Papers

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A PORTRAIT,

From a drawing by Reginald Barber.

PAPERS

OF THE

Manchester Literary Club

VOL. XV.

CONTAINING —

I.— The " Manchester Quarterly" for 1889.
II.— Report, Proceedings, &c., Session 1888-89,

JOHN HEYWOOD.

DEANSGATE AND RIDGEFIELD, MANCHESTER;
1, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS, LONDON.

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THE

Manchester Quarterly :

A JOURNAL OF

LITERATURE AND ART.

VOL. VIII., 1889.

PUBLISHED FOR

THE MANCHESTER LITERARY CLUB

BY

JOHN HEYWOOD, MANCHESTER AND LONDON.
TRtJBNER AND CO., LONDON.

CONT E N TS

PACK

The Genesis of Hamlet. By JAMES T. FOARD 1

The Poacher's Gazette. By H. T. CROFTON 32

A Sleepless Night. By R. HOOKE 39

Industrial Italy. By J. ERNEST PHYTHIAN. With Two Illustrations by

the Author 51

A Portrait. By W. E. CREDLAND 64

On General Gordon's Copy of Newman's "Dream of Gerontius." By

WILLIAM E. A. AXON 65

Reminiscences of Former Manchester : A Christmas Symposium. By

GEO. MILNER, T. R. WILKINSON, J. T. FOARD, and EDWIN WAUGH ... 74

The Library Table : Philaster and Other Poems. By GEO. MILNER ... 95

Tennyson Parallels. By THOMAS ASHE 97

The Genesis of Hamlet. Part II. By JAMES T. FOARD 122

Henry William Bunbury. By HARRY THORNBER. With Six Illus-
trations 153

By Bridie-Paths through "Las Tierras Calientes." By J. G. MANDLEY... 161

Evening in the Woodlands. By JOHN PAGE 193

Two Sonnets. By THOMAS ASHE 200

Sir Thomas Lawrence, P.R.A. By RICHARD HOOKE. With Three

-Illustrations 201

The Genesis of Hamlet. Part III. By JAMES T. FOARD 220

Reminiscences of a Manchester Poet — William Harper. By GEORGE

MILNER 248

On the Cultivation of the Appreciative Faculty. By WILLIAM ROBINSON 254
The Life and Works of Edward Williams (lolo Morganwg) the Bard of

Glamorgan. By A. EMRYS- JONES, M.D 261

The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury 279

CONTENTS.

PAGE

A Note of Pessimism in Poetry. By JOHN MORTIMER 286

The Church of the Little Fawn. By WILLIAM E. A. AXON 293

From the Opening of Virgil's ^Eneid. By PROF. FRANCIS WILLIAM

NEWMAN " 297

From London to Luxor. With Five Illustrations. By THOMAS KAY ... 330

Songs and Song Writers By W. I. WILD 355

James Montgomery— A Literary Estimate, By CHAS. T. TALLENT-BATEMAN 384

The Lyrics of Miss Rossetti. By JOHN WALKER 393

Translation from Fritz Reuter. By H. GANNON , 405

The Library Table : A Wanderer. By H. Ograin Matuce. By C. E.

TYRER 407

Report of Council 421

Proceedings 430

List of Members 466

Rules , 473

Index... . 477

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

A Portrait. By REGINALD BARBER 64

Venice— Old Style. By J. E. PHYTHIAN 51

Venice— New Style. By J. E. PHYTHIAN 59

Henry William Bunbury. Six Illustrations 153—160

Sir Thomas Lawrence. Portrait 201

Lady Lyndhurst. By Sir T. LAWRENCE 208

Lady Grey and Family. By Sir T. LAWRENCE 216

London to Luxor. Five Illustrations. By THOMAS KAY 330—354

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

BY JAMES T. FOARD.

THE absolute impersonality of Shakespere has always
been a psychological puzzle and a complete stum-
bling block to the critics. He offers no shadow, inequality,
or projection by which his prejudices, foibles, religion, or
politics can be determined. He has been declared a
Papist and Puritan with equal precision and apparent
certainty. Such evidence of undoubted facts concerning
him as we possess, admittedly most meagre, in no wise
assists us to a solution of his character. I, of course, set
aside the doubts concerning his very existence and identity,
begotten of an almost inconceivable ignorance and fatuity,
and which would confound him with Sir Francis Bacon, as
wholly unworthy of notice. But his conduct as a prudent
man of the world, as a successful theatrical manager, and,
if we accept the autobiography of the Sonnets, or any part
of them, his ambition (his natural ambition, we may say,
rejecting such inferences of fact), seem so wholly incon-
sistent with his indifference to his reputation and rights as
an author that we may well confess ourselves confounded.
He appeared as indifferent to his own interests as to other
people's religion, and this at a period when members of his

THE MANCHESTER QUARTERLY. No. XXIX., JANUARY, 1889.

2 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

own family were deeply compromised in matters of faith,
and recusancy was fatal as treason ; and as careless of his
own fame, that good report of others, about which Bacon
was so jealous, as if he were a motiveless abstraction, and
passionless as an antique statue.

A man unquestionably popular in his lifetime, with many
friends and associates, with such widely severed sympa-
thies, must have had many preferences. Living in the
midst of the highest intellectual activity of that day, which
embraced such splendid and heroic names, with the keenest
appreciation of mental and spiritual differences of any man
of his time, he must have known many men to honour,
admire, or condemn. We know by his dedications that he
had a patron, noble and generous, when the Roman rela-
lationship between client and patron was much more
strictly preserved than it is to-day. This patron was a
member of " a faction " — was a courtier, the close friend of
the most renowned general and popular royal favourite of
his age. Had this no influence — no effect on the poet ?
Was he as indifferent in this as in all else which personally
concerned himself, or are we so obtuse or blind to existing
evidence, as only most erroneously to believe so ? From
the scanty and fragmentary details furnished by the Strat-
ford records, and his father's fortunes therein expressed,
we are able to outline a consistent and most probable por-
trait of John Shakespere, glover, wool stapler, citizen, and
high-bailiff. Why not of his more gifted and famous son ?
As usual, perhaps, we have disregarded the obvious to
pursue the unknown. We have sought the occult, and
despised what might be seen. Thus it has been that in
the chase of the airiest and most speculative hypotheses
we have been oblivious of many of the most manifest proofs
of the poet's personality ; blind to his most direct and
palpable allusions, to his influences and surroundings;

THE (JEN ESI S OF HAMLET. 3

and have sought to compound for our ignorance and
indifference, by slatternly generalities and grandiose but
slovenly disquisition.

It is true that a species of criticism exists which proceeds
on an entirely opposite plan, which, by levelling down the
poet and judging him by the critic's own motives, by
his own narrow prejudices or malevolence, or, more
fatally, by his " own common sense," attributes a debased
and not less fictitious personality to a gentle, honourable,
and, as far as facts establish anything, a wholly guileless
and noble human being. By this species of infamy of con-
tact, which denied all it touched, Robert Bell attempted to
show that the poet at four years of age was guilty of the
infamy of conspiring to forge a coat of arms for his father,
and some pitiful creatures have adopted the monstrous
fiction, first circulated in 1837, in later years, as if it were
true.

But with neither of these classes of commentators do I
desire to make terms. I wish neither to belaud nor belittle
the poet more than is inevitable to natural infirmity in
dealing with such a subject. Proceeding on the assumption
that he was a man by no means like ourselves, he was still
human, subject to heat and cold, anger and pity, reverence
and sympathy. Did he manifest or express these qualities
or any of them in his works ? Did he, like Raphael or
Michael Angelo, paint his enemies and his friends ? Was
he subject to the influences of association and early
memory ? We know that he was. But in place of forming
theories, and launching discursive disquisitions, let us first
essay to arrange our facts, or probable facts, and then deduce
any theory if such presents itself. In other words, let us
endeavour by careful consideration of his works, to ascer-
tain, if, after all, there was a very undoubted personality
behind this apparently impenetrable Thespian mask.

4 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

No apology need be offered, perhaps, for commencing
with that most mysterious psychological problem— the
play of Hamlet. Since men have learned to believe that
Shakespere was, intellectually, the most gifted and divine
of created beings, it has been the most perplexing of all
philosophic puzzles, the most fascinating and inviting,
that could be submitted to the inquiring mind. Who
was Hamlet ? Did he exist in the flesh ? Had he a
prototype, or is he "of the stuff that dreams are
made of ? " Why has the poet drawn him thus and thus,
without advancing either the dramatic or stage consis-
tency of his play ? Why is he, as a man, so purposeless
and inconsequent ? Surely the author had some motive
other than stage expediency for painting him in such
guise. The poet was writing for popularity and pay.
Why then did he select a character and story which
beyond its metaphysic charm offered no feature of interest
or enchantment to the playwright ? The original Hamlet's
life, if not without adventure, ended in anti-climax, and
suggested no moral nor retributive justice. He was in
Saxo Grammaticus an uninteresting selfish savage. How,
then, came he to be selected as the future hero of the
modern histrionic stage — as the world-famous immortal —
the Heracles of an entirely new dynasty ?

It were easier to propound illimitable questions thus,
than to reply coherently, perhaps, to one.

Without closing our eyes, however, to the poet's inevit-
able autobiographic expression in his work, we know that
he had admirers, friends, and interests, and upon the surest
and best data that can be given — the authentic text of the
author — that he had also loves and dislikes. If Hamlet
were not Shakespere's self, had he a prototype in real life ?
Was it the picture of a friend, or were there obviously in
the season of its production, or other circumstances, reasons

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 5

for the selection of this ideal personality. The adoption of
a story of a featureless and uninviting kind, like that of
the antique annalist, must have had some cause more sug-
gestive for its selection than its clumsy and vicious narrative.
The choice of a Danish bigamist as a hero, is hardly
likely to have been an accident. , The marvellous contrast
of rashness and indecision, nobility and weakness, valour
and seeming cowardice, the temporary, real or assumed
madness, and the scholarship in the character as it stands
enshrined in Shakespere's pages, were not necessary
ingredients surely for the development of the story or the
replenishment of the Shakespere and Burbage treasury.
Had, then, the poet in his mind's eye a model or exemplar
whose life, history, and experiences suggested the appro-
priation and adaptation of this story? With what occasion
and upon what purpose was the ghost introduced into the
play, where before he was not ? Were there, in fine, any
or no motives, but accident or caprice, or an even incredible
stupidity in the selection of the incidents of the drama or
the delineation of its chief figures and the progress of its
events ? I am inclined to think that its construction and
production alike were of design, and that Hamlet himself
was a once real and living man.

I propose, at any rate, to show to-night that he was a
real and historic personage well known to the theatrical
audiences of that day, especially those of the " Globe," and,
if I cannot convince or convert you, hope to adduce suffi-
cient evidence to excuse the apparent hazardousness of my
enterprise. The problem is, on the whole, perhaps insol-
uble, but adventure would be despicable, if not adven-
turous. If our ends were certain as our aims, and both
bereft of hope, labour would be without excitement and
stimulus, and toil would be but spiritless and despicable
drudgery.

c THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

It is ordinarily believed that the first publication of the
play of Hamlet took place in the year 1603 new style, the
year in which that great sovereign, Elizabeth, was gathered
to her rest, and James succeeded, and of the Union of the
two kingdoms of Scotland and England. A second publi-
cation of the same play took place the following year,
" enlarged to almost as much again," and it has come to be
well nigh universally accepted that these were the first pro-
ductions of this world-famous tragedy by the poet William
Shakcspere. Undoubtedly a play concerning " Hamlet "
existed before. As certainly, that play, by whomsoever
written, was in existence as far back as the year 1589, was
written by a comparatively unknown and obscure writer,
who presumedly had been a lawyer's clerk, of whom his
fellow playwrights were already envious ; and such play
also contained many tragical speeches. The evidence on
this point is neither very definite nor voluminous, but has
been sufficient to satisfy all Shakesperian commentators,
and apparently with reason and justice.

In the year 1589 the first known edition of Greene's
Menaphon was published. To this work Thos. Nash con-
tributed an epistle dedicatory, as the manner of the times
was, addressed " To the gentlemen students of both Uni-
versities," and in this epistle is this passage : —

It is a common practice now-a-days amongst a sort of shifting companions,
that run through every art and thrive by none, to leave the trade of Noverint,
whereto they were born, and busy themselves with the endeavours of Art,that
could scarcely latinise their neck verse* if they should have need ; yet English
Seneca read by candle-light yields many good sentences, as blood is a beggar
and so forth ; and if you entreat him fair in a frosty morning, he will afford
you whole Hamlets — I should say handfulls of tragical speeches.

This is poor and malevolent trash, and the allusion to
Knglish Seneca read by candlelight is certainly obscure,
but the inference was drawn by Steevens and Malone that

' The first verse of the 51st Psalm :— " Have meroy upon me, O God, &c.," usually
aligned to prisoners to be read by them, on praying clergy in capital offences.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 7

this allusion referred to an existing or recent play called
Hamlet, containing tragic speeches, which was the pro-
duction of a lawyer's clerk, or Noverint, from the Noverint
universi ("know all men by these presents") with which deeds
poll commenced. This, it must be confessed, is a slender
premise on which to base history, and yet it must be con-
sidered sufficient, if not satisfactory. In a publication of
the date of 1596 there is a partial confirmation, moreover,
of this suggested deduction. In " Lodges Wits' Misery,"
page 56, there occurs this passage : —

" He looks as pale as the vizard of the ghost which cried so miserably at
the theatre, like an oyster wife — Hamlet, revenge." -

Here then was a more definite reference to a play con-
taining the phrase, "Hamlet, revenge!" spoken by a
ghost, and unless we assume two co-existing plays of
Hamlet already on the stage, one undoubtedly containing
a ghost, the allusion in each writer was to the same com-
paratively well-known tragedy.*

Basing his conjectures on this passage, Malone, in his
edition of Shakespere's works, assigned the date of the first
production of Shakespere's Hamlet — he being then unin-
formed as to the 1603 quarto — to the year 1596, but sug-
gested that an older play existed before 1589, by some
other author, to which Shakespere was indebted, or which
he had bodily adopted. I will, however, cite his precise
words. " It is manifest (he is commenting on the citation
from Nash, already given) from this passage, that some
play on the story of Hamlet, had been exhibited before
the year 1589 ; "but I am inclined to think that it was not
Shakespeare's drama, but an elder performance, on which,

* The various references to the poet before 1602, by Greene (1592), Chettle (1592), Drayton
(1594), Willobie (1594), Merea (1598), &c., and other later allusions probably relating to him,
as in Daiphantus (1604) " faith, it should please all, like Prince Hamlet, "things called whips
in store, as Hamlet says. Armin's "Nest of Ninnies" (1608), Decker's " Satiromastix "
(1602),&c., clearly establish that Shakespere was well envied and esteemed by his rivals, for
his good fortune and prosperity, both as player and author, before the death of Elizabeth.

8 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

with the aid of the old prose History of Hamlet, his tragedy
was formed. The great number of pieces which we know
he formed on the performance of preceding writers, renders
it highly probable that some others also of his dramas were
constructed on plays that are now lost; perhaps the original
Hamlet was written by Thomas Kyd, who was the author
of one play, and probably of more, to which no name is
affixed. In Kyd's Spanish Tragedy, as in Shakespere's
Hamlet, there is, if I may say so, a play represented within
a play; if the old play of Hamlet should ever be recovered,
a similar interlude, I make no doubt, would be found
there," etc.

This is the way in which History is written. First it is
suggested that there was an older play; next, that Kyd
wrote it ; thirdly, that in a play written by Kyd, called
Hieronymo, or the Spanish Tragedy, there was a play
within a play, and, therefore, we have proof positive that
Shakespere did not originally dramatise the story.

As a fact we have the Spanish Tragedy, by Kyd, now
printed.* It is before me as I write, there is no suggestion
of a play within a play in it, and therefore Malone was
basing as upon a fact, something which was wholly illusory,
and upon what was pure fiction.

Unluckily, Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps — and I say this advi-
sedly and with pain, for his services to literature cannot be
too highly eulogised or estimated — (following Mr. Payne
Collier) has implicitly adopted this futile and frivolous sug-
gestion of Malone's as positive fact and established truth.
In his outlines of the life of Shakespere, 1887,f he says,
with certainty, " There was an old English Tragedy on the
subject of Hamlet which was in existence at least as early as
the year 1589, in the representation of which an exclama-

* Vol. V., Dodsley's Plays, Ed. 1874: Hazlitt.
t Vol. II., Ed. 7, page 311.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 9

tion of the Ghost, ' Hamlet ! Revenge,' " was a striking and
well-remembered feature, and then he also proceeds, at
length too great to be recited, to give reasons which are,
in brief, those of Malone expanded by a more perfect
knowledge, and to draw upon his imagination, based only
on the evidence already presented and an accidental refer-
ence in a contemporary, for a series of conclusions, — as
follows, viz.: That the ancient play of Hamlet (1) was
written by an Attorney or an Attorney's clerk, who had
not received a university education. (2) That this play
was full of tragical, high-sounding speeches. (3) Contained
the passage "there are things called 'whips in store/'5
spoken by Hamlet. (4) Included a very brief speech by the
Ghost, in two words, " Hamlet ! Revenge." (5) Was acted
at the theatre in Shoreditch and at the play-house in New-
ington Butts. (6) Had for its principal character a hero
exhibiting more general violence than can be attributed
to Shakespere's creation of Hamlet and, further " that this
older play was not entirely superseded by the new one, or, at
all events, that it was long remembered by playgoers." Oh !
most lame and impotent conclusions. What violent and
incredible presumptions to base on such slender suggestion.
Can it be for a moment deemed possible that an earlier and
popular, even famous play, with the same title, by an un-
known author, who neither acknowledged his offspring nor
claimed his success, ever existed. For my own part I at
once assert, that there never was an ancient play containing
a ghost, on the same theme and with the same story, by
Thomas Kyd, or any other playwright, before Shakespere's
Hamlet appeared. That this suggestion is due only to
that fatal folly which lies at the root of all criticism of the
national poet — " that he was a self-taught man, and there-
fore could not have composed noble tragedies or conceived
them, or written poems worthy of the classics," &c., &c.,

10 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

which ignorant and insensate prejudice still lingers and
clings like envious ivy round the noble edifice of his fame.
The suggestion that he was wholly engaged in furbishing
up old plays is one of those popular errors long sustained,
based on no better foundation than reckless assertion, and
is wholly opposed to the actual facts of his authorship and
life.

In opposition to this concurrent and presumed authority
in favour of a prior and unknown Shakespere, which
appears to have been unreservedly accepted and believed
by the majority of writers and commentators, I desire at
once to suggest that this pre-Shakesperean author of
Hamlet is a pure fiction of Malone's fancy, and had no
existence whatever — no foundation in fact ; was as much
an illusion as the supposed play within a play of Kyd ; and
was as false and erroneous as all such conjectural criticism,
based only on prejudiced surmise, usually is. Further, I
would also submit that it is wholly opposed to our ordinary
notions of experience that a second playwright should, for
the same theatre, within a short term of years, adopt the
name of an existing very popular play, presumably or
possibly during the lifetime of the author, for a new crea-
tion of his own. But it may be urged that Shakespere
often took existing plays which were in the property chest,
altered and adapted them. He may have done so with
the so-called Historic or Chronicle plays, or with some
small number of them : but these were common property
and stood on a unique footing. With a play already famous,
not a mere chronicle and which was comparatively modern,
I should say unhesitatingly — never. Authors usually were
not less jealous of their name and fame, and were a not
less irritable race then than now. The triumphant play-
wright of 1589 would not have allowed Shakespere in 1594
to have filched his ghost, which forms the keystone of the

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 11

story, and the title as well. To suppose that he would, is
to assign a generosity and forbearance to authors in refer-
ence to their pet creations hardly warranted by tradition
or experience.

Moved by this consideration, among others, I wish boldly
to say that Shakespere himself was "The Noverint" of 1589;
that he had no predecessor in the adoption of the story of
Hamlet ; that he worked out and adapted the drama from
Belleforest's and Boaistuau's novel — presumably from the
French version — assisted by Saxo Grammaticus, and that
this earlier play of his enshrined many scenes identical in
language with the Hamlet of 1603 ; that it presented the
Ghost, which was purely Shakespere's own creation, and
included the killing of Polonius, with the exclamation, " A
rat ! a rat ! " the murder of the uncle by poison, and also
the germ of the speech, " To be or not to be " ; that it,
moreover, presented many scenes and entire speeches
exactly as they are printed in the quarto of 1603, which,
indeed, is little more than a reproduction of the drama
first produced in 1589, revived by Henslowe, with Shake-
spere's company, in June, 1594, and again reproduced upon
occasion and for obvious reasons of popularity and profit
on the stage early in the years 1602-3, and reprinted in
1604.

The poet has himself again and again presented his
view of the mission of the stage. The production and
revival of his different dramas during his life time, to suit
particular emergencies and the popular feeling of the day,
show how he adjusted his practice with his precept, and
illustrated his wisdom in his actual life. If the players
were " the abstract and brief chronicles of the time," if they
"held the mirror up to nature, to show virtue her own
feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body
of the time his form and pressure," it was done at his

]2 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

own theatre, on the most apt occasions, and when there
was most need to recruit the treasury. In this way, when
James came to the throne— James, who claimed descent
through Banquo— Macbeth was presented. When Essex,
amid the acclamations of the entire people, went into
Ireland, only to be outwitted by Tyrone, and to his des-
truction, Henry V., with some lines in the chorus especially
adapted for the occasion, was revived. When the Danish
Ambassador was in London in 1588-9, Christian IV.,
having ascended the throne, and a treaty was on foot with
the Danes, as well as the marriage of the Scottish King
with Ann, a Danish play was put on the stage. Again,
when Ann of Denmark was to become Queen, in 1603, the
Danish play was revived. In like manner, when the Cadiz
voyage was astir, and also when insurrection in the city
was to be fomented, Henry V. and Richard II. were
refurbished, though but stale plays. They were placed in
requisition to serve as the " abstract and brief chronicles
of the time," to look like the time, and serve the purposes
of the hour.

These instances by no means exhaust the suggestions I
make of appositeness of revivals on the stage, or the reflec-
tions in its mirror of passing events. As Dr. Johnson has
said, the poet " often took advantage of the facts then
recent, the passions then in motion." Thus the long
eulogy on Fluellen in King Henry V. was undoubtedly
penned in praise of that stout friend and ally of his patrons,
Essex and Southampton, that valiant Welsh soldier, Sir
Roger Williams, who died in December, 1595, and made
the Earl of Essex (his commander) his heir.

In like manner, the lines, "Oh none who will behold the
royal captain of this ruined band," bore reference to the
disastrous return from the Island Voyage in 1596.

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 13

And just as certainly the lines in Macbeth are in grace-
ful allusion to the genealogy of James and the Union —

And some I see
That two-fold balls and triple sceptres carry.

as is the complimentary passage in Henry VIII.* "Wher-
ever the bright sun," &c.

I might multiply these instances almost indefinitely,
but will not further weary you. Entire plays were pro-
duced to signalise certain events, as I think Hamlet was.
Thus the Midsummer Night's Dream was first played as
a masque to grace the nuptial feast of Sidney's widow, the
fair Hippolita, with Robert, Earl of Essex, in 1590. That
Richard II. was played, and paid for, by the conspirators
in the Essex plot, we know from the State trials, and that
this subsidised revival, with its death of the King, power-
fully wrought on the mind of the Queen we gather from
Harrington and Lambard, as well as from the diatribes of
Coke at the trial of the unhappy Essex.

To return, however, and limit my references to a more
precise elucidation of the play of Hamlet. We find that
the text of this drama — sacred as we now regard it — was
altered on various occasions to suit popular feeling, and to
adjust its allusions to the incidents of the day — in other
words, to catch the public ear, and bring down the house.
It may, perhaps, appear derogatory, but it was certainly
done. Thus, the distinct reference to the comet of 1603 and
to the plague then raging, to the heavy-headed revels of
the Danes, and the children of Paul's, the inhibition of the
Lord Chamberlain, etc., all of which appear first in the 4to of
1604, with many other instances, are transitory references
which can be better dealt with in detail later on. These
were all allusions added or interpolated as apposite to the
time, or as managerial concessions to the incidents and
feelings of the hour.

* Act V., sc. 4.

