlasting flowers be used. Let everything par-
take of the true character of spring, that season
which is in itself a type of the Resurrection from
the Dead.

In the decoration of the chancel, the greatest care
should be bestowed upon the reredos and the walls,
&c., in close proximity to the altar. Where there
is a rich reredos permanently fixed, it will only be
necessary to decorate its architectural features with
flowers and leaves ; and, if there should be a cross
in sculpture or inlay in its centre, a circular wreath
of choice flowers may appropriately be suspended
by two very fine wires, so as to surround the centre
of the cross. But, where there is no reredos of any

importance, a special decoration should be made to
occupy the space over the altar, and any amount of
care and attention be given to its construction.

As white is the Easter colour, the ground of all
devices should be composed of it. Gold and colours,
such as red and blue, may be introduced within the
outlines of the floral designs, for the purpose of
throwing out the leaf-work and giving solidity to
the forms ; but the general ground should in all
cases be white.

The design in the centre of the accompanying
plate will supply an idea for a reredos deco-
ration suitable for the generality of churches.
The groundwork may be of strong white drawing-
paper, or cloth stretched on a wooden fr^me. The
cross in its centre to be formed of choice green
and variegated holly-leaves, with large red, and
small white, camellias. The main lines of the side
compartments and the border round the whole may
be of holly or laurel, with the sprigs in the tri-
angular spaces of flr, as shown, terminating in red
camellias or roses.

The walls of the chancel to the height of the top
of the reredos may be decorated in several ways and
in any degree of richness.

Where the chancel is not large and expense not
an object, the lower portion of the walls may be
covered with white hangings suspended from rods
temporarily fixed up. These hangings may be
ornamented with coloured devices, such as small
Greek crosses, sacred monograms, and symbols,
stencilled (in size or thick varnish colour) at
intervals all over them, or with a powdering of
small floral ornaments composed of leaves and
flowers stitched on. The upper edge of the
hangings should have a border either of coloured
stencilled ornament or of appropriate texts in-
scribed within coloured lines, similar to that on
the centre compartment of the reredos, Fig. 2.

Other ornamental or inscribed bands may be
introduced horizontally at equal distances between
the top and bottom of the hangings, thepowderings
being placed in the spaces between them. The
bottom should either finish with a coloured fringe
or with a broad border of leaves stitched on in
some simple pattern. It will of course be under-
stood that, if it is found expedient, these hangings
may be confined to the east wall of the chancel,
extending over the spaces on both sides of the altar.

Instead of the hangings, an arcade of evergreens,
after one or other of the designs shown on the plate
(Figs. 5 and 6), may be adopted; or a diaper pattern
may be used, as taste and circumstances direct.
Designs for diapers were given in the plates illus-
trating our Christmas article.

The upp^r portions of the chancel walls may be
decorated by horizontal bapd? of evergreens, me-

120

THE PATE OP DE. LIVINGSTONE.

rVfttvre tad Art, April 1. UP.

dallions, &c., as recommended for Christmas. The
medallions must now, of course, contain the ap-
proprLite devices for Easter. The Greek Cross is
still the most appropriate form of the symbol for
medallions and general purposes, but the floriated
Latin Cross is the most suitable for the decoration
of the space over the chancel arch or east window.
Although the Latin, or Calvary, Cross was out of
place at Christmas, it becomes one of the important
symbols for Easter. The true Eastern Cross,
however, ia that variety which is termed the
Resurrection or Victory Cross. It consists of a
cix)ss placed on the top of a tall staff or spear
which has attached to it a small white banner.
Fig, 1. This cross may be placed as shown on the
plate, viz., issuing from behind the reredos, or two
of them may be used, one on each side of the
reredos aud aJtar. In almost all representations of
our Saviour s Resurrection He is depicted bearing
this form of cross in His hand.

Other emblems sometimes adopted for Easter, on
the authority of the early Christians, are the

Phoenix, the Peacock, and the Lion. These may
be depicted on banners, shields, or medallions.

Banners and Shields may be used in exactly the
same manner, and to the same extent as at Christ-
maa They may be ornamented with the following
devices in gold and colours : the various forms of
the Greek Cross, the Latin Cross Fleury, the
Agnus Dei, the monograms of the Saviour's
Name with or without crowns over them, the
before-mentioned emblems, the entwined triangles,
and any Easter texts, as in Fig. 4.

A chancel or rood screen is a most appropriate
and beautiful feature at Easter. It may be made of
light wooden framework, and be covered with ever-
greens enriched with flowers. Shields and banners
may be used to add colour and effect to it, and a
richly coloured and gilded Cross Fleury should in
ail cases surmount the centre archway.

In the decoration of the nave, our directions for
Christmas may be followed in the general details,
although it is not necessary to ornament that por-
tion of the interior so fully at Easter.

THE FATE OF DR. LIVINGSTONE.

To the Editor of Natube and Abt.

Sib, — ^It was not my intention to have written for publi-
cation anything^ oonoeming^the reported murder of Dr. Living-
stone ; bnt, havingbeen requested by several friends as well as
by yourself, to express my opinion respecting the credibility
of the statement made by the fugitives to Dr. Kirk, I do not
feel that I should be right in withholding it from tiiose who
may flatter me by attaching some value to the few remarks
I have to offer. Perhaps it may be best to state the im-
pression on my own mind at once, and then to cite such
incidents as have influenced me in forming it.

I should be loth to abandon all hope of any African
traveller until his death were certified by evidence that left
no room for doubt ; and in this I agfree with Sir Roderick
Murchison, who, in his letter read by Sir Henry Bawlinson
at the late meeting of the Qeographiool Society, refers to the
many travellers who hav^ returned safely after having
been reported dead— in many cases by deserters from their
service, who, to account for their return, would not hesitate
to concoct a plausible fiction.

At the same time, I must confess my fear that the melan-
choly inteUigenoe is true outweighs my hope that it is false ;
and this because, from my personal knowledge of Dr. Kirk, I
cannot think that, with the opportunity of cross-examining
nine men who all protest they helped to inter the body, he
would have failed, between Uie 5th and 26th of December
last, to have broken down the evidence had it been un-
truthful; Still, I know how cleverly and circumstantially
the natives can get up the history of such a scene ; and, until
Dr. Kirk's letters containing the details of the narrative
arrive, or further confirmation be obtained from him, I
would not quite despair of the life of the great explorer.

There is hardly a traveller that I have known in Africa
whose death has not at some time or other been reported.
Perhaps his native servants, terrified at his audacity in
pushing onward toward some tribe renowned for prowess
and ferocity, actually believe that he is hastening to his
death, and that it would be madness to involve themselves
in his fate. Their own fears gradually convert themselves
into a self -deceptive certainty, confirmed perhaps by some
rumour that may overtake them as they return. Or, if not
so t!onfirmed, their tale, truthful enough perhaps up to the
time they left, needs only the addition of a few incidents,

easily suggested to the native mind, to involve in grief the
friends of the traveller, who may be safely pursuing his
journey. Sometimes a more clever or less timid servant
will profess to be the bearer of important letters which be
will show to none but the person they are for, and thus is
assisted on his way by natives and by colonists until the
imposture is discovered. Many cases of this kind have
happened within my own knowledge or that of my friends.
My own life has been made the subject of a bet, and the
first person who met me on my return greeted me not less
heartily because my safety proved him the winner of the
wager. The safety of Mr. Chapman and myself was at one
time almost despaired of ; and in the Cape Advertiser of
December 17th, 1868, it was stated, on the authority of a
letter from the governor of Senna, that Dr. Livingstone,
who had started for Lake Nyassa in August with a party of
only five Makololo, had been murdered. Another report
was that he had been dangerously wounded in a fray ; but
the editor very sensibly appended a remark that Dr. Mellor,
who arrived in safety with the letters, had also on a previous
occasion been reported dead.

These instances will be enough to show that the reported
fate of Dr. Livingstone is still open to doubt ; but on the
other hand I cannot see sufficient inconsistency in the short
abstract of the narrative already published, to warrant an
imputation of untruthfulness. Dr. Livingstone had pre-
viously been deserted by, or had dismissed, the servants who
acoompanied him from India. The buffialoes brought from
the same country in hope that they would withstand the
attacks of that deadly cattle pest the Tsetse fly, had died.
He was still acoompanied by the Johanna men, and had most
probably also hired native porters to carry his necessary
stores. Little or no regularity of march would be attempted.
Bough and narrow foot-paths would wind through forest or
low bush. The Doctor, it is said, with half his party, was
in advance when the atti^k took place. Probably those who
were behind would hear the noise of the affray even before
they came in sight of it. Only one man professes to have
seen the fatal blow, and he might easily escape the observa-
tion of the parties intent only on the conflict in which they
were engaged. That they returned at night is by no means
impossible ; and, being Mahometans, they would be more
likely than native Africans to think of bursring their leader.
Perhaps thQ miirderers left little that ooxtld be brought awa^

VfttoM and Art. April 1. 1807.]

THE FATE OF DR. LIVINGSTONE.

121

08 relio3 ; bat the statement that the body bore bat one
woond fayoura the inference that, from some cause, they
had not indalged in the barbaroaa gratification of mutilating
their victim.

In one instance of the massacre of a peaceful village by a
band of Matabili, while Mr. Chapman and I were returning
from the Zambesi, the two or three survivors, who had
escaped through being absent, told us that at nightfall
they not only approached the Jliatabili army, but actually
oame near enough to talk to them, having full confidence
that they could escape before men starting suddenly from
the blazing camp-fires could become sufficiently accustomed
to the darkness to see them as they fled.

Still later, when crossing the desert at the end of the
rainy season, the anticipated drying up of the scanty pools
obliged us to push the oxen across the intervening spaces
at a rate which the Damaras, enfeebled by recent fever,
could not keep up with. We could not send them in advance
till a track had been marked by the passage of the wagons ;
and the convalescents, attended by a number of healthy
men, were allowed to follow at their own pace while we
waited for them at each successive water. The country was,
at that time, full of the edible roots on which th^y chiefly
lire ; and, faring well as they came along, they were in no
hurry to overtake us. At length, they failed to come up to
us ; but, anticipating no danger, we left food for them at
each halting-place, and on reaching the Bo-tl^t-le river.
Chapman paid the headmen of the villages in advance for
supplies to be furnished as they came up. Henry Chapman
joiued us at the Lake Ngami, and a wagon with provisions
wal immediately sent back to their assistance ; but, alas !
only two men and two women were found alive. They,
being a little in advance of the rest, had slept separately,
and returning in the morning had found their unfortunate
country people lying murdered at their bivouac. A party of
marauding^ Matabili had penetrated into the country we had
deemed x>orfectly secure from them, and eighteen or twenty
men and women of our little party had become their victims.
In terror and bewilderment the survivors resumed their
journey, when the murderers, revisiting the scene of
slaughter and finding fresh foot-prints, followed and robbed
them of their little ornaments ; but satiated apparently with
blood, allowed them to depart, charging them to tell Chap-
man who it was that had killed his people.

These Matabili, who, under the despotic chief, Mosele-
katse, have for more than thirty years been the scourge and
terror of the native tribes to the south of the Zambesi, are
of the same stock as the Mazite, or AifAziTU, mentioned by
Dr. Kirk. Both are offsets of the Amazulu, or Zulus,
occupying the country of Natal ; and it would be interesting
at some other opportunity to consider, in connection with the
southward migration of the Kafir tribes — pressed onward,
probably, by the progress of the Arabs in their rear, — this
reflux of the Zulus to the North. The Mazite crossed the
Zambesi near Shupanga, perhaps ten or fifteen years ago,
and spreading the terror of their name by indiscriminate
massacre as they passsed northward, settled, at last, in the
country to the west of Lake Nyassa, in latitude between
ll*' and 12"* south. Mr. Horace Waller, who was one of the
mission under Bishop Mackenzie, tells me that during the
war the Mazite took part with the Ajawa, and that some of
their shields were found either on the field or in the huts
they abandoned.

If the Mazite have in reality committed the crime, as we
have too much reason to fear, the cause of their hostility
to Dr. Livingstone may be traced to his endeavours to
suppress the slave trade. It will be remembered that in
January, 1861, the Oxford and Cambridge mission reached
the mouth of the Zambesi, and were met by Doctor living-
stone, who acted as their guide and adviser. A short trip
was made to the Bovuma, a river to the northward, but
the 'pBxty returned to the Zambesi, and in the iteamer
Pioneer commenced the ascent of its tributary the Shire
(or Sheeree). Here intelligence was received of the recent
passage of various gangs of slaves, and another ge^ngt bound
to Tette, arrived soon after Dr. Livingstone had reached the
village. The black drivers took to flight as soon as they
saw the faces of the English, and the captives Qontrasted

in astonishment the humanity of their liberators with
the brutality they had hitherto experienced, and these
people eighty-four in number became the nucleus of the
intended mission village. Other parties were followed up ;
the drivers, many of them agents for Portuguese in Tette,
were detained, but eventually escaped, and a collision took
place with the Ajawa tribe, who were returning in triumph
with a long string of Manganja captives.

The mission was settled among the Mangazg'a tribe, who,
after the departure of Dr. Livingstone, appealed to. Bishop
Mackenzie to assist them against the continued raids of the
Ajawa. At flrst he declined, but at length, moved by the
natural feelings of humanity, consented, with the full appro-
bation of his ooUeaguee. I do not pretend to decide whether
it be wrong for a clergyman to engage in war ; but if he erred,
he, as well as the Doctor, in the liberation of the slaves, did
so on the right side ; and I fancy that few Englishmen
placed in the same circumstances would have done otherwise.
The Bishop, in his journal for August 27th, 1861, states, as
his reason for consenting to lead the Mang^anja force, that
they were attacked by marauding and murdering parties of
Ajawa, who were constantly burning their villages, slaying
their men, and carrying off captives to be sold to traders
from Tette. At the same time, he says that the Manganja
were nearly as bad ; and using this opportunity he stipu-
lated that, in return for his services, they should cease to
sell their own people or encourage slave traders amongst
them. He says that on the 13th, with the unanimous con-
sent of his party, he proceeded to meet the enemy, and,
appointing Waller to command in the actual flght, went un-
armed with him to seek a parley with the opposing chiefs.
The attempt failed ; but in the succeeding battles the Ajawa
were defeated, and among the spoils were found shields of
the Mazite, who had joined them. The Manganja, in spite
of the efforts of the English, behaved in victory as savages
will, and violated their agreement by killing or retaining in
captivity a number of women and children ; in consequence
of which, the Bishop refused again to lead them, though in
the following January (1862), he was compelled to punish
a petty chief who had attacked a party sent to explore a
path by which to bring up the ladies, who had arrived at
the Zambesi with the intention of joining the Mission. The
unfortunate death of Bishop Mackenzie and Mr. Burrup,
in consequence of hardship and exx>osure, took place soon
afterwards.

Dr. Livingstone and his expedition had meanwhile ex-
plored Lake Nyassa and its western shore ; and in about
11* 40' S. he fell in with a few Mazite, who, failing in their
attempt to terrify him, became themselves alarmed and fled,
though others gave'much trouble both to the land party and to
Dr. Kirk, who was at that time in charge of the boat. The
country around was desolated by these savages, and strewed
with the skeletons of their victims. The fountain-head of
the slave trade seemed to be there. Two Arabs had built
a dhow upon the lake, and were running her, crowded with
slaves, regrularly across it ; and it is said that 1,900 from
this locality pass annually the custom-house at the Arab
port of Zanzibar, exclusive of any sold to the Portuguese.
On the melancholy events which led to the abandonment of
the Mission, the prostration of most of the party by fever,
the death of Mrs. Livingstone (herself the daughter of
Moffatt the missionary pioneer), and of the accomplished
young geologist, Bichard Thornton (induced by the hard-
ships of a journey undertaken to procure animal food for
his perishing friends), and on other sad details, I have not
space to dwell. My object in citing the foregoing facts has
been to show the possible cause of the hostility of the
Mazite ; and they afford, I think, sufficient evidence that a
feud not likely to be forgotten already existed between the
Mazite and the English, even if the predatory habits of the
former were not sufficient to incite them to attack the weak
and overburdened party with which Dr. Livingstone (tra-
velling from the east coast, and having already passed the
northern end of Lake Nyassa) was traversing the borders of
their country. It is not improbable, too, that their hostility
would be fostered by persons interested in the continuance
of the inhuman traffic he so strenuously endeavoured to
suppress, |'or the niajority of the ro^^l Po^rtuguosp whom |

122

ANTS AND APHIDES.

[Vatiin and Art. April 1 186r.

have known in Tette,* I think I may say that they wonld
regard with the same horror as ourselves a dastardly
attempt to make the savage an instmment of assassination,
and will look on the reported mnrder of the Doctor with
equal indignation ; but on this point I wonld refrain from
dwolling; till the expected letters of Dr. Kirk inform ns of
the details he has been able to collect.

The career of Dr. Livingstone as a traveller and a
philanthropist needs no enlogy from me, neither am I the
man from whom it ought to be expected ; but as one who,
for however short a time, has travelled wHh him, I may
express my admiration of his many excellences, and pass as
lightly as possible over the failings which served as foils
to them.

His energy and perseverance as an explorer could not fail
to be appreciated by every one, and his self-reliance and
power of adapting himself to new emergencies were shown
when, having been led by false reports to dismiss from his
expedition men who with heart and hand were helping him
to their utmost, he applied himself energetically, if not
altogether successfully, to the various tasks thus needlessly
devolving upon him.

His life may be said to have been devoted to the cause of
the native Africans, among whom he lived till he almost
identified himself with them. Warm-hearted, generous,

• Tette is the chief town on the Zambesi river, in Portuguese
territory, nearly 300 miles from the sea.

and self-sacrificing, his indignation at the wrongs thej
suffered led him not unfrequently to injustice towaidB tiie
colonists, the majority of whom would look with abhonence
equal to his own on ouch outrages as individuals oocaaonilly
might be guilty of. As to his disregard of personal intentt,
it is sufficient to state that, in addition to the funds enpplied
him by the Government and by sympathizing friends, thd
greater part of his own property was spent in the proeeeo-
tion of the course he considered it his duty to pursue.

While there yet remains a ground for hope, I would fain,
in common with the friends of science and philaothropjr,
indulge it to the utmost. If, as I much fear, the report u
true, all private differences must bo merged in heartfdt
sorrow for the great explorer. If not, no one will rejoioe
more heartily to welcome his safe arrival, or to meet him
in England, than^

Sir, yours truly,

T. Baines, P.E.G.8.,
Late Artist of the Zambesi EspeditioiL

20, Northumberland Street, West Strand,
14th March, 1867.

March ISth.—The detailed letters from Dr. Kirk htTe
arrived, and state that the party, having crossed a mazsh at
the north end of Lake Nyassa, were passing through a
wooded country when the attack took place.* Still later
information from Dr. Kirk will be read at the meeting d
the Royal Geographical Society on Monday next.

REVIEWS.

Les Insectes, Par Louis Figuier. Ouvrage iUustr^ de 605
figures. Paris and London t Haohette & Cie. 1867.

IF we glance at the animal world in its entirety, we find
that its various members range themselves under five
principal divisions, which are known to naturalists as sub-
kingdoms. Beginning with the lowest, we find such forms as
the sponge and infusorian animalcules, which possess littie
more in the shape of digestive organization than an extem-
porized stomach; these, with some others, form the first sub-
kingdom Protozoa, Then we find the polyps, sea-anemones,
jelly-fishes, hydrsB, and corals, forming the sub-kingdom
Cwlcnterata, Next in order we have those soft creatures,
generally provided with an outer covering of shell ; these
constitute the sub-kingdom Mollusca, The worms, spiders,
leeches, centipedes, and insects belong to the sub-kingdom
Anvmlosa, Lastly, we have quadrupeds, birds, fishes, and
reptiles, which, bdng provided with a backbone made up of
what anatomists call vertebrae, are styled Vertehrata, It is
with the sub-kingfdom Annulosa that we have to do in the
present article. The creatures belonging to this section of
the animal world are distinguished from all others by
having the body divided lees or more distinctiy into a
number of rings or segments, which are placed end to end.
They comprise a number of sub-groups, called classes, which
may readily be distinguished by well-marked features. It is
to one of these classes we are about to introduce our
readers, — that of Insecta^ or insects, as they are generally
styled. An insect may be defined to be a six-legged, air-
breathing, ringed animal, having its body divided into three
separate parts, head, chest, and belly, and being usually pro-
vided with wings. This definition is, we believe, unimpeach-
able, and having given it, we may therefore pass on to the
particular divisions of the class in which the species forming
the heading of this page hold their place. Insects are of
two sorts, — those in which the mouth is made for suction
and converted into a proboscis, and those in which the jaws
and their correspondhig parts are separate from each other,
BO as to admit of chewing and eating movements. Now the
Aphides belong to the former, and the Ants to the latter ;
the one coming under the order of Bugs {Hemiptera)^ and the
pther tp tjie tribe of Bees and Wasps {Hymenopteray Having

given these preliminary and somewhat dry, though nccei-
sary, particulars, we now come to the Ants and Aphides
themselves.

The study and pursuit of insects have from a very early
period in the history of civilization possessed great fas-
cinations for lovers of nature. The wonderfully complex
construction of these creatures, their singular habits, tiieir
extraordinary varieties, their almost human intelligenoe,
their remarkably arranged homes, their brilliantiy oolooied
garments, thei|^ peculiar sounds, and, above all, their as-
tounding metamorphoses in passing from their juvenile to
their mature condition, have given them an interest to the
student of natural phenomena such as no other animals
present. In no department of entomology are all these
qualities of insects seen in a higher degree of perfection
than in the gfroup of bees and wasps, to which the singular
littie creatures we are about to describe belong. Inthii
order we have numerous examples of the beautiful hnes,
strange habits, and remarkable instincts of the insect, and
few of its members exemplify our remarks more fully than
the ants {Pormicidm),

There are not many of our readers to whom the common
ant {Formica rufa) is not familiar. Who in his summer
rambles through the fields has not fallen on an ant-hill—
a littie mound of earth rising from the level plAin--a
veritable subterranean city, full of life, and busy with the
thousand labours of an industrious population P Who has
not seen the littie, brown, active creatures running to and
fro apparently in confused bustie, but really moving ac-
cording to a system of rigid discipline that would do credit
to a human populace? Who has not watched their
movemttits and wondered at their industry and ceaselesB
activity P The ant is an insect of the gregarious type ; it
lives in colonies, and like the common bees and wasps
differs from its fellow species in many particulars of orgam-
zation and mode of life. The readqr who desires to follow
out the subject should consult the beautiful volume which
has just been published, and on which we found this article.
But we shall try and give a general account of the economy
of the ant-hill in these pages. Ants, like most msecta
which live in colonies, are divided into three kinds, — ^maleSi
females, and workers or neuters ; of these the two first are

ANTS CAPTURTNO AND MILKING APHIDES.

KatoM and Art. April 1, U67.]

ANTS AND APHIDES,

123

alone provided with wings, and this is why there is such a
general impression that the ant is wingless. The body in all
oases is borne upon three pairs of slender limbs, the antennsB
or feelers are jointed, and have great freedom of motion.
The mandibles or jaws are homy and powerfol, and serve as
teeth and weapons of offence. The males are somewhat
larger than the workers, and the females are of greater size
even than the males. Their larvss, or young, when in the
oaterpillar condition, spin a delicate silken envelope forming
the cocoon. Finally, to complete the general characters of
our ant, it is not provided with a sting as is generally
supposed, bat is capable of secreting a pungent and acid
fluid, known as formic acid, which it drops into the little
wound inflicted by its scissor-like jaws, thus producing a
considerable deal of itching or fcmnication (Jormicaj an ant),
as it is termed. The worker ants, which are boUi sexless
and wingless, are those which engage in all the important
labours undertaken by the colony. The male and female are
alone concerned with the production of the young ; they may
be seen in great numbers, in the neighbourhood of ant-hills,
towards the end of the sammer^ when they have completed

SECTION OP AN ANT-HILL. *

their metamorphoses, they leave the colony, and flying into
the air, perform the functions allotted to them ; the males
thereupon ceasing to exist, and the impregnated females
dropping their wings and returning to the original colony,
or forming a new one, and depositing the ova in a place
prepared for the purpose. But it U to the workers that we

must look as exhibiting the qualities of insects to which we
have already referred. It is they who construct the ant-
hill, guard its various entrances, provide the ** lying-in"
chambers for the females, take care of the eggs till their
conversion into larvsB, and afterwards feed and watch them
^th the tendereet solicitude, till in course of time winged
males and females appeari and the period of swarming
occurs, as in the case of bees.

Amongthe many remarkable proofs of theant'sintelligence,
the oonstructiou of its habitation is not the least interesting.
The ant-hill varies in point of architectural features ac-
cording to the Bi>ecies; but in the case of the species to
which we have alluded {Formica rufa)^ it assumes the
typical shape, and presents itself as a little hill or mound
rising some inches above the surface. It is composed of all
sorts of debris which the ant flnds in its chosen spot, — ^bits
of wood, fragments of leaves, grains of com, pieces of other
insects' skeletons, little bits of broken straw, and such-like.
But this elevation is really only a portion of the ant-city,
which extend? to a certain depth into the soil. If we make
a careful cutting through an ant-hill, we shall see hundreds
of chann^ or avenues tunnelled through the ground,
and communicating with each other, and with those
which traverse the dome-shaped portion of the habi-
tation (see flgure). The external apertures of these
galleries are very large, but they are carefully bar-
ricaded during the night, and on wet days, and are
thrown open in fine weather. At first these domi-
ciles consist of a single channel hollowed in the
earth, but gradually the number increases. The
tt'or^-ants tunnel away unceasingly, and carry out
the excavated earth in tJie form of Uttle pellets, till
at length a complete labyrinth is formed, corridors,
chambers, and halls, often communicating by means
of vertical passages, make their appearance, and
finally we behold a large central chamber supported
by rude pillars of earth, and into which the several
passages lead. It is in this latter that we find most
of the ants when we open an ant-hill. Generally these
hills measure from about a foot to a foot and a half
high, and are equally broad ; and some writers who
take a higher view of the ant's intelligence than we
do, look upon them as true fortresses in which each
tunnel has a distinct and foreseen relation to its
fellows, which are defended by various ingenious
devices of constmction, and which are always care-
fully guarded.

We come now to another page in the history of
these insects, — ^to that which describee the production
and nursing of the young. The females, who usually
occupy a special part of the colony, seem, contrary
to the views of those who slander the gentier sex, to
live together in the most perfect harmony. In course
of time they lay a number of extremely minute, white,
spherical egg9t and with this operation end their
duties to the colony. To the workers is consigned
the important labour of incubating the eggs, and
rearing and nursing the young. They take charge
of the ova the moment they are laid, and remove
them to chambers specially arranged for their recep-
tion. A certain amount of warmth is required for
the development of the eggs into larvte, and this is
procured by removing the ova in fine weather from
the cells, in which they have been detained, into the
open air. There they are exposed to the sun's rays
— care being taken that too high a temperature is not
imx>arted to them — ^for some time, and then the
ever-active workers remove them to the nurseries.
It is this process we see going on in summer time
when we disturb an ant-hill. Myriads of the busy little
insects Tmay be seen rushing about laden with little white
grain-like bodies, of which they take the greatest care,
and eventually succeed in carrying beneath the surface.
These white, grain-like bodies are the larvsD, and as some
of the earlier observers fancied they were grains of cereals,
seeds, and such-like, the ant acquired a reputation for
thriftinesB and providence which it certainly does not
deserve. In abput fifteen days the eggs are imtched, and

12i

ANTS AND APHIDES.

[XAtore and Ait. Ijirll 1. UflT.

the loryas make their appearance as little whitish, semi-
transparent, ovoid worms. They possess a head and body,
the latter being divided into a number of rings or segments
which are unprovided with feet. Their month is a sort of
retractile proboscis, in which we may see the rudiments of
the f atnre mandibles, but at this period of their existence it
is only employed for sucking. They feed upon the peculiar
honey-like fluid provided for them by the workers, who pre-
pare it in their stomachs, and then disgorge it for the
nourishment of the young. The most sedulous attention is
paid by the worker-nurses to the larvss, the latter, as we have
already stated, being constantly removed from their under-
ground chambers to the outer surface of the ant-hill, where
they receive the genial influence of the sun, and thus further
their metamorphosis. The nurses, too, advance this pheno-
menon by genUy irritating, rubbing, and distending the skin
of the larva with their palpi. Soon this metamorphosis takes
place. The little larva spins its temporary greyish-yellow
silken coffin, and becomes a nymph, or pupa. Gradually
beneath the veil under which Nature conceals her mysterious
operations, the larva is transformed into a nearly perfect
ant, the proboscis disappears, and is replaced by a set of
homy jaws, the skin changes its colour, assumes a
reddish-brown tint, powerful and strangely organized limbs
are formed, and the head and its appendages increase in com-
plexity of structure. These singular changes all take place,
and yet the creature remains motionless and death-like, and
when the metamorphosis is complete, the nurses once more
commence their labours. They now tear away the curtain
and disclose the perfect insect or imago^ as it is scientifically
termed. Nor do they cease their tender exertions. They
still continue to watoh over the welfare of the new-bom,
till they are able to take their own place in their little sphere
of existence.

On the subject of the habits of the ant, M. Figuier
is very eloquent; and, although he is in most instances
supported in his statements by higher authorities, he oc-
casionally treats us to tales which the light of experience
and of scientific observation has shown to be fallacious.
Still he is always interesting, and generally instructive.
Speaking of the dealings of the ants with each other, he gives
them credit for the practice of a higher philosophy than that
which guides mere human actions. If, he says, an ant is
fatigued, a comrade takes him upon his shoulders. Those
whose thoughts are too busy with their labours to induce
them to search for food, are carefully fed by those who are
less occupied. When an ant has received an iiijnry, the first
of his fellows that meets him takes him in charge like a
good Samaritan, and conveys him to his home. When he
discovers a rich mine of food, he does not selfishly keep the
information to himself, he tells his companions, and forthwith
all join in the festivii^. If one of these insects is hungry
and cannot procure food, his neighbour, like the Boman
daughter of old, feeds him from his own substance— dis-
gorges a drop of saccharine fluid which his hungry companion
quickly devours. It appears that in all these cases the
feelings and ideas (if we may use the expression) of the ants
are conveyed to each other through the antennas, which by
rubbing against each other seem to give expression to their
sensations. Finally, to conclude this portion of our subject,
we may state that the age of the ant i» unknown, but there
appears to be no doubt that it may live for several years.
Its food is chiefly fresh and decayed fraits, flowers yielding
honey, &c. ; but the ant will eat dead animal matter, and
will even attack other insects and devour them.