14 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

That it will be seen, on an analysis of the text, that the
poet did clearly and circumstantially refer to many passing
occurrences, and also to events which, from lapse of time,
we are unable to identify or trace, I think may be positively
asserted. The stage was the newspaper of the day. The
popular caterer for amusement was required to bend to
the demands of his patrons then as now. The author, if
a poet, had a family and theatrical venture to sustain, and
knew, as well as if he were not a poet, that these required
to be maintained, and that " those who lived to please must
please to live," if he had not formulated this epigram.
For these among other reasons, but chiefly from the
intrinsic evidence I propose to submit to you, derived from
the origin and construction and incidents of the tragedy,
its choice of theme and plot, and the occasion on which
it was produced, I wish to urge — I fear it must
be at length — that Hamlet from first to last was
written and conceived as a drama wholly by Shake-
spere. That in its rough outline and earlier form, as
" The Revenge of Hamlet," it was one of his earliest essays
in dramatic writing, and was produced as early as 1588 or -9.
That he was " the Noverint " attacked by Nash ; that the
line, " blood is a beggar," was only a stupid and ill-natured
reference to the lines, " our beggars' bodies,"* "your fat king
and lean beggar." •(• That the Danish play was produced in
that year, as a piece de cir 'Constance, and was reproduced in
1602-3-4, on Essex's death, and again in 1606, for like
reasons — Christian IV. being in London — as being suited to
the incidents of the day. Further than this, I would suggest
that its principal character, in spite of its apparently inex-
plicable metaphysical subtleties, was neither more nor less
than the eidolon and counterfeit presentment of a well-

* Act II., sc. 2.
t Act IV., sc. 2.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 15

known public man, of royal birth, an aspirant to the throne,
a great commander, the hero of the greatest fight, according
to Macaulay, between Agincourt and Blenheim. Nay, more,
that this implied portraiture was intentional, and under-
stood by the audiences to whom the play was addressed,
and was intended to aid, as it did in fact assist, in creating
an immediate and temporary popularity for the play.

THE OKIGIN OF THE STORY.

The story of Hamlet, or as he is called, " Amlethus," is
contained in the third book of the History of Saxo Gram-
maticus, who lived towards the close of the twelfth century.
Amlethus, whom we may at once designate Hamlet, is the
son of Horvendillus, a tributary ruler under Roric, the
Danish King of a province or territory in Sleswick or Jut-
land. Horvendillus himself is not of royal blood, but his
wife Gerutha, Hamlet's mother, is the daughter of Roric.
Horvendillus has a brother, Fengo, the Claudius of the
1604 quarto and the present play, who seduces Gerutha (who
was given to Horvendillus as his wife for his valour proved
against the Norwegians and Courlanders) from her alle-
giance to her husband, and then murders Horvendillus at
a grand banquet, by falling on him with a number of myr-
midons and slaying him, subsequently excusing his crime
by alleging that it was done to protect Gerutha from Hor-
vendillus's cruelty, a vindication which is sustained by
his incriminated associates, co-traitors, and conspirators.
Fengo, after usurping his dead brother's throne and bed,
treats Hamlet with the greatest severity and harshness, as
a mere scullion, condemning him to the most menial offices.
To secure his life, Hamlet plays the part of Brutus, and
shams, not madness, but idiocy and imbecility, instanced by
riding a horse with his head to the tail, and so on : in other

16 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

words, he does not merely assume " an antic disposition,"* but
an appearance of idiocy and coarse brutality. He over
simulates the part of Brutus. Like David, he allows his
spittle to flow down on his beard ; and, meanly to preserve
his safety, not merely counterfeits a despicable dulness and
stupidity, but extreme filthiness in his habits.

This portrait, it will be seen, indicates an entire assump-
tion of mental imbecility, without any feature of the
philosophic madness of Hamlet. But to proceed, elimina-
ting extraneous matter. Fengo, mistrusting his nephew's
dissimulation, adopts various artifices to test his sanity,
one of the chief being to tempt him to a solitary place in
a wood, by the aid of his foster-sister, a lady of the court,
who explains to him, " she was one that from her infancy
loved and favoured him." To prevent his falling into the
snare of this Delilah, his foster-brother gives him timely
warning of her perfidy. The lady herself, however, assures
him of ardent love. He does not succumb to the lady's wiles, -f-
and thereupon a privy councillor is placed, by Fengo's
contrivance, behind the arras in Gerutha's (his mother's)
apartment, to spy upon the prince in his secret interviews
with his parent. Hamlet kills Polonius much as he does in
the play, but not crying out "A rat ! a rat !" which is to be
found in Painter's transcript of Belleforest's, or Boaistuau'sJ
Novel. He does, however, when interrogated by the King
as to his disposition of the murdered body of the senator,

' In the words of the author—" Quod videns Amlethus, ne prudentius agendo patruo
suspectus redderetur, stolidatis simulationem amplexus, extremum mentis vitium finxit,
eoque ; callidatis genere non solum ingenium texit, verumetiam salutem defendit.
Quotidie maternum larem pleno sordixim torpore complexus abjectum humi corpus
obsceni squaloris illuviae respergebet." — P. 49.

t " Utorque eosdern infantes procuratores habuerit. . . . Domum itaque reductus,
cunctts, an veneri indulsisset, per ludibrium interrogantibus, puellam a se construpratam
fatcatur. . . . Puella de ea re interrogata nihil eum tale gessisse perhibuit. "— P. 50.

t Tbe so-called novels of Belleforest, who was a Frenchman, and a prote"g6 of the
Queen of Navarre, are thus entitled.—" Histoires tragiques extraites des ceuvres Italiennes
dc Bandel, et miaes en langue franchise ; les six Ires par P. Boaistuau surnommS Launay,
et lea suivantes par Fr. de Belleforest." Paris, 1580. The story of Hamlet is not in the
Lucca Ed. of Bandello, A.D. 1554, 3 vols.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 17

state that he has cut him up and boiled him as food for the
pigs, and flung him into a cesspool, with other nauseating
details.

The voyage to England, the fraudulent change of papers,
sacrificing Hamlet's two companions sent by the King,
appear in the History and are followed in the play, but
here the likeness of the drama to the historical narrative
ends. " The play within the play " — the appearance of
the Ghost, and, indeed, the entire episode depending on
that appearance — the scene with the Gravediggers, the
love for Ophelia, the quarrel with her brother, the final
catastrophe, the moody, irresolute, philosophic character of
Hamlet — are all, in reference to the original story, new.
The Historic Hamlet marries the daughter of the King of
England ; returns to Denmark ; kills Fengo, in his bed ;
binds his courtiers, by a clumsy contrivance, as in a net,
with the arras of the banqueting room, at a great feast
given to celebrate his (Hamlet's) funeral, and then sets his
uncle's palace on fire, roasting his enemies to death, and
finally makes a speeech to his subjects, and nominates
himself King. The death of his uncle, and his succession as
King of Jutland and the Cimbric Chersonesus concludes
the 3rd Book and also the 5th chapter of the English ver-
sion of the Italian novel. In the 4th Book of the History
Hamlet appears as King, with little of his former indivi-
duality retained. He is crafty, treacherous, subtle, and
bold, but also vigorous and resourceful, a species of Ulysses
in policy and restlessness. He returns to England to claim
his wife, and is sent by his father-in-law on a mission to
Scotland, as an incumbrance to be disposed of, as the
English King was in amity with Fengo. The ruler
of the Scots, to whom he is sent with missives to ensure
his destruction, is a certain Queen Hermutruda, a very
Amazonian lady, who has directions to kill him. She has
B

18 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

eyes, is single, prefers a young husband to an old one though
the King of England, and prefers to subject him to a worse
fate by marrying him. Hamlet the Bigamist subsequently
returns to Denmark, and is there slain through the
treachery of Hermutruda, whom he prefers to his English
wife. She, as the feminine manner was and, perhaps, is,
repays his too great uxoriousness by hating him. She
conspires with his deadliest foe, Viglerus, or Wiglere, who
generously steps in to gratify the Queen, slay Hamlet, and
take possession of his wife, his treasure, and his kingdom.

The English novel, translated from the French version of
the novel by Belleforest or Boaistuau, substantially follows
the historic narrative in the main features of the story. The
earliest extant copy is of the date of 1608, but it is assumed
that earlier editions in English had been issued and existed,
although of this there is no actual proof. It is possible ;
but it is, I think, much more probable that the poet worked
directly from the Italian of Bandello, which he knew well,
or from the novel in French, the title of which ran thus : —
" Avec quelle ruse Amleth, qui depuis fut Roy de Danne-
march, vengea la mort de son pere Horvvendile, occis par
Fengon son frere, et autre occurrence de son histoire,*
instead of from the English translation. In Painter's trans-
lation the cry of " A rat ! a rat ! " at the killing of Polonius,
which is not in the History, and which is followed in the
play, appears. But no reason presents itself why Shakespere
should not have translated his story from the French or
Italian himself. None, either, why he should adopt the
drama of an inferior and jealous rival, eager for notoriety,
and sure to claim it.

If he was the Noverint, he wrote the play of 1589 with
his little Latin and less Greek, and there is an end of the
matter. He wrote it when he was twenty-four or twenty-

* CapeL Introduction, Vol. I. p. 375. Variorum Shakspere, 1803.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 19

five years old, in its first rough form, and was responsible
for the Ghost which was certainly in that play, as well as
the line " As our beggars' bodies," Act II., sc. 2 ; and " Your
fat king and your lean beggar," Act IV., sc. 2, either of
which might have served for the suggestion, " bloude is a
beggar." But if we violently suppose, without a tittle of
evidence, there was some other unknown Noverint, who
could astonish the town, arouse bitter enmity and malice,
compose whole " Hamlets " or handfulls of tragic speeches,
who was not " the upstart crow beautified with our feathers"
— " the great Shakescene of four years later " — where has
that Noverint gone ? Why has he died and left no sign ?
Why was not this rival Hamlet produced at some other
theatre, when in 1594, and again in 1602, it was played by
" The Lord Chamberlain's " (Shakespere's) Company ; or
how came it that, while Shakespere undoubtedly wrote
the Hamlet of 1603, there was another Hamlet with a
Ghost in it, already the property of his company, fit
for the stage ? Who invented the Ghost if he did not ?
Of what purpose would it have been without the mar-
vellous man, Hamlet ?

Depend on it, the creator of Hamlet fashioned the
Ghost, the device of the play within the play, that most
moving scene of Ophelia's genuine madness contrasted with
his own assumed folly, the Gravediggers' interview, the final
catastrophe — not by the sword — and revenge on his uncle
by poison which he had contrived, and all the rest of this
most sublime tragedy. These are just as much and truly
Shakespere's as the eloquence, the wondrous imagery,
the sensuous passionate poetry, the elevated philosophy
and moral dignity, indeed, as the rest of the atmosphere
of the play. He borrowed the story ! Yes, as Nature
borrows, when she returns to the trustful husbandman, his
lime, ashes, and manure, in the form of golden grain and
an ever bounteous and beneficent harvest.

20 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET,

But Shakespere did borrow, and borrowed much more
than from this bald, incoherent, and preposterous story, or
unknown play. He borrowed, as I propose to show, from
the circumstances, incidents, and men of his time, the
better to hold the mirror up to Nature, but not as a
copyist. He borrowed some of his chief characters and
incidents — the friendship of Horatio, the love of Ophelia,
the characters of Hamlet, Horatio, Polonius and Laertes,
and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, borrowed them all in
part from life, from real men and women on the world's
stage. And now to the proposed proofs.

REASONS FOR THE SELECTION OF THE STORY.

First, why then did he select this story to echo the
passing sentiment and popular feeling of the hour ? In
September, 1588, the Earl of Leicester, the most powerful
and best detested man in the realm — the actual, if not the
nominal, monarch of these realms, died. He had been, as
men thought, accidentally poisoned by his wife, with a medi-
cine designed for her benefit, and which she innocently gave
him as an anodyne. The eyes of the world were at once
turned towards his probable successor. Who was to be the
Royal favourite — the potential king ? For a brief season
it seemed that the son of a comparatively obscure and
impoverished Devonshire gentleman, one Walter Rawley,
might possibly be selected. He was at this time in great
favour. But the young Robert Devereux, the popular son
of the most popular and best beloved statesman of the
reign, who had lost his life in the Queen's service, and who
was himself a near kinsman of the Queen's, was to take
his place. Robert Devereux's father, Walter, was believed
to have been poisoned by Leicester, his stepfather. His
mother, nee Lettice or Letitia Knollys, who was reputed to
have been unfaithful to her murdered husband in his life-

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 21

time, lived with Leicester, and in 1578 was openly married
to him. For many years Robert Devereux had mistrusted
and opposed his stepfather with much animosity, throwing1
himself into the arms of his guardian, Burleigh, the Earl's
enemy. But Leicester and he had been reconciled, and by
Leicester's procurement, to check Raleigh, he had been
greatly advanced in the Queen's good will, until in the
Armada year, after the grand review of her army, the Queen,
at Tilbury, before the assembled troops, advanced him to
the most honoured position in the realm, as General of the
Queen's Horse and Knight of the Garter. He was at this
time in his twenty-first year. His advance was Raleigh's
eclipse, and in truth, by birth, by descent, by fame, Leicester
being dead, he had no competitor in Her Majesty's favour,
and was popularly regarded as her probable successor.

As a courtier he was, as is not usually the case, as
much the people's as the royal favourite. He had
won his spurs as Master of the Horse and Field Marshal
in the Low Countries under Leicester. As the Queen's
kinsman, his mother being her cousin german ; as the son
of the best beloved nobleman of his own day; as a
young peer, peerless in his high intellectual attainments,
and of most engaging presence and affability of manner,
he had won golden opinions from all sorts of people. He
was accepted as representing the high-souled munificence,
generosity, candour, and courage of his noble and royally-
descended father. Edward Waterhouse, writing to Sir
Henry Sidney, had said a few years before : — "And, I protest
unto your lordship I do not think there is at this day so
strong a man in England of friends, as the little Earl of
Essex, nor any man more lamented than his father since
the death of King Edward."* The young Earl, now General
of the Horse and Knight of the Garter, was honoured not

* Sidney's Correspondence, V. L, p. 147.

22 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

less as an accurate and graceful Latin scholar, than as a
warrior. He had taken his M.A. degree at Cambridge at
sixteen, and on the death of Leicester, competed with
Hatton for the Vice-Chancellorship, had approved himself
one of the best court poets of his time, the friend and
patron of players and literary men, and in this same
year of 1589, was the most feted, honoured, and panegyrised
public man in all the realm.

Thus he stood in the beginning of 1589, in the very eye
of the time, as " the glass of fashion, the mould of form, the
observed of all observers." With the spirit of chivalry and
rash adventure belonging to him, he had fitted out several
vessels at his own cost for the Portugal voyage, had fought
Sir Charles Blount, leaped into the surf at Peniche and
waded first to the shore, captured Cascaes, challenged the
chief Spaniards to single combat, and caused the Queen to
write to Sir John Norris in command to seize and send
him home before the end of May of this year.

George Peele, in a copy of verses, transcribed by Malone
from the only printed publication existing in his day, and
since burned, which are to be found in the third volume
of his works by Dyce, eulogised his adventures on this
expedition, with those of his leaders, in an Eclogue Gratu-
latory, entitled, "To the Right Honble. and Renowned
Shepherd of Albions Arcadia, Robert Earl of Essex and
Ewe, for his welcome into England from Portugal. Done
by George Peele, Master of Arts in Oxenford."* Essex, in
spite of the express command of the Queen, impulsively
and chivalrously escaped from Court and secretly joined
the expedition of Norreys and Blake at Falmouth, and
thus, adventures being to the adventurous, had put the
seal of popular fame upon his Court favour.

* At London, printed by Richard Jones, and are to be sold at the sign of the Rose and
Crown, over against the Falcon. 1589, 4to.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 23

At this precise time — Denmark being a Protestant power
in amity with the Queen — Danish affairs were in the
ascendant in the public mind. James VI. of Scotland,
the son of Mary, was wooing, and was shortly to win,
Ann of Denmark for his wife. A treaty was in progress
with the Danes concerning a long and lasting source of
strife, as bitter as Danegeldt, viz., the remission of the
ancient fiscal duty of Lastgeldt, known to us as the Sound
dues, and the liberty and rights of fishing in the Northern
Seas. Our ambassador, Daniel Kogers, was in Denmark*
(where an English company of players had recently been),
and Stephen Beale, on October 20th, 1589, had been for
twelve days in Edinburgh arranging the terms of the
proposed match between the Scottish King and his future
bride, f That august lady herself, with a fleet of sixteen or
seventeen sail, had left, or was about to leave, to meet her
future husband in Scotland. J

Here were grounds relative enough, existing in and since
the early part of 1589, why a dramatist, seeking for a
popular theme to take the town, should select a Danish
story. Curiously, in Danish history, there was the narra-
tive of a popular Prince whose father had been murdered,
whose mother had espoused the reputed murderer of her
first husband, who indirectly had been advanced and bene-
fited by the subsequent death of the usurping ruler. Is
it to be wondered at that, in searching through the Italian
and French novels of Bandello, Giraldi Cinthio, Masuccio,
and Belleforest, the much despised " Noverint," whoever he
might be, found in the Amleth of Saxo Grammaticus
something peculiarly apposite to the events of the hour —
something in Danish history particularly relevant and
suggestive in reference to the idol of the day and his rela-

* Camden, 148. Murdin, 627. t Murdin. State Papers, p. 637.

t "They have been seven weeks at sea," and twice or thrice within 60 mileaofth
coast of Scotland, and driven back again. Id., 637.

24 THE GENESIS OP HAMLET.

tionship to the man most honoured by the nation " since
the great King Edward died," and to that too well-known
story of the marriage of that adulterate and incestuous
personage, the very vice of kings — that cutpurse of
the Empire, the most sincerely hated man in all the
realm, if we are to accept Camden's and Ben Jonson's
testimony, and not that of Father Parsons, viz., Robert
Dudley, Earl of Leicester. The story, as we know, was of
the Revenge of Hamlet. What that revenge was we do
not, and, perhaps, never may know. That it ended with
the death of Hamlet is improbable, almost to certainty.
That the ghost of a most dear father, foully murdered, was
the moving instrument to incite the scholar and student
to warlike enterprise and renown, and in some sort to
revenge, is but too obvious. If, then, this play was to be
utilised and adapted, who so likely, so properly suited to
the task as Shakespere, who had already thrown in his
fortune with the stage, who was in the Earl of Essex's and
Lord Strange's theatrical company, and had been for
three or four years engaged in dramatic writing for a
subsistence ?

This, it may be suggested, is pure conjecture, and so, no
doubt it is, if we discard the " Noverint " allusion ; but
within three years of this date, the malice and envy of
another deposed playwright, Robert Greene, was reviling
him as the only Shakescene in the country, and fastening
on the only flaw he could discover as a joint in the harness
of the poet— on York's line to the She-wolf of France, " A
tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide," to parody it with
"A tyger's heart wrapt in a player's hide." Sufficient
proof that Shakespere was then successful and popular
enough to be well hated by the envious and malevolent,
and had accomplished much more than the vamping-up
of poor property manuscripts.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 25

From this date until 1602, the play of Hamlet may be
said to have been withdrawn from the stage. It was a
stale play. It was produced in June, 1794, once, as we
know by Henslowe's diary, by "the Lord Chamberlain's
and my Lord Admeralles men," Shakespere being a mem-
ber of the company, but only once under Henslowe's
management during a period of ten or eleven years. Like
Richard II., demanded by the Essex conspirators in 1602,
it was old and out of date, and ceased to draw. In 1602,
however, there were cogent reasons for its revival, for a new
life of popularity and profit, in reference to its hero, the
Lord Hamlet, the revived interest in Danish affairs, con-
sequent on the near approach to the throne of a Danish
princess, and the grievous tragedy in which the young
Earl of Essex had recently borne the chief part. Kobert
Devereux, the Queen's favourite, and Henry Wriothesley,
Earl of Southampton, Shakespere's dearest patron, were
brought to trial for high treason in Westminster Hall
on the llth of February, 1602, and the first-mentioned
Earl, being found guilty, was executed on Ash Wednes-
day, 17th February, 1602. On the 26th of July, 1602,
James Roberts, an enterprising bookseller, enters the play
called " The Revenge of Hamlet Prince of Denmark, as
it was lately Acted by the Lord Chamberlain his Ser-
vants," in the books of the Stationers' Company, with a
title page, showing that the play had been revived and
was again popular. Why ? Because the play was once
more pertinent to the time, because its story and characters
were familiar, and it reflected in its artistic semblance the
real world and its shadows, accommodating, as Bacon says,
" the show of things to the desires of the mind."

Before passing, however, to an analysis of this fitness and
appropriateness of reproduction, I must, at the risk of
being tedious, I regret to say, point out some of the probable

26 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

differences between the Hamlet of 1589, "The Revenge,"
&c., the two quartos of 1603 and 1604, and the existing text,
which is that of the folio of 1623, save where disfigured by
obvious clerical and typographic errors.

Between 1604 and 1623, there were four known quarto
editions of Hamlet published, substantially the same as that
of 1604, viz., of the years 1605-7-9-11— therefore we may
at once discard them. The quarto of 1604 may be con-
sidered the perfect copy of the matured Hamlet of the poet,
saving this only, that it is full of typographic blunders and
misprints ; that it contains no order of the various acts and
scenes; that some speeches, as, for example, the twenty-nine
lines referring to the children of Paul's, in the folio, are
wanting ; and that, although no doubt authentic, it shows
on every page, and almost in every line, the want of the
author's revision, and the entire absence of editorship.
Fortunately, a collation of the three texts, so material to
my argument, has been rendered possible by the scholarly
and wise prevision of Mr. S. Timmins of Birmingham, who,
in 1860, reprinted, from one of the only two copies known,
the 1603 qto., which was and is in the Duke of Devon-
shire's possession, collated with that of 1604.

The conclusion I draw from these works, in common with
that of their learned editor and Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, the
greatest living authority on the bibliography of Shakes-
pere, is briefly this, that the quartos of 1603 and 1604
were both piratical. They are each disfigured by blunders
that could not have escaped an editor's supervision.

The first recited edition (1603) was clearly a merely
garbled and imperfect issue of the tragedy, printed from
shorthand or abbreviated character notes, possibly helped
out from other sources, and was certainly wholly unautho-
rised by the author. The 1 604 quarto is much more accurate
and full, and presumably was also printed from better notes

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 27

taken in the same way, assisted by a playhouse copy, or
wholly from such transcript. Beyond this, however, it is
also manifest, that the tragedy of 1604 has in some senses
been re-written ; it contains speeches, references, and allu-
sions to matters which happened after the issue of the work
of 1603, in addition to the passages supplied, and which were
omitted in the first blundering and stupid publication. In
other words, the tragical history, which was playing in 1602,
was altered materially by its author in form, extended,
revised, and in places curtailed and pruned with a view to
the change of circumstances, sovereigns and dynasty, and
general events. The first quarto was issued, as appears
from the title-page, in 1603, after James the First's acces-
sion, which took place in March, 1603, and is issued by
Nicholas Ling and Richard Trundell, the latter a person
of no repute in his business; but was obviously printed
before, and, as already pointed out, surreptitiously from the
play which was being acted in 1602. The title-page, how-
ever, boldly proclaims the play to be Shakespere's, and is
as follows : — " The tragicall History of Hamlet, Prince of
Denmark, by William Shakspere, as it hath been diverse
times acted by his Highnesses servants in the city of
London : as also in the two Universities of Cambridge and
Oxford and elsewhere."

In proof that this edition was practically transcribed from
shorthand or other notes taken in an unauthorised way, it
will be sufficient to show that it is full of blunders, in-
accuracies, and omissions such as would or could arise only
from a dependence on the ear by a person ignorant of the
sense of that which he took down, and by the utter mis-
apprehension of the scribe of such passages and epithets
as passed his comprehension. Thus, in the well-known
soliloquy, "To be or not to be," as it appears in the folio
and second quarto, at the lines —

28 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourne
No traveller returns

is printed

For in that dream of death, when we awake
And born before an everlasting Judge,
From whence no passenger ever returned

showing that the word bourne was wholly misunderstood,
and was used as " born."