Apropos of the food on which the ants subsist, is the
second division of our article, thtft which refers to the
Aphides, or plant-lice, as they are generally styled. The
ants and aphides are in no way related in the sense of
affinity ; the former are mandibulate or chewing insects,
whilst the latter are haustellate or suctorial. But there is
nevertheless a very intimate relationship — that of captor
to slave — existing between them. Still the relationship is
a friendly one. There seems to be no example of harsh
treatment on the part of the masters, and the serfs ap-
pear to be tolerably contented with the lot that has fallen
to them. There are, we imagine, few of our readers who
have pot scon the aphis^ and vet we ds^je say vcrjr few

remember what the insect is like, and still fewer know
aught of his history. If any one who plucks a rose from a
rose-bush takes the trouble to look at the stem and learei,
he will, in nine cases out of ten, find it covered — almost to
swarming — with small green insects, grenerally devoid of
wings, and of a hue resembling that of the leaf. They an
curious, though hardly handsome objects, and the obeerrer
finds them so sluggish in their movements, that so far from
attempting to make their escape they allow themselves to be
crushed in hundreds beneath his fingers. If the obserrer is
sharp enough in point of peroeption,he will find that the learei
on which these insects have rested, are covered over with little
drops of a miniature dew which has a sweetish honej-Iike
flavour, and if he pushes his inquiries further, he will disooTer
that the insects and the drops stand to each other in the rda-
tion of cause and effect. The aphides leave this deposit on
the plants, but how ? This is the question which the eailier
naturalists, LinnsBUS, Bonnet, and Pierre Huber, were long
seeking to answer. But we may fairly presume the tnts had
answered it for themselves in even pre- Adamite ages. The
aphis presents at the extremity of its abdomen, a couple of
little moveable tubes which appear to be connected with a
sugar-secreting gland, and if we carefully -watch these, we
shall see from time to time that a small gelatinous dropexades
from their open ends, and falls upon the leaf. Now it also
happens that in nearly every case where aphides are dnstered
upon a stem or branch, a few ants may be seen rmming
nimbly here and there among their lazy neighbours, and if
we look closely, we shall see that the ants are not there by
accident, but that they have come in search of the little
sugary diroplets which exude from the abdominal tabee of
the aphis, and of which they appear to be immensely fond.
This, then, is the secret of the affection which the ants hare
for the aphides — ^the latter are a sort of milch cattle which
supply them with food. Frequently the ant waits patiently
till the aphis drops its sugary secretion, and then it licks
it up greedily. But it also often occurs that it stimulates
the aphis to give out this Beoretion, in order to satisfy its
desires.

The careful observations of Pierre Huber* proved, beyond
question, that the ant knows that by gently touching the
abdominal tube of the aphis it can cause the latter to eject the
peculiar fluid, which is secreted in its gland (see Plate). And
that it makes use of this knowledge is a certain fact, which
has been over and over again corroborated by naturalists.
The ant doesn't endeavour to irritate the apUs ; it simply
touches its tube with a gentle stroking motion which seems
to soothe the gorged insect and promotes the discharge of
the saccharine droplet. In fact, the aphis appears to enjoy
this process of milking, and the ants, to use a modem
expression, utilize it. The next feature in the relationship
of these two insects is the bondage of the aphides. Singu-
lar as the fact may seem, it is still perfectly true, that the
ants capture the aphides, bear them away, often on their
backs, to their underground dwellings and keep them there,
not indeed as prisoners of war, but as a Southern planter
used to keep his slaves, or as we keep our cattle. They treat
them with no harshness, nor do the captives appear to
suffer any discomfort from their captivity. They are
provided with chambers of their own, and save that they
are compelled by their masters to yield the delioions ee-
cretion which they value so highly, they fare in ail respects
as well as any member of the strange community in which
their life is passed.

There are many other traits in the ant's nature which well
deserve attention, but to which we cannot refer here.
Those interested in the matter should pursue the study
practically to pursue it profltably. Indeed the whole
insect world is peopled with creatures, each of which should
have a history of its own, were insect intelligence to re-
ceive its due.' But as few of us can be practical natnrHlists
beyond a limited extent, and as many are desirous of
knowing the leading principles of the science of entomology*
and some of the curious facts in the history of insect
instinct, we cannot do better in conclusion than say that in

• Recherches sur les Mamrs des Fourmis indigenes, a work
pf ten <|uot^ iq M> Figuier' s pages.

THK GREAT TOWER OF THE PAGODA WAT-CHINO, AT BANKOK.

NMuw and Art, April 1. 1837.]

REVIEWS.

125

M. i^igaier'a volume thoy will find reading to their heart's
content. Althooj^h in some respects (we allude more
particularly to the department of physiology) the work has
defects, yet, taken all in all, it is one of the finest, fullest,
and best illustrated popular treatises on entomology we
have yet seen.

A History of Architecture in all Countries^ from the earliest
times to the present day. By James Fergusson, F.B.S.,
&o. &c. John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1867.

The time is not so very long since architecture was taught
AS being wholly comprised in five orders. There were the
Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, Composite, and the Tuscan. The
Gothic might have been mentioned ; but the authorities of
the time would only tell you that, being so very barbarous,
it ought not to be included in the word architecture. How
wonderful is the change. The Gothic has completely taken
the place of the five orders, so much so, that some of the
most modem architects know little more of them than their
names. With this change there has also come the knowledge
that there weremany other styles of architecture in the world,
all of them as important as those of Greece and Bome. It
is now clear that the architecture of Greece cannot be
properly understood without a previous study of Egyptian
on the one hand, and of Assyrian on the other. Gothic
appears in Venice allied to Byzantine, and the Byzantine
again is allied to the Arabic. The Assyrian and Persian lead

VIEW OF EXTEBIOB C<fcRIDOR, NAKHON WAT.
FroM a Photograph by Mr, J, Thomton,

US into India, and the study cannot be arrested tUl we have
included the architecture of Ceylon, Burmah, Siam, and
China. All are allied by links which it is necessary to
recognize before the history of architecture can be under-
stood.
Jhis is tho task which Mr. Fergusson has undertaken, and

there is no man more fitted for the purpose ; vi fact, there
is no other man who has had the necessary education to
enable him to produce such a work. We have men deep in
classical architecture ; there are plenty who know all about
Gothic ; Byzantine has numerous students^ ancient Egyptian
is well known ; but the trans-Indus architecture has been
studied by few, and these few would all point to Mr.
Fergusson as being the man with the greatest amount of
knowledge, and as having j^done more than any other
lo work out the subject. He spent a great many years in'
India, during which his leisure was devoted to visiting and
drawing — drawing being the best of all means for studying
this subject — all the important architectural remains of that
country. By this means he ma^e hitnself master of the
various styles, and all their details, so that he has been
able to classify them, and this classification includes as
many orders as the "five" of the last generation. It is
this complete knowledge of oriental architecture, coupled
with an equally extended acquaintance with that of the
Western world, which makes him the man fitted to write " A
History of Architecture in all Countries." All previous
works which pretended to this title were written by men
who had studied only some particular style which formed
the pidce de resistance in their book, and the rest of the
subject was served up as comer dishes, perhaps a mere
fragment being made to represent the art of a vast
geographical space, which we now find to be covered with
examples of the highest value. But the present work goes
on a different idea ; which Mr. Fergusson thus expresses in
his preface : —

" It is, so far as I know, the first attempt to
write a universal history of architecture in
which each style shall occupy exactly that
amount of space which the extent of its build-
ings or their merit would appear to justify."

Let us now consider how the accomplished
author has carried out his programme. Of
course such a work cannot exhaust each style
— it does not pretend to do so, — ^but with
these volumes you can sit at home, and turn-
ing over their ample leaves, each illustrated
by beautifully minute woodcuts, you may wander
over the world and, like a traveller, visit all its
buildings of celebrity. You may explore the
interior of the Great Pyramid, and understand
its construction as well as if you were on the
spot. You may ascend the Nile, and visit Thebes
and its temples. Jerusalem and the Holy Places
are an easy pilgrimage. The Acropolis can be
scaled, and the Parthenon measured ; St. Sophia
can be looked at without the usual demand
for " bucksheesh." You may peep into the
Caves of Inkerman, and pay a flying visit to
Moscow ; a few pages turned over, and you are
at Bagdad looking at the tomb of Ezekiel. The
Birs Nimroud — the now accepted Tower of
Babel — is ready for inspection, and so your
enthusiastic guide leads you to India, with its
wonderful rock-cut temples, and the elaborate
and beautiful ornamental shrines which are to
be found in every part of it. Now, on to Siam,
and you have the beautiful temples which
Mouhot, the French naturalist, was the first to
discover, in his search after the wonder? of
^^^"_ insect life, through the jungles of that country.
'\_. ^- At the last meeting of the British Association

Mr. Thomson exhibited the plans and numerous
photographs of the Great temple of Nakhon
Wat — one of those which Mouhot first came
upon — and these are in part reproduced on Mr. Fergusson' s
pages, so that the reader may form an idea of this wonderful
remnant of ancient architecture. After looking in at the
Great Temple of the Dragon at Pekin, an easy jump takes
you over the Pacific, to Mexico and Peru, and their very
strange Sun Temples, some of which are like Egyptian
pyramids, and others with strong Buddhist analogies about
them, leading to the idea of a connection between the old
and now world, which Mr. Fergusson thinks may have existed

126

REVIEWS.

[NatQM and Alt. Ipra 1. lar.

by way of China, and possibly through Behring's Straits in
the fifth century.

In making this ronnd of the globe, visiting "all
countries " where there are remains of buildings, you will
find that your cicerone is not a dull, dry matter-of-fact
architect, knowing nothing but the knowledge which is
peculiar to his hobby. On the contrary, the architecture of
each country is treated in relation to the race of people, and
to the requirements of their religion or Uf e. In the preface,
the author claims that if he were to state the most
important feature of his work, it would be its " Ethno-
graphy." He says : —

** My impression is that, unless the essential affinities of
styles are peroeiyed, and their application can be traced, the
history of architecture is a mere memoria technica for con-
necting buildings together ; but whenever their true relations
are grasped, their history rises to the dignity of a science.
My conviction is, that when properly appreciated, architecture
will be considered as important in tracing the affinities of
races as language ; and that, in many cases, it is even more
so, because more fixed and more easily read, while it is
quite as essentially characteristic. So deeply impressed am
I with the importance of this element, not only to the art of
architecture, but to the science of mankind, that I feel
that if I have been enabled to place it in a clear and
intelligible form, I shall not have lived or laboured in vain.*'

Probably there are few who are prepared for such claims
on the part of architecture. The most of people generally
think that buildings are produced anyJwWy or, if there is a
style about different periods of architecture, that it is very
general and vague, and not at aU to be depended upon.
But it is a great and important principle that there are not
more reliable records in history than the buildings of a
country. The manner in which men have built houses,
temples, and tombs, the material of construction, the
ornaments and sculptural decoration, are in every land
among the most trustworthy arguments which history can
produce. They are the fossils of their several periods.
Inscriptions may be interpolations of a later date, or
written falsehoods of the time'; books are generally the
written records of a man, or expound the views of some
set of men at a given moment. This architecture never is.
So far as it goes, as a record, it must express the truth
regarding the ideas, the wants, and aspirations of an epoch.
The details of a building, its arrangement of parts, its
mouldings and its ornaments are as certain data as is the
structure of plants in botanical classification.

No better illustration of the foregoing proposition oould
be given than the discoveries which Mr. Fergusson made
about Jerusalem. There was a building there called the
Holy Sepulchre, and there was another called the Mosque of
Omar. When Mr. Fergusson began to consider the character
of these buildings, he was struck with the pretended name
of the ** Mosque of Omar," and his knowledge of oriental
architecture at once told him that no Mahomedan ever
raised it for a mosque. A more minute investigation es-
tablished the fact, that it could not have been built before
the time of Diocletian, and not later than that of Justinian.
Intermediate came the reign of Constantine, and it was
known that Constantine had built a House of Prayer, which
he commanded "should be erected round the Saviour's
tomb on a scale of rich and lavish magnificence, which
should surpass all others in beauty ; and that the details
of the building should be such that the finest structure in
any city of any empire might be excelled by it." Such were
Constantine' s orders, and no building in Jerusalem except
the Dome of the Bock realizes them. It is one of the
finest examples of richness and lavish magnificence in the
world, and it is fronrrits detail of ornament and con-
struction, a building of the age of Constantine. Here on
this architectural stronghold Mr. Fergusson takes his stand.
Eusebius and other historians have been brought into the
controvei^. Old monks and pilgrims who have left
writings in early days have been appealed to ; and aU
these historical and written data have been quoted on each
side, with that air of triumph which indicates that they are
authorities confirming the most opposite opinions; but
in the midst of this long and heated controversy, with so

much uncertainty about the meaning of historical docu-
ments, the architectural facts and the argument founded upon
them stand untouched, and by these written stones it has
come to pass that a man understanding the vrititig, hu
been able to overthrow an error believed in for ages ; to
make clear what the regular sources of history had failed
to do ; and thus to establish the value of architectoie as a
study in relation to the " science of mankind."

Mr. Fergusson intended to give a greater importance to tiM
Druidical remains than he has done, and he was at tiu
trouble of a journey to Camao in Brittany, to see the
wonderful monuments there. The questions involTed
made it evident that justice could not be done without going
beyond the purpose of the present work ; thus the matter
is left within the limits due to its importance, and the
author awaits some other opportunity to giYe full justice to
the architecture of the Druids.

There is one very interesting chapter on the aneteot
Celtic architecture of Ireland. The author seems to think
that the style did not come by way of England from Europe,
but that its origin must be sought in the East, and that it
must have reached Ireland by some very early and
independent source. This is in keeping with the traditioni
of the country, and also with the fact that when Augostioe
arrived from Rome, he found that Christianity had got to
our islands before him. How it came is one of the dark
points in our primitive history : but the generally received idea
is, that it was by way of Ireland that Columba carried it
over to lona, and that it thence spread all over Sootlaod,
and as far south as York. It was in virtue of this pre-
conversion that York so long contended for the Primacy of
England against the claims of Canterbury.

The principal interest is, of course, in the two first
volumes, which treat of the ancient architecture of the
world. The third and concluding volume begins with the
Benaissance as the commencement of modem architeotore,
and from that point the subject is brought down to the
present day.

The quantity and quality of the woodcut Ulustrationi
cannot be too highly praised : of this our readers may jndge
for themselves, for, through the kindness of the publisher,
we are enabled to give a couple of the drawings which add
BO much interest to Mr. Fergusson's pages. One is '* the
great Tower of the Pagoda Wat-Ching, at Bangkok ; " and
the other is a " View of Exterior Corridor, Nakhon Wat."
The last of these was quite a discovery on the part of
Mouhot, and so great was the interest felt in it, that an
amateur photographer— Mr. J. Thomson— -penetrated into
the jungle, and has brought home a most complete set of
photographs of this vast and wonderful temple. Ibssa
photographs produced quite a sensation at the last British
Association's meeting, for the style of architecture can
scarcely be identified with any other in the East. The
square pillars of the corridor in the illustration seem more
allied to the Erectheum than to any Indian building. The
temple, although Buddhist, has the story of the Bamajana
sculptured all along its corridors, a circumstance which
indicates the existence of Hindoo ideas in this part of the
world at a very early date.

We must acknowledge our thanks to Mr. Murray for
having placed it in our power to furnish our readers with
two such beautiful illustrations of these last and moat
important discoveries in ancient architecture.

Hours of Work and Play, By JVances Power Oobbe.
London i N. Triibner & Co., 1867.

0*" the fouHeen papers composing this book, twelve are
reprints from high-class magazines, whose pages they hare
adorned during tiie last three years. Any eulogy of oors
upon Work of the worthiest and Play of the most sparkling
order, which originally found favour with the conductors,
and doubtless with the myriad readers of such periodicals
as Macmillant Fraserj Temple Bar, Once a Week, or The
Atlantic Monthly y may seem somewhat after date ; but we
will nevertheless congratulate Miss Cobbe on the populan^

N«tiit« Mid Art, April 1, 1867.]

EEVEEWS.

127

Bhe will aoqaire througli this republioation. The authoresa
of "Public Morality and its Teachers," "The Indigent
Class/' "The FaUaoiea of Memory," "The Shadow of
Death," " A Lady's Adventure in the Great Pyramid," and
" The Fenian Idea," has fairly won new laurels for her sex
in an arena, where its triumphs have of late years been
many and signal. In extracting specimens of her grave
and gayer moods, wc face a certain small risk of being
blamed for serving up rechauffes ; but the majority of our
readers will, we are sure, thank us for the following quo-
tation from a delightful essay on " The Fallacy of Memory,"
to recognize which they must have read the New York
Galaxy of May last.

"The conclusions to which this brief review of the
failures and weaknesses of memory must lead us are
undoubtedly painfuL To be deceived a hundred times, and
misled even in important matters, by a wrong estimate of
our powers, seems less sad than to be compelled to admit
that the powers themselves are untrustworthy. * To be weak
is to be miserable,' in .this as in all other things ; but to
find Memory weak is to be not only feeble in the present,
but to lose our grasp of the past. That dear past ! the
past by whose grave we are standing all our later life,
la doubly lost to us if we must cover it up in dust and
oblivion. To know that what we deem we recall so vividly
is but a poor, shifting reflex — hardly of the thing itself,
only of our earlier remembrance of the thing — ^this is sad
and mournful. Almost more terrible it seems to confess the
f allaoiousness of the great traditions of History, and in the
waste of waters, over which we are drifting, to behold the
barks of past centuries no longer stretching their sails in our
wake, but growing hazy and spectral in the mist of doubt,
till some we deemed the richest galleons in that mighty fleet
fade from our eyes, and are lost for ever in impenetrable
cloud. These things cannot be evaded or averted. On our
generation of mankind has come the knowledge of an
isolation, such as younger races never felt, and perhaps
could less have borne. The sweet, childlike companionship
with Nature, the reasoning beasts and birds, the half -human
fauns and dryads and nymphs and river gods, the gnomes
and sylphs and fairies; tiie peopled sky of angels, and
nether world of demons and of ghosts — all are gone from us.
We are alone, we of this poor human race, so far as we have
any knowledge or even definite fancy, among intelligent
beings. Between us and our dumb brute slaves there is a
gulf, which no longer is bridged over by any earth-bom or
heaven-descended race. Science, as she marches round us in
wider and yet wider circles, leaves ever a hard and barren
track behind her, on which no flower of fancy may bloom
again. And at this hour she tells, or threatens to tell us yet
more — ^that if we would know the parents from whom we
came, whose Paradise-home yet seems the cradle of our
infancy, we must retrace the world's course not for six
thousand years, but for ages of millenniums, and find them
at last — ^not beautiful and calm, conversing in Eden with the
sons of GU)d — but simious-browed and dwarf of limb,
struggling with the mammoth and the cave-bear in the
howling wilderness of an uncultured world. Is not this
enough ? Must we also relinquish those Elysian fields of
History, where the great departed yet seemed to live in
bowers of amaranth and never-fading fame ? Keeping the
landmarks of the ages — ^the wars and the dynasties ; keeping
the great heiriooms' of wisdom, in books, in art, in temple
and picture and poem and statue, must we relinquish those
thousand lesser marks which have served to render History
real and dear to us, and have brought the mighty Dead, not
as silent ghosts and faintly-descried shades, but as living
and speaking men before us? Must we be content to
know, that only the outlines of the ancestral pictures of our
house are true, and all the colours which make them
beautiful, retouched and falsified P Perchance it must be
so. Perchance the loneliness of human nature must needs
be more impressed on us as science advances in the field of
historical criticism, as in the fields of mythology and
physiology. The past is becoming like a twilight scene in a
mountain land, where the valleys are all filled with mist, and
wood and waterfall and village spire are dimly shadowed.

Only some snowy Alp, whose huge outline we recognize,
towers into the upper air ; while the lights gleam here and
there, from hearth and cloister and student's cell, the rays of
genius shining through the night of time. We are a
thousand millions of men and women and babes living now
upon earth ; but of those who are gone before on whose dust
we tread ; and of those who may be dwelling now in the
stars which glitter in our wintry sky, we know almost as
much, — and that is not knowledge, but conjecture."

We cannot here find room to quote very pathetic passages
we had marked in "The Diablerets," piquant comicality
from " The Lady's Adventure in the Great Pyramid," or
elegant satire from " The Humour of all Nations." Suffice
it for us to say that these sparkling pages prove their
authoress to possess a depth of feeling, a keenness of
observation, a store of knowledge, and a polished style,,
which place her, and will maintain her, if she so please, in
the foremost rank of modem essayists.

Papers on Picture Flaying at the Natumal Oallery, By an
Artist. Trubner & Co., 1867.

The titles of this series of essays, " Annibale Caracci,"
" Bravo Boxall I " " Salvator Eosa," " The Academician on
Time and Dirt," " The Dealer on Toning down," " The
Connoisseur on Process," "The Philosopher on Effect,"
" The Committee and the Job " will afford an intelligent
reader a notion of the tenor and spirit of the pamphlet
they compose. Those who can relish a hearty diatribe may
wile away an hour or two very pleasantly over the "Artist's"
pages, which, while they teem with abuse, in good set phrase,
of the powers that be, and suggest to an unprejudiced
mind the idea of a hobby-horse run wild, yet evince
a considerable acquaintance with the subject, an honest
abomination of jobbery, and a deep and fervid love of art
tliat goes a long long way to i)alliate excesses of expression.
In the course of the last autumn several important pictures
in the National Gallery were subjected, under the direction
of Mr. Boxall, Mr. Womum, and other employes, to a very
ordinary process of cleaning, and, as those authorities
fondly imagined, with very excellent results. The principal
ones were a Salvator fiosa landscape, commonly called
" Mercury and the Dishonest Woodman," formerly the pro-
perty of Mr. Byng, and " The Ch&teau of Stein," the largest
landiscape ever painted, by Bubens. When the Gallery was
opened after the recess, we were there, and so it is to be pre-
sumed was the author of the pages before us ; but oh ! in what
different moods. While we, in Boeotian blissful ignorance,
were applauding what we were pleased to think the suc-
cessful exertions of the authorities to unveil the long-
obscured beauties in their charge, there was present one, to
whom (piotorially speaking) % cleaner is a nightmare, and
dirt a religion; and who muttering mentally, we may
imagine, such phrases as " desecration ! mutilation 1 spasm
of destructiveness ! Vandalism I noodles I nincompoops I "
straightway returned home to give vent to his feelmgs in a
protest, and a series of essays which are very instructive and
interesting even to those who like ourselves differ toto coelo
with the main proposition he seeks to establish.

On the subject of picture-cleaning he opens his case as
follows : we extract the passage at some length, for though
many of our readers have heard of the practice, its attendant
risks, and of the controversy which rages periodically about
the propriety or wrongfulness of it, few may be aware upon
what the question hinges.

" On a picture that has been painted for centuries dirt to
some extent must inevitably adhere ; but this, if the work
has not been ignorantly covered with bad vamish or oil,
wiU be so small in quantity as not to materially interfere
either with the effect of the work or the pleasure and profit
derivable from it by spectator or student. Still, the re-
moval of this dirt would unquestionably be a gain, provided
it were done without damage to the paint ; but * cleaners '
almost always take off, with the dirt, that delicate coat of
colour by which the great painters imparted finish to their
works, termed 'gla^g.' Their process of painting was

128

BEVIBWS.

[Vatnn and Izi. AptU l.UT.

broadly this : on a ground more or less dark and trans-
parent they modelled the picture in tints formed by mixing
white lead with coloured pigments, thns producing an effect
which, as compared with their ultimate intention, was
crude, cold, opaque, and technically .speaking, 'dead
coloured/ To this pale preparation they imparted life,
warmth, harmony, and richness of tone by repeated coats
or * glazings ' of colours more or less transparent ; and a
picture thns produced has the additional and invaluable
quality of luminousness, resulting from light and opaque
tints shining through colour rich but thin. Now it must be
evident that pictures produced by this complex process can
be injured at will. Let the owner or curator consider
lightness or paleness a merit, and the glazings are at once
torn off as* dirt.*"

Our author next proceeds to indict the late and present
keepers of the National Gallery, their aiders, abettors, and
accomplices of every degree ; for that they, under pretence
of removing the accumulated filth of ages (which in a second
count he charges that they themselves imposed in the shape
of varnish), did skin, flay, and destroy no less than one pic-
ture per annum since 1843, and thus inflicted wanton devas-
tation upon taste and art.

The following peroration rather reminds us in style and
solemnity of the celebrated one of Burke against the
unfortunate Governor-General Hastings. Perhaps it is
more than adequate to the occasion that has evoked it,
but we quote it as a specimen of the intensity of party.

" Against this Vandalism we raise our voice — against this
ignorant destruction of works which can never be replaced
we protest ta the interests of art, of the nation, and of the
world. As Mr. Boxall — in contempt of the overwhelming
evidence against the National Gktllery process of 'cleaning,'
given before the Committee of 1858, in contempt of the facts
then deposed to by Mr. Morris Moore, Mr. William Coning-
ham. Sir David Brewster, Mr. David Boberts, B.A., and
other competent witnesses, with reference to the nature of
*glaze' and the irreparable injury caused by its ignorant
removal — in contempt of the universal condemnation of the
Vandalism of 1852, by the press — ^has thought fit to re-
commence this method of destruction, thereby not only
depreciating the value of public property to the extent of
thousands of pounds, but causing injury which no money
can repair — we demand in the name of the public, that all
operations that come under the head of 'cleaning' be at
once stayed, and that no more pictures be removed from
pablio sight until Parliamentary inquiry has again probed
this matter to the root."

We devoutly hope that the aooomph'shed author may be
disappointed of a Parliamentry committee, which would be
utterly abortive, because, as neither committees nor in-
dividuals can elucidate the composition and nature of the
glazing of any yet *unfiayed' picture, or find out the
appearance which any one painting presented when it left
the easel of the master, it would seem to us that no re-
ference can settle how much paint or glaze, if any, has been
or will be taken from any picture in the cleaning process,
along with the hallowed, harmonizing dust which the in-
decisive Eastlake is censured by our author for approving,
but for which all these pages are a plea. No one invariable
rule could be laid down on the subject save that dirt should
be immoveable ; and in denying that the operations on the
Bubens and the Salvator wo^d justify such a rule, we
differ, with regret, from the Artist.

We have pleasure in extracting his agreeable commentary
on the former work, not suppressing the castigation levelled
at ourselves and all the otiier noodles of the world at its
close : —

**This noble landscape represents, not sunset (for this
effect see smaller landscape by Bubens, No. 157), but a
sultry autumnal sunrise. To the left is seen the ch&teau
(still, we believe, standing) sheltered by tall trees with rich
October tinge of leaf. On the terrace, taking the morning
air, stroll Bubens and his wife; whilst the lazy maid,
holding their infant child, sits indiscreetly down. A moat

surrounds the place, and, leaning over its bridge, a rod, vith
customary adjuncts of * fool * and * worm * (see Johnson),
trusts to provide fish for dinner ; whilst, thinking of the
same meal, a man, crouching in the foreground, with dog
and gun, has designs on a covey of unconscious partridge
Far into the dim distance stretch rich level meadows,
fenced with pollard and stream ; whilst in mead nigh at
hand stand cows relieved by milkmaids— one still hnsj, the
other bending her steps towards home. To the left, starting
for market, with brisk but heavy trot, two horses driw a
' lumbering * wain, in which is seen a bonny, smiling, boxom
Flemish dame, in hat, red cloak, and gown of blae; whilst
a huge brass pitcher of warm milk, a barrel of portly size
(sad sight to temperance eye), and unlucky red calf, truased
in bucolic style, all four feet together, bear her company.
Guiding the team sits, postilion fashion, on near horse, a
happy peasant, who turns the vehicle, at the moment caught
by Bubens, into a shallow, brown, brawling brook, the
disturbed waters of which flash with golden sparkles to the
horses* tread. Briars and tall weeds, wonderfully touched,
sprawl over trunk and bank, and fill the foreground; whihtt,
perched in a bush to the extreme right, is an assemblj of
early birds, varied in kind, and deep in after-breakfast
debate as to the infiuence of soil on the flavour of worms;
but a kingfisher, disdaining such small talk and disgusted
at impertinent proximity of biped with gun, takes wing for
fresh streams and gudgeons new. Such, in brief, is some-
thing like the story told by this wonderful delineation of
seventeenth century rural Flemish life, which, modelled in
Bubens's customary manner on a transparent gronnd of
lightish yellow hue, was finished, tone and form, with free
use of transparent colour, now ruthlessly torn away; and
although the uneducated eye, unequal to discrimination
of Bubens's handiwork from * cleaners* * brown or toned
varnish (of which more anon), may t^k the picture
* renovated,* the connoisseur, gifted with clear vision hy
years of study of art and nature, too, in all their forms and
moods, knows that it has been converted into so irreparable
. a wreck, that the great Bubens, could he see it, wonld be
filled with unquenchable disgust, and would overwhelm
with indignant reproach the * noodles and the nincompoops'
through whose dense ignorance so gross a desecration has
been permitted — ^nay, more wonderful still, superintended.

Now, to whom do we— and perhaps even the artist-aathor
—owe our thanks that we can follow, relish, and confirm the
foregoing interpretation ? To the well-abused cleaner, the
reverent, competent " fiayer '* who has exhumed for the
painter, the poet, and the public a thousand beauties that
have not been seen or dreamt of since the picture made its
first appearance in the gallery. Had we any passion to
bestow on the matter, we would as roundly as tiie " Artist
does, invoke the shade of the great Fleming to support odt
view of the case, and to offer thanks to those who hste so
late made his excellent work manifest among us. Truly no
Parliamentary committee will reconcile such absurd optical
difference as exists between us and our author.

For him there are evil times, perhaps, in store. No com-
mittee can deprive him of that exquisite feeling for cokmr
which he shares with Mr. M. Moore, and a few others ; a
feeling as refined, and sensitive as the touch of the blind ^
the ear of a Beethoven. Yet it is by what he deems the
uncultured hordes of Noodledom, that committees or
governments may yet again be swayed, and picture wt»
picture may be "flayed" at the bidding of "idiots »d
" boors,** who must see what they have paid for, becauM
they cannot evolve it from their imaginations ; while the few
and fatally endowed connoisseurs weep outside in ^p«hy
with each wounded glazing. Let us hope that consideration
for those who have not that inner sense which can appre-
ciate the beautiful through primary, secondary, and ^^f^
formations of dirt, may in time allay the irritation of the
sensitive artist, and that he may make a little mOTe aliow-
ance than he now seems disposed to do for the views anfl
actions of those who do not walk with him. It la no*
necessary for a person to bo a noodle, or a nincompoop, or a
jobber, or a rogue, because he happens to be a public officii.
or happens not to be a professional connoisseur.

THE HARMONY BETWEEN THE MOSAIC AND EGYPTIAN

COSMOGONIES.

The Sabstance of a Lecture delivored at a Meeting of the Syro-Egyptian Society, on the 14th of Febroary.

By Joseph Bonomi, F.B.A.S.

HATEVER may be the
opinions now pennitted
at the Vatican respecting
the Copernican system, it
is presumed that there is
no Oxford or Cambridge
Doctor of Divinity who,
in this latter half of the
nineteenth century, be-
lieves that the truth of
Scripture is in the least affected by the discovery
of the earth's motion, for the very sufficient reason
that the Bible was not designed to teach mankind
astronomy. So likewise, for the same excellent
reason, if it should be proved satisfactorily that the
accompanying Egyptian diagram of the constitution
of the universe is in perfect harmony with certain
statements in the Bible on the same subject^ however
much both may be at variance with modem science,
the truth of Scripture will not be assailed oi*
injuriously affected by it; on the contrary, it is
hoped that the monument from which the diagram
is derived may come to be regarded not only as a
most ancient and valuable comment on those par-
ticular statements, but also as a corroboration of
that Scripture which declares that " Moses was
leai-ned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians/'

The ancient document from which the diagram
(Fig. 1) is taken is the alabaster sarcophagus in
the Museum of Sir John Soane. As some of my
readers may not be acquainted with that im-
portant piece of antiquity, I will digress so far
as to say that it was discovered about fifty years
ago by Belzoni, in the tomb of a Pharaoh who
reigned, according to Mr. Samuel Sharpe, about
1,200 years before our era ; that it is carved out
of a single block of a semi-transparent marble,
of the same kind and from the same place as the
alabaster box spoken of in the Gospels; and that it
is a large chest in the shape of a mummy, sculptured
inside and out with significant figures and hiero-
glyphical writings, setting forth the notions enter-
tained by the most learned people of antiquity

VOL. II. — XII.

respecting the constitution of the universe, the
origin and conquest of evil, and the future destiny
of the sold. These three subjects of stirring
interest must have occupied the minds of the
thoughtful and the intelligent in all countries and
at all times. That they did do so more profoundly
in ancient Egypt than elsewhere, the monuments
abundantly testify, there being scarcely a single
object, from the largest temple to the smallest
article of domestic utility, without its inscription,
more or less bearing reference to one or other of
them.

I will now proceed to explain how the diagram
(Fig. 1) is a picture of the universe as Und^rstood
by the ancient Egyptians, and how it is in accord-
ance with certain statements in the Bible on the
same subject.

I must first, however, draw attention to its posi-
tion, which is at the head, inside of the sarcophagus.
It is important to notice this circumstance, because,
by placing this subject at the head, the ancient
designer of the work meant it to be understood
that it should take precedence of every other
subject ; in fact, that it should be, as its place
declares it to be, the " berashithy* " the beginning,"
or, as this first word in the Bible might be more
closely translated for our purpose, at " the heading,"
jffvn signifying " head."

All persons in the least familiar with Egyptian
representations know that the zigzag lines represent
water. It is to be observed that, in the midst of
the expanse of water (a A A a), is a plain part (b),
unoccupied by zigzag lines. I shall hope to convince
the reader that the ancient Egyptian artist meant
this plain part to represent the firmament, which is
stated in Genesis to be " in the midst of the waters."

Above this plain part, as the picture now stands,
is the figure of a man curiously convolved. This
figure (c) represents the earth. He is curled up in
this remarkable position to convey the idea of the
circular figure of the earth, — not, however, as a ball,
but as a disc, fixed like an island in 'the ocean or
surrounded by the sea. Thus the earth was con-

130

THE HAEMONT BETWEEN THE

[Katare Mid Alt. Mny J, iSBZ.

ceived to be by all the ancient world ; and so, in
Psalm xxiv., it is said to be "founded on the
seas and established on the floods;" and (in
Psalm cxxxvi. 6) "To him that stretched out
the earth above the waters." Other quotations,
both from the Bible and Apocrypha, might be
made, all tending to convey, respecting the earth,
the idea set forth in this ancient document.

In further confirmation of this notion of the
earth, namely, as being surrounded by water, I
will refer to a map of the world as known to the
Israelites before the time of Solomon (Fig. 2). It
is enlarged from a woodcut in a little book called
" Texts from the Holy Bible Explained."*

The Garden of Eden is represented at the sources
of the Tigris and Euphrates. Josephus (Ant. L 13)
considers the Gihon as the Nile, and the Pison as
the Ganges ; and Virgil (Geor. iv. 288) makes the
Nile rise in India, as if it were the same as the
Granges. Thus, says the author, the ancients
thought that the Gihon flowed round the western
half of the world into one branch of the Nile, and
the Pison flowed round the eastern half, through
the Ganges, into the other branch of the Nile. It
was not before the reign of Darius that it was
discovered that the Persian Gulf was joined by
water to the Red Sea, or that there was any ocean
to separate the Ganges from the Nile. That the
earth was believed to be circular we learn from
Isaiah, t That this circle was thought to be
boimded by water we learn from Job. J Homer
called this boundary-water the river Oceanus
(Odyssey, xL 638). In the map, Jerusalem would
be supposed — though this is not indicated — to
stand very nearly in the middle of this circular
earth, and Ezekiel (xxxviii. 12) describes his nation
as dwelling in the very middle spot of the earth. §
I recollect being shown by a Greek priest a stone
in the Greek Church of the Holy Sepulchre, as
marking the very centre point of the earth.

To be quite sure, however, that the ancient
designer of the diagram (Fig. 1) meant. the curved
figure to represent the earth, we wilt turn the
picture and view it from the opposite side.

As it is now placed, a little figure of a woman (d)
will be perceived standing on the head of the
convolved figure; that is to say, in this pictorial
language, standing on the top or highest point of
the earth, and holding up the sun (e), and as we now
view the picture, holding up the sun ahove the
earth, in that plain pai-t, which thus acquires ah
additional claim to be considered the firmament, and

* " Texts from the Holy Bible Explamed by the Help of
the Ancient Monuments." By Samuel Sharpe. Day & Son,
Limited. 1866.

t Isaiah xl. 22 : " It is he that sitteth upon the circle of
the earth."

t Job xxyi. 10 : "He hath compassed the waters with
bounds, until the day and night come to an end." Other-
wise, literally rendered, " He drew the circle on the face of
the waters, as a boundary between light and darkness."

§ At Delhi there is a high iron pillar of great antiquity,
which is belicTed to be the centre of the earth ; and this iron
column is considered the spindle upon which it turns. Delhi
si Dilhi, from dil, the heart or centre.

at the same time certifies the intention of the artist
respecting the meaning of the convolved figure.
That the ancient contriver of this picture of the
universe intended it should be contemplated from
the present point of view is rendered perfectly
certain, because the hieroglyphics accompanying the
two figures can only be read in this position.
Moreover, that we should not be mistaken as to
the quality of the person who holds up the sun
above the earth, the ancient scribe has written
her name Neith or Netpe in fi-ont of her. The
name is com)f)osed of the first three hieroglyphics, —
the vase, which is an N ; the half-circle, which is a
T ; and the horizontal bar with a pointed deflection
at each end, which is a P. This last sign is an
emblem of the heavens, and may be taken as a
determinative; that is to say, as determining the
quality of the thing named, as Neith, the heavens.
We find both the first and last characters of
this goddess's name amplified in the hieroglyphics
over the head of the large figui-e engraved on the
floor of the sarcophagus. (See Plate 16 of "The
Alabaster Sarcophagus of Oimenepthah I.," now in
Sir John Soane's Museum, Lincoln's-Inn Fields.
Longman, Green, & Longman : London, 1864.) There
she is in the act of spreading her arms to receive
the body of the king, which was deposited in the
cofiin. More usually, however, this goddess is in
the attitude of stretching over the earth, as in the
cover of the Hart well sarcophagus ;* in the zodiac
on the ceiling of the temple of Edfu and other
temples; and in that stone sarcophagus in the
British Museum, where she is represented likewise
as mother of the planets. Here, however, she is in
the character of sustainer of the sun in the finna-
ment.

Within the contour of the figure representing
the earth the first two hieroglyphics — viz., the seat
and the eye — are those which sland for Osiris. The
rest of the sentence intimates that from this place
the spirits — that is to say, the souls — of the human
race depart and return; in allusion, probably, to
the doctrine of the Metempsychosis, which is illus-
trated in another part of this interesting monument.

And now, to contemplate the rest of the diagram,
we must restore it to its former position. The
presence of the deities here figured in the boat I
take to be good circumstantial evidence that the
plain part in the midst of the waters was meant
for the firmament, and that is, because the artist
has represented the gods as dwelling and moving
therein. These figures and the scarabseus in this
part of the diagram refer particularly to an Egyptian
dogma respecting the soul, and bear no further
reference than that just stated to the subject under
consideration.

Now, as the picture stands, Irom the base ris^
the upper part of the figure of a man (f), gigantic as
compared with the other figures. He is extending
his wide-spread arms to sustain the sacred papyrus
boat of the gods in the firmament. The Greeks

* *' The Triple Mnmmy-Case of Aroeri Ao."
Longman, Brown, Green, & Longmans. 1858.

London :

^Nature andirt.lfajl.iae?.

K^ii

r:«^.

Naton and Art. Mny 1, 1887.)

MOSAIC AND EGYPTIAN COSMOGONIES.

131

and Komans represented the gods in chariots ; but
as in Egypt the Nile is the principal highway of
the country, the Egyptians depicted them in a
boat. This gigantic figure is a personification of
the great ocean that was supposed to sustain the
firmament and all things therein, and it is remark-
able how closely it corresponds to a metaphorical
sentence in Habakkuk : " The deep uttered his
voice, and lifted up his hands on high." There is
no representation in all Egypt, no sarcophagus in
any museum of Europe, and no papyrus in the
British Museum, as far as I am aware, that will
bear the interpretation which you have just heard
attributed to this diagi*am.

And now, if it were required to reduce to lines,
or, in other words, to present to the mind through
the medium of the eye, that remarkable statement
in Genesis respecting the position of the firmament,
namely, "in the midst of the waters," and to
render pictorially in one and the same view that
other statement in the Psalms respecting the earth
as ''founded upon the seas and established upon
the floods," I am at a loss to conceive how it coidd
be better done than it has been by the ancient
Egyptian artist. To do this the more effectually,
he has employed both plan and elevation in the
same picture in a way common to Egyptian repre-
sentations, and no doubt universally intelligible at
the time and in the country, where this pictorial
language is, as it were, the very root of the more
ordinary written one.

For instance, when it was required to explain to
the spectator that the food offered to the dead was
properly set out, according to custom, on tables
spread with the fresh green leaves of a particular
species of reed, it was done as represented in
Fig. 3. The leaves are to be regarded as lying flat
on the table, and on the top of them each particular
article of food is shown by a means which could not
liave been accomplished, in one view, in a true
optical representation. Again, if it were required
to show that palm branches were strewn in the
path of the mourners, it was done in the way
described in Fig. 4. So in the diagram (Fig. 1),
to explain that the figure of Osiris is put for
the earth, the goddess Netpe, or the heavens, is
represented in elevation as standing on the head of
Osiris, who is ** in plan." In other words, she is
standing on the highest part of the earth, to sustain
the sun ; and because it was necessary to place the
sun in the firmament, and a^ove the earth, it was
of course essential to show that the picture must
be viewed from another base ; and hence the figures
of Netpe and of Osiris are reversed, and the hiero-
glyphics belonging to these figures are made to be
read fix)m the same point of view. Again, for a
like reason, because it was necessaiy to show that
the firmament and all it contained was supported
by the great ocean of space, the gigantic figure
personifying this vast sea was necessarily placed at
the proper base of the picture. It now remains to
show in this same picture the firmament under
another aspect

The Egyptian artist has chosen to do this by a

band of dots, which in this form could be made
to serve as the upper and lower boundaries to the
subjects treated of in this most interesting docu-
ment, and, at the same time, to convey to the mind
something solid and strong, such as granite, which
is typified by the dots he has so industriously
engraved in every part of it. In other words, he
would have you to understand that, although
metaphorically or poetically speaking, it might be
said that the sun was sustained in the firmament
by the queen of heaven, as this Egyptian goddess
is called in Jeremiah xliv. 25,* yet, in prosaic truth,
it was fixed in something firm and hard, like the
granite boundaries of his own country. The two
leading ideas present in the mind of the author of
the Book of Job, when he compared the sky to a
molten mirror, t are precisely those which are
embodied in this diagram; for the strength and
solidity of the bromse are here expressed by the
presence of a dotted granite border, that holds and
binds all space together, and the absence of dots in
the firmament (b) favours the idea of light and
expansiveness conveyed by the polished and reflect-
ing surface of the mirror.

Just where this band of dots (the second aspect
of the firmament) is joined to the former, in the
midst of the waters, the artist has again placed the
sun (m), represented as setting or sinking, below
the suiface of the waters, as signified hy the hori-
zorUcU line which joins it to the hoot. If you will
now travel in this " path of the sun," as it has been
very happily designated by Mr. Sharpe, in the
letterpress to the " Sarcophagus of Oimenepthah,"
you will arrive at a door or gate (o, p, g, r), which
forms the left-hand boundary of this picture of the
universe.

At the upper pivot (x) of this gate is the figure of a
cobra serpent, to personate Isis (as the hieroglyphics
inform us). She presides over the upper pivot in
the upper firmament, while at the lower end of the
gate is another cobra serpent, put for Nephthys,
who presides over the lower pivot (z) inserted into
the lower firmavieurt.

It may not be imworthy of remark, in proof of
the intelligent thought displayed in even the
smallest particular, and the painstaking execution
of this remarkable work, that the upper pivots of
all these gates are represented as cylindrical, while
the lower pivots are conical, as they were and are
to this day in all the gates and doors of the city of
Cairo. The lower pivot is conical, because of the
pressure of the gate and consequent tendency to
sink ; the upper pivot, having no such tendency, is
cylindrical.

This great door, then, whose pivots are fixed in
the upper and lower firmaments, I venture to say
is alluded to in the Book of Job (xxxviiL 8) as one
of the mysteries of creation, and, as we may infer
from this ancient document and from the form of
question in which the words are addressed to the

* " We will sorely perform our vows that we have vowed,
to bam incense to the qneen of heaven."

t Job.zxxvii. : " Hast then with him spread ont the sky,
whioh is strong, and as a molten looking-glass ? **
k2

132

ON SKETCHING FROM NATUBB.

[Mbnv Md Alt. Kar 1. Mr.

Patriarch by the Almighty himself, is to be revealed
in the after-life of the tomb. The words are, " Or
who shut up the sea with doors 1 "

Now, on looking over the plates in the book of
the Sarcophagus, we find that similar gates separate
the chambers of Amenti or Hades : these gates are
also alluded to in the same chapter of the Book of
Job(xxxviii 1 7), and likewise in the form of question,
" Have the gates of death been opened unto thee 1
or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death 1 "
The pivots of these gates are fixed in the same
band of dots, again intimating firmness and solidity
of substance, in which light those seventy learned
men who translated the Hebrew Scriptures in
Alexandria, most certainly regarded the word JTp"),
which we, from the Latin, render by the word
firmament, as bearing the same meaning. So,
likewise, in the second century of our era, was the
firmament r^arded by the astronomer Ptolemy,
whose system, as I learn from a recent translation
of Dante by Mr. Pollock, was adopted by that
celebrated poet. By both astronomer and poet the
sun and planets were supposed to move round the
earth in solid crystal spheres, an idea which finds
some support in a passage in Ezekiel (L 22), and

which now we see was likewise entertained by the
ancient Egyptian contriver of this illustration.

"With the band of dots which forms the right-
hand boundary of the diagram terminates the
material world, and the first chapter in this moe
interesting monument.

In conclusion, it is curious to remark wil^ what
a religious tenacity these old notions of the structure
of the universe were maintained. The Ptolemaic
system, which, as we see, was mainly derived from
these more ancient Egyptian ideas, became »
universally established and religiously maintained,
that even one hundred years after the publication of
the Copemican system, which asserts the movement
of the earth, the amiable and excellent man Galileo
was persecuted for demonstrating its truth till the
day of his death, which took place in January, 1642,
exactly one year before the birth of our celebrated
countryman, Isaac Newton. So rapid has been the
progress of science since the invention of the tele-
scope and other appliances, that now, it may be
said, every observatory in the world can furnish
mathematical and ocular demonstration of the
earth's motion.

ON SKETCHING FROM NATURE.

By Aabon ^nlet, Professor of Landscape Paintmg at the Boyal Military Academy, Woolwich.
No. X. A SPUE OF BEN LOMOND.

THE few forms of which this subject is composed
are much varied in respect of lines, every
portion of them partaking of undulations, with
the exception of the central spur of Ben Lomond
and the several detached and fallen rocks by the
water's brink. The serpentine outlines of the
many divisions of grassy mounds seem to play into
each other in easy and gracefid' contours, while at
the same time they admit of considerable alternation
of light, shade, and colour. Opposed to them are
the perpendicular trees, which rise in some signifi-
cant height before the background, and convey to
it the idea of softened and hazy atmosphere.
Their stems are all of different length, breadth,
and inclination, thereby affording little chance of
formality. The position of each stem at its
junction with the grouud will be found to bear the
line of beauty, and help to show the several pro-
gressive stages of distance in their immediate
locality. This point is seldom attended to with a
proper degree of thought or care that it ought,
although by a due observance of the varied lines of
a foreground, the eye is led on step by step until it
finds itself carried into the middle distance, and,
receding still further, becomes lost in a far-off
haze.

This mingling is often the result of well-disposed
lines, growing, as it were, out of each other, and so

skilfully intertwined that none but the artist could
suppose the effect could proceed from such a primi-
tive cause. It is nevertheless perfectly true that
distance is frequently more the result of lines
than of colour, although of course the latter must
ever be the true interpreter of the former. The
groups of trees at the end of the loch are also of
different sizes and forms, but so managed as to
carry out the flowing undulations in the com-
position of lines : this is obtained by having
reference to the several heights, to which particular
attention is called. The stones at the water^s edge
in the foreground are arranged somewhat in the
form of an ellipse, and yet so varied in size and
form as to preclude the possibility of such an
impression. The angular shape of the central
mountain is, by contrast to the curved lines below,
made to rise up with increased grandeur, and is
suggestive of bleak and rugged wildness. Its
height is made more apparent from the trees by the
water, over the stones, being placed immediately
underneath the summit; thus giving its full
dimension from the base. The dark or rather
blue range of hills below, in front, assist by their
continuity in giving a certain impressiveness to the
one solid mass ; while the outline of the distant
mountain, so different in character, still adds to the
precipitous and rocky steeps of the principal

Natnn and Jbi, l[«y 1. 1887.]

" STBAT SCBAPS FROM ODD LABDERS/

133

object of interest. One particular more I would
wish to be well noticed, and that is the form of the
long soft cloud above the mountain. If it were of
any other shape than it is, it would necessarily
have attracted undue attention, whereas by its
simple, though slightly broken horizontal line, both
mountains have their peculiarities strongly and
clearly developed. Thus fat have I thought it
necessary to speak of the manner in which the
several lines of the picture are composed, and how
these in their varieties obtain value the one from
the other. It is from the' want of study in this indi-
vidual branch of the art that much real pleasure in
the contemplation of Nature or of a picture is lost.
The intention in the working out of the scene too
frequently escapes general observers, who, as a rule,
do not imagine for one moment that the principles
of ai-t run so deep as to call forth the most intense
efforts of the mind before they can be presented in
all their excellence, and convey a just and reason-
able ideaofNature^of Nature under her many garbs
— of Nature in her numberless and varied effects.

With regard to colour, a general warmth
pervades the whole drawing, which is cheered by
the line of small blue hills in the middle distance.
This blue tint must not be too suddenly introduced,
otherwise it woidd be tmharmonizingy if I may use
the term ; but rather should it be insinuated upon
the purply tone of which the general mass of
shadow is composed. This blue tone is also
carried into the lower and shadowed portions of
the trees, and in a less cold d^ree upon the rocks.
I have said less cold degree, which means that
there should be a little red added (crimson lake).
The presence of the white stone in the foreground
is very necessaiy to give depth of tone to the other
light portions of the drawing; indeed all high
lights are of the greatest importance as well as all
the deepest touches, because they form so many
points of attraction, upon which the eye will be
sure to rest.

In carrying the colouring of this subject to com-
pletion, the sky should receive the line of cloud
with a soft yet decided edge, as this will give
considerable space beyond the mountains. There
are two tones of clouds at the top edge, being
of YELLOW OCHRE and ROSE MADDER, and that about
the mountains partaking of more rose madder and
a very small portion of cobalt. These tints may be
passed over the mountains. After they are dry,

the broad shadows upon the mountains are to be
washed on with a thin colour, made of cobalt and
ROSE madder, carrying it under the blue tones ; and
while it is drying, it will be advisable to put on
the horizontal tints upon the water with the same
colour. The next thing to be done should be the
more detailed shadows on the mountain, and
afterwards the blue tones of the low line of hills,
which should be of cobalt, a very little gamboge,
and CHINESE white ; the gamboge being to impart
a slight green tone to the blue, and the Chinese
white to give a little opacity in order that it may
show more readily over the under tints. The
warm citrine tints of the grass are of raw sienna,
mixed with rose madder in the redder parts, and
a little cobalt where of a greener hue. All the
trees in the middle distance are a modification of
GAMBOGE, LAKE, and COBALT, and will require careful
painting : their reflections are put in with the
same. The foregi'ound trees are to have the
markings of the clusters of foliage distinctly put

on with GAMBOGE, BURNT SIENNA, and INDIGO, the

brush being held rather uprightly, and the colour
imparted by lifting the hand at each touch from off
the paper, for the purpose of causing the forms to
show out with decision and crispness ; for nothing
ought to appear blurred or softened. When the
whole of these forms are given satisfactoiily, the
intermediate spaces are to receive their washes,
being careful to leave such lights as are requisite,
otherwise there will not be any gradation. For
the two yellowish trees, gamboge, burnt sienna,
and INDIGO are to be employed, varying the
quantity of each according to the proper tint. The
centre tree is shaded with cobalt and lake over
the first tint A little cobalt and lake may also
be put over the deepest shadows of the others, to
impart a slight grey tona In like manner the
darkest toudies are given upon the grass, and
a few lines upon the water, keeping them hori-
zontal. These are intended to represent the surfece
of the water.

It would be far more profitable to recommence
this subject entirely, following out the directions
given in the last number, and only having the
former chromo-lithograph as a guide rather than
making it the copy. In adopting this method the
learner will, in time, better comprehend how all
finished water-colour drawings are begun and
carried throtigh to completion.

" STRAY SCRAPS FROM ODD LARDERS."

By W. B. LoBD, Eoyal Artillery.

WHETHER roaming among the luxuriant
forests of the Tropics, journeying through
the frozen wastes of the Arctic Regions, the arid
flats of Africa, the fern-clad hills and valleys of
New Zealand, or away on the clear blue sea,

amongst the islands of the Pacific, the observant
traveller will not fail to be struck with the
marvellous wisdom of the Providence who has
placed ready to the hand of man the food best
calculated to supply his need in the climate in

134

'STEAT SCEAPS FEOM ODD LAEDEES."

[KatoT* uU Alt. Mar 1. UP .

which his lot may be cast, and endowed him with
the ingenuity requisite to render it available. The
oil-bearing fish, seal, and whale consumed in such
quantities by the fur-clad Esquimaux, during the
long bright night of an Arctic winter, serve to
supply food ovfwd to keep the lamp of life burning.
Heat he must both generate and maintain to live :
he therefore wisely clothes himself in the worst
conductors of heat he can procure ; builds a dome-
shaped, wind-tight cell of snow blocks, which soon
freeze together like solid marble ; and subsists on
food rich in carbon. His rude lamp, with its moss
wick, is oil-fed like its owner. The Polar Ijear and
Arctic fox, too, in their warm winter coats, wander
amongst the ice-floes and along the wild inhospitable
shores in search of such oil-bearing food as good
fortune may cast in their way. Until at last come
milder winds. The wild-fowl, in long wedge»-shaped
flights, wing their way high overhead, pealing forth
their clarion-like calls, —

" Hawnk ! honk ! and for'ard to the nor'ard is the
trumpet- tone."

The ice-fields rend and crash like distant thunder,
as they drift slowly away; the birds chirp and twitter
once more amongst the birches and ground willows ;
the tiny flowers peep forth along the hillsides ;
spring has arrived, and the reindeer can be hunted,
the salmon speared at the falls of the unchained
river, and the ptarmigan shot with an'ows or
trapped amongst the whortleberry bushes ; thus
.yielding an agreeable change of diet with the
change of season and temperature. To those who
inhabit many parts of India and other countries
within the torrid zone, where no real winter is
known, animal food is not a necessary. With a
little rice, fruit, juarree {Holcu8 Sorghum) flour to
make their thin pancake-like " aps," or " chupatees,"
and the beloved betel-nut to chew, defiance is bid to
hunger ; whilst a few light cotton cloths, differently
folded, constitute head-covering and clothing. Bam-
boos, mats, and grass, judiciously arranged, form a
hut sufficiently commodious for sleeping purposes
and as a sun-shade, all culinary operations being
conducted in the open air.

That betel-nut chewing enables those who
are addicted to it to endure a larger amount of
bodily fatigue than they could support without
it, there can be little doubt. A small quantity of
the nut is placed with a little lime on the leaf of a
pepper vine {Piper betel) ; this, after being rolled
into a pellet of convenient size, is placed with the
finger and thumb far back in the mouth, and is
there retained, staining the saliva of a bright-red
colour.

The trade in this curious article of consumption
is of vast extent throughout the Eastern seas, and
the ports of Sumatra, Cochin China, and some
other localities, are annually visited by the merchant
fleets for its collection. The sea-board of the
Acheen country, which is under the government
of the Eajah of Acheen, is perhaps the most
important trading point, and is pretty generally
spoken of as the "Betel-nut Coast;" and the
inhabitants of many towns and villages of con-

siderable local importance trade in betel-nut ex-
clusively, not only furnishing cargoes to ships, from
the continent of India, but indirectly supplying
the Chinese markets (where these nuts are valued at
from three to four dollars the pecul,* according to'
quality), through Penang, whither the cargoes are
first sent. The export from one of these Acheenese
towns amounts to about sixty thousand peculs
annually; the total supply collected firom the
various ports of shipment on the whole line of the
Betel-nut Coast is estimated at ninety thousand
peculs per season, conmiencing in May and ending in
August.

The nut is the produce of the Areka palm
(Areka Catechu)^ which is one of the most beautiful
members of the palm family, shooting its slender
stem straight up to the height of from fifty to sixty
feet, when a splendid mass of dark green leaves is
thrown out like a huge plume of feathers. These
palms produce their nuts but once during the year,
at which time they present the most beautiful and
attractive appearance that can be well imagmed;
the fruit hangs in clusters at the ends of the long,
tough stems frx)m which it is suspended. It is of an
elongated oval form, about the size of an egg, and
of orange colour, contrasting charmingly wifli the
rich green of the palm leaves. Each nut is oi-
veloped in a thick fibrous coat; on removing which
the kernel is found within, covered with a much
slighter and more delicate integument, each husk
containing one nut only. These, when removed
from their coverings, are usually of an irregular,
conical fonn.

Notwithstanding the supply of indigenous food-
yielding products to be found in most countries,
luxuries have from the very earliest ages been eagerly
sought for in fiEir-off lands ; and as the ancient
Romans revelled in imported dainties, so the
Chinese, and those who trade with them, visit
distant islands in search of the B^che^-tn^
" Trepang," or sea-slug {Holothuria §dtUis), These
uninviting, slug-like creatures are in great request
in the mai*kets of China as an ingredient in the
compo^dtion of the gelatinous soups and dishes
in which the Celestials so much delight With
pickled sharks' fins, little squares of salt pork, and
preserved bamboo gJioots, the Mche-de-mer makes a
dish i)erfectly irresistible to a Chinaman. There
are six kinds of slugs generally sought for, the best
being those obtained by diving amongst the reefe
and rocks where they are known to resort ; others
are taken either by torch or moonlight in the
shallow pools, whilst the inferior kinds are gathered
by hand from the rocks at low water. The
various kinds, when selected and arranged according
to their quality, are cleaned, carefully cut open,
cooked in large caldrons in the water which they
themselves yield, and are then thoroughly dried
on shelves arranged in sheds constructed for the
purpose. Large quantities of wood are expended
in the process, as the slugs require very perfect

* A ** pecnl " consists of ldd| lbs., and Is a weight gene-
rally used amongst the Malay and Javanese traders. It is
equivalent to the " tan ** of the Chinese.

VUwn uid Art. May 1, 1887.]

« STRAY SCBAPS FEOM ODD LABDERS."

135

preparation before shipment. Some idea may be
formed of the number of these strange dainties
collected by the slug-hunters, when we inform our
readers that one trader obtained amongst the
Fejee group, in exchange for various comparatively
inexpensive articles of barter, 25,000 dollars* worth
in seven months ; and the importance of the trade
in a commercial point of view may be estimated by
the return made on one voyage — ^peculs of slugs
collected, 1,200 ; cost of outfit, 3,500 dollars ;
return on sales, 27,000 dollars. The value of Beche-
de-mer ranges between ten and sixty dollars the
pecul, according to quality.

The edible neste of the cave-swallow (CoUocaUia
eacuUnta) are also extensively collected, and have
been known to realize their weight in silver when
sold in the Chinese markets. These nests are^ like
the slugs, made use of in the preparation of soups,
for which purpose they are in very high repute.
The rocky cliffe on the coasts of the islands of
Borneo, Celebes, and some others of the Eastern
Archipelago, contain numerous caverns fi*equented
by these edible-nest-building swallows, the roofs
being covered with their nests in different stages of
forwardness. The source from whence the clear
gelatine-like substance of which they are composed
is obtained, remains doubtful. The birds, in flitting
past the moist, slimy, half-tide rocks, appear to gather
something from the suiface ; this may be some
almost microscopic marine production which the
bird only can perceive and utilize, or perhaj^s
certain molluscs inhabiting these seas may secrete
this substance. The newly-constructed nests are
of the greatest value, whilst those containing eggs
are considered not so good; the old nests in which a
brood of young birds has been hatched being of the
lowest quality and least esteemed, from the number
of feathers often associated with them. The sea-
slugs are procured along the shallow reaches and
inlets of the innumerable islands dotting the
Eastern seas, even as far as the inhospitable and
savage Andaman group in the Bay of Bengal.
Many valuable discoveries have from time to time
been made by the B^che-de-mer traders.

The dreaded BtLccaneera were for many years
simply food-hunters, who derived their name from
BaucaUy a term applied to a rough species of grate or
hurdle used by them to barbecue or jerk the flesh
of the wild cattle they hunted. These men were
boimd together by strange laws, made by them-
selves. Each hunter selected an especial comrade who
shared his good or evil fortune, performed half the
labour, and on the death of either, the survivor
became the possessor of the common stock of arms
and other valuables. Quarrels with the Spaniards
and others led them to institute the formidable
league known as the " Brethren of the Coast,"
who, in their day, made even kings quake on their
thrones, and high admirals tremble. The inhabit-
ants of a great number of the islands of the Eastern
seas are indebted to the early navigators for the
introduction of the pig, which, finding abundant
and congenial food, multiplied rapidly and formed
large herds, soon became wild, and by their

abimdance went far to prevent cannibalism; for
although many of these fertile isles literally teem
with the richest of vegetable productions, and the
surrounding seas swarm with fish, a lurking r(?gard
for roast meat prevails, and in the absence of short
pi^, long pig is at times partaken of. The Tcuro
root (C alodium eaculerUum), the bread fruit, the
various edible fern roots, Pteria esciderUa amongst
the number, the sweet potato (BattcUa convolwlcms),
and many other vegetables and tuberous roots, are
cooked in the primitive ovens of the natives ; whilst
the cocoa-nut affords food, drink, fishing-nets,
clothes, cordage, oil, and timber.