In giving this citation from very many similar proofs to
be adduced, I feel that I am, in a measure, digressing, this
paper being limited to general considerations of probability.
So far as I have proceeded, I have endeavoured to show
that certain extraneous reasons, not very weighty if taken
singly, but of genuine significance when accepted cumula-
tively, point to the probable fact that Shakespere, who had,
doubtless, or as I should say, certainly (in this agreeing with
Mr. W. L. Lowes Rushton, Mr. Armitage Browne, the Editor
of the Sonnets and a critic of rare acumen, and Lord Camp-
bell), served some short time in a lawyer's office before
leaving Stratford, was " The Noverint " referred to by Nash.
Next, that the play of Hamlet, produced in 1589, was
certainly his production. That the theme had been selected
on account of its appositeness in reference to the rising for-
tunes of the Queen's new favourite and possible heir, the
patron of the poet, and kinsman of his chief friend, Lord
Southampton, viz., Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex ; and
that the Ghost was introduced as a reminder of the young
Earl's father, in that

Fair and warlike form,
In which the majesty of buried Denmark
Did sometimes march.

* * * *

A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man.

Further, that the revival of the play before July, 1602, and
immediately following the Earl of Essex's execution, which

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 29

took place in February, and its alteration with a view to the
advent of James in the subsequent year, point but to one
conclusion, viz., that the play was intended to have reference
to immediate events, and that there were, indeed, special
reasons — first, for its production in 1589, and next in 1602
and 1603. Kepeating what has been said, " that the poet
often took advantage of the facts then recent and the
passions then in motion," assuredly this is an instance in
point.

But I do not rest my case materially on what I have so far
advanced. To those who discredit psychologic analysis —
to me the most certain of all forms of deduction, where
the premises are accurately known — I have arguments
wholly different and relevant enough, to adduce. Upon
this authority I must confess that the identity of character
of Hamlet with that of the living Earl his friend, is to
me the key to the entire position, the secret of this
hitherto inscrutable mystery. How may we suggest an
explanation of the wayward caprices, the self-condemna-
tion, the remorse, the questioning, and even cynical
introspection exercised by Hamlet over his own motives
and mind in his calmer moments, so relentless and in-
quisitorial, side by side with that impulsive hardihood,
even to the point of callousness and cruelty, as in the
death of Polonius, and his disposition of Guildenstern and
Kosencrantz, save by reference to some living exemplar,
to some possible human being who presented such features.
The Earl of Essex was such a man, in every aspect
of tenderness, contemplation, and courage, of wisdom in
thought, folly in action. He was the first to land at Cadiz,
as Hamlet was the first to board the pirates. He was in all
things his counterfeit presentment. His letters, history,
and all the documents and testimony which exist and refer
to him prove it. No more conclusive evidence could be

30 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

offered before a legal tribunal, for his writings cannot be
varied, and remain. The scholarship,, the melancholy, the
love of contemplation, the nobility, so apparently incon-
sistent with his cruelty and waywardness to Ophelia, and
his rash and impulsive valour — how are these to be
explained ? They were the Earl's very self. It was against
this problem that the mind of Goethe beat incessantly
as a hungry sea without satisfaction. An overmastering
motive, as he suggested, is but an imperfect answer. It
were in truth as easy to explain the east and west wind.
This man " that lacked advancement," proud, rebellious,
ambitious, without the energy or power to achieve his ends,
afflicted with that —

Craven scruple

Of thinking too precisely on the event ;
A thought which, quartered, hath but one part wisdom
And ever three parts coward.

This "flower of Denmark," bereft of all the wealth he
had, who falls from weakness to lightness, and "thence to
madness "; this man, so open and free from all contriving,
is not as easily summarised by the flashy, flimsy, and inop-
portune image of the oak in a flower pot that the German
poet suggested.

I am. however, reminded that I have exhausted your
patience, if I have not disclosed my story, and that the
genuine arguments, to logical and literal people, are not
such as can be presented by reference to identity of
character, but rather by accumulated internal evidence and
analysis of the text of the play itself. The differences
between the quartos of 1603 and 1604, and the folio of 1623,
appear to me to suggest many confirmations of my position,
absolutely unanswerable, but these can only be shown in a
careful and detailed analysis. I must, therefore, leave for
a second paper my further proofs. These I would propose to
marshal in the order — internal and extraneous, or synthetic

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

31

and analytic. The dissection of the play, sentence by sen-
tence, must necessarily be dull, but the task (I would it
were not so) is inevitable, if we are challenged to proof.
Some features of curious literary reference may, however,
relieve if they cannot reward our patience. If not, the
potency of the subject must justify our temerity. There is
often a curious feature of romance in authentic history,
which Dryasdust Historians, and even the picturesque
fabulists, studiously and perversely seem to ignore, or
strangely to miss. My task is to prove that the great
Queen Elizabeth was the friend of Hamlet ; that the ring
which she certainly gave to her young lover, in spite of
Professor Brewer and the rest of the iconoclasts, was given
to Hamlet ; that the Countess of Nottingham, whom she
shook in her bed, was shaken because of Hamlet, and that
the Queen for very grief sickened and died for Hamlet.
We owe indirectly to this noble personage's munificence,
the Bodleian Library, Wotton's Keliquce, Guiccardini's
History, the De Augmentis, the Novum Organum, and
in part the honourable obsequies of Spenser were due to
his liberality. He was the friend of Sidney, Barnveldt,
Naunton, Antony and Francis Bacon, Sir T. Bodley, and
the rival of Raleigh, the " cousin " of Henry of Navarre
and of the Scottish King, the patron of Shakespere, the
lover of his sovereign, the present hope of the Puritan
party and of the persecuted Catholics, the future Protes-
tant King of England, in one word — Hamlet.

THE "POACHER'S GAZETTE."

BY H. T. CROFTON.

BY the courtesy of Mr. Johannes Frydendahl Hoffgaard,
the Danish Consul at Manchester, a literary curiosity
is now submitted to the Literary Club. It consists of six
numbers of the Poacher s Gazette, with a preface by
Frederick Opffer, of Kjb'ge, in Denmark. The numbers
are : —

No. 6, llth October, 1880. First year.

No. 10, 20th March, 1882. Second year.

No. 41, 9th April, 1884. Fourth year.

No. 43, 23rd April, 1884. Fourth year.

No. 9, 20th August, 1881 [5]. Fifth year.

No. 1, 27th January, 1886. Sixth year.
Of these six numbers the first two have a much more
primitive heading than the other four.

Mr. Opffer states in his preface that Niels Nielsen was
the proprietor of this enterprising journal, that he was
born on May 1, 1848, at Svansbjerg, near Kjoge, and
was brought up as a wheel-turner at a rope walk. He
first started a paper, which he called "Folk Customs of
Present and Past Times, written at Niel Nielsen's Jour-
nalistery (Bladskriveri), at Ringsted, St. Hans-gade." This

THE POACHER'S GAZETTE. 33

Journalistery, or Scriptorium, was in the garret of an out-
building, to which access was obtained by an outside
" chucky-ladder." He was forced to discontinue this jour-
nalistic effort through having to undertake a "scientific
journey."

On his return he settled near his birthplace, which is in
the midst of the large forests of the diocese of Vallo, where
a great deal of poaching is carried on. Nielsen, who was
not averse to a little poaching on his own account, speedily
formed the odd notion of a Poachers' Assurance Society,
and to give publicity to his scheme, he started a " Club-
paper" for poachers. The first four numbers were printed
at Copenhagen. These are not nearly so interesting as
those which followed, for Nielsen came to the conclusion
that it did not pay to have the paper printed at Copen-
hagen, so he made up his mind to try to print the news-
paper himself. At Kingsted he begged from the printers
a handful of rejected type, and at Kjoge he obtained some
more, and then, a la Gutenberg, he constructed a press, a
wonderful contrivance, decorated with rune-like inscrip-
tions.

With much trouble he managed to issue the first home-
printed number of " The Sporting Club Intelligence, or
Neivs of the Night, a weekly paper for the use and amuse-
ment of all classes of people." It set forth the length of
the night, times of sunrise and sunset, as well as moonrise
and moonset, though the incorrectness of its statements
probably misled some of his customers and landed them
in the hands of the Foresters. The text was a perfectly
arbitrary mixture of Roman, broken, and Gothic type,
with capital letters in the middle of the words. He
engraved the title himself, and some of the headlines.
These peculiar hieroglyphics, which are frequently re-
versed, haye the appearance of an unknown language,
c

34 THE POACHER'S GAZETTE.

Later on he added a woodcut representing a hunter taking
aim (but more like a headsman), a stag with an eye like a
dead fish, and a dog that looks as if it had Wellington
boots on its fore legs. The illustration is calculated to
lead one to think that it is the work of an Eskimo, or a
Zulu Kaffir's first attempt at printing. The orthography
is after the same fashion, and the contents leave nothing
to be desired.

Nielsen, moreover, set himself to elevate poaching from
its humble rank. His crowning effort was the classic
maxim :

Vildte er for Alle

LAd Bossen bAre KnAllde.

Game is for all,

Let the gun go bang.

He was of opinion that this motto ought to be emblazoned
on the Sporting Club's banner, which was to be dark green,
with a white stag on it. In consonance with the sentiment
of his motto, his principle was that all were brothers and
all hunters were Sport-brethren. On this basis he an-
nounced a casualty as follows :

Last Wednesday we lost one of our great Sport-brethren
By the death namely of Count Wedel of Wedelsborg.

He cited both Moses and the Prophets to prove that
game is common property, and that poaching consequently
was an idea that did not exist in their days, because " the
chase is alike quite free for every one."

In support of his theory, he composed the Sporting Club
Laws, which consisted of 27 clauses, which fully bore
witness to his peculiar notions of the rights of property.
Like all democrats, however, he distinguished between the
liberty he accorded to others and that which he required
for himself. Clauses 1 and 27 were characteristic of this,
and ran as follows : —

<((1) The Sporting Club is absolutely monarchical. Its

THE POACHER'S GAZETTE. 35

government consists of the Director, who makes the laws,
which all who enter as members will have to obey impli-
citly.

" (27) The Governor of this Club requires neither respect
nor disrespect from members, but directs that we shall all
be as brethren, and in case of ' accidents ' to anyone, the
others shall advance against the enemy like one man. —
Under my hand and name, NIEL NIELSEN."

Thus one sees that under Nielsen there was " an armed
peace." By " enemies " he probably meant the owners of
forests and the gamekeepers.

His Gazette, besides giving information, as already stated,
about the length of the night, contained a Gamedealer's
Report, which quoted the current prices from ravens and.
badgers to owls and sparrows.

It also gave notices of hunts, episodes of animal life,
hunting anecdotes, the theme varying from the chase of
the largest mammalia down to searches for certain little
six-legged blood-suckers of two kinds.

Although it seems that Nielsen was constantly plagued
with these " small deer," it is not on that account that he
was accused of being a poacher.

The Gazette occasionally contained some simple poetical
contributions and whole romances, but, for lack of type,
these, when not very short, had to be continued through
several numbers, so that it often happens that three or
four lines of a tale appear in one number, three or four
lines more in the next, and so on. Luckily for the readers,
they were seldom of absorbing interest.

Occasionally the press came to grief, but the Gazette
appeared all the same, for Nielsen wrote out the whole of
it himself. On one of these occasions he gives it as his
opinion and conviction that an editor was three times better
deserving of his annual takings than the clergy were of

i 6

THE POACHER'S GAZETTE.

theirs, on the ground that an editor seldom has any land,
and must study closely both day and night, whilst the
clergy have land and receive their stipends with certainty,
but seldom study more than once a week.

Although Nielsen looked askant on the clergy, the quin-
tessence of his ill-will fell on the gamekeepers, for whom he
conceived anything but friendly feelings. How he could
cheat and make game of them was his greatest delight.

It is said that, to lead the gamekeepers astray, he made
himself some boots with soles reversed, so that the heels
were where the toes should be. When the gamekeepers
saw his spoor in the snow, they thought it led out of the
forest, while Nielsen had just entered it.

The gamekeepers, on their side, did not regard him with
much favour, but gave him, as he himself states, a variety
of nicknames, one of which was " the Frenchman," because
he snuffled.

Once, when he was summoned, he came clattering into
court in a huge pair of wooden clogs, which the judge
ordered him to take off and leave outside. The next time
he was summoned he came in the same clogs, and the same
scene was repeated. Whilst Nielsen was taking off his
clogs, he expressed a fear lest they should be stolen. The
judge assured him that he would be responsible for their
not being stolen, so he left the clogs outside and went in in
his stockings, but he had not gone far before he was
ordered out again, and told to put his clogs on again as
quick as he could, which he did, and clattered along in
them, making as much noise as possible. The reason for
the change of orders was, that Nielsen had filled his clogs
with tar, and his stockings had made the floor anything
but beautiful.

Another time he was charged with having been seen in
the forest with arms. He admitted it, but added that his

THE POACHERS GAZETTE.

37

gun would not shoot. Thereupon he produced to the Court
a gun made entirely of wood, but the story does not say
whether the Court took it as a good excuse.

One of his favourite ideas was to become the owner of a
bit of land. He begged the Commons Trustees to give him
a bit of the common to cultivate, but was refused. Then
he took a house in Svansbjerg, entered it without the
owner's leave, and built a hovel like a pigstye, in which he
would have settled himself like a cave-dweller of old, but
the owner turned him out, and much offended him by
doing so. Then he took up his abode with an old woman,
who distributed and sold the Gazette as well as wheat bread,
and begged, while he, to use his favourite expression, sat
on his editorial stool.

The Gazette began on July 14, 1880, and appeared
with a few intervals until January 27, 1886. It lost, how-
ever, in the later numbers, much of its originality, as
Nielsen's own contributions were less frequent, which caused
the subscribers to fall off.

Nielsen now lives in Svansbjerg as the poor inmate of
a common lodging-house, and earns his living as a joiner,
mill-wright, basket-maker, etc. With his queer fancies
and extravagant ways he frequently startles the district
authorities in a laughable manner. Of his own worth he
has no slight opinion.

His Gazette has, remarkably enough, quite disappeared.
The common folk have used them for wrapping up pro-
visions, etc. When it got known that there was "a
poacher's paper," collectors subscribed to it, but they could
only obtain the last and least interesting year's issue. A
happy train of chances enabled Mr. Opffer to collect a
complete set which he has resolved to present to the Great
Danish Royal Library, which has hitherto only owned a
single number. Mr. Opffer has an excellent duplicate set,

38 THE POACHERS GAZETTE.

and a whole lot of loose numbers, which he intends to pre-
sent to leading collections at home and abroad. This will
prevent such a literary curiosity from being entirely lost.
When Mr. Opffer paid a visit last year to the Manchester
Jubilee Exhibition in company of several of his com-
patriots, he was struck with our original Free Library at
Chetham College and with its worthy bigger brother in
King Street, and has sent these numbers with his interesting
preface to Mr. Hoffgaard for presentation to one of those
useful institutions.

I

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

BY R. HOOKE.

WONDER if there be a man in this nervous genera-
tion who has never spent a sleepless night. If there
be, that man is more to be envied than Solomon, with all
his wealth, his wisdom, and his wives.

Not long ago I heard read a poem, by a gifted but obscure
poet, the burden of which was the pleasure and bliss of
simply being alive. Whether it were owing to some derange-
ment of my liver or some other part of my organisation, I
quite disagreed with the sentiments of that over-happy poet,
and felt at the time a malicious desire to smite him with a
moderate term of that complaint called by the learned
" insomnia," or sleeplessness, which I take to be, in some
sense, the state of being rather too much alive. A few
nights of sleeplessness have at times enabled me to solve
that vexed question, " to be or not to be." My conclusion
is, that after the thoughtless days of healthy childhood,
and its bliss of ignorance, these delights of simply being
alive begin to decrease with increasing years and increasing
knowledge, up to the meridian of life, when trouble and
care begin to turn the scale, and from that preponderate
down to life's close. In support of this opinion, I think I

40 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

could meet that joyous poet with the words of others of
higher rank, that might serve somewhat to neutralize his
views. One, great and well known, sums up all as "Vanity
and vexation of spirit;" and another, later, writes as

follows: —

Count o'er the joys thy days have seen,
Count o'er thine hours from anguish free,
And know whatever thou hast been

" 'Twere somewhat better not to be."

IJut to my tale : At the date of the sleepless night I have
described I was at the verdant age of twenty-four. I had
received one of my first orders for professional services as an
artist in the family of a country gentleman, and it was ar-
ranged that I should reside at his house during the execution
of the work. On a fine October afternoon 1 started in all
the buoyancy of youth for the aforesaid gentleman's country
seat. I will not detain you with a narrative of my journey,
for the novelty to me of railway travelling at that date dis-
tracted my attention even from the golden beauties of the
autumn landscape, and —

The glory that the wood receives
At sunset in its brazen leaves.

When I reached my station, there was a trap in waiting to
convey me to the great house. This was the residence of an
Irish landlord — one of that unfortunate class whose succes-
sors, suffering for the sins of their fathers, are now the victims
of the " unwritten law " and the violated rights of property.
The house was just one of those old fabrics, which we have
seen so often pictured in Christmas and other tales. Part
had been built in the days of Anne, and a large portion must
have been modern in " the good old days when George the
Third was King." We approached by the usual old, wide,
and sweeping entrance gate, with its ivy-grown pillars,
surmounted by "grewsome" griffins, guarding themselves
with moss-covered shields. The long, winding avenue,

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, 41

through endless plantations, enclosing small but picturesque
lakes. We passed the village, and the old village church,
ivied o'er, it is needless to say, and surrounded by the
grassy mounds and time-worn stones, leaning sadly over
the dust of " the rude forefathers of the hamlet." As we
drove on, I learned from the coachman, that the family
were from home, all but the master, and he was gone to
dine out at some distance. When I reached the house, a
number of servants — not much occupied in the absence of
the family — took a lively interest in my arrival, and I could
guess, from their kindly familiarity, that they were uncer-
tain as to what rank I might hold in the family during my
stay. I was, however, very soon taken under the fostering
care of Mrs. OTlagherty, the worthy housekeeper, " fat,
fair, and fifty," a good specimen of half caste between a
cook and a duchess. Under her orders a sumptuous repast
was soon provided, with tea of a decoction known only
to housekeepers of middle age. As bedtime approached
I inquired of the butler as to when he expected his
master home, and if he kept early hours. " Och ! be
dad, that he does, sir ; he mostly comes home in the
morning." Mrs. OTlagherty herself was kind enough
to conduct me to my bedroom — " the big room in the
ould wing where the Duke ot Northumberland had slept
long ago when he was Lord-Lieutenant." On our way
thither I said, " Oh, Mrs. OTlagherty, why did you give
me such strong tea ?" " Strong, sir ! No it was just a dhrop
of my own, the very best inside the walls." " Too good,"
said I — " that was its only fault — too good to sleep on, and
I am a bad sleeper at best." " Indeed, sir, and that's just
my own complaint. I am subject to terrible fits of thinking,
and when these come on I can't sleep a blessed wink, but I
find that the best and only cure for this is just a thimbleful
of hot whisky lying down, and if you'll allow me to bring

42 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

you a drop same as I take myself, it'll put you to sleep in a
twinkle." I consented to try the experiment, and in a short
time this good woman returned with a smoking goblet,
about which I hinted that she must surely have meant a
tailor's thimble when she spoke of the quantity. She
assured me that like the tea it was a dhrop of her own ;
there was not a headache in a puncheon of it ; and it would
put the Banshee herself to sleep ! " Hollo ! " said I, " have
you got a Banshee here ?" " Och, indeed, there is one be-
longs to the family, but, thank God, she has not been heard
since the night the ould master died." " How long since may
that be ? " said I. "Well, sir, I was only a little girl at the
time, about the height of your knee." " So lately ! " said I,
with such emphasis as drew from her the question, " Och !
sir, how long would you take it to be ?" The guess which
I ventured at the number of years since Mrs. O'Flagherty
was only the height of my knee was evidently so satisfac-
tory that we parted on the most amicable terms. I par-
took of a small portion of the grand soporific, of which the
potency and flavour at least had not been exaggerated.
Before undressing I spent some time in the vain endeavour
to silence a cricket who had opened a sharp and irritating
chirp somewhere near to my bed, but which seemed alike
near to every point in the room. Christopher North said
there were two noises that no mortal could locate, " a corn-
crake and a cricket." I have failed in both, and so I did
again. Every corner and nook I examined it seemed alike
near and alike loud. At length I gave it up in despair,
and laid me down with a prayer, I fear neither fervent nor
effectual for those that persecute. As I settled into perfect
silence the cricket put on sevenfold power, louder, nearer,
clearer, and sharper, till my ears tingled like a music fork.
I afterwards learned from the curate, who was an ento-
mologist, that this was a species of wild or field cricket,

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 43

whose chirp can be heard on a quiet night at almost half a
mile distance. I at length determined to get up and try
once more to put htm to silence. Now Pharaoh's coal cellar
during the plague could be no darker than was my old
wainscoted room on that cloudy October night. I think
I must have heard a conundrum which asks, " What house-
hold duty is accompanied by the most intense feeling?"
and when all have given it up the answer is, Looking for
the match box in the dark. I did feel here, I did feel
there, up and down above and around. It is needless to
say I soon lost my bearings, and my own whereabouts was
as great a mystery to me as was that of the matchbox or
the cricket. I knocked my head and my shins against all
manner of indescribable objects, knocking some of them
down, and some of them knocking me down, till at length,
in a prostrate condition, I gave myself up to sad reflection.
My broken shins suggested that our original Darwinian
system of locomotion would be the safest under the cir-
cumstances, and the re-discovery of my bed was now the
object of first importance. So, on all fours, I started, and
just in time and place least expected I came bump against
the old fourposter in which " the Duke of Northumber-
land slept long ago when he was Lord Lieutenant."
Glad once more to find my position in space, I — now
cold and dejected — made speed for my pillow, not failing,
however, in my blindness to overturn the little tripod
table on which stood the goblet holding the greater part of
my grand soporific — Mrs. O'Flagherty's "whisky nagus."
There are two things which are said to very seldom come
singly, and these are misfortunes and twins. Ruminating
on these facts, I " wrapped the drapery of my couch about
me," and "longed for the land of dreams." All was soon
so quiet that I could hear my watch tick, and the village
clock struck Twelve.

44 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

If I were manufacturing a story instead of giving a plain
narrative of facts, now would be the time for the castle
spectre to appear upon the scene, but no "dim ghost"
honoured me with a visit. Suddenly the cricket resumed,
louder, clearer, nearer than ever, and on raising my head
it became clearly evident that he was now on the very
scene of my latest disaster, the spilled "whisky nagus."
Now, whatever teetotallers may say about the exemplary
temperance of the lower animals, I believe it is a well-
known fact that no insect ever declines to partake of the
"flowing bowl" when he has the opportunity. Aware of
this fact, I awaited the result. Very soon the chirp began
to lose its ringing sharpness, it changed to something soft,
measured, and musical. The cricket was happy. Anon it
became muffled, jerky, and irregular. The cricket was
tipsy. At last it died out in a faint and husky whisper.
The cricket was drunk. Silence reigned once more. All
was still, and, through fancy's ear, "I heard the trailing
garments of the night sweep through her marble halls."
Not a sound was heard to break the solemn silence, and
the village clock struck One.

A gentle pressure weighed my eyelids down, and balmy
sleep approached, when, hark ! two dogs in their walks
abroad, met right under one of my windows. A dispute
arose — no doubt in regard to matters of property — which
they determined to settle there and then. I think most
boys, young and old, will agree with me that there
are few things, for the size of it, more terrible than
a dog fight, when allowed to run its course, free from
human intervention. Language falls short of expressing its
horrors. The conflict opened with a simultaneous volley
of barks from both sides, followed by the terrible charge
at close quarters, growl, snap, yell, gnash, choke, and
gurgle formed the fiendish din that woke the startled ear

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

45

of night. Dreadful, however, as these sounds were at that
solemn hour, they were too earthly and well known to
make "each individual hair to stand on end;" but they
were such as filled me with the grim hope of seeing by the
morrow's dawn both combatants in death laid low. Dogs
small and great, dogs far and near, bayed their deep-
mouthed sympathy. Even the feathered tribes " awoke,
and blessed themselves and slept again." At length the
last gasp was gasped, the last groan was groaned, and all
was hushed once more. The cricket was asleep, the dogs
were dead, and the village clock struck Two ! Now —

Come to me, gentle sleep,

I pine, I pine for thee ;
Come with thy spells, the soft, the deep,

And set my spirit free.

"Nature's soft nurse" approached at last. She waved her
magic wand athwart my brow, when, hush ! a thud was
heard, a gentle thud — if such a phrase can be allowed —
evidently close outside a window in quite another quarter
of my chamber, and which looked out on the roof of another
wing of the building. This was followed by a cry loud and
unmusical, yet one of the most familiar of the sounds of our
night. It was not "the fatal banshee's boding scream,"
nor was it the voice of the bird of ill omen, but it was the
loud cry of a love-sick swain of the feline race. This
creature opened his loud and amorous wail, and continued
it until my fretful brain interpreted it into broken words
and sentences like "Mamar-liar," with violent denunciations
of hated rivals, and with threats alarming of a " row- wow-
wow." Soon distant and sympathetic sounds were heard,
till each responsive roof had found a tongue. Maria
answered from her turret proud, back to her joyous swain,
who called to her aloud. After a time I had reason to
believe that Maria's answer was favourable ; for the wooer

46 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

retired from ray window, the sounds of complaining ceased,
the notes of love were softened by distance, till, " on the
breeze the wailing died away."

Now in thy magic power

Over my senses creep ;
Give me one dark, one dreamless hour —

One hour of blessed sleep.

I turned my weary head, I turned my burning pillow.
All was hushed once more, and the village clock struck
Three.

The report above given of the doings of Mrs. O'Flagherty's
colony of cats is perhaps the most literally truthful of this
narrative, and may be worthy of a word or two of explana-
tion. It is well known that most women, if .not "minis-
tering angels," are gifted, more or less, with the milk of
human kindness in the breast or brain, or in both, and it
usually takes the form of what phrenologists term philo-
progenitiveness, or something allied to it. With this milk
of human kindness Mrs. OTlagherty, you will readily
believe, was largely endowed, and, as in many cases, in the
absence of their own offspring, it must flow out to some
living creature, be it biped or be it quadruped, dogs and
cats, as we all know, are often the lucky and undeserving
recipients of this milk of woman kindness.

Mrs. OTlagherty had no son or daughter to clasp to her
warm heart, and her indulgent master allowed her to give
vent to her loving kindness on a colony of cats, the wonder
and admiration of all beholders.

It has been truly said that the most miserable of God's
creatures is the human creature when deprived of
hope and sleep. Sleep came not yet ; but I had still a ray
of hope, for not a ray of the tardy October dawn had yet
pierced the darkness of my chamber. Silence reigned pro-
found. I could hear my hair grow ! The pulse in my ear,
and my watch on the table, competed in a race, with a noise

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 47

not hitherto appreciated. Just then, for the first time, it
came into my recollection that I had once overheard a wise
old lady say that a good remedy for wakefulness would be
found in counting slowly 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, etc., till you reached
1,000, and if that did not bring sleep go on to a million.
I determined to try the experiment, and to it I went,
deliberately,—!, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. The trial was hopeful,—
8, 9, 10, 11, 12,— eyelids begin to fall,— 13, 14, 15, 16,—
dim, shadowy forms rose and quivered and fell, — 17, 18,
19, 20, — counting mixed, mistaken, and repeated 20, 19,
21, 2, 3, 4 — sleep was at hand — 20 — twen — nineteen —
twent — . Flap, flap, flap, goch-och-och-hoo-oo-oo — . The
prolonged, heathenish, fiendish crow of a great Cochin-
china cock fell like the last trumpet on my startled ear.
This was promptly answered by a bantam, in a treble —
short, defiant, and so sharp that it shakes my nerves now
to think of it. "Cock called unto cock, and cock unto
cock replied." Ghosts scampered home to their lawful
dwellings. The feathered tribes awoke and joined the
discord. Sleep, fare-thee-well ! and hope has fled at last,
and with them "fled the shades of night." Dirges of
sleep passed through, but solaced not my weary brain.
Every solemn quotation was answered from without by
some more brain-racking voice. " Methinks I heard a
voice cry, sleep no more." Go-och, och, och, o-o-o-o —
" Glamis hath murder'd sleep." Quack-quack-quack,
curdoo, curdoo — " The pigeon wooes his mate with fond
curdoo." Such was the advent and such the sounds of
that watch of the night, which Shakespere calls " The first
cock," or, as Hogg terms it, " The first stroke of the shep-
herd's clock," or, in Scott's words, " The dreamy hour when
night and morning meet."

Now it is well known in rural districts that after the
" first cock " and its consequences, there usually follows a

48 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.'

lull or silence for about the space of half-an-hour ; this
followed, all was silent. My pulse and my watch again
were heard, and the village clock struck Four.

Now, strange to say, through all the noises of that
eventful night, not a sound indicating the return of the
master, reached my ear. The " masther " who, as you
may remember, kept " early hours, and mostly came home
in the morning," as good a " masther " — all averred — " as
ever mounted horse, or turned a card.:' Why " tarry the
wheels of his chariot ?" I turned once more my weary
pillow. Tick, tick, tick, tick goes my watch, and buff,
buff goes the pulse in my ear. "Erin, mavourneen, the
grey dawn is breaking." A dim, ghostly streak of light
now defines the lines of my windows.

For sure and slow the great round earth
Doth roll from out of night her dewy side.

Hush ! The sound of hoofs is heard ! Nearer and louder,
till, with a crash like a volley of musketry, in rolled the
wheels over the rough pavement of the courtyard,
scattering wild dismay through ducks, cocks, geese, and
other denizens of the farm-yard — all screaming their
loudest for mercy and protection. Soon after I heard
footsteps on the stair, heavy, irregular, and unsteady ;
they were those of the master and a friend. They were
engaged in lively conversation. They stopped on a landing
within hearing of my door, to the keyhole of which, I am
ashamed to confess, I placed my ear. They were endea-
vouring to settle a disputed point, and here are some of
the disjointed sentences that reached my ear: — "Now
John — -just a moment — let me 'splain ; 'scuse me — just
a moment. You held — knave — trumps — small saver;
now listen to me — just a moment — you held the knave —
small saver, Jack Hilton led ace of diamonds." " No,
no — 'scuse me— Jack Hilton led small trump." "No,

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 49

no — pardon me — I rem — I rem — 'olect clear No, no,

my dear fellow, I re'lect clearly, that was previous game."
" No, no, pardon me, Jack had the lead — led ace of dia-
monds— you threw knave of trumps — his lordship held
ace of trumps. His lordship cautious as fox — never plays
for large pool without ace or king and saver — forty pound
pool. You should have held knave for next round — small
trump could have beat — saved game." " No, no, John —
'scuse me — let m'splain — Jack held king of trumps." " No,
no, Fred, allow me — Jack held trump of kings — I led ten
of hearts — Jack beat past — you played knave — lost game,
my dear fellow, lost game." By this time they had moved
to a distance beyond my hearing, and as far as I could
judge, the dispute — hot as it was — ended amicably, the
friends retired to their apartments, and the house was still
once more. I opened my windows, looked out on the
many-coloured garb of autumn, as it shone through its
grey mantle of mist, looked over the scenes of the past
night, bathed my temples in the refreshing element,
and, after dressing, ventured cautiously on a short ex-
cursion of discovery through the great house, which, with
the exception of a loud and measured snore proceeding
from some undefined quarter, was once more wrapped in
solemn silence. I soon entered a room, holding bookcases,
large and well stored with works, whose interest to me can
be guessed when I give you some of their titles : " Brian's
Veterinary Surgery" (four vols.), "Martin Doyle on
Manures" (two vols.), "Celebrities of the Turf" (three vols.),
" Gardeners' Calender" (six vols.), " Castlereagh's Corres-
pondence" (twelve vols.), etc., etc. At length my eye
fell on a goodly volume, richly bound, and adorned with
illuminated crest. It was entitled " A Course of Seven

Sermons, by the Rev. Matthew ." I must suppress

the name, as it was the same as that of mine host. I
r>

50 A SLEEPLESS NIGHT.

rightly surmised that these sermons must have been written
by a member of the family, as I had heard that one was a
high dignitary of the Church. I thought it might not be
unwise on my part to gain some knowledge of these sermons,
in case I should chance to come in contact with their
eminent author. So I retired to a sofa, selected one of the
sermons, and, reclining at ease, drew " the drapery of my
couch about me," and the village clock struck Five.

The words of the text were : " Why should living man
complain ?" The introductory remarks were elaborate, and
the words well chosen. It was pointed out in clear and
forcible terms, for our consideration, how many evils we
escape which providentially fall on the heads of others,
though we inherit, equally with them, God's wrath and
curse : " Then why should living man complain ?" The
whole matter was sound, orthodox, and salutary. At the
second page I began to feel its soothing influence, settling
me more and more into a reclining posture. At the third
page the book itself began to shift and sink, as though its
weight increased ; next the lines — even the most orthodox
passages — began, contrary to their known stability, to
shake and swerve, so that I had to return to them
repeatedly. At length the very words began to mix and
waver, and elude my darkening sight. At last, my eyelids
closed, the book slipped from my grasp, my senses shut, and,
all unheard by me — the village clock struck Six.

INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

BY J. ERNEST PHYTHIAN.

in Italy, and, indeed, the Italians them-
JL selves, are beginning to take notice of the changes
which modern industrial and commercial enterprise are
making in the appearance of the country. Italy, being so
rich in records of the past, has more to spoil than any other
land, and a spoiling process is now at work, and has arrived
at the exact point at which its injuries are most acutely
felt. A one-sided contest is being fought between the old
and the new, a contest in which the old is bound to lose
and the new to win, and the old is just beginning to show
signs of discomfiture. One need not be a Ruskin, nor even
a disciple of Ruskin, to feel pained by the sight of the
changes that are taking place. The Italy of to-day is
becoming something quite different from the Italy of the
past. It is as if the choicest jewels in her crown were being
cast away as worthless, and paste and common pebbles were
being meanly substituted for them. I start then with an
Ichabod, and shall most likely finish with a cry of woe.
But assuredly, in writing of Italy, we can be nothing if we
do not try to be artistic, and to bring out the dark part of
my picture, I must first emphasise its light — or, to keep to
the prophetic tone, I must describe the beauties of my

52 INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

garden of roses, before describing how it has become a
wilderness. A few reminiscences of a recent holiday in Italy
will suffice for this first part of my task.

Let us imagine then that we have crossed the Alps, with
the lightning illumining their rugged peaks, and the
thunder rumbling through their gloomy gorges as we
descended at evening into the Lombard plain, and that we
have come within the walls of Verona, not, however, its
ancient walls, for their continuity has long been broken,
and the city now stretches far beyond their ancient line of
limit — though they are not the least interesting feature of
the place, breaking irregularly and picturesquely through
its modern arrangements, and crowning the neighbouring
hills with their crumbling towers. Let us imagine that we
have spent a few days rambling about its streets and
piazzas, and thinking and dreaming in its churches, and
are recalling what we have felt and seen. From the
railway carriage window we gathered our first impression
of a many-towered city, apparently lying in a hollow,
where the hills, last outposts of the Alpine armies, meet
and pass into the plain. From the city itself, say from
one of the bridges beneath which the Adige flows swiftly
by, we have often seen those hills, and beyond them the
mountains upon whose broad flanks perchance a cloud has
rested motionless throughout the day. But above Verona
is the cloudless blue, not cold, far, and positive like our
English sky, but burning, near, overwhelming, apparently
but little higher than the house tops, and bathing the
stately campanili in a motionless flood. Below, all is
bright colour, houses still showing patches of fresco, or
adorned with flowers and creeping plants. In the market-
place are fruit and flowers, and everywhere many coloured
dress — we remember, do we not, having seen a man clad
in a complete suit of purely green hue, and that he did

INDUSTRIAL ITALY 53

not clash with his brilliant surroundings? We have
been in an amphitheatre only less large than the
Colosseum, and with all its tiers of seats in perfect order,
and have passed under a veritable Roman arch, curious by
reason of its spirally fluted columns. We have stood in
the shade of the thirteenth century fortress, and sketched
the castellated bridge which joins it to the farther river
bank. We have spelled our way through the stories
quaintly pictured on the old bronze gates of the church of
San Zeno, and dreamed in its quiet cloister, whence, over
the church's roof we saw the mighty shaft of its campanile
piercing the blue vault of heaven. We have lingered by
the famous tombs of the Scaligers, in their fitly chosen
place between the family chapel and the palace where
banished Dante found a home. We have seen Gothic
late and Gothic early, and paid our tribute of admiration
to the cold beauties of the Renaissance.

But, while watching the swift flow of the yellow stream
of the Adige, we remember that this river and others like it
have laid the foundations of Venice. Away to the east there,
past Shelley's Euganean hills, past sleepy Vicenza and
once learned Padua, the rivers have laid down their
burden of clay and sand, and men fleeing from fierce foes
have built cities among the sea waves, with tide-swept
channels for streets. Let us leave Yerona and go to
Torcello. But the journey to Torcello is so charming,
especially now that we cross the lagoon from Mestre to
Venice by train, that, if you please, we will start from
the little Pension Suisse on the Grand Canal, where the
gondolier's oar-stroke echoes back from the Church of
Santa Maria della Salute. Our gondola is ready for us,
and we are to have two gondoliers, for it is twelve or
fourteen miles to Torcello and back, and the wind is
strong and the waves choppy sometimes on the lagoons.

54 INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

Our luncheon basket is put on board and we are oft at a
fine speed, for the gondola goes quickly when the pay-
ment is by distance, and slowly when it is by time, from
which it may be inferred that gondoliers, however pic-
turesque, are only human. We pass the Dogana, and by
the sea front of the ducal palace, sharp round to the
left, and are under first the Bridge of Straw, and then
the Bridge of Sighs, as we glide down the narrow canal
between the palace and the prison. On we go by narrow,
tortuous waterways, till we shoot out into the open lagoon
on the north side of Venice. Now we see the Campo
Santo, alas ! with a new brick wall, and how different the
whole scene from Turner's lovely dream of it ! But ah !
there are the Alps ; they have suffered no restoration, and
are in fear of none. We soon pass the Campo Santo and
busy Murano, and now are crossing the open lagoon where
the long line of piles marks the water road to Torcello.
To the left, some two or three miles away, is the mainland,
with the mountain wall behind; again to the right lie
scattered islands and long lines of reef. The water is
quiet, and in the distance is hardly distinguishable from
the sky, so that sometimes the boats and islands seem to
be suspended in the air. We pass a big timber raft
floating slowly towards Venice, one or two market boats
also approach us, are alongside for a moment, while we get
a hurried glance at their picturesque occupants, and are
gone. Now, drawing near the island town of Burano,
we leave the open water, and, passing through one or two
winding channels, enter the canal of Torcello. Here and
there by the canal side is a farm-house, once a Gothic
mansion, and over the half-ruined garden wall we catch
sight of the fruit trees, the pomegranates being chiefly
conspicuous. We pass under a bridge like those over the
canals in Venice, only the parapet is gone, and no merry

INDUSTRIAL ITALY. 55

careless throng hurries to and fro across it. We now see a
moderate sized plain looking church with a rude campanile.
This is the cathedral of Torcello. The gondola stops at a
little stone landing place, and we get out and cross a grass
plot, with the cathedral and quaint old church of Santa
Fosca on one side and farm buildings on two others. It is
the cathedral square of the earliest Venice. Let us at once
ascend the campanile, and get a general view of the place
and its surroundings; we shall then be better able to
understand what is to be seen below. We do so, and are
up among the bells, and look out through the belfry
windows, east, west, north, and south. East, lie reefs and
islets, and beyond, the Adriatic, dotted with ships and
fishing boats ; west, across reedy swamps, mud banks, and
shallow waters is the level plain, and, beyond again, the
mountains, stretching far on into the north. To the south,
over the way we have come to Torcello, lies Venice,
a thin, dark line on the horizon. It is a grey day, the
mountains are gradually obscured, and rain begins to
fall. We do not regret it, for the meaning of Torcello is
not most easily read in sunshine. These few half-ruined
buildings are all that is left of the earliest Venice, and we
fear they are a prophecy of what the end will be. We go
down into the cathedral, remembering that when its
builders fled hither from their foes, the islands where now
are towns and villages were but the haunt of the water
fowl, whose mournful cry, with the sound of the wind in
the reeds and the wave on the shore, alone broke the silence,
and we look with awe at the carved stones they carried from
their mainland home and placed, as if they had been jewels,
in the walls and pulpit of the little church which served as
a cathedral, and linger long over the relics of the dead city
carefully treasured in one of the neighbouring buildings.
Again our thoughts are turned toward Venice, and we

56 INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

wonder at the romantic history, the magnificent art, and the
fabulous wealth amid the memorials of the first beginning
of which we stand. The rain falls fast as we return to our
gondola, and patters on the water and dims all the distance
as our gondoliers again row us swiftly over the lagoons. It
is well. To know the heart of Venice we must not think
only of lovely palaces set in a groundwork of clear blue
sky and brightly reflecting water, but also of stern effort
and strict law fighting against stupendous difficulties, and
achieving wealth and splendour only when the cold hand
of death had touched the living heart and the end was
nigh.

We will leave Venice for the present, and go south to-
ward Florence. But we pass through Padua, and I cannot
resist the temptation to speak of Giotto's frescoes in the
Chapel of the Arena. An Englishman we met at Venice,
said he thought them much over-rated, and that having
seen them once he did not wish to see them again. When
we left the Arena Chapel, and the custodian asked us to
sign our names in the visitors' book, the name last written
was "Frederick Leighton." He must have seen them before,
and yet had cared to go again. One interesting feature
in them is that Giotto evidently felt himself into what he
painted. The reproachful look of Jesus to betraying Judas,
the appealing look of Mary to the supposed gardener, are
but slight instances that I call to mind. One of the frescoes
is a cenacolo, and Jesus and the disciples are seated round
the table, so that we only see the faces of about half of the
disciples. This arrangement may be considered inartistic,
but it has the merit of depicting Jesus and the disciples as a
little band of companions, separate from the world at large,
and gathered close in loving circle. In another of the frescoes
the disciples are again gathered thus — after the Resurrec-
tion— with pathetic reason for their drawing close together.

INDUSTRIAL ITALIC 57

This directness of thought and simple yet profound feeling
often touch us more than art which, technically considered, is
out of all comparison greater than Giotto's work. Speaking of
these frescoes recalls the master-piece of Leonardo da Vinci,
at Milan, which impressed me far more than I had expected
it would do. I had seen it before, but with eyes that were as
if they saw not. I had seen engravings, photographs, and
copies, but they are dead things compared with the original
picture. Jesus has just told his disciples that one of them
will betray him, and immediately all is dismay and search-
ing of heart or indignant denial. Amid the confusion,
typical of the story of human life, Jesus sits majestically
calm. He is raised not only above the others, but beyond
comparison with them — yet is one with them — He is divine ;
while the lovely landscape and clear untroubled sky beyond
seem to unite with Him and lift Him beyond personality ;
we see Him as the link which unites our stormy sinful world
with the quiet of infinity — the rest of perfect life.

This about the frescoes is in parenthesis. Let us away
to Florence, and from Florence out through the olive
gardens and vineyards, up the winding hillside road to
Fiesole, where we stand on the terrace just below the
Franciscan monastery which crowns the height, and look
over the Yal d'Arno, from the mountains almost to the sea.
The sun is high in the heavens when we first look out
over the lovely scene; he has set behind the Carrara
peaks ere we can drag ourselves away. And there before
us lies Florence; there are Giotto's tower and Brunelleschi's
dome ; there are San Marco and Santa Croce, and Cimabue's
Madonna still hangs in Santa Maria Novella. O, that
strange yearning, that ever-unsatisfied craving, to enter into
the spirit of the mighty ones of old — to see as they saw, to
feel as they felt — to conceive with them the picture, statue,
or building, to walk their streets, and live their life ! And

58 INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

then comes the importunate question — What of our deeds
and our art ? Why are the visible effects of our civilisation
so unlovely ? And there are things to be seen from Fiesole
which sadden us, and of which we will speak directly, for I
have only one more view, and then will have done with land-
scapes. Florence lies among the lower hills, clothed with the
clinging vine and silvery olive, and enriched by the solemn
cypress. From the cathedral tower at Pisa we see those
hills lying eastward like a mighty army, while westward
a shimmer on the horizon marks the sea. There had been
a thunderstorm in the morning of a day we were there, but
towards noon the clouds broke, and we climbed the tower
and watched the huge rain-clouds passing away over the
Carrara mountains. The giant masses of cumulus rose
high above the highest peaks and shadowed all beneath
them to a steely blue, till the sun got beneath the clouds
and lighted up their undersides, and the trees, hills, and
mountains — all wet with the recent rain — first with gold,
then red, then dying rose. Beneath us were the Cathedral,
the Baptistery, and the Campo Santo, all standing on a
green sward, and half girdled by the ancient city wall. In
the Campo Santo were the chains returned to Pisa by the
generous Genoese, the wonderful frescoes, and the Greek
sarcophagus which roused Pisano's mind to higher art.

I have done now with views from bridges, towers, and
hillsides. We may think of the Alban hills, seen across
the Koman Campagna, of Capri and the bay of Naples,
and all other scenes we have enjoyed in sight or dream,
but I stay to tell of no more here, and proceed to paint the
dark part of my picture.

I remember hearing a methodist of the old type say
to a preacher: "Mr. Smith, when you are talking to a
sinner, you can't paint it too black," and one could hardly
paint too darkly the appearance of modern Italy. Italy

INDUSTRIAL ITALY. 59

is, in sober fact, painting herself black. A long chimney
only a few yards from Milan Cathedral is blackening that ;
in most of the northern towns there are one or more
hideous shafts, and their long trails of smoke smirch the
blue for miles. Going to and from Torcello, Venice looked
much like a Lancashire town seen across an abnormally
big mill dam, for clouds of smoke were pouring from close
upon a dozen chimneys on the small island of Murano.
Our illustrations are faithful attempts to picture two actual
scenes at Venice. Here and there in the country, and, as
I have said, in nearly all the towns, mills have sprung up,
while, 0 ! abomination in the holy place, unless you are wary,
you are entrapped into making part of the journey from
Florence to Fiesole in a steam tram-car; and even in
Val d'Arno mill chimneys threaten to outnumber the cam-
panili! We are acclimatised to smoke and machinery
here, and perchance the almost uniform hideousness of our
towns enhances our enjoyment of such unspoiled country as
is left to us. But in Italy it is otherwise; the rule is beauty,
the exception ugliness, but alas, the beauty is all old and
steadily disappearing, the ugliness is all new and steadily
increasing. It is absolutely necessary now to go into
some of the smaller towns to know what Italy was twenty
years ago ; it cannot be known by Florence, Venice, and
Home. The Italians have made up their minds to be
somebody; they find that to be somebody they must
have a big army and navy, and railways and steam
tram-cars, and huge mills ; and then, amid the wonder of
surrounding nations, Signer Crispi can have mysterious
interviews with Prince Bismarck, and much good shall
result to Europe. So they build jerry houses in Home,
and imitate Paris at Turin, blacken their blue sky
and marble churches, hang pictures of Victor Emmanuel
in all their hotels, and put up statues to Cavour in all

60 INDUSTRIAL ITALY

their piazzas, and enjoy in their own way their liberty,
too cheaply won to be worth much, as they are themselves
beginning to think.