In many of the Australasian islands and
New Zealand vast quantities of sea-fowl (the
sooty petrely or mutton-bird, especially) are
ct^tured for food by the sealers and natives.
These birds visit the islands annually in vast
flocks, arriving generally about the latter end of
November, for the purpose of depositing their
eggs, of which each hen bird lays one or two,
about the size of ordinary goose-eggs and somewhat
similar in flavour. The cock bird takes charge of
the nest during the day, and the hen by night,
taking in turn the duty of going to sea for food.
Perfect warrens, like those of rabbits, are formed by
these birds, who burrow into the soft earth for a
distance of two or three feet, and there form their
nests. Some of the islands are so thickly and com-
pletely honeycombed by these feathered miners as
to render walking a very unsafe proceeding. The
collection of the eggs and young birds from the
depths of the holes is a task usually assigned to the
native women, who not uncommonly find a snake
coiled up where the yo\ing petrel should be. When
a large catch is determined on for preservation and
the obtainment of feathers, a number of bird-
hunters assemble, and construct a sort of hedge or
fence a short distance from the beach, and just
before daybreak, when the birds about to proceed to
sea to feed ai*e out of their retreats, a sudden rush
is made by the whole assembled party of bird-
catchers, who with the most hideous yells and cries
drive the throngs of waddling, flapping victims, who
cannot rise from the ground to fly, to wards the centre
of the fatal barrier, where a deep pit has been prcr
pared for their reception ; into this they are forced,
layer on layer, imtil they literally siiflbcate each
other in their vain endeavours to escape from the
treacherous pitfall. The feathers, when plucked
from the birds, are worth about threepence per lb.,
and it requires the joint plumage of about twenty
to produce that quantity. Thii-ty bags of feathers,
constituting the cargoes of two trading boats, were
obtained by the sacrifice of 18,000 buxls. A
portion of the birds are preserved by dry smoking,
and are extensively made use of Some, of the
New Zealand tribes, by whom this bird is called
the " Titi," have recourse to a most ingenious and
eff*ective method of preservation for it and some
other articles of food. The petrels, after having
been carefully plucked, have all their bones removed ;
they are then cooked over the fii*e in large shallow
dishes or platters, made from the bark of the

186

"STEAY SCRAPS FEOM ODD LAEDEBS."

[Vainn and Alt, May 1. lasr.

Totara tree, and when sufficiently done are placed
in the natural bottles or flasks formed on a species
of sea- weed like a huge variety of the bladder-
wrack (Fucus vesiculosua) of our own coasts ; the
heated fat from the birds is then poured in and the
sea-bottle securely tied up. Provisions treated in
this manner remain perfectly good for a very long
time, being completely excluded from both air and
moisture.

Eels and other fish are preserved in the
same manner. The New Zealanders have some
curious and superstitious notions regarding eels,
their capture, and preparation ; they say : " You
must wash your hands before going to catch them,
and also on returning, and the bait must be prepared
some distance frxjm the house ; there must be a
distinct fire for cooking the eel, for which y6u
must have a special tinder-box ; your hands and
mouth must be washed both before and after
partaking of them, and should it be necessary to
drink from the same stream from which the eels
are caught, you must have two vessels of water, the
one to drink from, the other to dip from the
stream."

Among the hunters of Africa, an elephant's
foot, baked in a deep hole beneath the camp
fire, is^ esteemed a great delicacy, as is a buffalo's
hump, with the skin on, prepared much in the
same manner, by the hunters and trappers of
North- West America. These hardy explorers and
fur-hunters prepare a veiy portable and wholesome
food, called Fem/mican^ which is thus made : —
Buffalo's flesh is cut into convenient flakes and
flat layers, like long, thin steaks ; these are either
hung in the sun or near a slow fire until dry, when
the dried meat is ground between two stones until
sufficiently fine ; a bag is then made of buffaJo-hide
with the hair side out, and pulverized flesh, after
being thoroughly mixed with hot fat, well pressed
in ; the bag is then securely stitched up and the
Pemmican allowed to cool and harden. When re-
quired for use, it is cut from the mass like hard
sausage-meat, and either eaten cold, or, when
mixed with flour or meal, a sort of thick porridge,
called " Robiboo," is made from it.

The vast clouds of locusts, which in some
countries both darken the air and devastate
the land, are eaten greedily by nearly every-
thing possessing life; men, animals, birds, fish,
and insects all join in the locust feast. The
provident savage lays by a store nicely smoke-
dried to consume at his leisure, with such tuberous
roots or other underground productions as Hs sable
spouse, armed with her sharp-pointed grubbing-
stick, can procure for him. Manna, too, ' is a
substance, tiie name of which has been rendered
familiar to all by the mention made of it. in the
Scriptures. In the sixteenth chapter of Exodus,
the fifteenth and following verses, reference is made
to the miraculous supply of this food to the wander-
ing Israelites. Josephus says: "The Hebrews
called this food manna, for the particlei man in our
language is the asking of a question. What is this ?
{Man hu.)^* The Persian writers often mention

manna, and it appears to have been known to both
them and the Arabs in very early ages ; one kind,
called Gi(zunjbeeny is in pretty general use ; it is
obtained from a shrub called Gvz^ a species of
tamarisk. The same description of manna is in
some districts called Too/ra. It is known by that
name, and is common at many ports on the Arabiiin
coasts, and throughout the tract of country sur-
rounding Mount SinaL The manna is usuaUy
collected during the months of June and July,
amongst the tamarisk thickets, where it drains
from the ends of the thorns, and faUs on the diy
leaves and small sticks which have fallen to the
ground ; it then congeals into hard masses, and is in
that condition gathered for use. The Arabs use it
as a substitute for honey, eating it with their bread
or other food. A thorny tree, known as the Camd
thorny growing in the north of India and Syria, is
also manna-yielding, producing the description
called Al hajy or Persian manna. Beiruk honey
is in reality manna, and is obtained from the Ghrab
treey which is not unlike a stunted aspen. There is
also a kind found in the country of IJzbecs, said to
be procured from a small tree with a jointed trunk.
The Ashur plant of the Arabs yields a kind of
manna known as "Arab sugar," or Shukur d
ashur. There is a description, also, in high repute
throughout Persia as a medicine, obtained from a
peculiar willow growing in low, moist valleys.
A tree of the oak family, found in Mesopotamia,
produces its manna, yielding the largest quantity
where gall-nuts are most abundant The Manna
Brigantiaca is the produce of the larch, whilst the
cedars of Lebanon furnish a kind of their own.
These various descriptions are supposed to be the
result of punctures made in the trees by an insect
called Coccus manniparus. Large quantiti^ of
manna were at one time imported into this countiy
from Sicily and the south of Italy ; but compara-
tively little is now consumed. This is the prciiuoe
of three varieties of the common ash ; two kinds
are most common — Omus Europcsa and Fraxinus
rotumdifolia. To obtain the manna from these,
incisions are made in the bark of the stems with
knives prepared for the purpose. The first cut is
made near the 'ground, and others, at two inches
apart, two inches long and half an inch deep, are
proceeded with at the rate of one cut per day
in each row of incisions, working gradually
upwards. Immediately below these longitudinal
wounds, T-shaped cuts are prepared for the reception
of the ends of leaves, gathered from the tree, which
act as conductors to carry the sap clear of the
trunk, and admit of its dropping into Indian fig-
leaves placed on the ground to receive it. These fig-
leaves have the peculiar property of drying with
their edges curled up, rendering them extremely
useful for the reception of the sap, which soon
hardens in the sun and air. We have often seen
them used by the Indian devotees to place offer-
ings of honey and native butter in, to lay before
their idols. August is the month usually selected
for tapping the trees, and dry, warm weather is
most favourable for the operation, as itdn dissolves

NatoN and Alt. May 1. 1M7.]

ESPABTO AND ITS USES.

187

and destroys the congealing mass of produce. The
manna collected from the bark by scraping, after
having run in long tears down the trunk, is con-
sidered very inferior to that caught in the fig-leaves,
and is sold at a lower price. It has been supposed
that during a peculiarly still state of the atmosphere
the sweet exhalations from certain plants and trees
may become again condensed and fall to the earth
in the form of dew, and there are many phenomena
connected with these honey-like showers extremely
difficult to account for in any other way.

Snakes, the larva of a large buiTOwing wood beetle,
the iguana or fringed lizard, bats, and even apeculiar

species of spider, are all made meat of. Earth is also
at times eaten to allay the pangs of hunger, until
good fortune reveals something more nutiitious;
and bark had been found no bad material to fall
back on when other bread-stuff has proved scarce.
The hide from boots, shoes, and moccasins has, on
many occasions, served to prolong the lives of ship-
wrecked mariners and wandering hunters. Not-
withstanding its splendour and wealth, the densely-
crowded city is, after all, the region in which
starvation in its greatest horror is more to be
dreaded by the friendless outcast than in Nature's
own kingdom — the unreclaimed wilderness.

ESPAETO AND ITS USES.

(Qramen sjpartum, Plinii ; Stipa tenacissima^ Liim.)

ON no point is Nature so hardly pressed as in the
pursuit of vegetable fibre. The race of Adam
increases apace, and must have the wherewithal to
be clothed. We read and write, muse and think,
i^th increasing energy, and must have paper as a
vehicle for our mental pabulum. So, in order to
supply the wants of a civilization unparalleled in
its extent and unsurpassed in the multiplicity of
its necessities. Science and Art, Manufactures and
Commerce, are allied as an army of attack on
Nature's varied and abundant products. But,
although the quest be keen, and our knowledge of
the uses of substances so extended as practically to
obliterate the word " waste " from our vocabulary,
the demand for vegetable fibre still waxes instesui
of wanes, and the earth, both in its wildernesses and
cultivated places, is i*ansacked for something known,
and, failing that, for something new. Men of science,
skilled in the indicia of plants, naturalists hunting
in untrodden solitudes, soldiers in cantonments in
some out-of-the-way comer of the globe, traders and
voyagers of every class, make up the army of obser-
vation. The field comprises the western and
southern coasts of Africa, the subtropical regions of
America, the islands of Polynesia and Australasia,
and the whole of the lower portion of the vast
Asiatic continent ; but the conditions on which the
great prize can alone be won are so complex that a
new material fitted alike for fine textile and felting
piirposes, practicable in respect of cost and supply,
remains undiscovered.

It must not be assumed, however, frtmi the
failure to secure a high-class fibre, answering in
every respect to the requirements of modem manu-
facturing science, that the diligence and labour
bestowed in the search have been expended in vain.
On the contrary, many useful sorts, as well as some
of exceeding beauty, have been brought to ligtt and
utilized in a variety of ways, and when the protean
shapes which fibre can be made to assume are con-
sidered, it will be obvious that there is verge and

room enough for all. For example, it entew
largely into the composition of the elegant panels
of our carriages, as well as of papier-m4ch6 in its
vaiied artistic forms. It is moulded into cabinet-
work, twisted and otherwise fancifully dealt with
in the production of art ornaments for the drawing-
room and boiuloir. It is substituted for bones in
cutlery, for hair and bristles in bmshes, and so on,
through every department of formative art. Some
fibres there are which, from their abundance and
peculiarity of structure, have been dedicated to
particular uses ; such as jute, as a substitute for
hemp in ropes, and in the manufacture of coarse
north-country sacking ; but this is not where the
shoe pinches. That which is so eagerly desired is
a fibre capable of being easily cleaned, dressed,
bleached, spun, and woven into the goods of
Manchester and the stuffs of Bradford : something
that shall come in aid of cotton and flax, shall dye
well, and generally submit in a satisfactory manner
to all the processes preliminary to its conversion
into raiment. Nor would its mission end here ;
for after having draped the dusky forms of the
Egyptians and Syrians in blue, the Eastern Asiatics
in white, the sable Venuses of the Gold Coast
in colours brilliantly incongruous, and made the
ladies of the temperate zone " beautiful for ever,"
it must return, perchance in shreds, with the
robustness of its early constitution mellowed by
age, to be pounded and torn, recleaned, rebleached,
fabricated into paper, and sent forth, again and
again, as the servant of an intelligence as grand as
it is inscrutable.

Who has not heard of the lamentations of the
paper-makers, whose wailings on the paucity of rags,
and the total absence of fibre suited to their re-
quirements, were followed by mortuary dirges on
the decline and fall of their beautiful manufacture ;
whilst, as a contemporaneous fact, there continued to
bloom and die on the arid plains bordering the sunny
Mediterranean, a perennial plant, containing within

138

ESPABTO AND ITS USES.

[NfttiiM ud AxU May 1.188r.

its wiry stem no less than 73 per cent, of fibre,
eminently suited to their wants. This plant is the
Gramen spartmn, Plinii, Stipa tenaciasima^ Linn. By
the SpaniaixLs it is called Esparto, and by the French
Alfa. It is placed by botanists among the sedges,
and is indigenous to the southern shores of Portugal,
Spain, and Italy, as well as to the coast of Northern
Africa, from Algeria to the confines of Egypt. It
grows in tufts like a rush, is perennial in habit,
attains a height of from 18 to 30 inches, according
to situation, and, having a basis of silica and iron,
flourishes on arid soil. " Its principal habitats^
however, are Spain and Algeria, from which
countries a supply suflicient for all present demands
may be drawn with ease. There is probably no
plant within our knowledge which possesses so
remarkable a history as that now under review.
Pliny, that most careful and observant of natural-
lists, gives a surprisingly accurate description of
the Spartum, and enumerates the uses to which it
was put in his day. He speaks of it as a morbid
production — " confined to a single country only; for
in reality it is a curse to the soil, as there is
nothing whatever that can be grown or sown in its
vicinity." He describes the species of spartum
found in Africa as of stunted growth, of no use
whatever for practical purposes ; and, altogether,
he seems to entertain a very poor opinion of the
African variety. It is interesting to note the
similarity of uses found for the plant in the days
of Pliny to those prevailing in our own. Then,
as now, the peasantry stuffed their beds with it,
and, no doubt, obtained as springy a couch as is
yielded by our own native heather. It was used
as fiiel, made into torches, woven and plaited into
summer garments for the shepherds, and manu-
fEUJtured into shoes which, under the name of
Alpargates, are still extensively used by the poorer
inhabitants of the Iberian peninsula. It was also
very largely used for cordage; and we have the
authority of Mr. M*Culloch for the statement that
cables made from Esparto, were some years ago — if
they are not still — prefen-ed in the Spanish navy
to similar stores made from hemp. Merely to
enumerate the articles of utility into the construc-
tion of which Esparto entered, would in fact be a
recapitulation of the utensils and appliances ap-
pertaining to the domestic economy and manu-
facturing industry of the Spaniards and Cartha-
ginians. Pliny most appropriately designates his
Gramen spa/rium a marvellous plant; and the
reflection is by no means a flattering one that,
notwithstanding his painstaking researches, and
the uninterrupted use of the plant in the same
districts through centuries of time, we should have
failed to bring our chemical knowledge to bear on
its constitutional difficulties, until our need became
so exigearU as to render frirther neglect well-nigh

During the past ten years the French have been
indefatigable in the prosecution of researches in
the utilization of Alfa as a paper-making fibre, and
it is to the savans of that country that we are
primarily indebted for a knowledge of the economic

conditions of the plant ; possibly because it grows
abundantly on a portion of their own territory, the
natural resources of which the French Grovemment
are most anxious to develop. The province of
Oran, in Algeria, is that in which the traffic in
Alfa is mostly concentrated. There it alternates
with the Dwarf Palm and Asphodel, and it grows
luxuriantly from the coast up to the minor peaks
of the contiguous mountain ranges. The crop
should be gathered in the months of April, May,
and June, varying according to the forwardness of
the season ; the object being to secure the plant
while yet green, yet as near as possible to ripeness.
If gathered too green, the fibre is deficient both in
quantity and strength, whilst if allowed to ripen
ftiUy, the constituent elements of silica and iron are
established too securely in its structure. The best
time for collecting, according to Pliny, is between
the Ides of May and those of June, a statement
which has been fully confirmed by modem practice.
On the best method of gathering, the ancient
philosopher is equally in accord with our own
observations. The plant, he says, is twisted round
levers of bone or holm oak, to get it up with the
greater facility. It has been proved experimentally,
that this is the best mode of reaping the crop,
having a due regard to the succeeding harvest, as
cutting not only injures the plant, but altogether
endangers its vitality, thus rendering the labour of
collection exceedingly severe, as the workman must
both pull and stoop as he traverses the ground.
The modus operandi is very simple. Providing
himself with a stick of moderate thickness, the
labourer grasps a handful of AJ&, twists it round
the stick, and, by a sharp pull with both hands, dis-
engages the stalks at the articulations. Securing
the bunch under his left arm, he pulls away until,
no longer able to hold the produce, he throws it
down to be tied into a bundle called a Manadaj
and proceeds with his work de novo. These bundles
are then ranged in the field to dry, a result which
is usually attained in a week, during which time
the Alfa loses about 40 per cent, of its weight. The
bundles, or MancuJUis, are then packed into bales
and carried to the port of shipment. It is not
improbable that, in course of time, the propagation
of Alfa with a view to increased supply may be
requisite in places suited to its growth, as it is only
in particular areas that its preparation for export
can be conducted, on account of the cost of carriage
to practicable shipping points on the seaboard. At
present the demand from England and France is
exclusively on behalf of the paper manufacture ;
but should the application of the fibre be extended
— and there is no reason why it should not be so
with great advantage, its culture will become an
importent branch of Algerian husbandry. Arrived
in this country and stored at a paper-mill, the
Manadaj should be ranged so as to allow of the
roots and tops being piilled, an operation which
clears the Alfa from a good deal of waste substance
adhering more or less to the stalks. It has now
the appearance of dried rushes, firm and wiry to
the touch, and as unlikely-looking a material frt)m

Dwf A Soii.(Lx«ai«d ••-

HfttiiM rad Art, ]I»y 1. 1887.]

THE AMEEICAN WATEB-WEED.

139

which to manufacture white paper as can well be
imagined. Nothing, however, can be simpler.
After having been opened and well shaken out, the
stalks are thrown into a boiler containing a strong
solution of caustic alkali, and are boiled imtil a
handful can be twisted asunder with ease. It has
now parted with a good deal of colouring matter,
and is ready, after having drained sufficiently, to
be broken and washed — operations which are
carried on simultaneously in what is technically
known as a " washing engine," an elliptical trough
having the machinery on one side of a partition,
placed down the centre of the engine, but termi-
nating at some distance from either end ; the effect
of this arrangement being that the material in the
engine is made to flow round the partition, or
" midfeather," by the rotary action of the ma-
chinery. The AJfa now gradually assumes a light
yellowish tinge, and with the introduction to the
engine of a quantity of chloride of lime the process
of bleachijig commences. Meanwhile the Alfa is
being drawn out into fine short filaments by the
triturating action of the machinery. Gradually all
colour departs, and, as it flows round the engine,
the stuff more nearly resembles a duct of snow-

white cream than anything else to which it can be
likened. Now the shutters of the washing cover
are withdrawn, in order to thoroughly eliminate
the " bleach." That done, and the stuff finished
as regards sizing and tint, a valve in the bottom of
the engine is drawn, the prepared Alfa plunges
into the stuff chest at the head of the paper-
machine, and, in less time than is consumed in
recording the fact, is ready for the hands of the
printer.

Nearly allied to Esparto is the Stipa pennata,
Linn., or feather-grass, which adorns the verdant
banks and lane-sides of this country. History
saith that the nodding plumes, which are its most
striking characteristic, were at one time used by
British ladies in the embellishment of their head-
dresses. Whether we shall ever clothe our agricul-
tural hinds in Alfa jackets and Esparto shoes, this
deponent sayeth not; but even though the plant be
never used in England beyond its present limits,
the reader will agree with us, that the humble
African rush, known in botanical nomenclature as
the JStipa tencudssima, Linn., is one of the most
remarkable and beneficent members of the great
vegetable family. B. L.

THE AMERICAN • WATER-WEED.

(Anackaris alsinastmm.)
Bj the Bev. W. Houohton.

MOST of our readers are doubtless acquainted
with the form of the remarkable plant
which made its appearance about seventeen years
ago in our rivers and canals, and which in some
places has become, from its rapid increase and the
difficulty of keeping it in check, quite a nuisance.
The history of the introduction into this country
of Anacharis (dsinaatrum is not known. Botanists
are, for the most part, agreed that it is a stranger,
and that it belongs to North America, but the
mode, of its advent into England and Scotland
remains a mystery. The plant appears to have
been first observed by that excellent naturalist Dr.
George Johnston, in the month of August, 1842, in
the lake of Dunse Castle, Berwickshire, which
lake is situated upon a tributary of the Whiteadder
river, an affluent of the Tweed. " Dr. John-
ston sent specimens to Mr. Babington, but little
was heard of the aquatic intruder till it was
found by a lady, Miss Kirby, in certain reservoirs
adjoining the Foxton locks, on the canal near
Market Harborough, in Leicestershire : this was in
the autumn of 1847." The plants were aH females,
and were found in considerable abundance, growing
closely matted together. The reservoirs had only
recently been cleaned ; consequently the appearance
of the weed in them had most probably been

recent. The attention of botanists having been
again turned to this plant, Mr. Babington, in
December, 1847, read a paper before the Botanical
Society of Edinburgh, " On Anacharis alsinastrum,
a supposed new British plant" This paper was
published in the " Annals and Magazine of Natu-
ral History," Second Series, No. 2, February,
1848 ; and there was added to it a synopsis of the
species of Anacharis and Apalanthe, by Dr. J. E.
Planchon ; the paper was also illustrated by an
admirable engraving. When Dr. Johnston (the
first discoverer) read Mr. Babington's account, he
immediately recognized in it the weed he had ob-
served in the lake of Dunse Castle, where he again
found it in great profusion, as well as in patches
down the Whiteadder in its course to the Tweed.

About the same time the Anacharis made its ap-
pearance in Nottinghamshire, in the river Lene, a
tributary of the Trent, "growing in great pro-
fusion for about a quarter of a mile in extent." It
was the same year observed abundantly in the
Watford locks, Northamptonshire, "on the same
line of canal as the Foxton reservoirs." In the
year 1849 it was observed in profusion in the
Trent, near Burton ; it was noticed near Kugby in
1850, and in the Cam in 1851. Mr. Marshall, of
Ely, in his first letter to the " Cambridge Inde-

140

THE AMEBICAN WATEB-WEED.

.-Vttan aad Aft. M«7 1. 1BV.

pendent Press," • thus speaks of it : — " A re-
markable plant has recently made its appearance in
the rivers Ouse and Cam, and already abounds to
such a degree, as not only to impede navigation, but,
what is of far more importance in this fen country,
to threaten injury to our drainage." In Letter III.
he speaks of it "growing in dense submerged
masses, distinguishable at once from all other
weeds by its leaves growing in threes round a
slender stringy stem. The colour of the plant is a
deep green, the leaves are about half an inch long,
by an eighth wide, egg-shaped at the point, and
beset with minute teeth, which cause them to
cling. The stems are very brittle, so that when-
ever the plant is disturbed fragments are broken
off. Although at present it cannot propagate
itself by seed, its powers of increase are prodigious,
as every fragment is capable of becoming an in-
dependent plant, producing I'oots and stems, and
extending itself indefinitely on every direction.**
Mr. Marshall speaks of it as having been a great
source of annoyance to the watermen of the Cam,
to sluice-keepers, to rowers, and to swimmers.
Since that gentleman published his pamphlet
on this water-weed in 1853, the Anacbaris has
spread far and wide, and has now become common
in almost every canal, stream, and pond ; causing,
in some cases, a very great amount of incon-
venience to navigation, b^des choking up our fish-
ponds, &c. &C.

The rapid spread of the Anacharis is easy ^
enough to account for, when we consider how, o/i
the one hand, the kingdom is intersected witii
rivers, canals, and streams, which often commu-
nicate with each other, and how readily the smaDest
bits of the weed grow without any root at all.
But the question as to its mode of introduction
into this country is not so easily answered. I ought
to say that some botanists have affirmed that it is
no foreigner at all, but a true native ; but this idea
is improbable. The AnacharU aUinastrum is the
Elodea Canadensis of North America, where, with
other species or allied genera, it is common in the
rivers. From North America, then, it is most
probable our plant originally came ; but how did it
get here ? ,

There are, as Mr. Marshall says, " various ways
in which a plant may be imported A botanist,
in the ardour of that botanical instinct which
prompts him to surround himself with as many as
possible of the beautiful and varied forms of vege-
table life, might have introduced it ; but we have
no evidence that such has been the case, although
botanists have been known to do such things."
The same writer thinks it most probable that the
Anacharis was introduced at or about Rugby with
American timber, during the execution of some of
the numerous railways which meet at that point
" We know," he adds, '* that in North America the
timber is floated down the rivers, in which case
fragments of the American weed would cling to it,

• See Mr. Marshall's Pamphlet on " The New Water-
weed." London : W. Pamplin, 1852.

or seeds might find their way into the clefts of the
wood, and if but one seed or one fragment retained
its vitality in some moist cranny till it reached its
final destination, I verily believe it would he
sufficient to account for the myriads of individuals
that now exist in England."

But it is useless to speculate ; the real mode of
its introduction will probably never be known.
And now we have to account for the presence of
the male plant in this country. Hitherto all the
individuals observed have been females; but Mr.
Bentham and Dr. Oliver tell me that the nude
plant has, they believe, made its appearance some-
where in the neighbourhood of London during the
last summer. Tbis is not very pleasant news, for
the one sex was troublesome enough. The question
as to how the Anacharis came into the Cam is
easily answered : —

** In 1847 a speoimen &om the Foxton looks was planted
in a tab in the Cambridge Botanical Garden, and in 1848
the late Mr. Murray, the Curator, placed a lueoe of it in
the CoBdnit stream that passee by the new gi^en. In the
following year, on Mr. Babington asking what had become
of the Btick which marked the site of the plant, he wu
informed that it had spread all over the ditoh. I^m this
point it doubtless escaped by the waste-pipe across the
Tmmpington road into the ' Yicar's Brook,' and from thence
into the rirer aboye the mills, where it is now found in the
greatest profusion. In the case of the Cam, then, we see it
proved to demonstration that the short space of four yean
has been sufficient for on^ smaU piece of the Anacharis to
multiply so as to impede both navigation and drainage."

I first noticed this weed in the Shropshire Union
Canal about two miles from Newport, about tai
years ago; it grew in dense patches here and there.
Since that time, till within a year or two ago, it
grew to such an extent as to destroy almost all
other aquatic v^etation. In the ''struggle of
life," the Potamogetons, the Myriophyllums, and
the Water Eanunculuses, disappeared, leaving the
Anacharis almost the sole occupant of the water.
It used to flower abundantly from July to the end of
September, in several places in the canal, but within
the last two years or so the Anacharis has almost
disappeared ; and when I wanted specimens in
blossom last autumn for examination, I had to go
for them to another branch of the canal, four miles
distant, as I could find none where formerly they
were so abundant The Potamogetons and Myrio-
phyllums have since returned. What has been the
cause of the disappearance of the Anacharis I That
the swans eat great quantities of this weed I have
repeatedly seen; but then there waa the same
number of swans in the canal when the weed was
so luxuriant. Pond snails — as the Lynmei — eat the
weed; and whether it has been unable to bear up
against the repeated attacks of swan and snail, I
know not: probably to this cause in part, and
partly to the fact theit quantities are taken out hj
the canal-keepers and by nets, we must attribute
its disappearance.

The Anacharis is one of those plants in which
the so-called "circulation" may be conveniently
observed. This curious movement of the chloro-
phyll granules, so familiar to microscopic observers

ir«t«nuid Art. Maj 1« 1M7.]

PETEE VON COBNELIUS.

141

in the ChcmtcecBy may be readily seen by placing a
leaf on a glass slide with a little water, and viewing
it under the microscope with the quarter or the
eighth-inch objective.

It is one of the three genera which form the
family Hydrocharidem ; the Frog-bit {Hydrocfiaris
morsus-ranas) and Water soldier (StraUotes aloides)
being the other two. The genus Anacharia, or
Elodea, as some botanists prefer to call it, is thus
characterized by Bentham, in his admirable " Hand-
book of the British Flora" :—

" Stems snbmergecl, branched, and leafy ; flowers sessile,
the males with nine stamens, the females with a long, thread-
like perianth-tnbe. Style adherent to the tube, with three
notobed or lobed stigmas. Ovary one-oelled, with three
parietal placentas. A small genns, exolnsiTely American."

The specific characters are thus described by the
same author : —

" A dark green, mnoh-branohed perennial, entirely floating
nnder water. Leaves numerous, opposite or in whorls of
three or four, sessile, linear, oblong, transparent, three or
four lines long. Female flowers, the only ones known in
this country, sessile in the upper axils in a small two-lobed
spatha ; the slender perianth-tube often two or three [some-
times five or six] inches long, so as to attain the surface of

the water, where it terminates in three or six small spread-
ing segments. Male flowers unknown as yet in this country,
and seldom observed anywhere. Flowers summer and
autumn."

The specimen from which the accompanying
illustration was made was gathered last autumn,
in "Warwickshire, by Mr. R. S. Chattock, of Soli-
hull, an accomplished amateur artist, and drawn by
him for this Magazine.

Explanation op the Platb.

Fig. A represents the Anacharis as it grows submerged,
the little pink flowers appearing above the surface of the
water, natural size.

Fig. a, a flower magnified, showing the perianth of six
segments, the three stigmas, and the three abortive stamens.

Fig. &, the same, stripped of the petalous part of the
perianth, showing more clearly the stigmas and stamens.

Fig. c, the two-lobed spatha enclosing the lower portion
of the perianth-tube, magnified.

Fig. d, a section of the bottom of the perianth-tube,
showing ovary with its three contained ovules, magnified.

Fig. e, an ovule, magnified.

Fig./, transverse section of portion of stem, showing
arrangement of leaves round it.

PETEE VON CORNELIUS.