At the time we were in Venice there was an exhibition
of modern Italian works of art, and having spent some days
seeing what Italians of the past liked to paint, we thought
it would be worth while to spend a few hours in seeing
what Italians like to paint to-day. So one afternoon we
bade our gondolier row us to the Exhibition. We soon had
enough. The pictures might be briefly summed up as
landscapes, prostitutes, and blood. It was merely sicken-
ing, and all the more so because it was all so very clever.
We were glad to escape from the galleries in little more
than an hour, and strove to forget what we had seen by
hunting up and delighting ourselves with one of Giovanni
Bellini's lovely Madonnas. What is the meaning of this
change ? It seems to me to be an utter waste of time to go
to Italy merely to enjoy the works of the past, unless we seri-
ously ask ourselves are the changes which are taking place a
loss or a gain, and, if a loss, how far are we in England re-
sponsible for them ? Can w e live much longer in endeavou rs to
forget the present and imagine the past, or is it that we have
lost nothing worth regretting, and that there has been only
gain all round ? I do not purpose to do more now than merely
suggest the answer to these questions. We have won much
that is worth having which the past did not possess, and
none but a pessimist would deny that, on the whole, we
are going forward. But advance and retrogression often
go on together — advance in one respect, retrogression in
another ; and our gains have not been without loss, and
have laid upon us new tasks and duties, of which we
cannot yet forecast the time when they will be even
approaching completion. There is little to be hoped for
in the immediate future. It is true that some amongst

INDUSTRIAL ITALY. 61

us are awakening to a sense of our unhappy condition
and prospects. But many of the remedies that are being
applied do not go deep enough. We are crying out for smoke
prevention and river purification. But it will not do art
much good to get our rivers pure up to any Pollution
Act standard, nor our sky as clear as there is any chance
of its becoming for a long time yet. It is our reckless
use of machinery for everything it can do well or ill that is
the ruin of art. And well-nigh universal selfishness is the
cause of this reckless use of machinery. Think of Oldham,
Bolton, and Stockport, not to speak of Widnes and
St. Helens, and consider that our ship canals are
intended to perpetuate, and, if possible, increase all this,
and then say where the hope is ! And France, Germany,
Switzerland, and now Italy, are all entering the lists to
contend with us in this dirty mechanical struggle. We
are individually dragged into it against our will. Each of
us finds himself doing, making, buying, using things which
are contrary to our convictions of true usefulness and beauty.
The only hope I can cherish is a distant one. We must
reach a higher moral standard in social and commercial life
before we can have great art again. In the past it has
been possible for kings and princes to decree that art
and splendour should not be neglected in their cities.
But this art and splendour, and the discrimination
in the use of machinery without which they cannot
be, can only be obtained in the future by the general
consent and co-operation of the whole people. And it
will be long yet before the frenzied struggle, of which
our present social and commercial life mainly con-
sists, has given place to wide-reaching united action
for civic, national, and wider ends. I am glad to be
able to quote John Stuart Mill here, for he could
not be readily convicted of foolish sentiment. In one

62 INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

of the later chapters of his " Political Economy "
he says: "I confess I am not charmed with the ideal
of life held out by those who think that the normal
state of human beings is that of struggling to get
on ; that this trampling, crushing, elbowing, and tread-
ing on each other's heels, which form the existing type
of social life, are the most desirable lot of human kind,
or anything but the disagreeable symptoms of one of the
phases of industrial progress. It may be a necessary stage in
the progress of civilisation, and those European nations
which have hither to been so fortunate as to be preserved from
it (Italy, I interpolate here), may have it yet to undergo. . . .
But it is not a kind of social perfection, which philanthro-
pists to come will feel any very eager desire to assist in
realising." But what a vast change must take place in
the life and ideals of all civilised communities before
the new era can come in. For the competition is inter-
national now, and one nation can only with difficulty act
differently from its neighbours. As Mill says : ' ' For the
safety of national independence, it is essential that a
country should not fall much behind its neighbours in
mere production and accumulation." True, but as we
demand individual self-sacrifice, so also shall we have to
demand national self-sacrifice. After all, a nation is made
up of individuals, and if it is well for individuals to be
willing separately to lose some advantage for the sake of a
principle, a truth, or an idea, it is equally well for them to
do so unitedly as a nation. But when our life at home is
such as Mill describes, what can be expected of our
influence on the world at large ? We need to make peace
heroic.

This is the great task set before us and we must soon
begin to do more than dream of its accomplishment. And
will not the development of a great national art be one of

INDUSTRIAL ITALY.

63

the surest signs of our progress, as the absence of such art
is now one of the surest signs of the absence of truly
national life ? When we have a really noble, national
spirit and purpose, when the great majority of us have
truly social aims — shall we have such "hell holes" for
towns and cities as we now have in England, and into the
like of which other nations are fast converting their
towns ? Shall we have our East End and West End,
our slums and suburbs? Will only cabinet pictures be
painted, and our best public buildings — our Manchester
Town Hall, for example — fall far behind those of bygone
days ? Surely not. We have lost our art then for the
present. Italy has lost hers, and is destroying its monu-
ments. Perhaps it is well for her that she too should go
through what we have gone through that she may at any
rate live, even though her cities be defaced and her
country defiled in the process ; for, as Carlyle said, there is
salvation in work even though it be only in the service of
Mammon. But when the false heroism of war shall give
place to the true heroism of peace, then, with a nobler life
than the past has ever known, Art will arise again in
nobler form and with wider influence than she has ever
exercised before, even in the age of Pericles and the
Italian Renaissance. I spoke of ending with a cry of woe,
but cannot, for I seem to see the wilderness blossom as the
rose.

A PORTRAIT.

BY W. R. CREDLAND.

QHE is not of the world I know, and I

Do still my heart, lest loving her too much
Perchance my earthly love her soul should touch,
And with its passion stain her purity —
Therefore I ask this boon — that I may die !
And thus, by death made pure, my love be such
That she will deign my pleading lips to touch
And clasp me to her heart eternally.
Then will reward my poor desert outstrip,
For me the gods will hold no dearer prize,
Her love will be the nectar I shall sip,
Her glowing face will be my paradise,
My life — the breath that trembles on her lip,
My heaven — the tranquil depth of her blue eyes.

ON GENEEAL GOBDON'S COPY OF
NEWMAN'S "DREAM OF GERONTIUS."

BY WILLIAM E. A. AXON.

THE book given by General Gordon to Frank Power in
Khartoum possesses historic as well as literary
interest. Frank Power left England on the 17th of May

1883, with the intention of following the army of Hicks
Pasha in the campaign against the Mahdi, and of reporting
its progress to the Times. He had a further object, which
was to explore the country, with Edward O'Donovan, the
brilliant and ill-fated correspondent of the Daily News,
and, in conjunction, to write a description of that almost
unknown district. They crossed the desert from Suakim
to Berber and thence went on to Khartoum and joined
Hicks Pasha on his march to Kordofan. The army of
Hicks Pasha was destroyed on the fatal field of El Obeid.
Power was then ill at Khartoum, and on January 24th,

1884, he writes to his mother: "I hear that Chinese Gordon
is coming up. They could not have a better man. He,
though severe, was greatly loved during the five years he
spent here." On February 9th, he writes to her, " I don't
believe the fellows in Lucknow looked more anxiously for
Colin Campbell than we look for Gordon. As regards

E

6C GORDON'S COPY OF NEWMAN'S " GERONTIUS."

relief of this place, when he comes he can only carry out
the retreat." On February 22nd, he writes, " Gordon is a
most lovable character — quiet, mild, gentle, and strong;
he is so humble, too. The way he pats you on the shoulder
when he says 'Look here, dear fellow, now what do you
advise ? ' would make you love him. When he goes out of
doors there are always crowds of Arab men and women at
the gate to kiss his feet, and twice to-day the furious
women, wishing to lift his feet to kiss, threw him over."
The two men were already attached to each other, and
Power's way of going amongst the natives gave him
additional favour in Gordon's eyes. He gave Power a
copy of the Imitatio Christi, which, as we know, was one
of his own favourite books. Frank Power, a few days
later, whilst speaking with sympathetic admiration of
Gordon's external cheerfulness, adds " but I know he
suffers fearfully from low spirits. I hear him walking up
and down his room all night (it is next to mine). It is
only his piety that carries him through." This constant
foreboding of death is evidenced by the markings on the
copy of the Dream of Gerontius, which Gordon gave to
Frank Power on February 18th, as will presently be seen.
How during the weary months Gordon held Khartoum
we all know. Frequent sorties, in which Frank Power
took his share, were the only variations of the terrible
monotony of waiting for the army of relief that came
only when treason and death had done their evil work.
Gordon, Stewart, and Power confronted for months the
terrible investment by the forces of the Mahdi, and on
September 10th they shook hands for the last time,
Gordon to hold Khartoum, and Stewart and Power to
endeavour to make their way to the English lines and to
hasten on the march of the deliverers. They embarked
on the steamer Abbas and steamed down the Nile towards

GORDON'S COPY OP NEWMAN'S " GERONTIUS." 67

Berber. The vessel struck on a rock near a small island
in Wad Gamr country. They landed and tried to obtain
camels, but were treacherously attacked by the natives,
and both Stewart and Power were slain and their bodies
thrown in the river. This was on September 18th, 1884.
The news did not quickly reach Gordon, but in his journal
he writes, under date of November 9th : " I have not
written any despatch concerning Stewart or Power. I
dare not, with my views, say that their death is an evil ;
if true, I am sorry for their friends and relations. Stewart
was a brave, just, upright gentleman. Can one say more ?
Power was a chivalrous, brave, honest gentleman. Can
one say more ? " Gordon remained, solitary and unaided,
at Khartoum, and when the approach of the English force
was imminent, the Mahdi accomplished, by the treachery
of the Turkish and Egyptian pashas, that which the
investment of the city had not accomplished. The soldiers
of the Mahdi entered January 26th, 1885, and few, if
any, will ever forget that " black Thursday," the fifth of
February, when the news of the fall of Khartoum and
the slaughter of Gordon was announced.

It was on February 18th, 1884, that Gordon gave the
Dream of Gerontius to Frank Power. The book had not
been long in Gordon's possession. The day before he left
England he had a conversation with Mr. E. A. Maund, to
whom he related the change in spiritual life wrought by
the experiences at the death-bed of his father, " as gazing
on the lifeless form he thought, ' Is this what we all have
to come to?'" The discussion reminded Mr. Maund that
some of Gordon's ideas were similar to those in Newman's
poem, " whereupon he said he should like to read it;" and
Mr. Maund accordingly posted a copy to him in Egypt, and
he must have read it during his swift progress to the
doomed city, for he gave it to Frank Power on the day he

68 GORDON'S COPY OF NEWMAN'S " GERONTIUS."

entered Khartoum. (See "Letters of G. G. Gordon to his
Sister," London, 1888, pp. 377, 379, 402.) Frank Power
sent the book to his sister in Dublin, who forwarded it to
Cardinal Newman for inspection. The Cardinal, in his
reply, wrote : " Your letter and its contents took away my
breath. I was deeply moved to find that a book of mine
had been in General Gordon's hands, and that the descrip-
tion of a soul preparing for death." A fac-simile of this
interesting letter was given in the number of Merry Eng-
land devoted to the biography of Newman.

Miss Power afterwards lent the book to Miss Gordon, who
recently sent a copy showing the passages marked, to Mr.
Lawrence Dillon,* by whom it was presented to the Man-
chester Free Library. The presentation included an auto-
graph of the hero and an impression from the seal used by

* The following letter is reprinted from the Manchester Guardian of 12th
September : —

GENERAL GORDON.
To the Editor of the Manchester Guardian.

Sir, — I believe that many admirers of the late General Gordon will feel
great interest in knowing that a gift has been made to the Free Reference
Library by Mr. Lawrence Dillon of a copy of Cardinal Newman's " Dream of
Gerontius," lately sent to him with the following letter by Gordon's sister : —

September 6, 1888.

*' Dear Mr. Dillon, — I must finish up a most enjoyable day in writing to-
thank you for so much kindness. I shall not forget Manchester and the kind
welcome I received there. I think you may like to have the accompanying
little book for your drawer, which I have marked exactly as my brother
marked the copy he gave to Mr. Power, and which was lent to me by his sister.
You will see in the appendix, page 402, of my brother's letters to me the
history of this little book. I hope to send the ' Last Words with Gordon,' by
Gerald Graham, in a few days. I hope you will like it as much as I do. The
splendour of that magnificent Town Hall [of Manchester] is strongly im-
pressed on my mind. I am, indeed, glad I have seen it. — Believe me, yours
sincerely, M. A. GORDON.

"P.S. — I have been much comforted by noting the passages marked by
my brother under the circumstances in which he was then placed."
I may add that an original signature in the handwriting of Gordon himself is
attached to this most interesting volume. — I am, &c..

CHARLES W. SUTTON, Chief Librarian.
September 11, 1888.

GORDON'S COPY OF NEWMAN'S "QERONTIU8." 69

•" Chinese Gordon" in the course of his wonderful career
with the ever- victorious army in the suppression of the
Taiping rebellion. This is evidently a fine specimen of the
seal cutter's art, for the two Chinese characters engraved
upon it are, whilst small, beautifully clear and distinct.
Although it figures in an archaic form on the cover of Dr.
Hill's Colonel Gordon in Central Africa (London, 1881),
and in the corner of the portrait of Gordon as a mandarin
in Hake's Story of Chinese Gordon (London, 1884), it has
not, so far as I know, been described. It is composed of
two characters, Jco and tting, apparently an attempt to
represent the name of Gordon phonetically to the ears of the
Chinese. Ko (6425 ' in Morrison's Chinese Dictionary)
means a lance, and tang (9888) has a variety of meanings
associated with the idea of going forward or upward.

The tiny edition of the Dream of Gerontius shows
abundant evidence of the care with which it had been read
by the defender of Khartoum. In the Latin dedication
he has underscored the words Fratri desideratissimo,
Gordon. On the fly-leaf are the two following inscrip-
tions : —

Frank Power, with kindest regards of C. G. Gordon. 18 February, 84.

Dearest M. — I send you this little book which General Gordon has given
me— the pencil marking through the [book] is his. — Frank Power, Khartoum.

The following passages are marked : —

FRATRI DESIDERATISSIMO,

GORDON.

Pray for me, 0 my f riends.

*•**•*
I 'Tis death, — 0 loving friends, your prayers ! — 'tis he ! . . |

* * * *

1 So pray for me, my friends, who have not strength to pray. I

70 GORDON'S COPY OF NEWMAN'S " GERONTIUS.

I Prepare to meet thy God.

* * * *

Use well the interval.

Be merciful, be gracious ; spare him, Lord.
Be merciful, be gracious ; Lord, deliver him.
From the sins that are past ;
From Thy frown and Thine ire ;

From the perils of dying ;

From any complying

With sin, or denying

His God, or relying
On self, at the last ;

From the nethermost fire ;
From all that is evil ;
From power of the devil ;
Thy servant deliver,
For once and for ever.

And I take with joy whatever,
Now besets me, pain or fear,

And with a strong will I sever
All the ties which bind me here.

Novissima hora est ; and I fain would sleep,

The pain has wearied me. . . . Into thy hands,

0 Lord, into thy hands. . . .

* * * #

A strange refreshment : for I feel in me
An inexpressive lightness, and a sense
Of freedom, as I were at length myself,
And ne'er had been before. How still it is !

1 hear no more the busy beat of time,

No, nor my fluttering breath, nor struggling pulse ;

Nor does one moment differ from the next.

I had a dream ; yes : — some one softly said

" He's gone ;" and then a sigh went round the room.

* * # *

And we e'en now are million miles apart.
Yet ... is this peremptory severance.

Another marvel : some one has me fast
Within his ample palm.

GORDONS COPY OF NEWMAN'S " GEROXT1US " 71

My work is done,
My task is o'er,

And so I come,
Taking it home.

* * * *

0 Lord, how wonderful in depth and height,

But most in man, how wonderful Thou art !

* * * *

0 man, strange composite of heaven and earth !

Majesty dwarfed to baseness ! fragrant flower
Running to poisonous seed ! and seeming worth

Cloaking corruption ! weakness mastering power !
Who never art so near to crime and shame,
As when thou hast achieved some deed of name.

The An gel -guardian knows and loves the ransomed race.

Now know I surely that I am at length
Out of the body : had I part with earth,
I never could have drunk those accents in,
And not have worshipped as a god the voice
That was so musical ; but now I am
So whole of heart, so calm, so self-possessed,
With such a full content, and with a sense
So apprehensive and discriminant,
As no temptation can intoxicate.
Nor have I even terror at the thought
That I am clasped by such a saintliness.

* * * *
Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled.

* * * *

That calm and joy uprising in thy soul
Is first-fruit to thee of thy recompense,
And heaven begun.

* * * *

How impotent they are ! and yet on earth
They have repute for wondrous power and skill.

* * * #
| His will be done !

* * * *

Whom thy soul loveth, and would fain approach.

72

GORDON'S

OF NEWMAN'S " GERONTIUS.

Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise ;

In alt His words most wonderful ;
Most sure in all His ways !
* * * *

I have no fear, —
In His dear might prepared for weal or woe.

Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise ;

In all His words most wonderful ;
Most sure in all His ways !
*<*•**

0 loving wisdom of our God !

When all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight

And to the rescue came.

Jesu ! spare these souls which are so dear to Thee !

0 happy, suffering soul ! for it is safe.

There will I sing my absent Lord and Love :

Take me away,

That sooner I may rise, and go above,
And see Him in the truth of everlasting day.
•*•***

Farewell, but not for ever ! brother dear,

Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow ;
Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here,
j And I will come and wake thee on the morrow.

The Dream of Gerontius occupies an almost unique posi-
tion in literature, for, whilst there have been those who,
like Dante, claimed vision of purgatory as of inferno and
paradise, John Henry Newman is the only poet who has
attempted to express the purification of fiery pain that is
to cleanse and prepare the soul for the final bliss. The
theme, appealing strongly as it does to religious feeling,
repels some as strongly as it attacks others, yet the most
pronounced Protestant would find it hard to take offence

GORDON'S COPY OF NEWMAN'S " GERONTIUS:

73

at its treatment or to quarrel with its lofty idealism. Such
topics can be and have been made grotesque and repulsive
by injudicious presentations, but in the Dream of Gerontius
the artistic perfection is not more notable than the severe
grandeur of the morality. The poem in its stately flow and
with its choral form sounds like an echo from the dim aisles
of some lofty cathedral, where the gloomy vastness of arch
and roof is gladdened by the sunlight streaming through
the windows, whose many colours are the symbols of the
hope and faith and aspirations of bygone generations of
the sons of men. What more beautiful verse is there in
language than that with which the poem closes — the words
addressed to the soul of Gerontius by his guardian angel : —

Farewell, but not for ever ! brother dear,
Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow ;

Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here,

And I will come and wake thee on the morrow-

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER
MANCHESTER.

A CHRISTMAS SYMPOSIUM.

THE Christmas Supper of the Manchester Literary
Club was held on December 17th, 1888, at the Grand
Hotel, Aytoun Street. Mr. George Milner, President of
the Club, occupied the chair, and about one hundred mem-
bers and friends were present. The special guest of the
evening was Mr. T. R. Wilkinson.

The usual procession of the Boar's Head was this year
omitted, owing to the illness of Mr. J. C. Lockhart, whose
duty it has been for many years past to carry in the time-
honoured dish, accompanied by the singing of the carol
beginning —

Caput apri defero,
Reddens laudes Domino.

Another accustomed part of the proceedings, the recitation
of Eliza Cook's " Ode to Christmas " by Mr. Charles Hard-
wick, was also foregone, owing to the serious illness of the
reciter. The absence of these two old and highly-esteemed
members was keenly felt, and a telegram of greeting and
sympathy was sent to their homes. In place of the " Ode
to Christmas," Mr. George Evans recited Thackeray's
"Mahogany Tree," and Mr. Thomas Derby sang, as

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 75

excellently as usual, " The Mistletoe Bough " and the
"Wassail Song." The Wassail Bowl was brought in with
the usual honours, Mr. John Page still representing
Father Christmas, as of old. After the toast of " The
Queen and Royal Family " had been duly honoured,

The PRESIDENT proposed the toast of the evening, " The
Health of Mr. Thomas Read Wilkinson." You will (he
said) give to this toast, I am sure, a hearty and affectionate
reception. Mr. Wilkinson is a favourite in many circles ;
few men in Manchester are better known, and we are always
glad to see him at this Club. He takes his place worthily
in the line of those whom — beginning with Mr. Edwin
Waugh — the Club on these occasions has sought to honour
for many years back. A Literary Club in Manchester must
necessarily include not only professional men of letters and
professional artists, but also those who pursue literature and
art concurrently with other and more engrossing occupa-
tions, and Mr. Wilkinson is one of the best possible repre-
sentatives of the latter class. Besides that, he is a genuine
Manchester man, a son of the soil, a native genius, and, as
it were, to our manner born.

In proposing a toast like this, I always wish to think of
the city to which we belong as well as of the individual.
Corporate life is a thing which, as well as national life, we
should cherish and enhance. The more we feel that we
are citizens of no mean city, the more we are likely to
make ourselves anything but mean citizens. Mr. Wilkin-
son was born in 1826, and in his youth he had the good
fortune to be taught a handicraft in the printing office
of his father. It is believed that he is still able to set up
copy; at any rate, it is well known that he can write it. He
did not, continue, however, at this occupation; he turned
to the art and mystery of banking ; and then there comes
the familiar story. By steady perseverance, he gradually

76 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

climbs the ladder of success as bank-clerk, cashier, accoun-
tant, sub-manager, and, finally, all difficulties having been
overcome, as the chief of a large banking establishment in
this city. In his early youth he was a persistent and
omnivorous reader, but he was more — a systematic and
careful student. At Owens College he attended the
lectures of Professor A. J. Scott, and it would have been
strange if the stimulating and ennobling influence of that
remarkable man had been without its effect upon the
character of our friend.

It will be seen, from what I have said, that the pursuits
of study and the practice of banking were both being
successfully cultivated side by side. Now there seems to
be some occult and not yet explained connection between
literature and banking. I need only suggest to you the
names of Samuel Rogers and Sir John Lubbock ; but there
are many others, and we in this county remember with
pleasure the name of John Roby, a banker of Rochdale,
who wrote that fine local book, " The Traditions of Lan-
cashire." The connection, however, between Literature
and Art and the Manchester and Salford Bank is singularly
intimate and peculiar, and is, in fact, inseparable from its
history. Its first manager was Paul Moon James, and he
had the audacity to be not only an author, but a full-blown
poet of many volumes. Mr. James was succeeded by
William Langton, a refined gentleman and an accomplished
antiquary, whose literary work in connection with the
Chetham Society is well known. He also was a poet,
and many here will remember his beautiful sonnet on his
blindness. Then, when we find Mr. Langton followed by
Mr. Wilkinson, can we doubt that there must have been
something in the traditions of the Bank — something in its
atmosphere, so to speak — which led to the successive
appointment of so many men with literary proclivities ?

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 77

There is also Randolph Caldecott, that fine genius, whose
fame is still increasing. The Manchester and Salford Bank
claims him as one of its clerks; nor should I omit to
mention a member of this Club, Mr. Cuthbert E. Tyrer, in
whose recent volume of sonnets there is so much both of
accomplishment and of promise. And, indeed, there are
many men both at the Manchester and Salford and at
other banks in Manchester, who have done good work
with pen and pencil, and who are always welcome at this
Club. Well, Mr. Wilkinson has kept up the good tradition
of his bank by making several contributions to our local
literature. Three volumes at least, I think, have pro-
ceeded from his pen, and I know that his friends are
anxious for the appearance of a fourth, the material for
which is known to be ready. Having known Mr. Wilkinson
for many years, I have always been struck by his many-
sidedness and his ability to take up and deal with all sorts
of subjects. You never know what he will not do. He
is a man of a ready and forward-reaching intellect, quick-
witted, nimble, and ardent in all his sympathies. Few
movements in Manchester — literary, artistic, scientific, or
humane — have failed to interest him and to gain his help.
In this connection I have heard him spoken of humorously
as the universal treasurer. Mr. Wilkinson knows and loves
a good book. I was much interested, as many others were,
in the recent series of letters on Switzerland, which ap-
peared in the Manchester City News. Those letters were
distinguished not only by their graphic description and
their fine enthusiasm, but also by their apt and choice
quotation, and I found that Mr. Wilkinson's chief com-
panion on his journey had been the "InMemoriam" of
Tennyson.

I have only to add that, in my opinion, the life of our
friend makes a valuable contribution in proof of the truth

78 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

that a man may succeed in his ordinary occupation, and
yet not make himself a mere sordid machine. And let it
be observed, the same qualities which have made him a
lover of books, a student, and a writer, have helped him in
his business; for even a banker needs that imagination
and that power to estimate and guage character which are
essential to the poet. It is not often, perhaps, that we are
able to say it, but it may be said truly in this case, that
our friend is especially at home in working out some
problem in economics or finance, as in describing with
Wordsworthian unction and the colour of Ruskin, a sunset
among the mountains. Gentlemen, I ask you to drink to
Mr. Wilkinson's health and long life. May that life be
spared for many years yet. It is a fortunate thing for him,
that in these later days of his, he has found for himself a
helpmeet, gentle and sympathetic. He is not a solitary
man ; all his instincts are social. He says not, perhaps, —

Let me have men about me that are fat,

but " Let me have men about me, true men, be they fat or
lean," or in a line from his favourite poem —

I will not shut me from my kind.