THE great German painter who died during the
month of March was then in the eightieth
year of his age, for he was bom in September,
1787, in the town of Diisseldorf. His father was
director of the museum at that place ; and thus,
from his earliest days, the young Cornelius was
associated with the arts. His desire to be a painter
was not repressed or reproved by his parents, and
in his seventeenth year he had already begun his
studies in art with much promise of future excel-
lence. It was then that his father died; and as
there devolved upon him and upon an elder brother
the care of mother and young ones, it was a ques-
tion whether he ought any longer to think of pur-
suing the painter's profession. It was suggested
that he should adopt some handicraft which might
prove more quickly remunerative; but the diffi-
culty was surmounted, and he clung to art. Good
fortune came to him sooner than to most men, for
some of his earliest designs attracted notice and
were admired. The study of the antique, incul-
cated by Winckelmann, had not entirely engrossed
bis attention. He had fallen, rather, under the
influence of a modem writer, — the greatest Grermany
has produced. The comprehensive, the all-embrac-
ing genius of Goethe acquired a lasting power over
him : that genius which grappled with the noblest
subjects, and never disdained to treat even of the
smallest details of any branch of art, — as witness
the dramatic criticism in "Wilhelm Meister." A
series of designs illustrative of " Faust *' first dis*

played the creative force of the young Cornelius.
Niebiihr wrote about him, in after years, "Cor-
nelius is an earnest enthusiast for Goethe ; perhaps
none more so : certain is it that Goethe has inspired
no other person so fully and so powerfully."

The artist was but nineteen when he produced
another and a kindred work, — the illustrations to
the "Niebelungen Lied." Thus, national subjects
early took possession of his mind. But they were
not to retain exclusive possession. In Rome he
would be subject to classic influence, and to Rome
— the goal of every painter's first ambition — Cor-
nelius desired to go. He was twenty-four years
old, however, before the project could be matured ;
and, when at last it was carried out, he intended to
make a very long sojourn in the classic capital. He
found congenial society there. Young and aspiring
fellow-artists gathered round him, — Schnorr, Veit,
and the brothers Schadow. There too, and always
in close companionship with Cornelius, was a
greater spirit than any of these, — Overbeck, the
pure, the noble, the refined : the Fra Angelico of
our time. With Overbeck Cornelius dwelt, in an
old convent, and in the simplest style. The two
friends were nicknamed St. Paul and St. John.
Cornelius, with his ardour and energy, his compre-
hensiveness and tolerance, was the St. Paul ; Over-
beck, with his rare gifts and loveable graces, but
with a power less practical than that of his brother
artist, was the St John.

Cornelius took part in the decoration of the

142

PETEB VON COBNELIUS.

[Nature lAd Art. Kay l.Ur.

Villa Bartoldi, and had to thank the Prussian
Consul- Greneral, whose residence that villa was,
and the Prussian Ambassador, Niebiihr, for patron-
age and influence kindly exerted. The Crown
Prince of Bavaria was able to bestow upon the
rising painter a more substantial reward than any
he had before received. This royal German, being
greatly impressed with the promise Cornelius
showed, proposed to carry him off* to Munich to
decorate the favourite city, — the greatest and most
costly " Ludwig's Lust." At firat Cornelius hesi-
tated — he doubted, perhaps, whether he had been
long enough in Home; — ^but evidently thb was
such an opportunity as might not occur again. It
was well to take it while it offered, and Cornelius
decided to do so. ^He had looked with no exclusive
eye upon classic art ; but he knew that Italy was
the best school for him, — the school in which lessons
varied and valuable might best be learned. For
there, in Italy, on ground that is dear to both, the
lover of the mediaeval meets the lover of the an-
tique : the heroic painter may there learn tender-
ness; the religious painter, strength. Cornelius
had, on the whole, profited by the time he had
spent in Rome ; and he was full loth to leave it.
It may be, however, that he left it just at the right
moment. Had he stayed longer, he might have lost
that Grerman character which some of lus best works
— his best of all indeed — now possess. Looking at
the gigantic attempts to reproduce the form and
presence of the antique, made when Cornelius went
to Munich, immediately after his residence in Rome,
one is inclined to think that he did not return to
Germany too soon.

In the Bavarian capital there was much to be
done. The decoration of two large halls in the
Glyptothek was confided to Cornelius. One of
them is styled the Hall of the Heroes ; the other,
the Hall of the Gods. The compositions placed by
the painter in both are intensely classical, using
the word rather with reference to form and letter
than to the spirit, and not exactly in the sense in
which one would say that the compositions of
Ingres are classical. The German painter was
more successful when he took Michael Angelo for
his model, and did for the Ludwig's Kirche at
Munich what had been done for the Sistine Chapel.
"God the Creator" and "Christ the Judge" — two
great compositions in this Munich Church — are
works which will do very much to perpetuate the
painter's fame. They are two, and by far the most
important, of a great series illustrating the Chris-
tian creed. "Chiist the Judge" is perhaps the
noblest of his efforts. Never was he more ambi-
tious than in planning this work ; and if, when we

have admired the correctness of the drawing, and
the dramatic expression of the whole, we stop to
notice the crudeness of its colour, our respect for
the painter should not be lessened. His attain-
ment was high ; but his attempt waa higher. And
this is right. For in all art,

" A man's reaoh should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a Heaven for ?'*

Fifteen or twenty years were occupied upon the
decoration of Munich. Besides the frescoes in the
Glyptothek, and the great compositions in the
Church of Ludwig, there was executed by Cor-
nelius, in the Pinakothek, a great work illustrati?e
of the history of art. When all these things were
done, the artist took some leisure, and visited
Paris and London. Another great opportunity
was soon to fall into his hands ; and that was a
commission from the King of Prussia to compose a
" Christian Picture Cycle " for the decoration of
the Campo Santo or Royal Mausoleum, destined to
form one of the wings of the new cathedral " The
Four Riders of the Apocalypse " — one of the de-
signs executed for this place of burial — is one of
the most characteristic of Cornelius's works ; per-
haps the most powerful of all. It is not beautiful;
it is not attractive ; it would never be popular
with the admirers of conventional sentiment, bor-
rowed graces, and namby-pamby mediocrity. But
it is strikingly original. It is ^ thoroughly Ger-
man work. The weird ^wwer of the North is in it
In painting it^ Cornelius went back to the early
traditions ; and the spirit of his own race ner\'ed
him for the task. There is something of a savage
strength about it ; but instead of its being the work
of an untutored mind, the brain that conceived it,
and the hand that wrought it, had learned lessons
enough from the masters of old dayB, and were but
now drawing forth from the sources which had
always been within the artist himself.

We have briefly spoken of the chief works of
Cornelius. Only the barest record of his life is it
now possible to give. He died at a ripe old age,
when he had gained the love of many, and the
respect of all. Members of his school are scattei-ed
over Europe ; some of them famous already. Even
in England his influence is not unfelt Through-
out his career Cornelius was a prophet who was by
no means without honour in his own country.
Bavaria and Prussia loaded him with rewards;
and, so long ago as 1838, he had the satisfaction to
know, by his election as a Foreign Member of the
Institute of France, that he was duly esteemed in
that land from whose verdict on art questions there
is, in these days, no appeal.

Nature and Art. May 1, U87.I

THE MICEOSCOPE.

143

THE MICROSCOPE.

UNDER this heading we propose to give, from
month to month, a series of notes upon the
progress made in microscopic research and the
improvements recorded in microscopic appliances.
Every one has a microscope nowadays, and, what
is more, nearly every one who possesses an instru-
ment turns it to some account in the investigation
of various forms of animal and vegetable life.
Hence a good many of our i*eaders must be anxious
to know what other mici-oscopists than themselves
are doing, and this information we purpose giving
them. Our subject naturally divides itself into two
sections, one relating to the discoveries made with
the assistance of the microscope, and the other to
the new forms of apparatus devised to facilitate the
study of microscopic objects. We shall treat of
the discoveries first.

The event of greatest novelty, though not of
greatest importance, in the recent history of micro-
scopy, is the discovery of the so-called gregarinida
in the false hair of which ladies' chignons are com-
posed. This startling discovery, which was first
announced in England in the pages of the Lancet,
was subsequently commented on by the Daily Tele-
graphy after the usual fashion, and not only gave
rise to a feeling of considemble dissatisfaction and
annoyance among ladies, but had the much more
serious efiect of materially damaging the chignon
trade, and throwing many poor people out of honest
employment. A professional journal like the
Lancet should not have permitted the insertion of
the paragraph describing the gregarinida of hair.
The individual responsible for it must either have
been very ignorant of zoology or must have pan-
dered to the never-dying desire of penny-journalism
for something sensational. The examination of
the infected hair, which was conducted by several
microscopists of eminence, has proved incontestably
that there are no such things as gregarinida to
be found in hair. The original account in the
Laiicet describes the gregarinida as proceeding from
the common pediculus of the louse and attaching
themselves to the hair, and it certainly conveyed
the impression that they were a species of insect.
Nothing could be more absurdly erroneous than
this. Not only have no gregarinida been found
in the pediculus, but even did they exist in this
insect, or were they discharged from it, they
could not possibly live upon the hair. They
are the very lowest form of animal life, lower
than even the sponges or the infusorial animal-
cules. "They are the inhabitants of the bodies,
for the most part, of the invertebrate, but also of
the vertebrate animals, and they are commonly to
be found in abundance in the alimentary canal of
the common cockroach and in earthworms. They
are all microscopic, and any one of them, leaving
minor modifications aside, may be said to consist of

a sac composed of a more or less structureless, not
very well defined membrane, containing a soft
semi-fluid substance, in the midst or at one end of
which lies a delicate vesicle ; in the centre of the
latter is a more solid particle. . . . The gre-
garinida are devoid of mouths and of digestive
apparatus, living entirely by imbibition of the
juices of the animal in whose intestine or body they
are contained." * The character of these creatures
in the perfect reproductive stage has not been made
out, so that the foregoing description embraces
pretty nearly all we know about them. It is evi-
dent, however, that they could not exist on hair
under any circumstances. However, it must be
admitted that many specimens of hair contain both
animal and vegetable parasites. The animal para-
site is the common pediculus ; the vegetable
varieties belong to the Algse (sea-weed tribe) and
the Fungi (mushroom tribe). The pediculus ac-
companies living hair only ; it requires the warmth
of the human body as one of the conditions of its
life, and therefore it cannot exist in the haii' from
which such ornamental appendages as chignons are
manufactured. The egg-cases might be thought to
remain, but it is not so. The process of cleansing
to which the hair is submitted completely re-
moves them. But that they are present in the
crude hair which comes to the manufacturer is
\mdeniable, for in a specimen of the refuse from
one of the hair machines examined by us, the
particles of hair were found in many instances to
have these empty egg-capsules attached to them.
As to the vegetable panusites we doubt their
being of much importance. No doubt fungi are
productive of many serious hair diseases; but,
so far as we have been able to determine, these
species are not present in the hair of the chignons.
It is, however, a fact, that in many samples of hair
employed in the manufacture of chignons, a number
of minute particles, evidently not part of true hair
structure, may be found. These, when first placed
under the microscope, appear to be vesicles, which,
under a high magnifying power, seem to be divided
into two, four, or eight compartments. This is a
feature which calls to mind the elementary Algse, to
which, no doubt, the particles belong. Beyond
this stage in their history we have not exsanioed
this pai*asitic growth; but two or three micro-
scopists interested in the matter have caused these
elementary particles to go through the whole course
of their development by placing th&m in a solution
of sugar and water. The observations of such
specimens shows that they are undoubted algse,
since they present the usual spores and antheridia.
There is no reason to believe that, even if present

* Huxley, " Leotnres on the Elements of Oomparativd
Anatomy." Ohuroliill, 1864.

THE MICEOSCOPE.

[Naton Mid Art. XiV 1. 1887.

in the chignons, they could possibly germinate,
and thus pass from the artificial to the natural hair.
This is all that can be fairly said in regard to the
notorious " gregarine " discovery.

The microscope has recently been employed with
advantage in the study of physical geology. Sec-
tions of fossils have frequently been examined under
high magnifying powers, and many important points
have been thus made out ; but till quite recently
the microscope was not employed in the examina-
tion of rocks. Mr. David Forbes, F.R.S., has
called attention to the fact that rocks which it is
difficult otherwise to distinguish from each other
may be readily discriminated when thin sections are
placed in the field of the microscope. He himself
has found this method of inquiry of the highest
importance in the course of his numerous investi-
gations into the metallurgical value of various
minerals. Mr. Sorby, F.R.S., has also, we believe,
employed the microscope to discern the intimate
structure of metals and minerals, and is still en-
gaged in researches of this kind. In the field of
palaeontology (the science of fossils) the microscope
has lately thrown much light on inquiries which
could hardly have been completed without its
assistance. Mr. Carruthers, of the British Museum,
and Mr. £. Hay Lankester have made out some
interesting points of structure by submitting thin
slices of foMils to microscopic examination. The
former has been engaged in examining our fossil
plants, especially those from the coal formations,
and has considerably modified what were befoi*e
regarded as orthodox views. The latter has,
with the assistance of the microscope, been able
to show that a fossil fish examincKl by him is
quite new to science. Of course, his conclusion
is in some measure based upon the general form
of the fossil, but the microscopic evidence is
equally important. It so happens that in the
family of fossil fishes known technically as the
Cephalaspidce there is one division the bones of
which possess small irregular cavities with lines
proceeding from them. These cavities are called
lacuncBy and in order to see them a very finely-
ground thin slice of the bone must be placed under
the microscope. In trying to discover the species
to which his specimen belonged, Mr. Lankester
submitted a delicate section to microscopic exami-
nation, and he soon perceived that these lacunce were
not only present, but were large, and "very densely
packed, arranged at right angles in tlie difierent
lamellee of the bony material, so as to produce the
appearance of cross-hatching."* This discovery
removed much of the difliculty of the diagnosis,
and helped, with the external characteristics, to
indicate the true relations of the fish, which Mr.
Lankester has named Didymaspis (^/^vftoci twin,
and d(77ric, shield).

In the department of botany microscopists have
not been idle. HeiT Reichert has been exploring
the circulation of the sap in plants, and has pointed
out that of the two distinct portions of sap which

• The Geological Magazine^ April.

are found in the little vesicles of which plants
are built up, but one of them is engaged in rotation,
the central fluid being always stationary. The phe-
nomena of the circulation in plants may be seen by
any of our readers possessed of a good microscope,
by placing under a moderately high power a semi-
faded leaf of that common canal weed, the Ana-
chcms alsinaslrum. In France M. Chatin has been
working at the anther, that little powdery seedlike
body which is found at the top of the stamens of a
flower. This was formerly considered to possess
only twa envelopes or linings ; but with the aid of
the microscope M. Chatin has been able to distin-
guish a third coat. In our own country the veteran
Gulliver has been continuing his researches upon
the microscopical structure of plants. Quite i-e-
cently he has been examining the appearances of
pollen-grains. The pollen is the fine soft powder
which is discharged from the anther above men-
tioned, and which one sees so abundantly distri-
buted over the inner parts of the flower in the lily.
Professor Gulliver has examined the pollen-grains
of a large number of plants, and he has found not
only that their particles have, when magnified, a
definite shape and outline, but that these are gene-
rally peculiar to each plant. This discovery is
important, for it shows that by means of the
microscope we may often determine the exact
species of a plant by a portion of its pollen suflicient
to rest upon the head of a pin.

In the study of the structure of the lower
animals, the employment of the microscope is in-
dispensable. In this branch of anatomy a good
deal has been recently achieved. Two new and
curious species of wheel animalcule have been dis-
covered by Mr. Henry Davis, and described by him
to the Microscopical Society. Hitherto it was
thought that only one wheel animalcule (Mdicerta)
had the power of constnicting a habitation for
itself. Mr. Davis has shown that this opinion is
not correct, since he has seen the species he has
discovered arranging the minute pellets one by one,
and fastening them together by means of a glutinous
substance into a veritable domicile. The little
animalcule appears to be pro\dded with a micro-
scopically bearded chin, which is employed in the
process of domestic architecture. The brain of
that singular animal, the cuttle-fish, has been ex-
amined under the microscope by Mr. Lockhart
Clarke, and appears to be a wonderful piece of
nervous complexity. It has been always considered
that the cuttle-fish is the highest of the animals
devoid of an inner skeleton; but Mr. Clarke's
researches, though of too special a character for
further notice here, show that the brain of the
cuttle-fish is of a higher stamp of organization than
was formerly supposed.

Silk-worm culture is not simply an interesting
pursuit for the dilettanti, it is a business of as much
importance to the countries in which it is followed
as any of the staple manufactures. Of late years,
however, a sad blight has fallen on the French silk-
worms, and has materially damaged the silk-trade.
To discover the cause of this was of the most vital

[NaJUire and Art Mi^ 1.1867.

I)
^ 0. Q Q

0: 0. c.

JTatim and Art. U^j 1. 1887]

OUB BRITISH BUTTERFLIES.

145

interest, and therefore several French chemists and
microscopists undertook the examination of the
clisea.«ied and healthy worms. The result has been
the discovery of the exciting cause of the disease.
It has been found that the infected worms contained,
scattered through their tissue, a number of minute
bodies, probably spores or germinating particles of
some low vegetable organism, and which have been
termed pebrine corptiscles. They are of a peculiarly
vibrating character, and if they happen to be present
in the egg, they ai*e sure to be found in the body
of the future caterpillar. It was thought that they
"were gregarinida, but such a supposition is incorrect.
That they are vegetable spores, which are capable
of producing fermentation, and thus of decomposing
the vital fluids of the silk-worm is clear, from an
experiment made by M. Bechamp. M. Bechamp
removed some of the fluid from a catei*pillar in-
fected with pebrine coi-puscles, and placed it in a
solution of sugar and water. The result was that
alcoholic fermentation soon took place. Though
not directly referring to microscopy, it may be
mentioned that the source of these pebrine corpuscles
has also been discovered by the French observer
we have named who states that it is the wet or
moist mulberry leaves with which the worms are
fed. " He took a number of worms from good
healthy eggs, and divided them into two batches.
One of these he fed with mulberry leaves, and to
the other he gave leaves highly charged with
moisture. He found that all those of the batch
fed with dried leaves passed through their meta-
morphoses ; whilst thoae in the other series
perished."*

There is no subject which has of late attracted
more attention from savants, especially in France,
than that of spontaneous generation. In its investi-
gation the microscope has been extensively used,
and, according to both advocates and opponents of
the theory, has furnished very valuable evidence.
Besides M. Pouchet, the great sui>porter of the
doctrine of Jieterogeny, the theory has found a new
advocate in M. Donn6, who, in a recent number of
the Comptes RendtLS of the French Academy, calls
attention to certain experiments made by him, and
which he thinks establish beyond all question that
organisms — living vegetable and animal forms —
spring directly fi*om decomposing animal matter.

• Popular Science Review, April, p. 237.

One of M. Donne's experiments is extremely in-
teresting. He took a hen's egg, and having pierced
it with a red-hot needle, and allowed a portion of
the contents to escape, he filled the space left by
the evacuated contents with distilled water. Sealing
up the aperture hermetically with wax, he left the
egg exposed to a temperature of from 17° to 24°
of the centigrade thermometer * for about ^yq
days. He then removed the seal, and placing a
drop of the egg-fluid under the microscope, he found
it swarming with minute organisms termed vibrios.
These are either animal or vegetable ; science has
not determined which ; but they are certainly living
creatures, and if they were not derived from the
atmosphere, which generally contains their eggs in
abundance, they must have proceeded directly from
the decomposing matter of the egg. M. Donn6*8
facts are the most difficult to refute which have yet
been put forward, and go nearer to destroy our
belief in Harvey's maxim, omne vivum ex ovo, than
any which have been yet presented to us.

Adulteration is another subject concerning which
the microscope provides us with useful information.
It was frequently had recourse to by Dr. Hassall
during the labours of the memorable Lancet
Commission, and only the other day it was em-
ployed for a similar purpose in France. M. T.
Roussin has found that almost all the French soft-
soaps, which should consist of potash and the acids
of fat, are extensively adulterated with starch.
Starch consists of extremely fine particles of an
ovoid shape, and presenting a number of concentric
coats. M^ Boussin suspecting the presence of
adulteration in the soaps examined by him, placed
a small portion in the field of a microscope, imder a
power of a quarter of an inch focus. He soon per-
ceived the starch gi-anules in very large number,
and presenting their characteristic shape, wrinklings,
and series of consecutive layers, t

We have already disposed of the space allotted
to us in discussing the results recently achieved in
the labours of microscopists. The second portion
of our subject, therefore — that relating to the ad-
vance made in the invention of microscopic ap-
paratus and appliances — we must defer to our next
number.

• Equivalent to about 62" and 75° of Fahrenheit's ther-
mometer.

t See the Chemical News, April 5th.

OUE BRITISH BUTTERFLIES :

Their Structure, Habits, History, and Foreign Eelativea.
By Arthur Gardiner Butler, F.Z.S.
PABT I.

IN a former paper we have endeavoured to show
how closely some foreign butterflies resemble
our own : we now propose to point out how far
some allied species excel ours in beauty of form and
II.

coloumtion ; and as it appears to us that the study
of British Butterflies, with regard to their structure,
habits, &C., has been but imperfectly worked out,
we shall strive to do something towards the attain-

146

OUE BEITISH BUTTEEFLIES.

Katnre and Ait. Mvf 1. UBT.

ment of a more thorough knowledge of these beau-
tiful insects. The lovely butterfly that comes first
on our lists is known to naturalists as the PapUio
Machaon of LinnsBus, but more popularly imder the
title of the SwaUoto-iadled : it exceeds all the other
British forms in size, and, when flying near the
ground, its sailing, rook-like flight gives it the op-
portunity of exhibiting all its beautiful and simple
colours to great advantage.

Never shall we forget the day when our eyes first
feasted on that glorious sight — ^the Swallow-tailed
upon the wing. It had been a drizzling, misty
morning, and even as we left home the fine sleety
rain came down in fitful showers, which, contrasting
with the warmth of the atmosphere, annoyed us
with their prickly dullness — a thing, by the bye,
well calculated to produce sneezing-fits. We did
not dare to hope for butterflies, though we did
occasionally come across some few stragglers of
the poor hardworking honey-bee, carrying their
sweet burden through the damp, heavy atmosphere;
having arrived at a clover-field, we stood watching
the wide expanse of purple flowers, when an object
met our view, soaring aloft, then sweeping the field
like some small bird of prey in search of a victim.
As it approached, we could perceive that its wings
were of a yellbw colour ; and it soon settled not
many yards fi^m our feet. One moment and it
would be a captive : to open our umbrella-net,
rush forwards, and swing it round, was the work of
an instant. But " there is many a slip," says the
old proverb — a brother's net met ours with a crash,
and we perceived that the fluttering prisoner was
his prize. That very morning a second specimen
was beneath his net, but, in his excitement, he
raised the gauzy prison, and away soared the freed
insect into the now blue sky, and rapidly disappeared
from sight.

. Strangely enough, all the Swallow-tailed butter-
flies that we have seen on the wing have come
across our path whilst collecting at Heme Bay, a
place not mentioned in any list of localities for the
insect. One year we saw seven specimens, and
several others have been both seen and chased by
us during subsequent visits to that place.

The genus Fajnlio, to which this species belongs,
is a widely distributed and most beautiful ooe.
Many of its forms very nearly approach the Swallow-
tailed in pattern and coloration; but as, in the
present series of papers, our object is not merely to
point out similar forms, we have chosen, as a repre-
sentative of this species, a very beautiful insect
from New Grenada, which is described and figured
by Mr. Hewitson, in his "Exotic Butterflies," under
the name of PapUio Dioxippua.

The caterpillar of the Swallow-tailed is green,
having each segment of the body encircled by two
black bands, the hinder band with a row of six
orange spots. The head is furnished with a reddish
forked appendage, which, when the creature is
terrified, emits a strong-scented fluid ; and by this
means it is said to protect itself from the attacks
of those destructive parasitic insects, the ichneumon-

flies,* It feeds upon wild carrot {Datums carota\
fennel (Anethum fcmiculum), milk parsley (Pcwce-
damwia palu8tre\ and other UmbeUiferaB.

The chrysalis is bright yellowish green, slightly
darker in some parts, and is generally found
attached to grass stalks by a thread round the
middle, and a small web at the end of the
tail. When the butterfly is nearly ready to
emerge, the pattern and coloxudng of the upper
wings and body may be distinctly seen through the
thin shell-like covering. The wings are thea
always very small and thick. At the time of teans-
formation, the chrysalis first splits longitudinally
from the head to the end of the thorax. The
hairs of the back are first seen to appear through
the narrow opening, and gradually the head b^ins
to rise encumbered by its imprisoned antennse
which, in the chrjBalis, lie along the edges of the
wings. Then the thin envelope cracks at the sides,
the under anterior portion is forced away from the
upper part, the 1^ begin to appear two at a time,
the antennsB are released and brought forward, and
the long proboscis is imcoiled; the opening
gradually enlarges, and the insect, bringing its l^
into action, soon draws itself from its place of
confinement; and, can we add, "flies away to
enjoy the pleasures of sunshine and nectar." Not
so ; there is much to do yet ere it can attain to
such aerial joys. Its wings are now small,
shrivelled, thick, and heavy with moisture ; there-
fore our buttei-fly runs up the nearest wall or
upright stem, and, hanging its wings downwards,
sits quietly for several minutes, and now those
beautiful organs of locomotion begin to increase in
size so rapidly, that a sharp eye may even detect
their growth. If closely examined at this stage, it
will be seen that the nerves, or veins of the wings,
are filled with a liq\iid which, being forced into
them, radiates through exceedingly minute nervelets
over the entire surface of the wing ; which, being
formed of two delicate and distinct tissues, is at
this time slightly swollen, balloon fashion ; and
thus, in about twenty minutes, the wings attain
the required dimensions. When they are nearly
full-grown, the insect commences to open and shut
them, which prevents them from clinging together;
after which it remains perfectly quiet until they
ai'e firm and ready for flight The butterfly
then commences to flutter (some moths will do this
for many minutes), and, after taking a wheel in
the air, as if to satisfy itself of the reality of its
newly-acquired powers, it flies away to the enjoy-
ment of life and pleasure.

The wings of the genus PapUio possess a more
perfect set of veins than those of any other group
of butterflies, and, on that account, they have been
so frequently employed to explain the names of
their various branches, that it would be useless for
us to repeat the oft-told tale. We would therefore
refer all inquiring minds to " Westwood's British

• The disagreeable odour of caterpillars is a great pro-
tection from the attacks of birds, lizards, and many other
foes.

^■^-^:'

'^TTjtti*^ arn^ .Vt MhvI IBIV7.

tfatwUnd lit. lUyl. l9Sr.}

THE VALE OP CASHMERE.

147

Butterflies," where they will obtain any extra
information they can require. Our figure is
braced from the wing itself, which we had pre-
viously denuded of the scales in the following
manner : — -

With a preparation of gum-lac, dissolved in
spirits of wine, stick your wing down upon a piece
of card. When it has thoroughly dried, which
will probably be in an hour or two, dip a camel-hair
pencil in a solution of gum-arabic, and work it
careftilly about, over the surface of the wing. This,
after a short time, will remove the scales; after
which wash the wing in clean water, and repeat the
process for the other side. By this means you may
render the wings of butterflies quite transparent,
and the veins may then be clearly seen.*

The scales themselves, upon which the colouring
of all butterflies and moths entirely depends, are
in this species exceedingly variable in outline, as
will be seen by reference to the plate, where all
the forms which we have been able to detect are
figui^ed.

The legs of the Swallow-tailed are long and
bristly. The two front pairs are furnished with a
central pad-like appendage; the proboscis, or
tongue, is long, wiry, and black ; the palpi, or

* Great care is required in preparing these wings, as the
substance of the alary membrane is so brittle, especially in
butterflies of the family Satyridoiy that it is next to im-
posaiblo to avoid breaking them.

feelers, by means of whick the tongue is partially
concealed when at rest, are singularly small and
curiously constmcted.

The caterpillar may be found from June to
August. The chrysalides can be obtained for a
•few pence from almost any dealer in objects of
natural history. The perfect insect appears from
May to August, and may be taken in fens near
Cambridge, Norwich, Yaxley, Burwell, and
Homsey; Whittlesea Mere, at Pulborough, in
Sussex, and at Heme Bay, in the Isle of Thanet.

Explanation of Plate.

Fig. 1. Papilio Machaon (linn).

2. „ „ „ (nndereide).

3. „ „ „ (oaterpillaron food-plant).

4. „ „ „ (chrysaUs).

5. Wings, showing the nervures.

6. Head, magnified.

7. Palpns, magnified.

8. „ denuded of scales.

9. Clnb of antenna, magnified.

10. Tip of antenna, highly magnified.-

11. Proleg, magnified.

12. Middle leg.

13. Hind leg.

14. Scales on the wings, &o.
a, prismatic or red scale.
6, c, c, yellow scales, c commonest form.
(2, bine scale.

/, g, black scales ; h^ yellow.
i — J), black ; o, p^ marginal leg scales.

15. Pc^lio Dioxippusi, (Hewitson, New Grenada).

THE VALE OF CASHMERE.

By WILLLA.M Simpson.

("1ASHMERE, like many other places, has more
J than one etymology. The usual idea is that
it is derived from Khvsh, which means happy or
satisfied ; hence Cashmere is called " The Happy
Valley." The Emperor Baber, in his Memoirs,
gives another derivation. He says that " the hilly
country of the Sinde, or Hindus, was formerly
inhabited by a race of men named Kas, and he
supposes that, from a corruption of the name, the
country of Cashmere was so called, as being the
country of the Kas, the denomination mir or mere
being still united with the names of several geo-
graphical divisions, such as Jesalmeer, Ajmeer, &c."
The derivation from Khuah is that generally ac-
cepted, because to every one it seems appropriate
that it should be called " The Happy Valley." It
realizes many of the features which Dr. Johnson
gave to the Happy Valley of Hasselas. It is
enclosed like a cup between high and picturesque
mountains, whose beauty is celebrated, not only
through Asia, but all over the world. The soil is
so fertile, that it might be called a garden ; add
to this garden, lakes, rivers, fountains, holy shrines,
every variety of hill, many of them high in the
region of eternal snow, and to all these a tem-
perate and a delightful climate, and you have a

1 perfect paradise upon earth. Abul Fazel, the
Mahomedan historian, who wrote about three
hundred years ago, describes this country. He
says, " Violets, roses, narcissuses, and innumerable
flowers, grow wild." "The whole of Cashmere
represents a garden in perpetual spring." Well
may it be said, —

If woman can make the worst wilderness dear,

Think, think what a heav'n she mnst make of Cashmere !