And he is wise, for as years advance, and the inevitable
term draws nearer, we all come to know more and more
how valuable is the solace of companionship, and how far
beyond all price is the love of a true friend.

Mr. WILKINSON said in reply to the toast : I feel deeply
the honour which you have shown me in inviting me here
as your chief guest at the annual festivity of the Literary
Club, and I thank you most heartily for the warmth of
your greetings and of your welcome. As Prospero says —

For this one night ; which (part of it) I'll waste
With such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make it
Go quick away : the story of my life,
And the particular accidents gone by
Since I came to this isle.

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 79

During the speech of our chairman, my thoughts have
travelled back along the stream of Time for fifty years and
more, to when, as a boy, sauntering along by cornfield and
meadow and leafy lanes to school, I was taught a course of
simple elementary instruction in reading, writing, arith-
metic, and grammar, with the use of the globes thrown in ;
with little Latin and less Greek, and an occasional lesson in
elocution, a department of instruction too much neglected.
One excellent feature of this school was that it was a school
for both girls and boys. Doubtless this early association
with the gentler sex has had an occult influence on the
character of some of the school boys. This was the school
of Mr. Pownall, in his day a well-known disciple of Em-
manuel 'Swedenborg, and an excellent man. He was very
fond of a switching cane as an admonisher, and an occasional
dig of his huge fist into the small of the back with an im-
petus that usually took away one's breath. Such was the
ancient regime. Wopping, as it was administered in those
days, has disappeared. In those schoolboy days, Hulme
consisted of a long line of shops and houses in Chester Road,
Silver Street, Jackson's Lane, and the Pop Gardens, where
land was being broken up for building purposes. In one of
those first built streets I was born, and in the early thirties
we could see from Duke Street, Hulme, across the open
country, the cavalry soldiers as they rode along Moss
Lane — then a real country lane — on their way to exercise
and manoauvres in a field near Hough End. I remember,
among other incidents, my father, with another well-known
man of those days, going out in the evening to canvass
for the first Members of Parliament under the Reform
Bill, Messrs. Mark Philips and C. Poulett Thompson (after-
wards Lord Sydenham), who were placed at the head of
the poll. At that time there was no municipality ; the
government of the town was by boroughreeve and con-

80 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

stables. The streets, in the suburbs, were lighted with
oil lamps, many workshops still used candles, and even
boys at the Grammar School had to take their own candles
in winter for the seven o'clock morning school. The mail
and stage coaches still ran from Manchester to London and
other places, and the postage of a letter to London up to so
recent a date as 1840 was 13d. Newspapers were costly
and small, and heavily taxed. Bread, tea, coffee, sugar,
salt, in fact, almost all articles of daily consumption, except
beef, mutton, etc., were dear. Times were bad, if by that
expression is meant that the people were poorly fed,
clothed, and housed. The vast expenditure caused by
twenty years of war weighed heavily upon the population,
and our commercial intercourse with distant markets was
of a limited character.

I remember standing in Chester Koad, near the then
new Church of St. George's, Hulme, to watch the proces-
sion go by of the High Sheriff of Lancashire, Mr. Trafford,
of Trafford, attended by a number of javelin men on
horseback, going to meet Her Majesty's Judges of Assize,
not at Hunt's Bank, but at the county town of Lancaster.
In my school days St. George's Church, Hulme, was literally
in the fields ; and Hulme Hall, built on a rock overhanging
the Irwell, was literally in the country ; whilst Ordsall Hall,
on the opposite side (a great portion of which still exists)
was surrounded by forest trees in meadow land on the
Salford side of the river.

History repeats itself. Fifty years ago Chartist meetings
were declared by proclamation to be illegal, and in the
Queen's speeches of 1839 on opening and proroguing
parliament, reference was made to the Chartist agitation
in terms which are almost identical with the language of
the Prime Minister and Irish Secretary of the present day
in relation to the Irish agitation. Governments, of course,

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 81

often take up the position that whatever is, is best, At
that time, a motion by Lord Brougham in the House of
Lords, to enquire into, and to hear evidence as to the
working of the Corn Laws, was negatived without a
division. And a similar motion by Mr. Villiers in the House
of Commons, about the same time, was defeated by 371 to
172. Eldon and Talleyrand, representing the older times
then, had just passed from the scenes. A time of new
departure was at hand. An adaptation of natural force
was being made the handmaid of man, destined to spread
the comforts of civilisation over land and sea, and to
increase the wealth of this country, in one generation,
literally beyond the dreams of avarice, although op-
posed strenuously by the landed interest. Railways
were in active progress of formation both here and on
the Continent of Europe, and the Great Western Steam-
ship made her first voyage across the Atlantic in
fifteen days. In the same year, 1838, near its close, the
first meeting of men, which widened into the Anti-Corn
Law League, was held in King Street, Manchester.

I mention these varied incidents with the object of
endeavouring to recall to our minds the political and social
conditions which existed in the days of my boyhood. The
materials for a truthful picture of the period would, how-
ever, be incomplete were I to omit the mention of the
prosecution and condemnation of Mr. Moxon for the
publication of Shelley's works ; or the public dinner in
London to Macready, a royal duke in the chair ; and the
public dinner to Dickens in Edinburgh, under Professor
Wilson. Also the awakening of the Church of England
from a long lethargy ; and to the avowal of the authorship
of Tract 90 by John Henry Newman. About this period
was Richard Cobden's first appearance on the political
scene, and at some distance of time afterwards, that of
F

82 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

John Bright Wheat was at this time S4/- a quarter.
Meetings, and sometimes riots, all over the country, for
several years, especially in the largely populated centres,
both of Chartists and Anti-Corn Law Agitators ; wide-
spread discontent at home through poverty and unjust
laws, and increased taxation through wars abroad, led the
Minister, Sir Robert Peel, to put into the Queen's speech,
even so late as 1843, mention of "the falling revenues,
caused by depression in the manufacturing industry in the
country, which has so long prevailed, and which Her
Majesty so deeply laments."

Such were the political and social surroundings at the
period at which I left school, and began my career (in the
printing-office of my late father, one of the oldest letter-
press printers in Manchester, and a most excellent man)
in the interesting work of letterpress printing. Whilst I
assiduously laboured, after initiation into the mysteries of
the craft, from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. (frequently from 6 a.m.), I
attended, or was supposed to attend, certain evening
classes at the Mechanics Institution, Cooper Street. The
classes which I did not fail to attend were the freehand and
architectural drawing classes, to which I devoted much
attention. A new epoch was created in the life of the boy
by the discovery and eager perusal of "The Waverley
Novels." And here I may add a word as to the narrow
prejudices of the sects of those days, for novel reading
and the theatre were at that time certainly considered
by many well-meaning people as temptations of the
devil, to be avoided. I remember well my dear old
mother, one of the best of women, actually putting
into the fire three volumes of "Oxberry's Dramatic
Biography," which I accidentally discovered in my father's
miscellaneous collection of 'books, and which I found to be
at that time very interesting reading. Alas ! interdiction

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 83

is sure to create desire, and the most ancient fable tells us
that the edict, " Thou shalt not," was very soon disobeyed
through the undying desire to know.

My connection with the printing press, at a very early
age, brought me the pass key to both the theatres in Man-
chester ; and at the Minor Theatre, as it was then called,
in Spring Gardens, where old Harry Beverley played —
where George Preston, and Weston and his wife, Hoskins,
old Gates and his daughters, and many others occupied
the boards, I had much enjoyment. At the Theatre Royal,
too, in Fountain Street, which dwells in my memory as one
of the most comfortable and commodious theatres I have
known, I was a very constant visitor to the stage, as well
as the auditorium, and there I saw Macready — I suppose
in the year 1839 — and subsequently Adelaide Kemble,.
Helen Faucit, Ellen Tree, and others. Of Macready I may
say that I consider him to have been unquestionably the
greatest English actor the men of my generation have
seen. Of commanding presence, full toned, well modulated
voice, and possessed of extraordinary force of impulse, he
could thoroughly realise the character he played, could lift
audiences out of themselves, and carry them along with
him to the end.

Moreover, the old stock company, under the lesseeship of
Mr. Clarke, who held both Manchester and Liverpool patent
theatres, was an excellent one. Stuart, Mrs. Faucit, Mrs.
Clarke, Basil Baker and Horncastle, come back to my recol-
lection vividly, besides the great stars who were brought down
for Saturday nights from time to time. This was the period
of training the young imagination, and of initiation into
the cosmopolitan atmosphere of dramatic art. In the
teaching of children what is more effective than what are
called object lessons ? Is not the theatre a school of object
lessons for men and women ? I have always looked back,

84 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

and continue to do so now, with deep satisfaction to my
two years, or more, of what may be called surreptitious
culture, as among the most precious incidents in the gradual
unfolding and moulding, in a large and liberal sense, of my
youthful mind. There are few more potent influences for
good or evil than the theatre. And, speaking for myself,
and of those early days, I can assuredly say there was no
evil there for me in all my young experience. As a poet,
of whom I will speak later on, has written —

The boy can see around him but the good ;

The man must wrestle with the Maker's plan —
Must find the good of evil, if he can,

In ages antecedent to the flood.

The experience and the memory of those happy days of
work by day and the play at night, have helped me more
fully to understand Wordsworth's beautiful and profoundly
true opening stanza in his great ode : —

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
Jt is not now as it hath been of yore ;

Turn wheresoe'er I may,

By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The fates and destiny, however, had ordained that I
"was not to benefit either myself, or mankind in general, by
a life dedicated to typography. The same devoted, pious
mother, who had burned the dramatic biography and a
copy of Voltaire's curious and interesting story of "Zadig,"
decided that the youth would better suit a Banking Office
than a Printer's Chapel, and on a memorable day in
August, 1841, Lord Melbourne resigned the office of Prime
Minister, and I was installed as junior clerk in the Man-
chester and Salford Bank.

REMINISCENCES OP FORMER MANCHESTER. 85

My theatrical experiences were now brought to a
temporary close, to be only re-opened at judicious
intervals ; and a course of omnivorous reading was com-
menced, which embraced a wide survey of the literature
of all times. Only young men, with considerable enthu-
siasm and a moderate amount of leisure, dare the Fates
by so ambitious a scheme of reading and study as was
laid down by a friend and myself. It embraced an ac-
quaintance with the Stellar Universe, such a knowledge
of our planet as geology unfolds — then we were far before
our time with regard to geographical information, and
.also what I may call the ethnographical aspect of man.
We lived in the glorious domain ol Homeric Epic and
Hesiod's cosmogony, and these prepared the way for the
sublime tragedies of the Greek dramatists, followed in turn
by the Greek and Roman historians, from garrulous old
Herodotus and Thucydides to Tacitus and Csesar. Nor
was Philosophy neglected, for we read Plato and Aristotle.
In course of time Dante's divine epic unrolled its solemn
verse to our mental ear, and the Nibelungen Lied opened
our eyes to the traditional poetry of the Teutonic race.

To resume my catalogue for one moment ; we settled
down naturally in our reading into the stream of English
literature, and made special studies of Chaucer and his
times, of Spenser, of our greatest poet Shakespere, and of
golden-tongued Milton.

Now, however, the long and plodding years were to bear
fruit, and in the early days of the Owens College, along
with my old friend Charles Bury, of Salford, I attended
the lectures on English literature by Professor Scott ; a
man of the loftiest tone of mind, deeply imbued with the
responsibility of the teacher's vocation, and earnestness
itself in his lucid expositions and analyses of the writers
he passed in review before us. Even earlier than these

«6 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

years, I had made the acquaintance through translations
of some of the chief works of Jean Paul Richter, whom
Carlyle called " der Einzige" (the only), and whose influence
upon my mind has been deep and lasting. Goethe, and
Schiller, and Heine, also received a large share of attention.
I remember the early days of reading the political econo-
mists, and in later times in making the acquaintance of John
Stuart Mill, Professor Bonamy Price, of Oxford, Walter
Bagehot, and the later editors of the Economist newspaper.
So that with a large infusion of poetry, romance, philosophy,
and history, there became blended a fair proportion of
economic science, as well as other science, not altogether
imsuited to the career to which I had steadily settled down.
I remember well my first acquaintance with one man,
whose life and writings have had considerable influence
upon me, especially in the period from 1848 onwards. A
man of pure, lofty thoughts and nobility of mind rarely to
be met with, who startled the world of orthodoxy by his
work, " The Hebrew Monarchy," and laid bare the workings
of a sincere searcher after truth in his " Phases of Faith,"
and "The Soul, her Sorrows and Aspirations;" and later
by his "Theism," and various other works. Such men
as Francis William Newman are rare. He is still living
and vigorous at 83, and I count myself happy in being able
to call him my affectionate friend.

Another name I should also like to mention as having
greatly influenced me, a man, who, without having the
final touch of God — I speak reverently — upon him, to make
him a great poet, yet possesses one of the most analytical
minds, combined with extraordinary powers of description
and exposition, I have known. I refer to my old friend
John Cameron, whose luminous reading of Wordsworth and
other poets and philosophers of the century has awakened
the minds of many who would otherwise have remained in

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 87

ii condition of lethargy, alas, too common. The philosopher
.as well as the poet speaks in his fine lines : —

Would that my thought had kept her early state,
Nor pushed the window of her ark aside,
To scour away wild- wheeling far and wide
Over a flood that never can abate.

The Dove returned, but Thought can ne'er again
Flee to the covert of her sheltering ark ;
The Raven's fate is hers, thro' storm and dark,
To sweep the dread immeasurable main ;

For her, no rest upon the rolling wave,

For her, where'er she flee, no sheltering bourne,

No shallowing of the deluge, no return ;

For her, no welcoming hand stretched forth to save.

Say to what ark of refuge can she flee ?

I remember well at one of his lectures in the old
Mechanics' Institution in Cooper Street, where about
•a score of people assembled to listen to his words, on the
next bench to myself sat Ralph Waldo Emerson, who
was much impressed and interested, brought there by
our friend Alexander Ireland. Of Emerson I need
not speak, for his writings are known to all. But those
who remember, as I do well, his first appearance in the
Athenaeum Lecture Hall, where he delivered his early
lectures, will not easily forget the quiet dignity with which
he delivered himself of thoughts that seemed to cut the
ground from beneath the feet of many of his listeners,
continuing his discourse with an unruffled countenance :

And like some solid statue set
And moulded in colossal calm.

My first reading of Carlyle was his " Past and Present,"
which came into my hands about the year of grace 1846,
as nearly as I can recollect. This to me was an epoch-
making book. Some of the sects speak of certain states of
experience of a human soul as " conversion," and extreme
evangelical people call it " finding salvation," and various

88 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

other extraordinary terms. No doubt some such celestial
touch was vouchsafed me when I read this wonderful book.
The world had other meanings now and henceforth ; and
the outer husk and casing of formula in which my mind
had hitherto been enveloped, fell away, and I saw now what
huge masses of rubbish had been piled up in the past and
labelled History — but to which this man, like another
Prometheus, had brought fire from heaven, with which he
fused the mass into molten heat, purified it of dross, and
cast for us statues of gold.

I have now, I think, traced some of the influences, both
of letters and of men, which have built up the character
before you. I do not bring the narrative nearer to us, for
the vast current of literature flows past us, and we each
drink according to his taste ; but there is no mind that is
not enriched and kept from the grossness of other days by
the wonderful purity of Tennyson, for the subtle influence
of his direct style and his ample grasp of language, com-
bined with his transcendent power of transmuting fable
and tradition into modern thought and true feeling, have
made him peerless among his peers.

In conclusion, I cannot refrain from mentioning, in this
somewhat extended survey of the past, two public matters
in which I have taken an active part, and upon which I
can look back with more than ordinary satisfaction. I
mean the movement for the education of the people, in
which I had the honour of being actively associated with
the late Dr. John Watts and the late Edward Brotherton.
In 1862, also, I was mainly instrumental, in conjunction
with the late Max Kylmann, J. E. Nelson, Edward Hooson,
J. C. Edwards, Thos. H. Barker, and a few others, mostly
working men, in organising a society for the enlightenment
of public opinion on the facts and circumstances of the civil
war in the United States of America. The beginning of the

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 89

movement was made public by a meeting held in the Free
Trade Hall, on the 31st December, 1862, the chair being
taken by the well tried, respected townsman, Mr. Abel
Heywood, Mayor of Manchester, when an address to Presi-
dent Lincoln was adopted congratulating him on his procla-
mation of freedom to the slaves, which came into operation
on the 1st January, 1863. This address was written by
Francis Wm. Newman. The Union and Emancipation
Society arose out of this meeting, with Mr. T. B. Potter
as chairman, and thousands of working men were enrolled
as members. We had not only Bright and Cobden with
us, and some of the leading Oxford and Cambridge men of
that time; but many of the best men throughout England.
The " Alabama " would never have been allowed to leave
the Mersey had Earl Kussell given heed to the warnings
and information with which he was supplied concerning
her through our agency.

It may be well to record here, that many thousands of
people had emigrated from Lancashire and Yorkshire to
the United States of America, chiefly, of course, to the free
states of the North ; and the friends of these emigrants,
receiving newspapers constantly, were fairly well- informed
of the causes which led to the civil war, and to the con-
dition of public opinion when it unhappily became a fact.
To this knowledge, in addition to their love of justice, I
attribute the strong adhesion of the working people of
England to the cause of the North ; just as the sympathy
with, and endeavours to aid, the slaveholding states in
their revolt was mainly caused by the prejudice and the
grossest ignorance of the conditions of the people of the
United States by our upper and governing classes.

Those were days of excitement and of sadness. Lanca-
shire passed through the ordeal of poverty and want — in
consequence of the non-supply of cotton — but this adversity

90 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

brought out the finer qualities of many noble men, and the
record of that time is rich in heroic memories which

The world will not willingly let die.

I have now to thank you for the patient hearing of
these, to some of you, twice-told tales ; but they may serve
to give a glimpse into successive phases of an active life of
practical work, and may enable us all to realise more fully
the philosophic poet's words : —

We sail by star, by compass, and by chart —

It lives and works — whate'er in thought was true

Or brave in act, in Roman, Greek, or Jew, —

Their life-blood floods the channels of our heart.

The perished yesterday is in to-day —

The quickening freightage of the vanished year,

The life-breath of the centuries is here —

The living spirit cannot pass away.

Mr. JAS. T. FOARD then proposed the toast of " The
Writers of Lancashire." He must (he said) claim the indul-
gence of his audience, not upon the usual formula,
" Unaccustomed as I am," etc., but " Accustomed as I am
to public speaking," for the toast he was about to propose,
on account of its comprehensiveness and the impossibility
of rendering it justice. The writers of Lancashire were to
ordinary memories in number legion, and occupied nearly
two hundred pages, if he recollected aright, in Mr. Button's
catalogue of local authors. Beyond these there were many
who in some sense were unacknowledged Lancashire men,
yet entitled to claim the honour, like Dugdale, the famous
antiquary and historian, who, although born in Warwick-
shire, was of an old Lancashire stock. Then how should
he array these names, not to offend those neglected or
omitted ? Should he, like some famous rhetoricians,
classify them under three heads, and take the historic,
poetic, and dramatic writers ? What would the scientific
or theologic authors say ? In truth, the writers of Lanca-
shire, like Lord Bacon, had taken " all learning for their

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 91

province," and had distinguished themselves in every
department of human knowledge. If he classified them as
the glorious, inglorious, and vainglorious writers, he would
still perhaps give them dissatisfaction, and to divide them
into the ready writers, unready writers, and type-writers,
would not be more explanatory. Every person in the room
was probably a writer in esse or in posse. It was a club of
authors; and he would prefer passing to the immediate
aid rendered to literature by his old friend, Mr. Waugh,
who was coupled with the toast, to attempting a classifica-
tion which would necessarily be imperfect and unjust.
Mr. Waugh has performed this service. He had made
" beauty a simple product of the common day." In English
*" understanded of the common people," in language drawn
from " that well of English undefiled," his mother tongue,
he has familiarised us with features of natural loveliness,
with scenes of pathos, tenderness, and passion, opening
visions of glory about the ordinary walks of life, that have
made us one and all his debtors. He has been called the
poet of the moorlands. To me such an expatriation is
narrow and unjust. He is at once " a master of our sunniest
smiles and most unselfish tears." His sympathies are as
"wide as Juliet's love, for, above all, he is a student of
human nature, and a catholic lover of all that is beautiful
in humanity as in nature. In his presence, and on such
•an occasion, it would not be fair to attempt to catalogue
his merits or recount the benefits he has conferred. We
admire him as a man, and as author and man, for his
humour, his pathos, and his thorough healthy manliness of
style. He has happily united the characteristics of refined
taste and sterling humour. If he has not opened new and
secluded pathways into the regions of phantasy, neither
•can it be charged against him that he has mechanically
followed the footsteps of others on the beaten highway, to

92 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

swell the triumphant procession of more fortunate and!
laurelled bards. He has been always himself — always
original, always natural, and I call on those present to>
drink his health as a very worthy representative Lanca-
shire author, and as one who is, and deserves to be,,
honoured.

In reply to the toast Mr. EDWIN WAUGH said, — There ar&
very few of the counties of England which have not been
distinguished as the birthplace of one or more literary men,,
some of whose works will wrestle hard with time. It is im-
possible, on an occasion like this, to review the entire list of
these writers, or to compare their distinguishing qualities.
They are varied in characteristics as in power. For one
nightingale the world has a thousand sparrows ; yet, even
the chirp of the sparrow has its true place in the grand
harmony of the universe. I may say, however, that to War-
wickshire alone, amongst the counties of England, belongs
the honour of having given birth to the great minstrel
who soars high above all the rest of the choir, to " sing
hymns at heaven's gate." What I have to say to-night,
however, must be confined to our own county. Lanca-
shire has long been remarkable, above any other part
of England, for its mechanical inventors, and for the
great number of its students in humble life, especially in
the direction of botany, music, and mathematics; and it, cer-
tainly, is not less notable for the long array of those who have
made a distinct mark in its literary history. The prevailing
effortof these writers has generally inclined to the illustration
of humble life amongst the common people ; and yet, here
and there, has arisen a native writer whose work — especially
in the direction of fiction — has taken a much higher flight.
According to the researches of the late Mr. T. T. Wilkinson
of Burnley (who, I believe, was a member of this Club)r
there seems to be very strong evidence of the Lancashire

REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER. 93

origin of Edmund Spenser, the author of " The Fairy
•Queen." I will leap over the interval between Spenser
and the reign of Queen Anne, when we come to a remark-
able country schoolmaster, John Collier of Milnrow, the
son of a poor Lancashire curate, and, I must say, that over
.and above Collier's famous story called "Tummas and
Meary," his writings are full of interest, even yet, to any
careful student of the time in which he lived. Near the
•end of last century, Lancashire gave birth to a kindred
spirit in Samuel Bamford, the patriot-poet of Middleton.
Many who are here to-night will remember the venerable
-old minstrel in his declining years, and his memory will
long be cherished amongst those who have any sympathy
with the struggles of human freedom and literary merit.
And now, from this point, the writers of Lancashire come
in such a crowd that I must content myself with a bare
mention of some of the most remarkable, amongst whom
are John Critchley Prince, Charles Swain, Mr. Westall,
author of " The Old Factory," and other powerful works,
John Bolton Rogerson, and Benjamin Brierley, who has
illustrated the weaver life of England with more
graphic power than any other writer. After these
comes a host of others of more or less merit, of some
of whom I should have liked to speak, if the occasion
had been favourable. But, neither last nor least upon the
list of those who have raised the literary fame of Lanca-
shire during the last half century are its women of genius,
such as the two Misses Jewsbury, Mrs. Gaskell, Miss Jessie
Fothergill, Mrs. George Linnaeus Banks, and others, whose
names and works will be long remembered with honour
and admiration. I believe Lancashire is still growing
rapidly in its literary power; I believe it will continue
to grow ; and I believe the great and generous University
in Manchester will have a noble influence upon the future

94 REMINISCENCES OF FORMER MANCHESTER.

of the county. And now, I cannot allow the occasion to go-
by without a word about my old friend, Mr. T. R. Wilkin-
son, who is the guest of the evening. I have known him
now for forty years, and I must say that, as time has flown
by, he has grown more and more upon my affections. It is
not alone that he is a man of clear intellect and rare busi-
ness ability ; it is not alone that he is a man of kindly
nature and wide sympathies, but that it is the frequent
habit of his mind to soar above the surrounding show of
things, and to consider himself, in relation to the universal
scheme, as one small part in Ci being's ceaseless flow." In
this respect he is, to me, " a creature of large discourse ; "
and, in conclusion, I must say that I am sincerely glad to
be one of the company who have met to do honour to our
good old friend to-night.

Alderman W. H. BAILEY gave the toast of " The Visitors,"
which was acknowledged by Major HALE, the United States
Consul.

THE LIBRARY TABLE.

Philaster and Other Poems. By ASTON GLAIR. London :

T. Fisher Unwin, 1888.

" PHILASTER " is the production of an anonymous local
poet. It contains a long poem in blank verse, which gives-
the title to the book, a series of poems connected with the
Amazon river, and a number of miscellaneous pieces,
grave and gay, solemn and grotesque, pitched in all keys,
and including a classical study on the subject of Amphion,.
and an Arthurian idyll — " The Passing of Guinevere." It
is easy to say that these poems remind you of certain
well-known writers — here a touch of Browning, there a
reminiscence of Tennyson. Such a remark is only one of
the common-places of criticism, and when you have said
it you have not advanced a single stage in the considera-
tion of your subject. Aston Clair is presumably a young
writer, and why should he not make studies in the
manner of the masters, and try his hand in different
styles till he finds the one that fits him best, or, better
still, perceives a manner and a medium which shall be
something of his own, growing slowly before him as a
result of many failures and experiments ? We forget that
no truly great writer was ever indifferent to or independent
of the example and influence of his predecessors; that

96 THE LIBRARY TABLE.

Wordsworth stimulated his muse by large draughts of
Milton ; that Coleridge was indebted even to so minor a
writer as Lisle Bowles ; that Keats delighted to work in the
vein of Spenser, and that Tennyson was indebted to Words-
worth, Keats, and Shelley for many a happy inspiration.
In dealing with a young poet the question is not — what are
his models, but does he show indications of a power to
clear himself of imitation, and ultimately to speak in his own
proper voice ? It seems a curious thing that these charges
of imitation and plagiarism are so frequently made against
poets, and, comparatively, so seldom against prose writers.
The reason, however, may easily be found. In poetry the
manner goes for so much more than in prose, and the echo
or reflex of manner is at once more easily caught and
more readily recognisable than the matter, or body of a
composition. The poet should guard against this. The
suspicion of plagiarism often rests upon nothing more
substantial than the most superficial imitation of some turn
of phrase or trick of manner which strikes the casual
reader or the unreflecting critic. And the more modern
the instance the more great is the danger. Contemporary
poetry, as Mr. Pater has recently observed, is always more
potent to arouse the poetic instinct ; but for models, the
young writer would be wise to fall back upon the older
and greater poets. The imitation which would be resented
or condemned in reference to a modern poet would be
unnoticed or even applauded with regard to an older
writer. The author of " Philaster," both as a lyrist and a
writer of blank verse, has, at least, given us in his modest
volume enough of genuine poetry to make good his claim
to be heard aGfain. GEORGE MILNER.

TENNYSON PARALLELS.

BY THOMAS ASHE.
I.

IT is a pleasant and, if not pushed too far, a profitable
study, to trace analogies between the poets, and
discover the sources of their works.

Though the tales from which Shakspere took his plots
are but as dross which this alchemist turned to gold, it
is interesting to examine them; and we like to gather
from Milton's manuscripts what authors he had in mind,
as he gradually determined on the epic form for " Paradise
Lost."

But to spend time in tracing, or noticing, mere verbal
agreements is childish. At any particular period of
literary excitement certain ideas are in the air. They
occur to different writers simultaneously. Furthermore,
there have accumulated through the ages phrases and
modes of expression, which are a common property of
poets. Nay, think how many poetic words and phrases —
as of Shakspere, for instance — have grown to be more than
that, have become an integral part of the common language
of life.

THE MANCHESTER QUARTERLY. No. XXX., APRIL, 1889.

98 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Again, mere verbal imitation is generally unconscious.
You will employ more expressions of a favourite poet in
your own work, twenty years after reading him, than while
he is fresh to you, because you do not recall any longer
that they are his.

Probably a large proportion of the poems written — I
mean, of course, by the best poets — are suggested by the
poems of others. We are told that Byron usually carried
a volume of some poet in his pocket, to " set him thinking."
There was a volume of Keats found on the corpse of
Shelley. There is full evidence that Lord Tennyson has
not only read widely, but also that he is not very squeamish
about appropriating an available idea ; and yet there have
been few poets more original. If Lord Tennyson is not an
original genius, who is ?

My various volumes of the laureate — I purchased my
first, " Maud," in 1855 — are covered with marginal notes,
results of my reading. I think it a pity they should perish.
I will, accordingly, venture to contribute my mite towards
the fuller appreciation of a poet, to whom I feel I owe a
life-long debt. I trust I shall do it in no peddling spirit.
I shall not attempt to be exhaustive, nor to produce every
scrap of my material. I would, above all things, not be
tedious. I know others have gleaned this field before me.
Nor have I robbed their sheaves, and leave plenty for those
who will come after.

I shall occasionally linger, to trace a word to its source.
I shall note distinct resemblances, unconscious or not, and
deliberate plagiarisms — " 'convey' the wise it call." I shall
point out certain instances in which the poet seems to have
brooded over others' work before producing his own, in
which there may be often little tangible left of the original,
but a certain aroma. Finally, I shall point out a few
instances in which the poet repeats himself. A large number

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 99

of my quotations, need I say, will be merely parallel pas-
sages, showing how different singers have expressed the

same idea.

II.

Lord Tennyson is familiar with Beaumont and Fletcher,
but not an imitator of them to the extent Milton was. We
shall bring forward an example or two in due course. But
Shakspere, as Lysander Hermias, stole " the impression of
his fantasy." In his earlier poems, words borrowed from
Shakspere, such as " lack-lustre," "pleached," are plentiful.
But notice, particularly, his studies of "Isabel" and
"Mariana in the Moated Grange," both from "Measure
for Measure." The second song to the owl —

Thy tuwhits are lull'd, I wot,

is from the song in " Love's Labour's Lost,"

When icicles hang by the wall ;

the "Dirge,"

Now is done thy long day's work,

is inspired by the dirge in "Cymbeline;" and the song of
Autolycus in " The Winter's Tale,"

The lark that tirra-lirra chants,

reminds us that

Tirra-lirra, by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

With

Breathing light against thy face,

in " Adeline," compare Bacon's first Essay — " Then He
breathed light into the face of man. . . ."

The description of the bower in " CEnone" is rich with
reminiscences. " Manie accords more sweet than mermaid's
song," as Spenser sings, make music in it. Read it over.

Then to the bower they came,
Naked they came to that smooth-swarded bower,
And at their feet the crocus brake like fire,
Violet, amaracus and asphodel,
Lotos and lilies : and a wind arose,
And overhead the wandering ivy and vine,
This way and that, in many a wild festoon
Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs
With bunch and berry and flower, through and through.

100 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

If you have an ear for alliteration, trace the w's, r's, and
b's through the marvellously modulated lines.

Then compare with this description that of the couch on
Mount Gargarus, in the Fourteenth Book of the Iliad, to
which Here lures Zeus. She had first judiciously borrowed
the cestus of Aphrodite. The grass was soft and springy,
and crocus and lotus and hyacinth grew around in abun-
dance. The passage is imitated by Virgil in the First Book
of the ^Eneid, where Venus conceals lulus on just such a
couch. With these we may compare Titania's resting-
place, described in " A Midsummer Night's Dream," in the
passage commencing —

I know a bank where the wild thyme blows :

and with all Milton's imitation ("Paradise Lost," ix.7
10374*1).

To a shady bank,

Thick overhead with verdant roof imbowered,
He led her, nothing loth ; flowers were the couch ;
Pansies, and violets, and asphodel,
And hyacinth ;

and, finally, read over the description of the bower of Eve,
in " Paradise Lost," iv., 689-702 :—

Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they passed

On to their blissful bower . . . the roof

Of thickest covert was, inwoven shade,

Laurel and myrtle . . . each beauteous flower,

Iris, all hues, roses and jessamin,

Rear'd high their flourished heads between, and wrought

Mosaick ; underfoot the violet,

Crocus and hyacinth, with rich inlay,

Broider'd the ground . . .

And now for a very curious instance of " reminiscence,"
also from " CEnone" ; —

0 death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud,
There are enough unhappy on this earth,
Pass by the happy souls that love to live ;

with which compare Lamartine's " Le Lac " — " Time," not
" Death," is invoked, with the same intention : —

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 101

Assez de malheureux ici-bas vous implorent,

Coulez, coulez pour eux ;
Prenez avec leurs jours les soins qui les deVorent ;

Oubliez les heureux.

In " The Palace of Art," our poet's description of Bacon,
as —

The first of those who know,

is Dante's —

II maestro di color che sanno. — (Inf. iv., 131.)

In glancing through this poem, "The Palace of Art,"
and remembering what an exquisite workman our artist
usually is, we are amused to find in it alone "blue"
rhyming with "blew," "alone" with "moon," "hair" with
"her," and "hall" with "all;" and the metre recalls to
us " A Dream of Fair Women," and a curious blunder —

A queen, with swarthy cheeks and bold black eyes ;

whereas, as remarks the author of " Gryll Grange," <c Cleo-
patra was a Greek, the daughter of Ptolemy Auletes and
a lady of Pont us."

In " Lady Clara Vere de Vere " we are told —

'Tis only noble to be good.

Habington says of his mistress, that —

She is noblest, being good ;

and in the poem entitled " Winifreda," we read —

And to be noble we'll be good.

The laureate had doubtless read both of these authors ; he
certainly, too, would be familiar with the legend on the
arms of his own college of Trinity, Virtus vera nobilitas ;
but possibly Jehan du Pontalais (A.D. 15 — ) was a stranger
to him : —

Noblesse enrichie,
Richesse ennoblis,
Tiennent leurs estatz :
Qui n'a noble vie
Je vous certifie
Que noble n'est pas.

102 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Would the reader like to hear Hartley Coleridge's
opinion of a bard whom he was fond of, dpropos of the
" Conclusion " to the " The May Queen " ? —

" He's not one of those men with an eyeglass and fine
clothes, but just what I expected from the author of 'The
May Queen/ Why has he gone and spoilt it with that
'Conclusion' about the New Year? Continuations are
always bad. I never heard ' The May Queen' sung without
crying. Such things always affect me."

Addressing " J. S.," as also in " In Memoriam," the poet
thinks it better grief should have its way.

I will not tell you not to weep

embodies his idea in both cases. Horace uses much the
same language to Virgil, sorrowing for Quintilian —

Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus
Tam cari capitis ?

We find in the Latin poem "Ad Liviam Augustam Con-
solatio," attributed to Ovid,

Et quisquam leges audet tibi dicere flendi ?
Et quisquam lacrymas temperat ore tuas ?

and in Statius,

Qui dicere legem
Fletibus, aut fines audet censere dolendi ?

Also, in " Macbeth," we read —

The grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.

The same idea — " curse leves loquuntur, ingentes stu-
pent " — is elaborated in the song in " The Princess " —
" Home they brought her warrior dead."

In his poem called "Morte d' Arthur," it is curious to
observe how closely the new interpreter follows the old
romance. The words we put in italics in our quotations
are the very words of the original.

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 103

Thou therefore take my brand, Excalibur ....

Thou rememberest how
In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, —

what a falling off! —

Holding the sword — and how I row'd across
And took it

Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word ....
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ....

Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.

In this poem we have a line from Homer (Iliad, I. 189) —

This way and that dividing the swift mind ;

two from the "Antigone"—

Yet for a man may fail in duty twice,
And the third time may prosper ;

and one from Virgil, which every schoolboy knows —

The old order changeth, yielding place to new ;

and —

Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly,

is an imitation of a charming passage in the Third Book
of Lucretius,

Apparet Divum numen, sedesque quietsQ,
Quas neque concutiunt venti, neque nubila nimbis
Aspergunt, neque nix acri concreta pruina
Cana cadens violat : semperque innubilis sether
Integit et largo diffuso lumine ridet ;

with which it is interesting to compare Ronsard : —

La demeure
Ou les heureux esprits
Ont leurs pourpris.

La grele ni la neige
N'ont tels lieux pour leur sidge,
Ni la foudre onques la
Ne devala.

104 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Mais bien constante y dure
L'immortelle verdure,
Et constant en tout temps
Le beau printemps.

We are reminded of Wordsworth's —

Nightly lamentations, like the sweep
Of winds,

by-

An agony

Of lamentation, like a wind that shrills
All night in a waste land ;

and the

Full-breasted swan,
. . . fluting a wild carol ere her death,

recalls Shakspere's —

Pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to her own death ;

Or Spenser —

There he most sweetly sung the prophecie
Of his owne death in doleful elegie ;

and many similar passages in other poets.

For the beautiful expression, " the springing East," I
have found it in Milton, in Shakspere, in Drayton, and in
Crashaw. In the romance " Morte d' Arthur " we have " in
the springing of the day," and in Chaucer the same idea.
In the old romance of "Sir Eglamour," we find "in the
spryngynge of the moon." Lastly, the translators of the
New Testament saw fit to write " The Day-spring from on
high."

The line in " Audley Court "—

A rolling stone of here and everywhere,

was an after insertion: it is not in the earlier editions.
Does not this make it all the more curious to find in
" Othello "

An extravagant and wheeling stranger
Of here and everywhere ?

We may notice another interesting coincidence. Letty
in " Edwin Morris,"

Sent a note, the seal an Ellt vous suit :

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 105

and in Byron's "Don Juan," L, 98, we read —

The note was written upon gilt-edged paper —
The seal a sunflower ; die vous suit partout.

Apropos of a curious verse in " The Talking Oak,"

I, rooted here among the groves,

But languidly adjust
My vapid vegetable loves

With anthers and with dust,

we find in Darwin's " Loves of the Plants" —

And woo and win their vegetable loves.

In "Locksley Hall" we are told that —

A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

This is Dante's —

Nessun maggior dolore,

Che ricordarsi del tempo felice

Nella miseria ;

and the " Eheu ! quam infortunii miserrimum est fuisse
felicem!" found written under Coleridge's saddle, what
time he figured as. a dragoon ; though, we think, Words-
worth, in " The Fountain," speaks a deeper truth —

Often, glad no more,

We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad ©f yore.

As Martial has it —

Hoc est
Vivere bis, vit& posse priore frui.

The hero of the same poem tells us —

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

On which subject see Juvenal's sixth satire —

Silvestrem montana torum quum sterneret uxor ....
. . . . potanda ferens infantibus ubera magnis ;

and Beaumont and Fletcher's imitation —

And then had taken me some mountain girl,
Beaten with winds, that might ....
. . . . and have borne at her big breasts
My large, coarse issue.

106 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Those co-poets did not mince their words.
The idea in " St. Agnes "—

Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,
In raiment white and clean, —

is from Holy Writ : " The marriage of the Lamb is come,
and his wife hath made herself ready. And to her was
granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and
white."— -Rev. xix., 7-8.
In " Sir Galahad "—

"When the tide of combat stands,
Perfume and flowers fall in showers,
That lightly rain from ladies' hands ;

and in " L' Allegro " we have —

Store of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit or arms.

III.

Let the reader open his "Maud," and read over the
poem commencing —

0 let the solid ground,

and see if he does not find the aroma, in some sort the
rhythm of it, in the following song of Moliere — a song
which the author of "Maud" could hardly have happ'd
upon, in its obscure lurking-place, the "Aventures bur-
lesques " of Dassoucy (1677) : —

Loin de moi, loin de moi, tristesse,

Sanglots, larmes, soupirs,

Je revois la princesse

Qui fait tous mes desirs.

0 celestes plaisirs !

Doux transports d'alle"gresse !

Viens, mort, quand tu voudras,

Me donner le tre"pas !

J'ai revu ma princesse !

The lines —

Just now the dry-tongued laurel's pattering talk
• Seem'd her light foot along the garden walk —

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 107

always remind me of the lines in Schiller's exquisite
"Die Erwartung" —

H6r' ich nicht Tritte erschallen ?
Rauscht's nicht den Laubgang daher ?

and when I read the poem which commences —

Rivulet crossing my ground,

the rivulet which brings down a rose from the hall, I
recall a passage in "Wilhelm Meister's Travels:" — "To
my feeling, one is still in the neighbourhood of those he
loves, so long as the streams run down from him towards
them. To-day I can still fancy to myself that the twig
which I cast into the forest brook may perhaps float down
to her — may in a few days land in her garden."

There are many echoes of Goethe in Lord Tennyson.
The ballad, for instance, to be found in Sir Theodore
Martin's translations, under the title of " The Happy Pair,"
is very like " The Miller's Daughter." A friend of mine
once inquired of our bard whom he meant, in " In
Memoriam," by —

Him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,

and he replied, "Goethe."

We have before quoted the laureate's dictum —

'Tis only noble to be good.

In division ex. of " In Memoriam " we are treated to his
views of the churl and the gentleman. The reader will
kindly read it over, then he may compare " The Romaunt
of the Rose," 2180-2203—

Villanie maketh villeine,
And by his deeds a chorle is seine.
These villaines arne without pitie,
Friendship, love, and all bountie.
I nill receive unto my servise
Hem that been villaines of emprise.
But understond in thine entent,
That this is not mine entendement,

108 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

To clepe no wight in no ages

Only gentle for his linages :

But who so is vertuoua,

And in his port not outrageous,

When such one thou seest thee beforne,

Though he be not gentle borne,

Thou maiest well seine this in sooth,

That he is gentle, because he doth

As longeth to a gentleman :

Of hem none other deme I can;

For certainly withouten dreede,

A chorle is demed by his deede.

Of hye or lowe. as ye may see,

Or of what kinred that he be.

Quaint Barnabe Googe (1563) also has a word on this
subject —

If theyr Natures gentell be,

Thoughe byrth be neuer so base,
Of Gentelmen (for mete it is)

They ought haue name and place :
But when by byrth they base are bred,

And churlisshe harte retaine,
Though place of gentlemen they haue

Yet churles they do remayne.

In " The Princess/' the intruding prince in petticoats,
applying for admission as a student to the ladies' college,
wrote —

In such a hand as when a field of corn
Bows all its ears before the roaring east.

In Beaumont and Fletcher we read —

Like a field of standing corn, that's moved
With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way.

You know the marvellous song, which commences —

The splendour falls on castle walls.

I have read the lines which follow in an old anonymous
poem —

Hear ! 0 hear !
How sweet and clear
The nightingale
And waters-fall
In concert join for other's ear ;

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 109

and Thomas Moore, in a poem he calls " Echoes," thus
sings —

How sweet the answer echo makes

To music at night

When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away o'er lawns and lakes

Goes answering light !

Yet' love hath echoes truer far

And far more sweet
Than e'er ....

As the Laureate says —

Our echoes roll from soul to soul ;

it is almost inconceivable that his song did not owe its
origin to Moore's, whether he was conscious of it or not.
The exquisite thought —

Sad and strange, as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds, —

finds an interesting parallel in a Latin poem of Crashaw,
" Yotiva Domus Petrensis," —

Ut magis in mundi votis aviumque querelis

Jam veniens solet esse dies, ubi cuspide prima

Palpitat, et roseo lux prsevia ludit ab ortu ;

Cum nee abest Phoebus, nee Eois laetus habenis

Totus adest, volucrumque procul vaga murmura mulcet ;

Nos ita."

IV.

In Shelley's " Lines written on hearing the News of the
Death of Napoleon," a powerful effect is produced by
repeating the rhyme-sound "old" twenty times in forty
lines. In Lord Tennyson's " Ode on the Death of the
Duke of Wellington," a powerful effect is produced by
repeating the rhyme-sound " old " eleven times in twenty-
one lines. It is a curious coincidence.

The fine song in " The Princess," which commences

Ask me no more . . . t

was possibly suggested by a passage towards the close of

110 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Keats's " Endymion," which, however, is hardly worth
quoting.

Branch'd like mighty woods

recalls

Those green- robed senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks,

in " Hyperion."

We find in " The Eve of St. Agnes "—

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose,
Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart
Made purple riot ;

and in " A Dream of Fair Women " —

As when a great thought strikes along the brain,
And flushes all the cheek.

Another line in the former poem —

The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,

reminds us of a picture in " The Palace of Art " —

Some were hung with arras green and blue,

Shewing a gaudy summer morn,
Where with puff d cheek the belted hunter blew
His wreathed bugle horn.

Again, in the same poem, Keats writes —

He arose,

Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star
Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose ;

and in "Endymion" —

He rose, faint-smiling, like a star
Through autumn mists ;

and we note that when Paris appeared to (Enone,

White- breasted like a star,
Fronting the dawn, he moved.

So Shelley —

The soul of Adonais, like a star,
Beacons from the abode where the eternal are.

But "like a star" is a stock simile to end a line with. If
the reader will count the lines which end so in Buchanan's
noble poem, " The City of Dream," he will be amused.

TENNYSON PARALLELS. Ill

Hitherto our parallels from Keats have been somewhat
trivial : our last one will, however, in Tennysonian phrase,
" redeem them from the charge of nothingness."

Our passage is from Keats's " Miscellaneous Poems" —

Where swarms of minnows show their little heads,
Staying their wavy bodies 'gainst the streams,
To taste the luxury of sunny beams
Temper'd with coolness. How they ever wrestle
With their own sweet delight, and ever nestle
Their silver bellies on the pebbly sand !
If you but scantily hold out a hand,
That very instant not one will remain.

The parallel passage is from " Enid " —

They vanish'd panic-stricken, like a shoal
Of darting fish, that on a summer morn
Adown the crystal dykes of Camelot
Come slipping o'er their shadows on the sand ;
But if a man who stands upon the brink
But lift a shining hand against the sun,
There is not left the twinkle of a fin
Betwixt the cressy islets white in flower.

We find " happie chance " in Spenser, as also in "In
Memoriam " we find —

Grasps the skirts of happy chance.

Spenser, too, looking into "the chrystall firmament,"
beheld " the intelligences fayre ;" and in "In Memoriam "
we read of —

The great Intelligences fair

That range above our mortal state

In circle round the blessed gate.

Here is a passage from " The Ruins of Time." It is
Du Bellay in Spenser's rendering —

0 trustless state of miserable men,
That build your bliss on hope of earthly thing,
And vainly think yourselves half happie then,
When painted faces with smooth flattering
Doo fawne on you, and your wide praises sing ;
And, when the courting masker louteth lowe,
Him true in heart and trusty to you trow !

All is but fained, and with oaker dide,
That everie shower will wash and wipe away.

112 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Now, an outburst of moralizing in the laureate, in the
author's own person, in the middle of a narrative poem, is
a rare thing. The one we are about to quote from " Enid,"
from its resemblance to the passage above, is more than
usually interesting —

O purblind race of miserable men,
How many among us at this very hour
Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves
By taking true for false, and false for true.

In a letter Spenser writes from college to his friend,
Gabriel Harvey, he sends him a poem in iambics, of which
he courageously remarks, " I dare warrant they be pre-
cisely perfect and vary not one inch from the rule." There
are seven verses, of three lines each. We quote the first,
third, and fifth.

Unhappie verse ! the witnesse of my unhappie state,
Make thyself fluttering wings of thy fast flying
Thought, and fly forth unto my love whereso ever she be.

If in bed, tell hir, that my eyes can take no reste :

If at boorde, tell hir that my mouth can eate no meate ;

If at hir verginals, tell hir I can heare no mirth .

Tell hir, that hir pleasures were wonte to lull me asleepe ;

Tell hir, that hir beautie was wonte to f cede mine eyes ;

Tell hir, that hir sweete tongue was wonte to make me mirth. '

The reader may make what he can of the precise iambic
perfection, but will he venture to assert that the author of
the song, of which the first verse is —

O swallow, swallow, flying, flying south,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her that I follow thee,

had not read, and more than read, Spenser's poem ?