Among the many associations connected with
this romantic and beautiful locality, it is no new
one that Eden may have had its place somewhere
about it. "Cush" is the Hebrew word for Ethi-
opia: and the Gihon, the second river of Eden,
" the same is it that compasseth the whole land of
Ethiopia.'* It could not fail to strike any one
looking at the map of Cashmere, that here is a land
of Khicshy round which the Indus flows, and " com-
passeth " is a correct description of the geographical
fact. That it is a holy place is declared by Abul
Fazel : " The Hindoos regard the whole of Cash-
mere as holy land ; forty-five places are dedicated
to Siva, sixty-four to Vishnu, three te Brahma, and
twenty-two te Durga, the wife of Siva. In seven
hundred places the figures of snakes are carved,
J.3

148

THE VALE OP CASHMERE.

nratavBaBdAzi.lbjl.lM7.

which they alao worship." These remains of the
worship of the serpent * are very curious, and much
might be made of it as an evidence ; but it is not
the purpose of the present article to express an
opinion upon either one side or the other. These
statements are quoted to show the interest which
attaches to this part of the world, and they may
serve to explain why the tendency of thought in
our own time is to make this central region the
cradle of the human family. Near to this the
Hindoo places among the unapproachable heights
of the Himalayas the heaven of Maha Deo ; from
whose throne + of gems there flows the sacred Ganges,
reputed to be one of the rivers of Eden by Jose-
phus, in which the worshipper purifies himself
both bodily and spiritually, and desires that, after
death, his body may be thrown into it, as into the
way to heaven.

Cashmere itself is " holy land." To the north is
the Hindoo Koosh. To the ear accustomed to the
language of India this word Koosky or Kooshie^
requires no explanation : it is in constant use to
express satisfaction or happiness. It was from this
more northern direction that the Hindoo went south,
with the then simple worship of the Vedas, with
the Soma juice and the Cuaa grass. The CVio^dins,
or Chaldeans, seem to have been some peculiar
order of priests or Brahmins, and modem specula-
tions point to the region of the Hindoo Koosh as
the source from which they wound westward to the
Euphrates. A passage from the "Mahabharat"
will show what were the ideas of this early people.
It is from an address by Chrishna to Arjuna : —

Hereafter, ne'er shall be the time, when one of ns shall

cease to be.
The sonl, within its mortal frame, glides on through child'

hood, yonth, and age,
Then, in another form renewed, renews its stated coarse

again.
All indestmotible is he that spread the living nniyerse ;
And who is he that shall destroy the work of the Inde-

straotible?
Corraptible these bodies are, that wrap tho eyerlasting soul —
The eternal, nnimaginablo sool.
Fur he that thinks to slay the soul, or he that thinks the

soul is slain,
Are fondly both alike deceived. It is not slain — ^it slayeth

not;
It is not born — it doth not die ; past, present, f atore, know

it not ;
Ancient, eternal, and unchanged, it dies not with the dying

frame.

The associations and ideas of those ancient days
contiust strongly with the realities of the present.
The ideal Greek of Homer and the reputed cha-
racter of his modem successor are no less at variance
than is the Hebrew of the Law and the Prophets
with him of later times. So with the people of
Hindostan ; the pure religion of the Vedas appears
in all its simplicity in opposition to the thirty-two
million of gods, which form the Hindoo Pantheon
of the present. The Pandean hei^oes must be con-

* The serpents are called in the ancient langoage the
nagas ; in Hebrew the serpent is the nachoLsh,

t " A pnre river of water of life, clear as crystal, pro-
ceeding out of the throne." — Bev. xxi. 1.

trasted with the cowardice and cruelties of the
Indian mutineers.

The reputation of the people of Cashmere is not
good. Their character is proverbial. The followmg
will indicate that such is the case : " If you meet a
snake, do not put it to death, but do not spare a
Cashmeiie." " Do not admit a Cashmerie to your
friendship, or you hang a hatchet over your door«
way."

'* Many fowls in a house will defile it,
And many Cashmeries in a country will spoil it"

I cannot give the data of these sayings, but it is to
be hoped that they are the exaggerations of pre-
judice. The government is very Oriental and
exacting in the matter of taxes, and the people are
kept very poor. When the Punjaub became
British territory Cashmere formed a part of it, and
it was sold to Gholab Singh. To raise the ne-
cessary amount of rupees he founded a system of
taxation, which endures to the present day. The
great body of the inhabitants are Mahomedan, but
the Government and the Eajah are Hindoo; henco
another source of objectionable laws. A Maho-
medan will eat beef, but the Hindoo law makes it
death to kill the sacred cow. The follower of the
prophet is allowed to eat fish, but the worshipper
of the thirty-two million of gods will not i)ermit
the dwellers of the water to be eaten. As the
reason of this last restriction is curious and illus-
trative, it should be told.

The first morning after aniving at Srinugger,
my boatmen brought me some fish, and on talking
with them they explained that they had been
fishing by means of my name ; otherwise, they said
that they would be put in prison : no native dare
fish on his own account, but the sahibs were an
exception to this law. This law turned out to be a
I'esult produced by a belief in the doctrine of the
Metempsychosis. When Gholab Singh died, the
Brahmins declared that his soul had transmigrated
into a fish ; hence the law to save the rajah in his
new state of existence from being hooked and
devoured. When my boatmen brought me fish
again I always made a pretence of being very
particular, wanted to know if they had caught the
Rajah, and expressed decided objections against
breakfasting off the father of the present ruler of
Cashmere and Jummoo. If "cold missionary"
could have been added to this transmigrated Eajah,
what a choice bill of fare it would have made!
This association of ideas I could not explain to my
boatmen ; but whenever I made inquiries about the
fish, a sly smile of satisfaction appeared on their
faces, indicating that they were pleased at my
ridicule of such an absurd law.
. The trade of the country is very much fettered
by the heavy taxes. At a11 the passes leading from
Thibet there are custom-houses, where a large duty
is levied upon tho pu^^m, the fine wool from which
the shawls are manufactured. This wool w all
brought in from the countries to the eastward, and
Cashmere owes its celebrity for shawls ta its bemg
simply tho outlet of this product There is also a

Kktam and AH. U»j 1. 1887.]

THE VALE OF CASHMEEE.

149

duty upon the shawls when they are sent out of
the country. Tea comes, overland from China by
Thibet, and pays a heavy duty when it enters
Cashmere . It comes in large square paper packages,
and from its shape it is called " brick tea." It is
in great demand among the more wealthy, and if
you go to inspect the stock of the shawl merchants,
while you are looking over his goods, he regales
you with " the cup that cheera." In preparing the
tea for themselves they put spices in it, but they
have found out that the "Sahib log" prefers it
without these condiments, and so they prepare it
accordingly. The Nautch girls are very fond of
this l)everage, and always refi^sh themselves with
it during their performances. The hookah is also
an indispensable necessity ; but this is not peculiar
to one class in India : from a queen to a coolie
they all "drink" tobacco. "Drink" is the idiom
by which they express the imbibing of smoke.

During my visit to the Happy Valley, Colonel
Seymour and Greatrex, of the Bays, arrived, and
they determined to have a Nautch on a grand
scale. One of their objects was to realize, partly
for my benefit, the past times of Noormahal ; and
to accomplish this, it was to take place in the very
building in the Shalimar in which Moore places
the scene of his story. At the time there was
only one copy of " Lalla Rookh" known to be in
Srinugger, and it was in great demand for a couple
of days before the Nautch. On the afternoon of
that day I found myself sailing over the Dall, or
lake, with General Van Cortlandt, who was the
British resident for that season in Cashmere. Moore
must have read up his subject most carefully, for
his description of the lake is very truthful. He
describes it as being " like a garden,"

" With tho rich buds that o'er it lie,
• As if a shower of fairy wreaths

Had fallen upon it from the sky ! "

The most striking feature is the lotus ; it is a
large flower, with rose colon i-ed petals, and a large
round flat leaf, which generally lies floating on the
surface of the water. They were at the time in
full flower, and portions of the lake were entirely
covered by them, so thickly, that the water was not
seen, and it looked more like a field, or, as Moore
expresses it, " like a garden," than the surface of a
lake. The mass of colour produced by such a
number of flowers is very fine, and for several
evenings at this season the sunsets were particu-
larly gorgeous. The sky made great effbi-ts to
rival the rose-coloured lotus on the lake ; and the
eflfort was not confined to the sky, the

" Silent pinnacles of agred snow
Stood sanset-flush'd/'

and the lower ranges of hills came out in strong
crimson. I have seldom seen more beautiful sun-
sets than those which I saw on the Lake of Cash-
mere. Our way over the lake was past the " Isle
of Chenai-s," as Moore calls it. It derives its name
from the Chunar tree, a number of which grow on
it. The ruins of a mosque are still to be seen on
the island, which has a charmed look about it,

from the unnumbered lotuses surrounding it.
We J)ulled the leaves of the lotus, and used them
as umbrellas; and when we could catch one of
the seed-vessels, it was hauled on board. It is
like a cone, base upwards, full of seeds, which
are very like green peas, not only in size, but in
taste. Finding them very tempting to the palate,
we continued eating as we went along. The boat-
men, seeing that these seeds were liked, helped
us to all they could reach. We became veritable
" Lotos Eaters,*' and were told that we should forget
our own country. The reply to this was simple.
*?ror such a place as Cashmere who "^ould not
send their own country to oblivion 1 " We con-
tinued to eat this fruit of forgetfulness. There may
be something somniferous in the seeds, or perhaps
it might be the heat, or the locality — a beautiful
lake, along which we moved among flowers " like
a gMxien," islands, trees, hills, snowy peaks " sun-
set flushed." No paradise could equ^d it. Who
cared although the whole outer world might be
forgotten in such a land of beauty ?

" Let ns swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
In the hollow lotos-land to live and lie reclined
On the hills, like gods together, careless of mankind."

We had attained to " Nirwana," we had reached
the final state of absorption into bliss, which is the
heavenly existence of Buddhism. The Mahomedan
enjoys in the celestial regions a supreme exaltation,
which he calls " Kief." When the Hindoo enters
Go-lok — the heaven of Vishnu — ^he will enjoy a
beatification, which he believes in as " Moksh."
But the heaven of cows could not possibly surpass
the moksh of the lotos-eater on the Lake of Cash-
mere. And who would run the risk of that
dreadful bridge Al-Sirat, when Kief can be reached
without walking on the edge of a razor % Let any
man become a lotos-eater on that lake, and he will
cease to have any doubts about the original site of
the Garden of Eden. He will never attain to the
true knowledge of good and evil till he has eaten
the seeds of that plant. Who could refuse to eat
such fruit, so pleasant to the eyes as well as to the
taste?

Moore gives the following extract frpm Forster
descriptive of the Shalimar • —

"One of the Delhi emperors — ^I' believe Shah Jehan-^
constmcted a spaoiooa garden called the Shalimar, which ia
abundantly stored with fruit-trees and flowering shrabs.
Some of the rivulets which intersect the plain are led into a
canal at the back of the garden, and flowing through its
centre, or occasionally thrown into a variety of water- works,
compose the chief beauty of the Shalimar. To decorate this
spot, the Mogul princes of India have displayed an equal
magnificence and taste, especially Jehan Gheer, who, with
the enchanting Noor Mahal, made Kashmire his usual
residence during the summer months. On arches thrown
over the canal are erected, at equal distances, four or five
suites of apartments, each consisting of a saloon, with four
rooms at the angles, where the followers of the Coui*t
attend, and the servants prepare sherbets, coffee, and the
hookah. The frame of the doors of the principal saloon is
composed of pieces of a stone of a black colour, streaked
with yellow lines, and of a closer grain and higher polish
than porphyry. They wore taken, it is said, from a Hindoo
temple, by one of tho Mogul princes, and are esteemed of
groat value."

150

THE VALE OF CASHMERE.

[Ibtem sBd Alt. Mijr 1. UC.

The principal building in the garden at the
present day has a verandah on two of its sides*, and
they are constructed of a black-coloured marble,
with yellowish streaks ; so it is probable that they
are the " pieces of stone " to which Forster alludes.
In the illustration of the Nautch these architectural
remains are seen; the pillars, capital, and lintels
are all of this material. The building is quite
surrounded with the water of the canal, and a
multitude of jets deau were playing, which pro-
duced a most refreshing coolness. We bathed, and
had a combination of a swim and a shower-bath
among these jets at the same time. We had dinner
in one of the verandahs, and by the time it was
over darkness had set in, and those employed in
the Nautch had got the whole place illuminated.
This is done in India in a very simple and effective
manner, by a lot of small cups, called chirdgs, into
which there is a wick, and some oil. These chirks
were placed all round upon the lines of stone form-
ing the quay of the canal, and the effect, with the
jets of water playing between them, was very fine.
At one spot they had placed some of these lights in
little niches behind an artificial waterfall, so that
they were seen through the water as it fell. This
had a very fairy-like look about it.

Our friends had engaged all the best and most
celebrated dancing-girls in Srinugger for the occa-
sion, and they had all amved. Each girl has her j
own baji-wallahs, or musicians, which attend her — i
generally about three performers. These, on this
night, made a very large orchestra. We sat down
at one end of the verandah, and while we had
coffee and cigars the Nautch commenced.

I had repeatedly seen Nautches before in various
parts of India, and I had formed the usual opinion
of them, that they were dull, wearisome perform-
ances ; but I must declare that the display of this
evening was an exception to all that I had seen.
The Cashmere music, instruments, and performers,
are much more like our ideas of music than what
one hears in other parts of India. No doubt but
this had the effect of taking away the monotony
which every one complains of at such exhibitions.
Add to tins that the dancers had high claims to
beauty; the women of Cashmere have long been
celebrated. It has always been to the harems of
Delhi what Circassia is to the seraglios of Con-
stantinople. Many of the women are as white in
the skin as if they had been born in Europe.
" Groolee," the name of the principal performer of
the evening, could boast of the roses on her cheeks.
She was the Noor Mahal of the evening, and well
she merited the titla I can never forget that
night. On talking it over afterwards, we all con-
fessed to have been imder the same spell of enchant-
ment. Perhaps it was the lotos-eating-^or perhaps
the good ditmer which we had just disposed of
produced the effect ; perhaps it was the fairy-like
effect of the place, with its fountains and lights.
All was heightened by the music and the beauti^l
creatures moving before xis. There were the asso-
ciations of the scene ; we had been imbibing the
magic of" Lalla Rookh " on our way over the lake.

and here was the very spot where, according to the
story, the love-sick Noor Mahal had also been a
performer, and sung

" If there be an elysiiim on earth,
It is this, it is this."

There were the houris of paradise added to make
our "kief" complete and perfect. There was a
delightful dreamy reality, with at the same time a
feelmg of abstraction about it We had ceased
to belong to the nineteenth century : we were away
back at some distant period of time. Moore's story
was realized before us ; it was a waking, tangible
dream. Had a jin or a genie appear^, no one
could have thought him out of place. Had we been
asked about the Arabian Nights, we would bare
expressed our perfect faith in the truth of the whole
thousand and one stories. We were willing to
believe in Ormuzed and Ahrimanes, and all their
armies of angels. The Peris of Paradise were
not a matter of mere fidth — they were realities
before us. The spell was complete, and acknow-
ledged by the whole of our paxty. It is a good
thing to be thus taken out of yourself — to cease to
be, as it were, for the time; and I here again thank
my friends for the sweet delusion of that never-to-
be-forgotten night.

Dancing-girls seem to have belonged to all parts
of the East, and were in existence in the most
ancient times. They are the only class of women
in the East who receive what may be called " edu-
cation ;" they have to begin when children, and are
carefully trained. Eveiy rajah keeps a niunberof
them to entertain himself and visitors. In many
parts of India they are attached to the temples, to
sing to the god, and perform at the ceremonies;
these girls are called " Moorlees." The Greek and
Etruscan vases are familiar illustrations of dandng
women at religious ceremonies. In the Bible we
find that "Miriam the prophetess, the sister of
Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand ; and all the
women went out after her with timbrels and with
dances." The dance and the song always go to-
gether; the dance is a series of movements of the
body, meant to express more fully the meaning of
the words sung. It is suiting tiie action to the
word. It is far more like acting, than our Western
ideas of dancing. The feet are only used to jingle
the bells attached to them. It would be difficult
in a short space to give an idea of the songs which
they sing ; their character differs very much; they
range from mere doggerel to the songs of Hafiz.
There was a very favourite song called " Angrezzie
mat balo beebee," which means " Don't speak
English, Girl ! " It would be difficult to explain why
it was a favourite, but the same difficulty would
be found to explain why many of the popular songs
at home here are fovourites. This particular one
might rank, for poetic merit, with "Jim Crow;" and
like that once celebrated melody, it could be easily
altered by impromptu verses. The great favourite
was *.* Taza ba taza," and it is really a fine song ; it
is by Hafiz; the ideas are good, and the words are
musical. The refrain of it is an illustrative speci-

Katun and Alt. Mat 1. 1887. ]

SIGN-PAINTEES AND SIGNBOARDS.

151

men of what seems the tendency of Oriental rhyme ;
the words are " Taza ba taza, nou ba nou," which
means, "Fresh and fresh, new and new." The
peculiarity is the repetition of the same sound,
producing as it were, a rhyme within a rhyme;
i-eminding one of that richness of effect which they
produce by a repetition in their wonderful omar
ment, not only in architecture, but in shawls and
all their gold and silver work. There is an oft-
repeated verse from Hafiz, which will still further
show this feature of Oriental rhyme. It is, —

" Hnm jins, ba hoin jins, pnrwStz ;
Knbootre ba kubootre, hkz ba hhz,"

By this repetition, every syllable seems to rhyme,
and the style must be well adapted for lyric
poetry. These lines may be translated as,

Kindred bouIs together walk :

DoTe with doye, and hawk with hawk ;

or, in the words of the old proverb, " Birds of a
feather flock together."

SIGN-PAINTERS AND SIGNBOARDS.*

ALTHOUGH signboards, in these modem days, are very
unimportant objects, time was (and that at no yery
distant date) when they were far otherwise. When streets
were nnnamed and honses unnumbered, when the majority
of passers-by in even the busiest thoroughfares were unable
to read, and when particular trades were grouped in colonies
in particular localities, it was necessarily a desideratum to
give every shop a name or token by which it could be dis-
tinguished and customers referred to it. Beading, as we
have just remarked, being a scarce aoooraplishment, to write
up the owner's name would have been of little use. Some,
indeed, whose names offered the chance, advertised them by
a rebus, such as the hare and bottle for Harbottle, and two
cooks for Cox ; a custom not uncommon in the days of the
Bomans, not only on signboards which were then in common
use, but on the votive tablets of the dead. Others, whose
names no rebus could represent, adopted the tools of their
calling, or pictorial objects ; and as the talents and ima-
ginative powers of the artists were, it may be presumed,
rather limited, colours were often introduced, in heraldic
parlance, for a ** difference." Size, quaintness of design,
and costliness, were also eagerly sought after for the sake
of distinction.

Of the sign-painters of the middle ages, we have little
information ; but about two centuries back. Harp Alley,
Shoe Lane, and similar localities, appear to have been the
head-quarters of these artists. Here Barlow, Craddook,
and others, whose names are now forgotten like their works,
had their studios, and produced some good signs, both
carved and painted. A few signs, however (according to
the Spectator)^ were produced by artists of a superior class.

The latter were often coach-painters, who united both
branches of art. The panels of the unwieldy coaches of our
ancestors in these days, as well as of the sedan-chairs then
so much in use, were often a mass of costly blazonry ; and
when these hendd-painters turned their attention to sign-
painting, they generally produced something good.

Such was Olarkson, to whom Mr. J. T. Smith, the anti-
quary, assigns the beautiful sign of Shakspeare, which
formerly hung in Little Bussell Street, Drury Lane, and for
which JBSOO were paid, — certainly a handsome price, when
we remember the beggarly remuneration too often given for
both artistic and literary work in those days. Such also
was Catton {ohiit 1788), who painted several good signs,
particularly one of a lion, for his friend Wright, a famous
coach-builder of Long Acre. This picture, after weathering
many a storm, was still visible in J. T. Smith's time. A
''Turk's Head," also by Catton, was long admired as a
mercer's sign in Covent Garden. J. Baker (o&. 1771), who
studied under the same master as Catton, and who was

• "History of Signboards." By J. Larwood and J. C.
Hotten. London : Hotten, Piccadilly. 1866.

made a member of the Boyal Academy at its foundation,
J. Baptiste Cipruv^i, a Florentine coach-painter {oh. 1785),
who also became a Boyal Academician of London, S. Wale,
B.A. {oh. 1786), who painted the celebrated Falstaff* and
other signs, the principal one being a full-length of Shak-
speare, about five feet high, which was executed for the
door of a public-house in Little Bussell Street. It did not
hang long before it was taken down, in consequence of the
act for removing signs and other obstructions from the
London streets, and such was the change in public appre«
ciation consequent on the new regulations, that the sign
was sold for a trifle to Mason, the broker, in Lower G^ros-
venor Street, where it stood at his door for several years,
until destroyed by the weather and rough usage. Lamb
was another sign-painter of note, so also was Gwynne,
originally a coach-painter, who acquired some reputation for
his marine pieces. B. Dalton, Keeper of the Pictures of
King G^eorge the Third, had been apprenticed to a sign and
coach-painter, so also had Kirby, afterwards drawing-
master to Qeorge the Fourth when Pnnoe of Wales. Wright,
the marine painter, Smirke, B.A., and many others might
be also named.

Besides these, we have the " great professors," as Edwards
calls them in his " Anecdotes of Painters," at the head of
whom stands Hogarth, whose " Man loaded with Mischief "
(a drunken wife, a monkey, and a magpie) may still be seen
at 414. Oxford Street, where it has been for many years
included among the fixtures in the lease of the premises.
B. Wilson, B.A., painted the ** Three Loggerheads " for an
ale-house in North Wales, which gave its name to the village
of Loggerhead, near Mold. George Morland, Ibbetson, and
David Cox, executed a few works of this kind. Harlow is
said to have painted a front and back view of Queen
Charlotte for the New Inn, Epsom, to settle a score he had
run up. The portrait was in Sir Thomas Lawrence's most
courtly style, and signed in the comer T. L., Greek Street,
Soho. When Lawrence heard this, he is said to have flown
into a rage, and declared that if Harlow were not a scoundrel,
he would have kicked him from one street's end to another,
whereupon Harlow coolly remarked he trusted that, when
Sir Thomas should have quite made up his mind about the
matter, he would choose a short street. Herring is reported
to have painted some signs — ^the " Flying Dutchman,"
Cottage Green, Camberwell, and the "White Horse," at
Doncaster. Among others, Millais is said to have painted a
"St. George and Dragon" for Vidler's Inn, Hayes, Kent;
Horace Vemet, also, hiM the name of having produced more
than one in his younger days.

So, also, in former times, eminent artists occasionally

* Near the West Gate, Canterbury. The reader inay
remember the display of popular feeling caused by the
removal of this relic a couple of years back.

152

SIGN-PAINTEES AND SIGN-BOAEDS.

[!l«tam SBd Azt, Maj 1. Uff.

oondesoended to these triflea. In the Mnseam at Basle are
two paintings by Holbein, said to hare been intended as a
sign for a school. A Corregg^o in the Sutherland ooUeotion
(Male and Muleteer) is understood to have been painted for
on inn sign, and a similar story is told of the " Bull " of
Paul Potter* in the Museum at the Hague. Watteau
painted a sign for a milliner, on the Pont Notre Dame, which
was deemed worthy of being engrayed. Many more
examples might be given : but we must turn to the signs
themselves.

The remains of Herculaneum and Pompeii present us
with many of the signs in use among the Bomans ; thus, we
have a goat, the sign of a dairy, a mule turning a mill,
apparently that of a bakehouse ; a boy reoeiving a oastiga-
tion with a veritable birch, evidently denotes a school.
Some of these were painted, but more frequently they were
terra-cotta Alievos let into the pilasters of the shop front.
Another sign of which we have frequent notice in Latin
writers is the Bush, whence wo derive the proverb of later
days —

** Good wine needs no bush.**

It was usually of Ivy, a plant sacred to Bacchus. This custom
was copied by our mediaeval forefathers, and as late as the
days of Taylor, the water-poet, a bush on a pole appears to
have been one of the commonest indications of a tavern.
Many examples occur in the works of Wouvermanns, and
the custom is still occasionally resorted to in the backwoods
of America and up the country in South Africa, where a
bundle of straw or grass on a pole advertises accommodation
for man and horne. In the Tudor days these erections
were known as " ale poles," and appear to have been often
very elaborately ornamented, as in the *' ale stake *' in front
of the " Nag's Head in Chepe,*' in the prints of the entry of
Mary de Medid.

The barber's pole is another mediaeval sign, for both the
pole and its use are figured in more than one MS. The
patient who was to undergo phlebotomy had to grasp the
pole to make the blood flow more freely, and as the pole
was liable to be stained with blood, it was painted red.
When not in use it was hung outaido the door with the
linen bandages round it, hence in later times it came t'O be
painted with stripes of jred and white, or blue and white.
It was stated in a debate in the House of Lords, in 1797,
that there was a statute then in force, requiring barbers to
show a blue and white pole, and surgeons (barber surgeons)
a similar pole, with a brass basin and a red flag or rag. The
basin aJone is still used for a barber's sign in Scotland,
while in Holland the three gold balls seem a favourite device
with the perruquier.

The three balls, now gilt, but originally blue, were a part
of the arms of the Modici family, from whose states came
most of the earliest dealers in pawns. Pawnbrokers appear,
however, occasionally to have used other devices. BaUs of
various colours were used by dealers in medicine, fortune-
tellers, and quack doctor/), possibly from their resemblance
to the divining crystals to which such magic properties were
attributed. At night they used lamps of the same colour
as the balls on their signs, whence most probably the red
lamps of our chemists* shops. The true signs, however,
were either suspended from an iron bar, or hoop f fixed to
the front of a shop, or to a post or obelisk before it, or
depended from a small triumphal arch spanning the approach.
The ironwork in these cases was often very elaborate.

Coats of arms, crests, and badges, were used at an early
period as signs. One reason for this no doubt was that, in
the Middle Ages, the houses of the nobility both in town
and country, when the family was absent, were used as
hostolries for travellers. The family arms always hung in
front of the house, and the most conspicuous object in the
arms probably gave a name to the establishment among
travellers innocent of heraldic lore, with whom a lion guled

* Intended for a butcher's shop.

t Hence such signs as the " George (Saint) and Hoop,**
the ** Mitre and Hoop," the ** Cock and Hoop," " Hen and
Hoop,'* &c., all of which we find mentioned in the flfteenth
century.

or azure would soon become the " Bed or Blue lion." We
have examples of such a practice in old signs like the
" Talbot *' (the crest of the Talbots), the ** Bear and Bogged
Staff" (that of th^ Warwick family), and in family tnn«,
as the ** Beaufort Arms,'* the " Courtenay Arms,'* &c.

Sometimes the signs had a party significance. Thos,
the *' Bed Lion ** was a favourite badge &[ the Lancastrian
faction, being the arms of Constance, the daughter of Pedro
the Cruel, King of Castile and Leon, and wife of Henry IV.
Hence its frequent occurrence in English coat-armoar,
hence perhaps also its popularity as a sign. In some cases,
as our authors suggest, when combined with the Castle, it
may have had no reference to heraldry, but have been t
copy of the brand of Castile and Leon on the wine-^sasks,
and used as an indication that Spanish wine was "tojbe
had within.*'

The " White Hart,** the " Falcon,** the " Cannon," snd
many kinds of Lions, wore all in their day royal badges ; bo
were the ** Swan,"* the " Greyhound," and the "Antelope."
So also was the " Welsh Dragon,*' which seems to hare
been a favourite sign with apothecaries, possibly from its
being the aJchemistical sign for the drug mercury. The
'* Caducous,** under the name of the " Brazen Serpent," was
a favourite sign with the booksellers of the sixteenth
century, not only in England, but also in France and
Germany, and thus often occurs as a colophon in old
books. Crosses f were also in common use, probably from
these emblems being the distinguishing badgfos of different
knightly orders ; thus, the Knights of St. John igrore white
crosses, those of the knights of St. Lazare were green, those
of the Templars red, those of the Teutonic knights black.

Beligious signs were very common in the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries. The ** Virgin," which may still be seen st
Ebury Hill, near Worcester, was a favourite sign. Taillemant
de Beau speaks of a miraculous tavern-sign of the Madonna
in the Bue Notre Dame, in Paris, which was seen to shed tears,
and which was removed by order of the archbishop of Paris.
Others of these old signs appear to modem notions to trench
on the blasphemous, though examples of this kind may still
be met with abroad. The early booksellers, whose trade
lay chiefly in religious books, delighted in figures of saints ;
but at the Reformation, when the Bible became in great
request, it appears to have become the popular symbol of
the book trade. Adam and Eve, the Deluge, Old Pharaoh,
Abraham's Offering, Balaam's Ass, and many other scrip-
tural subjects occur as sig^s for various places in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, having probably been
suggested by the old mysteries and miracle plays, which by
the way were often reproduced in shows long after the Be-
formation. The " Salutation," so common — why we knownot
— in seaport towns, originally represented the angel saluting
the Virgin Mary. It was changed by the Puritans into
the " Soldier and Citizen.** "Heaven" was a place of
entertainment near Westminster Hall, on the site of the
present Committee-rooms of the House of Commons. Pepjs
mentions in his diary having dined there in the winter of
1660. " Paradise " was another house in the same neigh-
bourhood ; and " Hell " and " Purgatory " were two under-
ground passages or cellars.

The well-known sign of the " Man in the Moon " ia sup-
posed to have originated in a kind of semi-religious legend,
and therefore requires a brief notice here. The idea is said
to have been suggested by the incidents given in the Book
of Numbers, xv. 32 ct scq. Not content with having stoned
the man, the legend also transported him to the moon.
Other writers'imagine that the legend refers to Cain, who was
asserted by popular superstition to have been transferred
to the moon. Whoever he may be supposed to represent,
the man in the moon with his bundle of thorns, his lantern,
and accompanying dog, has not only had a fair share of
signboard popularity, but has been celebrated in innu-
merable songs.

* The Swan was used as an emblem of Luther, hence
its occurrence in place of a vane on the steeples of Lutheran
churches.

t Both the cross and the chequers were Boman trade-
signs, the latter apparently for gambling-houses.

Natuit Md Art, M«y 1. 1867.]

SOCIETY OF BEITISH AETISTS, SUFFOLK STREET.

153

We most, howerer, now paM on to hnmorona and mis-
oellaneons signs, selecting them at random from the ourions
and entertaining Tolome before ns, which, thongh containing
notices of nearly 2,000 signs, is still confessedly incomplete.

The " Pig and Whistle " was an old and favonrite one.
It is figured in the Harleian MSS. (fifteenth century), and
still lingers at Chester, Macclesfield, Coventry, and other
old towns. In one of the stalls of Winchester Cathedral,
is a carving of a sow sitting on her haunches blowing a
whistle while another pTays a fiddle, close by a small porker
is attentively listening to the maternal performance. A
good deal of learning has been displayed in endeavouring to
account for this device, some writers supposing the name to
be a corruption of the *' Pix and Honsel," or of the ** Pig
and Wassail.*' Others claim for it a Dano-Saxon origin,
" Pige-Washael," ** Our Lady's Salutation." The Scotch
also assert it to be their own, pig being a pot and whistle
a name for small change. Possibly, as Mr. Hotten observes,
it was after all but a freak of some mediasval artist, a re-
mark which may apply equally well to the old Hampshire
sign, the " Cat and Fiddle." Animals in boots appear to
have been originally used by shoemakers, in Holland, where
they are still common as signs. One may be seen on a
tavern in Rotterdam with the following legend : —

" In den gelaars den ezel zeer kloek.
Verkoopt men tobak, brandewyn, en krapkoek."

** This is the valiant jackass in boots.
Here sell we tobacco, brandy, and gingerbread."

There is a Puss in boots near Dudley, and a Goat in
boots in Fulham Boad, Chelsea.

The ** Good Woman," represented by a lady minus her
head, was a figure much used by oilmen,* and is said to have
originally depicted some decapitated female martyr, though
since construed into a satire on the sex. The *' Honest
Lawyer," a gentleman of the long robe, in a similar pre-
dicament, is also recorded as existing. ** Nobody " was the
sign of 'Trundell a well-known ballad-printer. " No-place "
may still be found in Plymouth, *' No-where " on a public-
house in Norwich, and " Why-not " on one at Essington,
in Staffordshire. The ** Hole in the Wall," so common in

* Possibly as having some reference to the Parable of the
wise and foolish virgins, a favourite subject in the old
** mysteries."

military towns, was probably a snug recess in the town
walls, devoted to suttling purposes. It is also said to have
been a round hole in the wall of the debtors' prison in the
Fleet, through which they were permitted to receive alms,
broken victuals, Ac • The " Toby Philpot," the authors
explain by the following extract from the Qentleman's
Magazine, December, 1810, which we commend to the notice
of lecturers on " total abstinence."

" Died at Ewes farmhouse, Yorkshire, Mr. Paul Pamell,
farmer, grazier, and maltster, aged 76 ; who during his life-
time drunk out of one silver pint mug upwards of ^2,000
sterling worth of Yorkshire Stingo; being remarkably
attached to Stingo, home-brewed, of the best quality. The
calculation is taken at twopence the* cupful. He was the
hon-vivant whom O'Keefo celebrated in one of his Baccha-
nalian songs, under the name of * Toby Philpot.' "

Those of our readers who are acquainted with the rural
parts of the Isle of Wight may have noticed that the " Bugle "
is there a common sign mth wayside inns, and often
associatod with the figure of a Bull. This Mr. Hotten tells
us is traceable to the old English word Bugle, applied to
the wild cattle at one time plentiful in many parts of our
Island. The letters of the alphabub from A to Z were,
forty years back, the sign of a tavern known as the ABC,
in Clare Market. "Great A" occurs as an inn sign in
Norfolk. "Little A" was a tobacconist's in Leadonhall
Street ; Z, the initial of Zinzibar (ganger), was a grocer's
sign. We have also the "Sneezing Cat," the "Flying
Monkey," the " Ass in a Bandbox " (at Nidd, near Knares-
borough), the " Hunchbacked Cats " (at Lille), the "Gaping
Goose" at Leeds, the "Loving Lamb" at Dudley, the
" Cow and Snuffers " at Uandaff, " Old Careless " at Staple-
ford, "Slow and Easy" at Lostock, "Spite Hall" at
Brandon, " Old No " at Sheffield, the " Monster," the
" World's End," the " World Upside Down," the " Finish,"
and many more. We must, however, ourselves make a
finish in commending to the reader's notice the lines in
Gay's " Trivia," which are still applicable to many an old-
fashioned town, both at home and abroad, —

" Mark well the signs, for signs remain
Like trusty landmarks to the walking train."

• The " Hole in the Wall" is the familiar name for the
refreshment room in the House of Bepresontativos, at
Washington.

SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS, SUFFOLK STREET.

A WRITER in one of the daily journals has griven groat
offence to the artists who exhibit in this institution ;
and they have reason to bo offended. It is not the province
of a critic in art to go at his work like a Red Indian, and
scalp the feelings of the men whoso works he chooses to
attack. Criticism may be healthy enough without violating
the laws of good breeding between man and man. It is an
old saying, that " all the trees in the forest do not grow
alike ; " neither are all exhibitions of equal merit. There
is only one Royal Academy ; and the Exhibition in Suffolk
Street does not pretend to be the royal favourite of Tra-
falgar Square. Still, the place contains some good works,
and bears evidence of the labour of honest psen ; and the
fact that such men are endeavouring to live by those
labours, ought to disarm such tomahawk attacks as that to
which allusion has been made.

It must be confessed that our ideas of the purpose and
object of Art are a little uncertain at the present day. The
principles of Art are quite as loose and unsettled as those
relating to the doctrines and rites of the Church, or to the
constitution of a Reform Bill. It may be possible that
religion, politics, and art are not unconnected ; Ruskin has
long held that such is the case, and it must be confessed

that there is much to favour such an idea. It is this want
of first principles which makes art-criticism so vague and
unsatisfactory. Painters paint from the most opposite sets
of ideas, and critics praise or condemn from equally con-
tradictory points of view. Even Ruskin complains, and
does so with a tendency to wailing, that he cannot restore
this harmony of thought, which he considers so necessary
'for the full development of painting and architecture.
When a Ruskin fails, who will attempt to produce cosmos
from the chaos of our present ideas on artP If artists
are to live, they must paint; and if artists paint, critics
must gi\e their opinions. The simple conclusion is in
favour of forbearance. Where there is no infallible canon
which we all acknowledge, let none of us individually
dogmatize ; and above all remember, that the painter's work
is the bread-and-butter of himself and his children.

Having no universal church of art whose doctrines
override everything else, we may be said to derive all the
advantages which belongs to dissent, in the shape of almost
infinite variety. Every mind seeks out in Nature its own
shrine, and there presents through the labour of the mind
and the hand the devotion of the heart. And our exhi-
bitions are all illustrations of this diversity of feeling and

154

SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS, SUFFOLK STREET.

[Ntttort MHl Art. Xaj 1. IW.

thought. The oolleotion in Suffolk Street is not an ex-
ception to this rale. Erery shade of thought is repre-
sented. Sappose that we notice the pictures with some
relation to the yarious sets of ideas and modes of thinking
which are preyalent.

The Allegorical has long been,'and always will be, a welcome
style. The countrymen of John Bnnyan cannot object to
that mode of art ; and in the present exhibition there is a
very deyer water-colour — not much more than a sketch — of
"A Wayfaring Man" (1029), ; by Miss F. Claxton; the
wayfaring man suggesting^ the uniyersal man, who is a
wayfarer here below on this earth. Of the Ideal there are
some examples ; may witches be included under this head ?
If so, Mr. M'CuIloch's "Tam O'Shanter" (116) might be
noticed ; the whirl and motion of that exciting moment
when Meg passed the "Key-stone o* the Brig,*' is well
conceiyed and effectiyely rendered. Historical subjects are
plentiful and yarious. Mr. Heaphy's picture of General
Fairfax and his Daughter (238) shows some good work ; the
principal figures are yery good, and the foreground incident
of the hen and her chicks, one of which is passing oyer the
edge of the general's sword, suggests the position of danger
which the principal figure is placed in at the moment. It is
not easy to repeat the story of a picture by the subordinate ac-
cessories. A yery little more finish and power in this picture
would giye it a title to high place. " The Beau's Strata-
gem," by E. C. Barnes (115), from its treatment belongs
rather to the historical class than to what the French call
" Sigets de genre." It is well painted and weU done in
eyery way, its fault being that it is a little too theatrical ;
Though much more satisfactory is his small picture to the
lines from Tennyson (382),

'* Break, break, break,
On thy cold grey stones, Sea I "

This is really quite an original picture, all painted in
greys with the exception of the shawl, which might be called
only a deeper grey. The solitary figure standing by that
simple beach raises an interest which is neyer felt in the
larger pictures ; one does not eyen see the lady's face, but
the desire to see it is produced, and he would be a dull si)eo-
tator who would only desire to see the face. A walk along
a beach like that must be by one who has something to
engage her thoughts, and to see the heart and to know its
utterance is the sum of the interest produced by this
strangely fascinating picture. The painting is simple and
broad ; the brush has left the colour thick and pulpy. To
the right of this picture is a yery fine one, in which grey is
again the predominating tone (383), by Haynes King. So
far as painting goes it might be said to equal the other, but
the single figure excites little or no interest. Miss Beales
glyes a picture of this same class in water-colour (918), but
if it had been a little less pre-Raphaelite in its treatment
it would haye been more effectiye. " Giorgione " (948), by
J. p. Linton, is allied to this type of subject. One feels an
objection to this picture because it does not belong to the
English school of water-colours ; the juicy quality of a free
wash of colours is absent, — one has to look close, to see if
it is not done with crayons ; still, one must not oyerlook the
fact that it is a yery fine work, carefully and yery beautifully
done : the faces are masterpieces of delicate touching. There '
is no yery distinct line between this class of picture and '
that of ordinary life subjects ; the historical, sentimental, <
and eyeryday scenes, or rastic pictures, melt into one j
another, no line can be drawn ; so the latter class may |
be considered as following to those just noticed. Mr. i
Hemsley's "Village Postman" (86) tells its story particu- |
larly well. Although rather a hackneyed subject, the pic- !
ture is not so in the slightest degree. The action and expres- <
sion of the young lady tells what she is expecting. Papa
has got his letters, and is already deep into them ; the
relationship is indicated by the dog, who runs back to see
what detains his mistress. The postman is a yery good
figure, and has an expressiye face; a little more flesh-colour
in the face, and a little more careful painting here and there,
— painting which Mr. Hemsley eyidently could do, — and

this would be a first-class work. The exotic is hard to
please ; one picture wants flesh-colour and careful paintiiif^,
and the next has a little too much again of both these
qualities : the middle course of perfection, partioolariy in
art, is hard to attain. These remarks indicate the criti-
cism Mr. Roberts's " Tedious Sermon " (33) is liable to.
It might be a little less distinct, and the faces not so mach
cut out as they appear ; still, this is a good performance,
full of good honest work and study. The pictures by the
Brothers Burr are so yery much alike, in almost eyery quality,
that what applies to one applies to both. They all indicate
a masterly power and yigour ; the touch is put on with that
ease, indicating an experience of hand and correctness of
eye, which is always so delightful to the loyer of art. " The
Rehearsal" (114), by J. C. Monro, although rough in its
execution, contains many good points. "Neyer had no
Larning " (430), by Mr. Hayllar, is an out-of-the-way sab-
ject to pick up, and a yery good one it is ; it is not eve^
man that can catch a new idea to paint. The picture is
yery well rendered. A word of notice is due to Mr. Dowling,
who is, so to speak, a stranger come among us, and givea
" An Incident in the Siege of Gloucester " (566). " The
Holiday " (558), by Miss Walker, is a pleasant subject, and
the work upon it will stand a careful looking into. Orer
the fireplace in the large room there are a number of yery
beautiful little bits of painting ; they are too numerous to
particularize.

Suffolk Street has always been strong in landscape, and
Mr. Pyne is what might be termed the Turner of the place.
This eminent artist has generally been ranked next to
Turner among British landscape painters, and some yery
generous marks of appeciation by the great master are
recorded as haying been giyen to his ail-but riyaL Land-
scape art has the two yery opposite modes of treatment—
the realistic and the ideaL Turner and Pyne haye practised
both. The one is the foundation of the other. In both
Turner has been the greatest man ; but in the production of
light, and of light grey aerial effects, Pyne has always
nmked next to the great master of English landscape
painting. This power is still yisible in the pictures which
Mr. Pyne exhibits, but he is not what he nsed to be.
Perhaps this is the result of accident ; if so, all lorers of
our own school of landscape will be glad. " Florence from
a Villa on the Arno" (17) oomes the nearest to the old
style of this artist: there is light, delicacy, and power.
Detail in the distance is not lost by atmospherical effect—
it is a picture in which you can mentally walk from the
foreground into the middle distance, and on to the hills
beyond. Of the realistic school, — ^which almost all our
landscape men are now, more or less — Mr. E. Pettitt's
Ayalanche (417) is a good example, full of careful study
from nature : much of the detail is lost by being hung so high ;
but high as it is, one can see the minute finish of the middle
distance and foreground, and we may take it for granted
that the distance is equally so. A Steam Tug towing a
yessel into Howth Harbour (424), by E. Hayes, is a very
fine picture, the effect in the sky is glowing and exprcssiTe
of atmosphere. On the Uedr (193), by J. Syer ; the stream
of light on the hill-side is finely felt and rendered; this
artist has a fine, free touch, which is seen to great adyantage
in the rocks and water. Lime Burning (574), by G. Cole,
is yery effectiye, the blaze of light bursting out on the
darkness, and its play upon the figures is most deyerly
managed, and the result is a good picture, which has the
additional merit of being out of the common. In the water
colours, Mr. Soper has a masterly view of Brighton from
the Dyke Road (984). The greys in this picture form its
great charm, but the drawing and composition is of high
merit. A Highland Raid (984), by A. C. Gow, has good
action and cleyer painting. The Nosegay (973), by A. H.
Marsh, indicates the true feeling of an artist, the holly-
hocks and flowers are finely touched. Coming Clouds
(1012), by W. F. Stocks, is a bit of poetic treatment

Our space comes to an end sooner than our interest in
the Exhibition, and we regret, therefore, that many an
honest work, perhaps no less worthy than those we have
mentioned, must p^force pass nnnotioed.

NaIotc and Art. iUj 1, 1887.]

MUSIC AT HOME.

155

MUSIC AT HOME.

THE gentle Orpheus, emancipated from his winter trance,
once more strikes the operatic lyre, and declares the
mosical season in fall progress. Philharmonics, '^ old " and
" new ; " Sacred Harmonic and Choral Societies, and all
miscellaneous entertainments of sweet sounds, are very well
in their way ; but the " season,*' in the strictly conserTative
sense of the word, commences on the opening night at the
Boyal Italian Opera, or Her Majesty's Theatre, as the case
may be. That all-important signal, the preliminary tap of
the hdton on the foot-lamps, was given by Mr. Costa on
Tuesday, April 2nd. Mr. Gye certainly began well with
Norma for the inaugural opera; and Madame Maria Yilda as
the Priestess. Of all the new comers in 1866, she alone
made a strong impression, a result due to her superb voice
and faultless singing, for , in the matter of acting she was
considerably below the standard. The d^ir, ringing, sil-
very voice, and the wonderfully facile execution, are here
again; but the dramatic Norma is almost as far off as
before. Lucrezia Borgia we may expect to see repeated,
and the particular ordeal for the artist to pass through will
be Xiconora, in Beethoven's Fidelia^ an opera included in
Mr. Gye's scheme for 1867. Strange to say, Madame Yilda
had no bouquets cast at her sandalled feet ; and as those
compliments are now so indiscriminately bestowed, she did
not, perhaps, regret their absence. Two of the five gentle-
men singers engaged for 1867 made their d^uta in Faust,
performed on the 4th. M. Petit, the Mephistophcles of the
Lyrique, mngs and acts with true French determination.
He Absolutely writhes before the cross-hilted swords which
upset his demoniac composure ; and he adopts all those
attitudes expressive of defiance, bravado, and sarcastic con-
templation, which are theatrically associated with the scar-
let-clad emissary from the lower world. He plays with the
transformed philosopher as the sleekest of cats does with a
mouse ; plausibly attentive to the ancient Martha, provok-
ingly condescending to the lachrymose Siebel ; and he defies
the entire crowd in the market-place with contemptaous
energy. M. Petit may be accused of exaggeration, but
nHmporte, M. Petit is picturesque, and able to thoroughly
realize the meaning of the *' Dio dell' or," and the serenade
"La che fai I'addormentata." Signer Graziani's, or Mr.
Santley's still fresher laurels, will not pale before the genius
of Sigpior Gnadagnini, who makes but a languid Valentino.
L'Africaine introduced Signer Cotogni, another tuneful
stranger, who has latterly been brought into excessive pro-
minence by the success-mongers of Paris. He is, pro tern.,
the swarthy Nelusko, who, with the adored and adorable
Selika, sinks into the long sleep under the fatal Mancanilla
tree. The manager has secured the privilege of bringing
out in London M. Gounod's Borneo et Juliette^ and Sig^nor
Yerdi's Don Carlos. Mademoiselle Adelina Patti is to sing
the " gentle Capulet's " sorrows; and Mademoiselle Pauline
Lucca is to be the Elizabetta di VaJois of M. Gounod. The
exquisitely poetical garden scene in Faust has, of course,
led US to expect great things of M. Gounod when he tunes
his lyre to the strongest of all human passions — ^love. All
remark upon the forthcoming opera would be mere specu-
lation, but upon one point ihe thousand tongues of rumour
seem unanimous, and that is, the omission of the balcony as
designed by that wonderful dramatic architect who rests
peacefully at Stratford-upon-Avon. There will be a Nurse,
but to that " ancient lady," as Mercutio calls her, young
Juliet will not cry "Anon, anon," and steal back to the
balcony under which Bomeo waits to speak his last good
night. Signer Felice Bomani, Bellini's librettist for I Capu-
letti ed i Montecchi^ ignores William Shakespeare, and
makes the lovers meet in the " marble halls " of the period.
Musical curiosity is thoroughly awakened as regards Verdi's
Don Carlos, and there is every opportunity for the composer
to make another strong and enduring impression upon the
English public.
Tlie laws of human nature and the spirit of oommerce

decree that ** two of a trade " shall seldom agree upon all
points, but upon one Messrs. Mapleson and Gye are in sweet
accord; they both predict that crowds of foreigners will*
cross the Channel, and tarry awhile in murky London. We
certainly manage International exhibitions better than they
do in France, little as we were disposed to admit the fact
in 1862 ; and it may presently appear to the enlightened
Hottentot, the Lapland connoiseur, the musical Maori, and
other intelligent and unprejudiced foreigners '* from all parts
of the globe," that we are not behind the Gauls in the organ-
ization of our Italian Operas. Mr. Maplespn prints his
voluminous prospectus in blue ink, and the blue-veined
aristocratio spirit flashes through the document from end to
end. Her Majesty's, once the *' King's," Theatre, " instead
of copying, still leads the way," says Manager Mapleson,
therefore must a grateful world bow down before the Druid-
ical establishment in the Haymarket, and look upon the
stuccoed temple of Bow Street as nothing more than a
musical mushroom. Like another " herald Mercury on a
heaven-kissing hill," or like the bird of la hello France in
full crow, may the faithful (in their mind's eye) perceive the
manager of the " old house " revolving on its gigantic venti-
lator, and proclaiming to the four winds of heaven the
services to civilization effected within the walls beneath.
Chignoned beauties in the drawing-rooms of Belgravia the
blest, and of South Belgravia, n4e Pimlico, wiU elevate their
pencilled eyebrows when they read, in the document referred
to, of George Frederic Handel's Italian operas having been
given in the old theatre, burnt down in 1788 ; and will be
equally surprised to find, that Bossini, as conductor of his
opera Zelmira, ,held the hditon over the wife of his bosom
while she played the leading part. Mr. Mapleson enume-
rates the composers and singers who have made or increased
their reputation at Her Majesty's, and dwells, with pafdon-
able pride, upon the fact of that fascinating creation, the
Ballet, having been cradled in the old house. Candidly
speaking, Mr. Lumley's bold successor, has striven hard and
conscientiously in behalf of high art, and certainly has
glorious traditions to fall back upon. Verdi's I Lombardi,
near akin to a novelty after a sleep of fifteen years, is the
opera for the first night, April 27th ; and the announce-
ment of La Forza del Destino is evidently intended as a
set-off against the attraction of Don Carlos at the other
house. Spontini's La Vestale is to continue the classic
chain already commenced by Medea and Iphigenia, A young
Swedish soprano. Mademoiselle Christine Nilsson, with a
brilliant Parisian reputation, will try on the mantle of Jenny
Lind here in London. With Mademoiselle Enequist, too,
as a concert vocalist, the northern regions will not be badly
represented.

A serious loss has fallen upon the musical world in the
death of Alfred Mellon, at a comparatively early age. No
orchestral conductor in this country, or elsewhere, had a
more complete and intimate knowledge of all the great scores ;
and no man of the time was his superior in that indescribable
tact by which large orchestras are held together, and full
justice is done to the noblest comx>osition8 of the old masters.
As a composer, Alfred Mellon was but little known ; but as
a really practical man, thoroughly versed in every detail of
his profession, his name was a *' household word." He was
popular in every sense of the term, not only with the valse-
loving public of the promenade concerts, but with amateurs
of far more cultivated taste. With Alfred Mellon at the
head of some most important societies, it was felt that we
had a countryman as well, if not much better, able to con-
duct classical works than many foreigners whose names
might be quoted. He worked long and perseveringly for
the high position he was enjoying at the time of his death ;
and it will be long before the whole of the void he left will
be adequately filled. He studied at Stuttgardt, under one
of the strictest but best of masters, Herr Molique ; and it
is not perhaps generally known, that in his younger days he

ANTICIPATIONS OF THE EOYAL ACADEMY.

[Nktan ai*d Art, Hit 1. ISO.

played sevoral operatic parts at the Birmmgham theatre, —
among them were Figaro, and that nondescript travelling
nobleman of Bellini's La Sonnamhulay the Connt. The last
concert he conducted was that of the Masical Society of
London on the 20th of March, and the concluding item of
the programme was the late Vincent Wallace's overture to
Maritana, Precisely a week afterwards he died, and on the
^ following Tuesday hundreds of musicians, literary men, and
* actors bared their heads as they stood by his grave in the
Brompton Cemetery, and listened to the choristers singing
funeral anthems.

The old Philharmonic Society has no longer the assistance
of Professor Stemdale Bennett as conductor. At the first
concert of the season, on March 11th, Mr. W. G. Cusins
passed through the ordeal satisfactorily, and that, too, in
the face of reasonable prejudice. The Philharmonic Concerts
have hitherto been conducted by men known through their
works, and it was unquestionably a great surprise to find
such a young and comparatively untried man at the head of
what is generally looked upon as the chief musical society
of the metropolis. Every succeeding concert has apparently
demonstrated that the choice of the Philharmonic powers
has been judicious, and Mr. Cusins is to bo congratulated
on a piece of good fortune that seldom happens to so young
a man.

Mr. Manns of the Crystal Palace has broken the ice in
London, and, it is to be hoped, will frequently take up his
proper position on the metropolitan platforms. On March
28th, he brought the now famous Saturday Concert Band
to St. James's Hall, at the bidding of Mr. Arthur Chappell.

The concert was chiefly remarkable from a faultless per-
formance of Bach's Triple Concerto, for pianoforte, violin,
and violoncello, by Mr. Charles Hall^, Herr Joachim, and
Signer Piatti.

The Sacred Harmonic Society is in full and vigorous
action, under Mr. Costa's direction. Mr. Benedict con-
ducted his own ''Legend of St. Cecilia," and has now
witnessed its triumph in London as well as at Norwich and
Liverpool.

The " Monday Popular " season closed on the 8th, and
this final concert was signalized by a magnificent perform-
ance of Bach's Concerto in D Minor, for three pianofortes,
entrusted to Madame Schumann, Madame Arabella Goddard,
and Mr. Charles Hall^. The Winter Concerts at the Crystal
Palace are stopped for the season. At the twenty-third of
the unequalled series, two movements from an unfinished
symphony in B Minor, by Schubert, were played for the
first time in England, and no orchestra was ever engaged
upon more exquisitely melodious and beautiful music. For
most of our Imowledge of Schubert we have to thank Mr.
Manns, who certainly never did a greater service to pore
art than in bringing these two " things of beauty " from a
cruel obscurity into the strongest light. The "Grand
Opera" Concerts are at hand, but for the partial consolation
of those who feel severely the cessation of symphonies and
great instrumental works, there are the newly organized
Wednesday Concerts in the music room, where good things
are played by the ordinary band of the company, and where
it is intended that young soloists, both vocal and instra-
mental, shall constantly be presented to the public.

ANTICIPATIONS OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

IN our last, we intimated respecting the health of John
Phillip, what all his friends had too fondly hoped to be
true, that he was out of all danger, and so far on the way to
health again, as to be at work on his Academy pictures. But
before our words were published death had, in a manner,
rendered them untrue ; for he died on the 27th of February.
A day or two before the sad event he had called ui>on his friend
Mr. Frith, and, while in the studio of the latter, was attacked
by paralysis ; the stroke was so heavy as to render recovery
hopeless from the first. John Phillip is now known by his
celebrated pictures of Spanish subjects, so much so that he
was called " Spanish Phillip." His Chat round tlieBrasero
was exhibited last year ; the Young Murillo was exhibited in
1865, and La Gloria in 1864. These were his very finest
works, showing that the man was, as an artist, in his
prime. It was intended to .have sent two of the pictures
which he had been at work upon to the Boyal Academy, but
this was found impracticable ; so one or two other works not
exhibited before will be sent. One of his last works waa a
portrait of Colonel Crealock : this he was so 'pleased with
himself that he sent it as one of his contributions to the
Paris Exhibition. Mr. Frith's great picture of this year is
already historical. It was while cougulting about its merits,
and while giving that brotherly advice and criticism which
even such masters of the brush are used to give and take,
that the attack first seized Phillip. A week afterwards he
was no more.

Frith's picture represents Evelyn, who describes in his
diary that he visited Whitehall, and was amazed at the
scene at court, and that a week aftenvards the king was dead.
Evelyn has entered, accompanied by two friends, one a man
in the middle time of life, and the other younger. The day is
Sunday, and before them is a picture of one of the worst
periods, in point of morals, which the court of this country
ever presented. Gambling is going on ; the king is sur«
rounded by the celebrated beauties of his time — the
duchess of Portsmouth, and the Italian cardinal's daughter
being most prominent— while some French musicians are

playing and singing. The number of figures is very great,
and after the eye has wandered about, admiring not only the
beauty of the colour, drawing, and touch, but at the same
time the beauty of the women, and the bright drosses of that
period, it falls upon a carpet littered over by a number of
dogs of the "King Charles" breed. Some of them are
lapping milk from a silver dish, a number of very small
pups are attempting to use their legs, which are yet feeble,
— they have not got over the nine days which open the
canine eyes. One of these blind pups has a prominence
evidently meant to satirize the moral blindness of the
monarch, whose name he bears. The portrait of thekbg ia
beautifully painted ; but perhaps the most telling point is
Evelyn, who stands gazing at the scene, evidently impressed
with deep emotion.

Elmore's picture will illustrate the passage in Lnke,"
*• That which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be
proclaimed on the housetops." It is still a custom in the
East for the women to gather on the tops of the houses,
where all the scandal of the place is retailed ; and when any
one has got a honne houche of this kind, the hands are
clapped as a signal for the other gossips to come and hear
those personalities which human nature everywhere seems to
delight in. As this is a picture which illustrates a scriptural
text and a characteristic of the East, Mr. Elmore has not
limited himself to any particular locality or period of cos-
tume. It is the East, and that is enough. The view of the
housetops, all white and shining, is something quite new, and
most beautifully managed. Mr. Elmore's power of painting
the figure, particularly the female face, is such that it
requires no laudation from us.

Mr. O* Neil's' picture of the way Titian spent a leisure
hour, is a very happily conceived subject. He is in a barge
with some friends — ladies and gentlemen — and in the
distance may be seen the well-known features of Venice,
which point out the locality of the scene.

The other picture, an incident in the life of Luther,
represents him as a monk, and a very young man ; so that

Matnn and Art. Mnr h 1887.]

MICHELET'S " L'OISEAU.'*

157

we have not the f nlly developed face which wo are familiar
with as that of the great reformer. Under the ecstacy of his
devotions, he is reported to have swooned ; on trying to get
to his assistance, it was fonnd that the door was locked ; so
that force had to be used, and the monk who came to his
assistance, knowing Lnther's lore of music, called in the
chorister boys, and made them sing a f avonrifce chant, which
had an almost miraouloas effect in restoring consciousness.
This is the point taken for the picture, and it has been
most admirably and honestly worked out.

Mr. Faed has again been distilling sentiment out of the
e very-day life of the humbler spheres of society ; and with
his usual success. When hung in the Koyal Academy, few
will pass the figure of the tall blind man without a touch of
sympathy. What the fisherman and his wife and children
evidently feel, the spectator of the picture is also, by the
artist's power, made to feel. Such a result is a high
achievement of art.

Mr. E. M. Ward has a picture of Juliet and the Friar ;
this with his Amy Rohsart of last year would indicate that
he has made a change in his class of subjects. It is
right that a lady should select heroines for her pictures, and
Mrs. Ward has selected this year Joan of Arc. Creswick
will have a number of pictures. Ansdell has a very large
canvas, the subject of which is "Shipwrecked Friends," the
friends being a sailor and a handnome Newfoundland dog ;
there are, in this picture,' Fome sea-gulls very finely
rendered, which will delight all lovers of the deep. He
will also have three small Spanish and Scottish subjects.
Millais has a picture of Jephtlta's Daughter, the fine
qualities of which are much talked about. Mr. Maclise
will have two subjects from Shakespeare, scenes from
Othello and Eichard the Second. Mr. Goodall sends a
subject picture of Bcbekah, and a figure — ^life-size — of

Bachel. Mr. Horsley's principal picture will be *'The
Duenna and her Cares." Mr. Cooke vibrates as usual
between Venice and Dutchland. Mr. Nicol finds a vent for
his Irishman this season at a Railway Station. Mr.
Calderon has sent a large picture called ** Home after
Victory," from the times of the civil war. Mr. Teames also
sends a large contribution called *'Tho Dawn of the
Beformation." Mr. Armitage has two pictures. Mr.
Pettie has a subject called " Treason," and Mr. Watts
life-sized picture of Ere. The President sends full-length
portraits of the Duchess of Sutherland and Lord Stanley.

Humour has it that the coming exhibition will be more
than usually attractive. There are a great many works, not
ooly of promise, but of ripe fulfilment, by the men whose
number is too large to be included in the body of the
Academy.

The hanging committee for this year is composed of
Cope, Lewis, and Richmond. As it is generally supposed
that the " hanging committee " perform the whole of the
onerous duty of selection, as well as hanging, it may be
information to state that such is not the case. There is a
"council" of eight, with the president of the Academy as
chairman: and all the works are submitted to them.
They divide the pictures into three classes, " Accepted,"
*' Doubtful," and " Rejected," and the initial letters of
these potent words are chalked on the back of each. The
hanging committee then commence their labours, and their
function is the placing of each picture upon the walls.
The council meet a second time to inspect the exhibition,
and they have the power to affirm or to change the positions
allotted by the hanging committee ; the *' Doubtful " class
being held as a reserve to fill up space or to substitute in
case of need for subjects not acceptable to the final
tribunal.

MICHELET'S "L'OISEAU."*

SHOPS have their memories, as well as the woods and
fields of our youth; from the humble village sweet-shop
to the pompous undertaker's. Few who have had any deal-
ings with the latter can ever pass his door without a shudder.
But the memories connected with many other shops are of a
more mixed character. A hard-faced man will sometimes
halt at a toy-shop, not to purchase, nor yet to recall his
own days of rocking-horses, but to stare at some sixpenny
doll with a look that must puzzle the young woman at the
counter. Memories, in short, are seldom gay. We have just
brought a fit of the dumps upon ourselves, by recalling our
first pleasant visits to Messrs. Hachette. We have to
reckon the time back by births and deaths ; and it seems
strange that it should only be seven or eight years ago.
We were then attracted to the window, no doubt, by the
powerful Danteaques of Gustavo Dore. But what enticed
us up to the counter was a simpler picture book, a tale
about the mishaps of a little girl (Malheurs de Sophie), by
the Comtesse de S^gur. It was a good florin's worth, and
helped us to make French amusing to a young scholar. Our
nursery soou became stocked with the rose-coloured library
{Bibliothique ros^), and a volume of the Children's Week
(La Seniaine des Enfants) twice made a happy New Year's
gift. The books are still on our shelves, not without their
memories ; and, before we began to offer a formaT welcome
to another much more important issue from the same firm,
we could not help stopping to say a word in favour of our
old favourites.

Let us now turn to the book immediately before us. It
is an eighth edition of UOiseau^ by Michelet, illustrated

*"L'Oiseau." Par J. Michelet. Huiti^me Edition, ill ustr^
de 210 vignettes sur bois, dessin^es par H. Giaoomolli:
Paris : librairie de L. Hachette et Cie. 1867.

I by H. Giaoomelli. The name of this young artist is not
entirely new to us. The pages of the grreat French Bible,
now in progress, are divided into double columns by his
ornamental designs ; and these exhibit as much invention,
in their own way, as the cartoons of Gustavo Dor^ himself.
But Giaoomelli is more than a bold and fanciful decorator ;
he can do more than study leaf and flower, and arrange
them in tasteful folds and clusters ; he can put life and
character into living creatures. He is a sort of French
Bewick among the birds; and his pencil can render the
cruel grace of a watchful falcon, or the busy bee-like flutter
of a humming-bird. He gives us many a picturesque
episode. Here we see a rush of herons upon a wild autumn
wind ; there we meet a desperate owl, abroad in the daylight,
hunted and dizzied by the clamorous crows. His favourite
scenes are meadows, or wayside brooks, or cottage gardens,
with their sparrows and finches; or the coppice of the
nightingale, or the grove of the woodpecker ; and all their
varieties of herbage and foliage &re detailed with charming
fidelity. He has also a good eye for landscapes of broader
effect, whether the marsh of the bittern, or the eyry of the
eagle ; but for these we must refer our readers to the book
itself. The whole series, we are told, will soon appear in
a new English edition, about to be published by Messrs.
Nelson.

We have chosen our two larger specimens (the second of
which will appear next month) from the scenes in the
hedgerow ; and we may here express our thanks to Messrs.
Hachette for kindly having placed them at our disposaL
Master Blackcap, it will be observed, is not in his most
impassioned mood ; he is not pealing forth those ecstatic
strains of courtship, which have often made him called the
lesser nightingale ; he is only cheering his mate with a
little quiet melody, as she bends over her nest to brood

158

MICHELET'S " L'OISEAU."

IVatnn tnd Art, lt»j I.IHT.

once more npon her treasures. She will press her soft breast
upon them, feeling a strange pleasure in the pain, till she
can hear a faint chirp within them ; she will help her chicks,
one after another, to break through the shell, and then
Master Blackcap will haye four or five more mouths to
feed. All this, we are apt to assert, is known only to our
human selyes ; aud we complacently repeat the lines of
Gray,—

** *Tl8 man alone that joy descries,
With forward and reverted eyes."

But some animals must enjoy pleasures of memory, or else
the dog would not " hunt in dreams," and so let us allow
that the brooding bird may, in her turn, enjoy pleasures of
hope. The notes of her mate, too, may convey more than
a blind thrill of consolation to her, during her long hours
of watching. We are not clever enough to understand his
song, any more than we can understand the debates of a
rookery. But if one observes a great community of rooks
breaking up in the morning, after caw-caws of every variety
of intonation, and following their several leaders to the
right and to the left, whilst others remain at home to guard
the nests, one can hardly doubt there being many meanings
in a caw. As for ourselves, we hold that a bird's langfuage
consists of much more than a love-note or two, a call-note,
and an alarm note. Surely the gentle pair before us are
looking forward to their joys of hatching and rearing ; and
we cannot see why they should not be holding some sgrt of
converse about them.

Michelet's book is an eloquent rhapsody on the bird, its
place in creation, its beauty and song, and its services to
man. He naturally begins ah ovo : and our specimen bears
the heading of his first chapter, ** L'cenf." In the next
chapter he treats of the first development of the wing.
At its threshold the artist has placed the unshapely ice-
bergs of the Antarctic pole, streaked with sharp white
fantastic outlines ; the barriers of a primsBval world,
sentinelled by solemn spectres in the form of birds. These
are the penguins, — hird-fishesj as the author calls them,
that have stretched their fins into scaly dwarf wings, and
all to no purpose. In this solitary realm of ice they look
gigantic and imposing; but they are poor harmless
creatures. Further on we see their northern cousins, the
Great Auks, watched by two sly Arctic foxes. They may
easily escape, if they are near the sea, and unencumbered ;
for, though lubberly birds, they are still able-bodied fishes.
But we should tremble for the fate of a poor mother-
bird, such as we see on another page, squatting gravely,
with her young one, just as gravely squatting, between her
ungainly feet. They both seem to be plunged in thought,
and would take some time to shu£3e off a yard or so. The
penguins are of various heights, from 1 foot to 4 feet.
The tallest bear an absurd resemblance to short-legged
gentlemen in long white waistcoats. One might suppose
them, says our author, to be near relations of their
neighbours, the seals ; whom they rival, not by any means
in intelligence, but at least in good nature. When they
first beheld man, they looked at him with placid wonder-
ment, and never thought of moving away from him. The
sailors returned the stare, almost as ignorantly, though not
quite so innocently. At their first glimpse of the penguins,
ranged on some sandy island, they had taken them for a
row of charity-school girls in white pinafores. They soon
taught the poor scholars their first lesson, the fear of man.

From birds with mere flappers we turn to a bird which is
nothing but wings. Michelet describes a stormy night on
the Atlantic. "But the black weather begins to clear,"
(ho continues) ; " day returns. I see a little speck of blue
in the sky. Happy and serene region, which has been at
peace, up above the storm. In this blue speck, at the
height of ten thousand feet, floats a slight figure upon
enormous wings. A gull? no, for the wings are black.
An eagle? no, for the bird is small. It is the daring
Toyager that never furls its sails, the Frigate-bird. With a
body hardly larger than a dunghiU cock's, he stretches out
his wings over a span of 14 feet. Such a bird, so

sustained, has nothing to do but to let himself be borne
upwards. The storm comes, and raises him into the calm
ether. The poetical metaphor is true of him, and him
alone, — he sleeps npon the storm." His bill is powerful,
but his feet are weak, and partially webbed. He could not
fight the eagle, but he could defy any pursuit. He can
cross the Atlantic in a day. Yet he is not without hii
cares. His hard eyes are restless, as he sails abont,
watching for his prey. He can dart upon the fish like
lightning ; but his feathers will not bear much wetting ; ao
that he cannot plunge under the waves, like the Qannet.
He has one resource t he makes the Gannet work for him.
When the latter (poor Boohy, as the seamen call him) liMi
with a herring in his bill, his master often swoops down on
him, strikes him, makes him let go his hold, and snaps up
the fish before it falls into the sea. Giaoomelli has
drawn two figures of the Frigate-bird : the one perched on
a rock, with his wings in a short interval of repose; the
other rushing over a surging moonlit sea, in the fall
" triumph of the wing."

Michelet very properly rebukes the Frigate-bird as a
bully; but he absolutely mouths when he oomes to the
downright bird of prey. One day, says he, in examining
an anatomical collection, he came across the model of the
head of a viper. He was scandalized at Nature : she had
so carefully provided her hideous child with the means of
killing. There was not only an armoury of pointed and
poisonous fangs, but a magazine to supply the broken ones.
Almost equally painful, he continues, are one's impresaiona
when one examines a bird of prey. His beak may strike
death home at once ; but his talons too often fix a writhing
victim, which dies with a prolonged agony. The vultnre,
indeed, frequently becomes a respectable member of society,
for he turns scavenger ; but the eagle, Michelet concludes,
is only fit to figure upon the banners of emperors, and
other brigand chieftainB. He is a fitter emblem for them
than they may imagine ; for he is by no means a type of
true nobility. He whets his iron beak upon the timideet
and meanest of animals, the hare or even the mouse ; and
ho drives his young ones abroad, sometimes before they are
well able to cater for themselves. The raven meets with
more grace from Michelet. True, he is naturally a bird of
prey, and he was the emblem of the old Northern war-god.
But he can make himself at home with the modem
citizen ; and he displays a fund of grave humour. We
will pause for the present, after telling a short anecdote of
him. There was one at Nantes, says Michelet, who used to
console himself for his broken wing by playing tricks upon
the dogs. He would sit on his door-step, looking up and
down the street. Wretched mangy curs might go by as
they pleased. But whenever he saw a stately hound, or a
sleek lap-dog, te would pounce right on the animal's ba^k,
and give him just two good digs with his beak. The dog
would slink off, howling and crestfallen ; and then Balpho
would resume his seat with an air of Fatisfaction, as grare
as ever, and looking quite incapable of engaging in such a
facetious pastime.

""■S^^'l^

160

EEVIEWS, ETC.

fKiaiii«UMlAtt,H«7l.ll

REVIEWS.

Tli^ Rail and the Rod; or, Tourist Angler* s Q-uide to Waters
and Quarters Thirty Miles round London. By Greville
F. (Barnee). London : H. Cox, 346, Strand, W.C. 1867.

THE little work before us is exactly that which it professes
to be, viz., " A Tourist Angler's Guide." It is the first
book of a series, and contains much highly useful information
as to the various fishing stations to be found on the border
lands of the Great Eastern Railway, between London and
Waltham, together with the railway fares, distances, places
of refreshment, boundaries, club charges (day and annual),
description of water, fish, and a host of other matters of
equal interest and importance to the brethren of the gentle
craft.

It is. wc are informed, the author's intention to furnish
the public with a ** Wander Book," of the same description,
for all the linos of railway leading from metropolitan din,
smoke, bustle, and restlessness, to the margins of pleasant
streams, where the speckled golden trout leap; to still,
deep, shady pools, where the greedy pike lurks in ambush
among the waving rushes and tufted reeds ; and to where
the weary son of toil may woo Nature in her most choice
and attractive garb, drink in fresh air and new life, hear the
soaring lark sing, inhale the perfume of sweet hedge-flowers,
and when the day of pleasant relaxation is at length ended,
find his way safely and expeditiously back to the struggles
and turmoil of this work-a-day world, all the better for the
trip, refreshed and re-invigorated. " Greville F.'s Guides "
cannot fail to be received as a most acceptable addition to
cor sporting literature.

TO A SWALLOW.

From the Danish of Wilstcr,

Little Swallow, whom the summer brings,
Thou hast travell'd from afar so long :

"Whither wilt thou go, to rest thy wings ?
Whom wilt thou enliven with thy song ?

II.
Bound about the meadow art thou wheeling.
Where the buds are bursting into bloom :
I Doubting where to hang thine airy dwolling i

I Half a stranger in thy native home.

III.
Yonder, through the tender lime-tree leaves,

Seest thou not a low and narrow door ?
Nestle there, beneath the cottage eaves ;

Twitter there, till 'simmer- time is o'or.

IV.
Never need thy brooding heart be beating,

Though a lattice open near thy nest t
Thou wilt only hear a voice repeating,—

'* Where the swallow builds, the roof is blest.'

Speed thee, — speed upon thy winged ways ;

Seek the roof above yon cottage door :
Then, if there thou bringest happy days,

Oh, how I shall bless thee evermore.

Elijah the Prophet. A Poem, by G. Washington Moon,
F.B.S.L., Author of " The Dean's English." Third
Edition. London : Hatchard & Co., 187, Piccadilly, 1867.

We once met an Englishman, an author of remarkable
talents and strong poetical feelings, who scarcely knew Elijah
by name. His childhood had passed without his ever hear-
ing how the ravens fed the prophet by the brook Cherith.
He had himself used the phrase of the " still small voice,"
but its peculiar beauty was half lost to him, for he knew
nothing of the context, — that passage of marvellous sub-
limity. To such a man a fine modem poem on Elijah
might have proved a sort of revelation ; but it would be
hard indeed to find a poet equal to the theme. Mr. Washing-
ton Moon has, this time at least, been tempted out of his
proper sphere ; he has essayed the almost hopeless task of
expanding the grand old prose into Spenserian stanzas.
Fine specimens of bathos might easily be selected from
any of the twelve cantos, but the honest enthusiasm of
the preface disarms us. We admit, moreover, that the
author is now and then seized with a transient fit of inspira-
tion : on these occasions he generally breaks loose from the
trammels of the Spenserian stanza. Our readers must be
satisfied with one example, — the description of the chariot
and horses sent to translate Elijah : —

" Ethereal, yet visible ; for bright
Unto intensity through purest light
Indwelling, was that chariot of the skies.
The horses, too, were creatures not of earth ;
Their necks were clothed with thunder, and their eyes.
Starry with beauty, told of heavenly birth.
No harness fetter 'd them, no curb nor girth
Bestrain'd the freedom of those glorious ones ;
Nor traces yoked the chariot at their heels, —
It follow'd them as planets follow suns
Through trackless space in their empyreal courses ;
For lo ! the fiery spirit of the horses
Was as a mighty presence in the wheels,
And in the dazzling whirlwind which behind them flew,
And caught Elijah up as snnlight drinks the dew."

H.W.

In a Beview, in the columns of the Builder, of Mom.
Daly's ** Bevue G^n^rale de 1* Architecture et des Trayanx
publics," we find notice of a most interesting oommunicatioD
to that editor from his countryman, M. Perrin, General in
the Siamese Army and Mandarin of the third class than.
Our subscribers will be pleased, probably, to observe how
the imposing illustrations of the Siamese architecture in oar
recent review of Mr. Fergusson's great work may serve
also for the description given by the gallant general. We
therefore extract the passage from our contemporary.

*^ He says that none would believe the numbers of marble
monuments, temples, palaces, columns, and staircastrs at
D' Ancor-viat. * I assure you, believe me or not, that Iho
most celebrated of ancient or modem monuments are bnt
barracks near those I have seen here ; our pakces, oar
basilicas, the Vatican, the Colosseum, are dog-kenneU by
the side of them.* Marble was the material of all around.
The natives informed the general that these magnificent
ruins covered an area of ten leagues by twelve. He asks,
* What city can this be ? Of what empire was this the
capital ? I have seen temples in a good state of preserva-
tion, except the vegetation that has encrosted them, which
do not measure less than a league around. They hare
forests of marble columns; the whole is of marble. AH
the walls are sculptured and ornamented. The first effect
these monuments produced upon me was stapefaciion. 1
wished to enter a temple wWch appeared well preserved.
It had eleven flights of steps, and I know not how many
flights each to arrive only at the first of the five pen-
styles ! " Becovoring, the general ascended the steps that
led to a high tower, and then he ascended the tower, and
thence surveyed the ruins, where he saw marble enoo^h
upon the ground, and below the ground, that could rebuild,
in the fashion of giants, all the cities in the universe.

" The educated natives know not to whom to impote this
ruined city; notwithstanding that their literature goes
several centuries back further than ours."

I J-

FALCONRY IN THE OLDEN TIME.

N the olden days of " merrie
England" the royal pastime
of hawking was the sport,
par excellence^ of the upper
ten thousand. No knight
renowned in chivalry armed
for the tournament with
greater zeal than that with
which the English noble,
in the reign of "gentle
Jamie," prepared to test his skill in falconry.
It was a pleasant and right manly sport, and,
according to the chroniclers of the olden time,
was most often sought for in the woods of
Tottenham and the marshy lowlands surrounding
Muswell Hill. It is a sport now nigh forgotten,
but at one time how absorbing! With what
enthusiasm the old writers linger on the subject : —

" I count my toil and traivale but a g^une,
I deeme the days not long or spent amisse,
If so I may nnto my fancy frame
This book of mine, which all of hawking is ;
Than which there can be fonnd no better bUsse,
In my conceit, to snch as love the glee,
And force the fields where bravest pleasures be."

Thus, in the year of grace 1611, spoke quaint
Greorge Tuberville, a man who could not only tell
a hawk from a hemsaw, but who was a very adept
in the gentle sport of falconry. His book of
" Falconrie, or Hawking," published by Purfoot, of
London, is a perfect gem, black-lettered though it
may be ; every particular worth knowing is there
recorded, and recorded in a style which marks the
keen sportsman as well as the intelligent observer.
Tuberville mentions seven kinds of falcon — the
Gentle, the Peregrine, the Barberie, the Gerfalcon,
the Sacer, the Laiier, the Tunican ; and goes on to
say, "Among them all, for her noblenesse and
hardy courage, and withal the franckness of her
mettell, I may and do mean to place the falcon
gentle in chief She is called gentle from her
courteous conditions and fashions." The gerfalcon
is described as a bird of great force, a gallant hawk
to behold, strong-armed, fierce and hardy of nature,
and difficult to be reclaimed. " A gerfisdcon will

VOL. II. — XIII.

look to have a gentle hand kept on her, and her
keeper to be courteous and full of patience." The
points of a good fiEdcon are also minutely described :
— "A full black eye, with large lids ; a round head,
somewhat full on the top; a short thick beake,
blew as asure ; a reasonably high necke ; barbe
feathers under the clappe of the beake; a good
large breast, round, fleshy, strong, hard, and stiff*-'
bonded, for she gageth her breast most at her en-
counter." How happily the same bird is descril>ed
by Virgil : —

'* Qnam fadl^ aooipiter saxo sacer ales ab alto
Conseqi^itar pennis snblimem in nnbe colombam,
Comprehensamqne tenet, pedibnsqne evisoerat nnois ;
Tarn oraor, et vnlsaa labnntur ab ssthere plomse."

Thus rendered by Dryden : —

** Not with more ease the falcon from above
Trasses in middle air the trembling dove,
Then plnmes the prey, in her strong ponnoes bonnd —
The feathers, foul with blood, come tumbling to the
ground."

The " staying" power, to use a sporting phrase,
of a high-bred hawk is almost incredible. It is
confidently asserted that 150 miles have been tra-
versed on the wing within the hour, and that 100
is a common performance. During these long flights
much protection is afforded by l£e peculiar forma-
tion of the eye, which is provided with a thin, half-
transparent fold of skin, called the "nictitating" or
winking membrane, which serves to clear the sur-
face and protect the vision from the sun. Their
length of life is also remarkable, if we may believe
the statement that, in 1793, a venerable falcon was
found at the Cape of Good Hope adorned with a
golden collar inscribed with the royal name of
" Gentle King Jamie,'* and dated 1610. Although
this bird had reached his 184 th year, he is stated
to have been strong and vigorous.

Many curious anecdotes are related by Tuberville
and others as to the peculiar habits and strange
customs of the falcon. We may select, aa the most
wonderful, if not incredible, that which is recorded
concerning the hawks of Norvega, and which cer-
tainly marks them as the most conscientious birds
of prey. It is stated with much solemnity that, at

162

FALCONET IN THE OLDEN TIME.

[Nature and Azt, Jqm 1.1K7,

the close of a long day's sport in winter, these
provident creatures invariably preserve alive the last
bird which they have taken, in order that it may
serve to keep their feet warm during the frosty
night. When morning comes, with a rare sense of
the justice of the maxim "one good turn deserves
another," they not only set their captive free, but
mark well the course he takes, so that they may
not hunt in that quarter again and by accident
return evil for good.

Notwithstanding all that has been written about
the art of falconry, grave doubts still exist on a
very important point. How does the falcon deal
the coup de grdce to his quarry, when stooping 1 Is
the blow vertical or oblique 1 dealt with the front
or hind talon ? The best-received opinions seem to
be in favour of the latter mode of despatch ; and
certainly the formation and calibre of the hinder
talons favour the idea: the ^^pedibus wicia" of
Virgil is also highly descriptiva Another point in
dispute is whether the heron ever impales the
fiEdcon on his sharp upturned beak, the idea being
that it has not sufficient tact to practise such
cunning fence. Old prints, however, such as that
of "How to flye the Hearon according to Martine,"
show the heron confronting the hawk with both
beak and claws, which fiivours the idea that the
latter sometimes shares the fate of merry Die
Vernon's favourite Cheviot.

It may be regarded as conclusive that the sport
of hawking was first introduced by the Saxons
during the fourth century, and that in process of
time the birds became of great value. We read
how, in the time of Edward III., a hawk was
held to be of such value that a holy bishop excom-
municated a sinner for stealing one which he found
perched at Bermondsey. During the middle ages,
also, they were considered as a badge of rank, and
were much loved by the nobility, who wei-e wont
to take them to church; not always, however,
with impunity ; for we find Sebastian Brandt, in
1485, complaining that "the whole church was
troubled by their outrage." In our present age
of wealth and extravagance, we listen with wonder
to such prices as £2,500 for a " yearling ;" but is
not that quite eclipsed by £1,000 for a cast of
three hawks, a price by no means uncommon in
the time of my Lord Orford. That nobleman kept
up a regular and expensive establishment for his
birds. He allotted to each hawk an attendant,
and sent them to travel during the moulting
season ; and their average cost to him was about
£100 each per annum. This, however, sinks into
insignificance when we read of the princely style
with which the sport of hawking was carried on in
the Celestial Empire, There, according to old
Marco Polo, the emperor was wont to go forth
with 10,000 falconers, 1,000 men to watch, called
" toscaors," and 5,000 gerfalcons ; each bird
having a tablet of silver on his feet inscribed with
its owner's name; and surrounded by this grand
array the mighty potentate reclined in his costly
chamber, covered with cloth of gold, fondling his
twelve gerfalcons, each one of priceless value, and

each attended on by a noble of high degree. A
book more curious even than Tuberville's is " The
Book of St. Albans," written in 1481 by Dame
Juliana Bemers, the noble prioress of the monas-
tery of Sopewell. This lady loves to dwell upon
the most minute particulars. She shows how the
young hawks ought to be taken when they become
"Branchers;" how they should be blindfolded, so
as not to injure them ; how they should be cast off
and reclaimed ; and how their true breeding may
be determined by their mounting mid-air in
a succession of small circles until the quarry is o'er-
topped, and the fetal stoop may be accomplished.
Gervasse Malcolm, another of the ancient writers,
who calls the sport " a princely and most serious
delight," admonishes the readers " to gaze at hawks
with a loving and a serious eye, so that they
become familiar."

At all periods, and in every country, the hawk
appears to regard the heron as his common prey.
In the " Speculum Mundi," written at Cambridge
in 1635, Sir John Shaw says, "The heron is a
large fowl that liveth about waters, and that hath
a marvellous hatred to the hawk, which hatred is
duly returned." And what sings Somervillel —

" Unhappy bird, our fathers' prime delight,
Who fenced thine eyrie roond with sacred laws ;
Nor mighty princes did disdain to wear
Thy waving crest — ^the mark of high command —
With gold and jewels, and bright gems adorned."

Then, indeed, the heron was a i-oyaJ bird, held
sacred ; he is now no better than a proscribed out-
cast, dear only to the painters, who love to aid,
with his gaunt form and ashy hue, the dim solem-
nity of evening lights and silent pools.

Henry VIII. loved sport right well, and built
a palace for his falcons. In his reign the hills of
Homsey and valley of Tottenham abounded in
game of every description, and were the scene of
many a royal hunting paHy. How easily may the
splendour of such a scene be pictured ! The noble
cavaliers and beauteous dames of England, each
with a band of retainers clad in the bright Lincoln
green ; and the anxious falconer encoui-aging liis
birds and keenly watching for the qiuirry. Then
fancy shows us the stately heron resting on the
marshy low ground, musing, aa it were, over his
bygone greatness ; then, suddenly becoming aware
of danger, slowly expanding his enormous wings
and seeking safety in flight. And now the woods
resound with the ringing, " La la sensa !" " Leigh
ho !" " Leigh cass !" as the imhooded falcon is cast
off* in quick pursuit. How they wheel round and
round each other in successive aerial cii-cles, each
striving to mount the higher. The heron at
length, as if wearied, takes his course straight up ;
while the falcon's instinct teaches him that the
circle is the slow though certain path to victory.
Now for a moment both birds float poised in mid*
air, as if husbanding their strength for the final
effort. One instant more, the sunbeams glance
brightly on the falcon's azure neck, aa arching it
prepares to strike, and then the fatal stoop!
Such was this princely pastime in the olden days.

S^finrm ha^ i^f:,<Jvii>* IjnflT

K»ttm «tul Art. Jmie 1. 1807.]

ON SKETCHING FROM NATUBE.

ON SKETCHING FROM NATURE,

By Aabon PEiOiST, Professor of Landscape Painting at the Boyal Military Aoade^iy, Woolwioh.
No. XI. STUDY OF STONES ON THE NORTH SIDE OF TALIAEIS, NEAR LLANDILO, SOUTH WALES

THERE are few details in the foreground of a
picture of more value to its effect than
detached groups of stones, large or small. In no
other objects do we find greater diversity of colour,
although composed of the same material ; and it is
quite true that, although masses from the parent
rock lie side by side, yet each and all vary in tint
to an extraordinary degree. This offers us every
desirable change of tone whereby our foreground
can be enriched ; and groupings of stones ai'e no
less valuable for the introduction of colour than
for the distribution of ligh^ and shadow ; for,
being often the medium of some concentrated
light, they become, as it were, the key-tone or focus
of a whole drawing : this, however, will depend
greatly, or, I shouW rather say, entirely, upon the
character of the subject. The introduction into a
scene of large stones (fallen or surface stones)
should always be the result of knowledge aa to
their possibility of getting there ; and I mention
this irom the fact of their sometimes being a kind
of stereotyped adjunct to a foreground, quite irre-
spective of the geological character of the site.
This is an error so common, that the artist can at
once detect between a truthful sketch and a tricky
deception practised by a tyro. It matters little
what the subject may represent, if there be a strict
adherence to reasonableness throughout, without
bringing into notice any foreign objects totally at
variance with the scene. Nothing shows greater
ignorance than this; and I feel it would be an
omission on my part, where I not to give a word
of caution against so great an error.

The group of stones given for our subject is a
paili only of a sketch drawn and coloured on the
spot. It will be found to combine variety of
angular forms, and much diversity of colotu*, as well
as great force of light and shade. In drawing
groups, or even' single stones, of this description,
great attention should be paid to the general out-
line, and the several angles which are presented to
secure an appearance of a broken surface and of
stone-like fracture. In almost every instance there
must be a crispness of edge to each part, without
softening or melting of one into the other. How-
ever slight the washes may be in the lightest parts,
yet they must all have clear and decided edges.
Indeed, if they do not, the consequence will be a
semblance to dough or putty instead of to stones.
It is also of great importance that the breakage of
divided portions should be properly and very
attentively cared for, inasmuch as this is peculiar
to each class of stone.

In a subject so local as this I have selected, I
shall not enter into minute detail as to its stages of

progression, but would remark that the principal
thing to be observed throughout, is to leave the
whole of the lights clean, sharp, and well defined.
To effect this, a true pencil outline is imperative ;
without it there cannot be a successful result. As
regards the colouring, the student must determine
those parts that are warm and those that are cold,
that is, which tones are inclining to the yellow,
oiunge, red, lake-purple, or blue- purple, to grey or
blue. It is only by a true balance of each that
agi-eeable impression can be made, so that it is to
be hoped this matter will have some consideration
before commencing with the colour. The sky is
produced simply with cobalt and a little lake.
The light tints on the stones are obtained with

YELLOW OCHRE, BURNT SIENNA, LAKE, and COBALT,

in different proportions, agreeable to the tint re-
quired. All the shadows are done with burnt
SIENNA, LAKE, and INDIGO, Varied, — and a little
GAMBOGE introduced where the deepest touches are
seen, because it causes the other colours to hold out
with greater power ftx)m its being a natural gum
and having a glossy quality. The herbage is of a
mixture of gamboge, burnt sienna, and indigo,
more or less of one than the other, and lake in-
ti'oduced upon the indications of heather. The top
of the hill and the small loose stones must be
coloured in with cobalt and light red, and the
short grass of yellowish tone is of yellow ochre
and brown pink, and in the greener parts a little
INDIGO added.

The foregoing instruction will be found sufficient
to enable the learner to copy with accuracy the
subject before hinu I have introduced it into the
Images of Nature and Art for the purpose of giving
an insight into the manner of portraying masses of
fallen stone, thinking the season for sketching from
Nature is coming on, when many will seek for con-
verse with scenes of beauty, grandeur, and interest.

I take this opportunity of giving an extract from
a letter received from a subscriber to Nature and
Art, and I do so to clear up any misapprehension
that may be felt by others upon the same point.

" Sir, — May I, as one of the numerous admirers of your
aketohes in Nature and Art, be permitted to call your
attention to a want in your instructions which I fancy must
be more or less felt by a great number of those who seek
for instruction from them P I allude to manipulation.

" In looking at the ' copies * one is struck with the eflfect
produced by innumerable dots or specks overlaying the flat
tints, sometimes of the same, but not seldom in other
colours. No allusion is made to this dotting in the letter-
press, and the student is left to wonder whether the same
effect is expected to be arrived at by flat washes (no men-
tion being made of other modAis operandi) y and if recourse is
only had to this treatment of the subject, in order to supply
some defect in the matter or manner of painting."
m2

164

A REMINISCENCE OF THE PYRENEES.

[Hatara mad Art. Jane L IM;.

The " numberless specks " referred to arise from
the fact of the several tints being obtained from a
point.of lithographic chalk instead of by flat washes
put on with the brush. It is a defect that cannot
be entirely overcome, where there is any gradation
of tint to be given ; so, that where they are seen to
exist in a sky or elsewhere, they must be regarded
as meaning to convey the idea of so many flat tints,
and. should be copied simply as such. There is,
however, an improvement even in this ; and I am

constantly impressing upon the mind of the artists
who copy my drawings upon stone, how requisite it
is that this granular character should be overcome,
it being likely to mislead those who are desirous
of profiting by the several studies presented to
them.

I have thought it as well to bring the above
remarks before the readers of Nature and Aet, in
order to remove any fiilse impression they may
have entertained upon the subject.

A REMINISCENCE OF THE PYRENEES.

IT fell to my lot some time back to spend nine
or ten months in the midst of the Pyrenees.
And not content with pursuing the beaten track
of tourists, and visiting spots well known to all
travellers in that delightful region, I was resolved,
if possible, to get a glimpse of some of the wilder
and more inaccessible passes which are familiar to
those only who dwell in the neighbourhood, and
are reported to be grander and more beautiful than
those usually visited. In the month of July an
opportunity offered. A party was made up for
chamois-hunting. The " chasae aux izzardsy' as it
is called in the Pyrenees, is a frequent source of
occupation and profit to the hardy mountaineers on
both sides of the frontiers ; and those visitors who
are not d