" Inward agony," in " Claribel," is a Spenserian expres-
sion. In " (Enone " we have " light-foot Iris " ; in Spenser,
"light-foote Nymphes," " light-lbote Faeries:" but the
epithet is common. In "The Lotos-eaters" we find

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 113

" slender galingale," which, Spenser speaks of as " cheerful
galingale " ; this herb the cook laid in a supply of, who
accompanied the Canterbury Pilgrims.

We should have liked to dwell at length on the many
resemblances between Lord Tennyson and Herrick; but
we must be brief. They are mainly only verbal resem-
blances, as in such examples as the following, where the
words in italics are also Herrick's : —

While his locks a-dropping twined .

Make a carcanet of rays . . .

To dreamful wastes where footless fancies dwell . . .

0 priestess in the vaults of death

That are cast in gentle mould."

In " In Memoriam " Lord Tennyson pretends to fear for
his rhymes, that they —

May bind a book, may line a box,
May serve to curl a maiden's locks.

The idea is to be found in Herrick, whom it certainly suits
better. Also the idea in "The Talking Oak," of the
maiden embracing the tree, on which a lover had carved
her name, is in Herrick. So is the main idea in the
laureate's poem, which commences —

Move eastward, happy earth, . . .

and ends —

And move me to my marriage morn,
And round again to happy night.

The fancy in —

Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife,
That we may die the self-same day,

occurs several times in Herrick ; but it is found in many
poets. Beaumont and Fletcher have "Do hope we shall
draw out a long contented life together here, and die, both
full of grey hairs, in one day."
H

114 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

V.

We have produced several parallels and quotations from
the Latin poets. We may be allowed a few more.
In "Vivien"—

A storm was coming, but the winds were still,

and —

The clouds may stoop from heaven, and take the shape
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape,

in the song in "The Princess," are the —

Sepultis undique ventis,

and the —

Cum montibus adsimilata nubila,

of Lucretius, in a celebrated passage in Book VI. So again
in Vivien —

The rotten bough,
Snapt in the rushing of the river-rain,

is contained in —

Decursus aquai
Fragmina conjiciens sylvarum,

of Book I. A comparison of Lord Tennyson's poem
"Lucretius" with the work of the old philosopher would
require an article to itself.

Compare division xviii. in " In Memoriam " —

'Tis little ; but it looks in truth

As if the quiet bones were blest

Among familiar names to rest
And in the places of his youth —

an idea also to be found in Her rick, with Catullus's poem
of his brother : —

Heu misero frater adempte mihi ....
Quern nunc tarn longe non inter nota sepulcra
Nee prope cognatos compositum cineres
Sed Troja obscena, Troja infelice sepultum
Detinet extremo terra aliena solo.

Our poet borrows many Horatian expressions. "Over
blowing seas" is "ventosa per sequora;" "her pearly

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 115

shoulder" is "candentes humeros;" "my bird with the
shining head" recalls Horace's "nitidum caput," and —

The delight of happy laughter,
The delight of low replies,

gathers up together —

Lenesque sub noctem susurri . . .
Gratus puellse risus ab angula . . .
Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo,
Dulce loquentem.

To match —

To meet and greet a whiter sun,

we have "albus notus," " albus lapyx," " alba stella ;"

We remember love ourselve8
In our sweet youth,

in " The Princess," is Horace's —

Me quoque pectoris
Tentavit in dulci juventa fervor ;

and his —

O fortes, pejoraque pass

Mecum saepe viri . . .
Cras ingens iterabimus sequor,

are answerable for Ulysses' speech —

My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd and wrought and thought with me . . .

. For my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset.

We must not forget Virgil, whose Eclogues are favourites.
Compare —

The mayfly is torn by the swallow, the swallow spear'd by the shrike . . .

with —

Torva lesena lupum sequitur lupus ipse capellam . . .

and —

0 child, you wrong your beauty, believe it, in being so proud,

with —

0 formose puer, nimium ne crede colori ;

and

Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height ;
What pleasure lives in height, the shepherd sang ?

with —

Hue ades, 0 Galatea, quid est nam ludus in undis ?

116 TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Again —

And the great ages onward roll

is

Et incipient magni procedere menses ;

and —

Happy days,
Koll onward, leading up the golden year,

echoes

Aspice venture laetantur ut omnia sseclo ;

and

Inter densas umbrosa cacumina fagos

gives us

Moving in the leafy beech ;

and

The moan of doves in immemorial elms

finds its earlier expression in —

Nee gemere aeria cessabit turtur in ulmo,

and Horace's —

Ulmo
Nota quse sedes fuerat columbis.

We must not forget the quaint Latin poem " Pervigilium
Amoris." The lines in " In Memoriam " —

And balmy drops in summer dark
Slide from the bosom of the star?,

are surely —

Humor ille, quern serenis astra rorant noctibus ;

which reminds us also of " The Talking Oak,"

All starry culmination drop
Balm-dews to bathe thy feet ;

and of Honsard's —

L'humeur que produit
En mai la nuit ;

and the familiar passage in " Locksley Hall," which tells us
what happens in the spring, is paralleled by —

Vere concordant amores, vere nubunt alites,
Et nemus comam resolvit de maritis imbribus,

written, curiously enough, practically in the same metre ;
which, again, Ronsard may be allowed to reproduce after
his own manner —

Le jour qui plus beau se fait

Nous refait

Plus belle et verte la terre ;
Et Amour, arme de traits

Et d'attraits,
En nos coeurs nous fait la guerre.

T£NNYSON PARALLELS. 117

VI.

We shall linger a moment over a few passages in which
the laureate repeats himself. They shall be abridged as
much as possible. Head " In Memoriam," Ixxxiv. : —

But if they came who past away,

Behold their brides in other hands ;

The hard heir strides about their lands,
And will not yield them for a day.

Yea, tho' their sons were none of these,
Not less the yet-loved sire would make
Confusion worse than death, and shake

The pillars of domestic peace.

Compare " The Lotos-Eaters ' ' —

Surely now our household hearths are cold,
And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy ;
Or else the island-princes over-bold
Have eat our substance. . . .

There is confusion worse than death.

Again " In Memoriam," xciv. —

Suck'd from out the distant gloom,

A breeze began to tremble o'er

The large leaves of the sycamore,
And fluctuate all the still perfume ;
And gathering freshlier overhead,

Kock'd the f ull-foliaged elms, and swung

The heavy-folded rose, and flung
The lilies to and fro, and said
" The dawn, the dawn," and died away.

This breeze of the morning haunts our poet like a familiar
spirit. We have it in " Maud "—

Morning arises stormy and pale . . .

And the budded peaks of the wood are bow'd,
Caught and cuff d by the gale ;

And again,

For a breeze of the morning moves,
And the planet of love is on high ;

the last two passages distinctly recalling Keats : —

The sullen day

Had chidden herald Hesperus away
With leaden looks : the solitary breeze
Bluster'd and slept ;

118 TENNYSON PARALLELS,

and in " Mariana " —

Cold winds woke the grey-eyed morn ;

and in " Recollections of the Arabian Nights,"

The breeze of a joyful dawn blew free ;

and in other places.

The curious conceit of ground trodden on leaving marks
of a girl's foot in flowers, or being otherwise affected, would
furnish a volume of quotations — from Herrick, Ben Jonson,
Milton, and numerous poets. We bind ourselves at present
only to parallel Lord Tennyson with himself.

See "Maud"—

From the meadow your walks have left so sweet,

That whenever a March wind sighs,
He sets the jewel-print of your feet

In violets blue as your eyes :

again —

For her feet have touch'd the meadows,
And left the daisies rosy ;

and in " The Talking Oak"—

The flower she touch'd on dipt and rose,
And turn'd to look at her.

We may notice a blemish, often repeated — " free," used
merely as an expletive, to make a rhyme. We find it in
"The Sea-Fairies"—

Over the islands free ;

and in "Eleanore" —

Like two streams of incense free ;

and in " The Lord of Burleigh "—

Lord of Burleigh, f air and free ;

and elsewhere.

In "Eleanore" we read that —

Motions flow
To another, -even as tho'
They were modulated so
To an unheard melody ;

and Olivia, in " The Talking Oak," is—

Lightly, musically made.

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 119

The laureate has a curious figure, often recurring, drawn
from a star waxing and waning. In "Eleanore" again
we read —

As tho' a star, in inmost heaven set,

Ev'n while we gaze on it,

Should slowly round his orb, and slowly grow

To a full face, then like a sun remain

Fix' d— then as slowly fade again,

And draw itself to what it was before.

So in "CEnone"—

Like a light that grows
Larger and clearer ;

and in "Maud"—

Growing and fading and growing upon me without a sound,
Luminous, gemlike, ghostlike, death-like, half the night long.
Growing and fading and growing.

In " (Enone " we have " the cold-crown'd snake," in
" Morte d' Arthur " " the swan's cold plumes," and in " The
Two Voices"—

Morn, from his cold crown
And crystal silence creeping down.

In " CEnone," again, we have —

Gods who have attained
Best in a happy place and quiet seats
Above the thunder ;

and in the " Lotos-eaters," these same gods —

Lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl'd
Far below them in the valleys ;

and these are, of course, the very gods and " Sedes quietse "
of Lucretius, B. III., quoted above.

In " Recollections of the Arabian Nights," Lord Tenny-
son tells us that, in his youth —

The tide of time flow'd back with me,
The forward-flowing tide of time ;

and the same thing happened to him, long after, over his
pint of port at " The Cock "—

Against its fountain upward runs
The current of nay days."

One more word. It is long since we were told, in dashing
fashion, that —

Man is man, and master of his fate.

120

TENNYSON PARALLELS.

Now, after all the years, in "Locksley Hall Sixty Years
after," we have a humbler note —

Man can half control his doom.

VII.

As this article aims, above all
me append the various readings
Memoriam :" —

For
xxi., 7. And one is glad, her . . .

And one is sad, her . . .
xxiv., 3. Makes former gladness loom

so great . . .
xxvi., 4. Then might . . .

To shroud me . . .

xxxvii., 3. I am not worthy even . . .
xxxvii., 4. Dear to me as sacred wine . .

xl., 6. To-be . . .
xlii., 4. Will cast . . .
lii., 2. This fancy . . .

Scarce had grown . . .
viii.

Ixi., 1. Then be ...
Ixvi. 4. In the dark church . . .
Ixx., 2. Trebly strong . . .

That so . . .

Ixxviii., 4. No mark of pain . . .
Ixxxvii., 2. The darkening leaf . . .
xcix., 1. I climb the hill . . .
cix., 2, Double tongue . . .
ex., 1. To him who grasps . . .
ex., 4. Best seem'd the thing he

was . . .

cxii., 5. With thousand shocks . . .
cxv. 3. And that dear voice I once

have known . . .
cxxv., 3. Who moves . . .

To the worlds of space . . .
In the deep night . . .
cxxvi., 4. The great (Eon . . .
cxxvii ,2. 0 ye mysteries . . .
cxxvii., 5. Old bareness .

things, at being useful, let
of the first edition of "In

First edition has
And unto one her . . .
And unto one her . . .
Hath stretched my former joy so

great . . .
So might ...
To cloak me . . .
I am not worthy but . . .
Dear as sacramental wine . . .
To be ...
Would cast . . .
This doctrine . . .
Had not grown . . .

Not in first edition.
So be ...
In the chancel . . .
Treble-strong . . .
That thus , .
No type of pain . . .
The dusking leaf . . .
I wake, I rise . . .
Treble tongue . . .
To who may grasp . . .
So wore his outward best . . .

With many shocks . . .

The dear, dear voice that I have

known . . .
That moves . . .
To the vast of space . .
Among the worlds . . .
The vast (Eon . . .
0 ye ministers . . .
Old baseness .

TENNYSON PARALLELS. 121

These various readings show how carefully Lord Tenny-
son works. We must pillory an instance to the contrary —

If all was good and fair we met,

This earth had been the paradise

It never looked to human eyes
Since Adam left his garden yet.

Can this be an attempt to render the inscription (dated
1667) over the little house Spinoza lived in, near Ley den ?

Ach, waren alle menschen wijs

En wilden daarby wel ;
De aard waar heer een Paradijs,

Nu is ze meest een Hel.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.
PART II.

BY JAMES T. FOARD.

HAVING in my last paper offered some general reasons
for the assumption that the play of Hamlet bore,
and was intended to bear, indirect reference to the for-
tunes, family history, and personal character of Kobert
Devereux, the Queen's favourite, I propose now to present
the detailed proofs which appear to me to support this
contention.

The most cogent evidence that the poet intended allu-
sively to refer to the Earl of Essex by his portrait of the
Danish prince, is, to my mind, suggested by the similarity
of temper and disposition of the real and ideal heroes.
Shakespere, having probably been one of the young Earl's
"actors" when he first came to London — as he had a relative
in his Lordship's company,* and being presumably after-
wards recommended by Essex to his near kinsman Lord
Hunsdon (the Lord Chamberlain), whose players he subse-
quently joined — had, of course, abundant opportunity for

* The great nobles of Elizabeth's day licensed the players, who were considered their
retainers. Essex's company was joint with Lord Strange and that of the Earl of Rutland.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 123

mastering the features of his early patron. In addition,
Southampton, the relative by marriage and dearest friend
of the Earl, was, as we know, the poet's greatest friend. It
might perhaps be urged with plausibility, that the intro-
spection, melancholy, and philosophy of the prince were
Shakespere's own, and are partially represented in Antonio,
and in some other of the poet's ideal characters. But the
melancholy of Antonio is of idiosyncrasy ; of Hamlet, of
passion and disappointment, essential to awaken sympathy
for his character and sustain its tragedy. That Essex was
not as lofty and idealised a figure as Hamlet, no doubt,
might also be admitted. But passed through the alembic
of the author's mind, graced by such attributes as his
affection, honour, regard, and artistic sense of fitness
deemed necessary, he was the same man — "the scholar,
courtier, soldier " of the play.

• In the drama of actual as of unreal life, the hero was
first indebted to his noble parent's popularity, for his fame
with the people. " Indeed, pity first opened the door to
him for his father's sake, that died in Ireland," says Lloyd ;
and Lord Clarendon adds also : " For no question he found
advantage from the stock of his father's reputation, the
people looking on his youth with pity, for they were noth-
ing satisfied concerning his father's death," and this really
accounts for the original introduction of the Ghost into
the play. But, happily, the poet, mindful in this respect,
as in all else, to make his purpose manifest, has left us in
no doubt as to various particulars of chronology and inci-
dent in the life of the person he was anxious to pourtray.
He has told us Hamlet's age when "set naked" on the
kingdom on his return from England; the date of his
father's wedding, viz., forty years* in the inner play — the

* " Full forty years are past, their date is gone,
Since happy time joined both our hearts in one."

124 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

precise date of Essex's father's nuptials with Lettice
Knollys, or 1562. He has also alluded to the defection
of his most trusted friend ; the chance medley of his death
and of those who plotted against him — " the deaths put on
by cunning," "the casual, bloody, and unnatural acts,"
and "purposes mistook" which signalised his end, and
other circumstances of strong resemblance.

Beyond these incidental and minor details, he has more-
over very specifically and fully indicated the characteristics
and attributes of the ideal hero presented. He has shown
us the passions, disappointments, fatalism, contempt of
death, bookishness, melancholy, courage, truthfulness, and
loving fidelity in friendship, as well as the ambition of
this purposeless prince, and has bequeathed us, as we feel,
a very perplexing, yet certainly a vividly real, truthful,
and natural idiosyncrasy.

What is the picture set before us, at the very opening of
the play ? That of a retired, gentle, melancholy, studious,
and moody young man, presumably of not more than
twenty years of age. This " youthful " hope of the court
and kingdom averts his face from his mother's husband,
mourns his murdered father, and will return to a studious
life and his books at Wittenberg. Up to 1585 or 1586 this
is Essex's precise story. For Wittenberg read Lamphey,
in Wales, and it was his experience. At his father's death,
he is described "as very courteous and modest, rather
disposed to hear than to answer, given greatly to learning,
weak and tender, but very comely and bashful."* He
disliked and avoided Leicester, taking part against
him with Burghley, his guardian, until the Earl, to check
the growing power of Raleigh, summoned him from his
bookish retirement at the close of 1585, to fight in the Low

* Ed. Water-house to Burghley— Lives of the Devereux, Vol. I., p 166. Lands.
MSS. 22-86

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 125

Countries, and subsequently, early in 1587, he introduced
him at the court.*

The anomaly of Hamlet's " youthfulness," as he is
referred to as " young Hamlet," and the statement of the
gravedigger, in the third act, that he is thirty, has often
been pointed out. The poet, doubtless, in altering his
work and making it again allusive in 1602, overlooked
these suggestions of age, so pertinent in 1589, or considered
the unit of time to be too unimportant for material con-
sideration.

We are left, after the introduction of the hero, to create
a portrait after our own ideal or fancy, but there can be no
doubt that the author desired to impress us with the
exalted hopes represented by the prince, his nobility of
nature, philosophic fatalism, melancholy, and passionate
valour in a triune aspect, and as adorning the study, camp,
and court. This is very distinct.

Oh what a noble mind is here o'erthrown !

The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword,

The expectancy and rose of the fair state,

The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,

The observ'd of all observers.

This elevated triple character is further emphasised by
repetition —

The courtier, scholar, soldier, all in him,
All dashed and splintered thence.

These attributes, not always, it must be admitted, found
in conjunction, were united in the Earl. As a courtier he

* It may be but an odd coincidence, but it certainly is curious, that Hamlet is repre-
sented, in the opening of the play, attired in black. His mother refers to his " nightly
colour." He speaks of the "trappings of woe." In 1589 Essex had assumed this mourn-
ing habit. See the line in Peele's "Eclogue" of that date— "And in sad sable did I see
him dight."—" Welcome into England from Portugal," 1589. And again in 1591—
Young Essex, that thrice honourable earl,
Yclad in mighty arms of mourner's dye,
And plume as black as is the raven's wing.''

— " Polyhymnia," 1591.

And see his (Essex's) own phrase— "A mourning habit suits a sable hear '—in Grosart.
' The Buzzing Bee's Complaint," p. 88.

126 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

was a privy councillor, for many years one of the chief
advisers of the Queen, maintaining a very large corres-
pondence with all the Protestant powers abroad, in commu-
nication with James VI. of Scotland from 1589, and subse-
quently with Henry IV. In the sense of aiming at the re-
putation of courtiership, or as being fitted to grace a court,
this was as true in 1589 as in 1602. A letter of May, 1587,
when Essex was not yet 20, contains this passage — " When
she [Elizabeth] is abroad, nobody near her but my lord of
Essex, and at night my lord is at cards or one game or
another with her, that he cometh not to his own lodgings
till birds sing in the morning."* And two years after, we
hear "that he had chased Kaleigh from the court, and
confined him unto Ireland, "f

Next as to the fitness of allusion to his scholarship. " He
was fond," says Sir Henry Wotton, his sometime secretary,
" of evaporating his notions in a sonnet," and in truth it
was said of him, "That he was one of the best court
poets of the day." He had been made M.A. of Cambridge
at 14 (July 6, 1581), not quite 14, J was Chancellor of the
University of Cambridge, and the great friend of Sir Thomas
Bodley, to whom he gave Osorius's Library on his return
from Portugal. He was also a correspondent of Guic-
ciardini, the patron of the Bacons and their chief bene-
factor, and Ben Jonson attributes to him the epistle
dedicatory in Greenway's Tacitus of the date of 1598,
which is signed A. B. ; and finally he was made M.A. of
Oxford in 1588, with the view of opposing Hatton as
Chancellor. Hare Ben praises his Lordship's style as
" noble and high," and lest this may be deemed venal, Sir
H. Wotton, his private secretary, has said of him : —

* Letters of the Devereux, Earls of Essex, Vol. I., p. 186.

t Birch Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth, Vol. I., p. 56.— Capt. Allen to Anthony Baoon.

J Printed 16 by mistake in the first paper.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 127

He was a very acute and sound speaker, and for his writings they are
beyond example, especially in his familiar letters and things of delight, when
he would introinit his serious habits, as may yet be seen, in his impresses
and inventions of entertainment, and, above all, in his darling piece of " Love
and Self-Love."* His style was an elegant perspicuity, rich of phrase, but
seldom any bold metaphors, and so far from tumour, that it rather wanted a
little elevation. . . . He was a great cherisher of scholars and divines.

Of his courage and that constitutional melancholy and
contempt of death, as well as of a certain intrinsic severity
which appears inconsistent with his habitual gentleness and
sorrow, and which is manifested in the killing of Polonius
and the careless disposition of the lives of Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern, we have all the counterpart in Essex's
career and nature. His reckless exploits in the Portugal
and Cadiz voyages, he being the first to wade ashore,-)- and
again his conduct and bearing at the siege of Rouen in
1591, when Sir C. Hatton wrote to him, " Draw not through
grief or passion (for the death of your brother) to hazard

yourself over venturously You have many

various ways and many times made proof of your valiant-
ness," show his soldierly qualities of courage ; and although
he was undeniably an indiscreet, reckless, and, on the
whole, an unprosperous commander, especially in Ireland,
we have a noble warrior's testimony that he was " a
grave soldier. "J His severity was shown by his throwing
a mariner into the sea, with his own hands, in the
Spanish voyage, and causing others to be executed for
breach of discipline, § and in his decimating a whole com-
pany for cowardice and basely running from their colours,
in the Irish Expedition in 1599. On these points of

* A masque written by him in 1595, and ascribed by Mr. Speddiug with inadequate
warrant to Lord Bacon. — See Sidney Correspondence, Vol. I., p. 362.

t Norrey's and Drake's Report to the Council, June 5th, 1589. Lives of the Devereux,
Vol. I., p. 202. Sir Chris. Blount's letter to Lady Eich in Birch Memoirs of Queen
Elizabeth, Vol. II., p. 54.

J Id.— Viz., the Lord Admiral Howard. " And that there was not a braver man in the
world." Birch, Vol. II., p. 54.

§ Birch, Vol. II., p. 17.

128 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

soldiership and culture, in affirmation, I may also offer the
testimony of George Peele, who addressed him : —

Well- lettered warrior, whose [Sir Philip Sidney's] successor he
In love and arms had ever vowed to be ;
In love and arms, 0, may he so succeed
As his deserts, as his desires would speed.

— G. Peele, Polyhymnia, A.D. 1591.

So much for the qualities especially claimed for him by
the poet. But of his studiousness and inclination to
learning, his fidelity to his friends, his sincerity and truth-
fulness, his impatience of cunning, insincerity and conceal-
ment, as well as of his passionate melancholy, abundant
other evidence, even to wearisomeness, might be adduced.

Professor Dowden, in commenting on the character of
Hamlet, has said — it appears to me with great discrimi-
nation—

One of the deepest characteristics of Hamlet's nature is a longing for sin-
cerity, for truth in mind and manners, an aversion for all that is false, affected
or exaggerated.

The very best commentary I could offer on this point,
would be a letter of July 21st, 1587, written to Elizabeth
before his impatience of Kaleigh's artifice and cunning
had led him " to drive him out," and to challenge him,*
viz., in reference to the Queen's treatment of his sister,
and as the letter throws light on the lifelong enmity
of these two great men, which ended so disastrously
for them both, I have less hesitancy in transcribing part
of it. The Queen, who had been on a visit to Lord
Burghley at his house at Theobalds, proceeded to North
Hall, Lord Warwick's, where Essex's sister was then
staying. The Queen slighted her, and ordered her to
keep her room. Essex thereupon remonstrated, and says
in a letter to a friend : —

Her [the Queen's] excuse was — first, she knew not of my sister's coming ; and
besides, the jealousy that the world would conceive that all her kindness to my

* The challenge was in December, 1588 ; Edwards' Life of Raleigh, Vol. I., p. 120 ;
Cal. State Papers, 1581 to 1590, p. 566.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 12£

sister was done for love of myself. Such bad excuses gave me a theme large
enough, both for answer of them and to tell her what the true causes were ;
why she could offer this disgrace both to me and to my sister, which was only

to please that knave Raleigh

From thence she came to speak of Raleigh ; and it seemed she could not well
endure anything to be spoken against him, and taking hold of one word, disdain,
she said ' there was no such cause why I should disdain him.' ... I did
describe unto her what he had been and what he was, and that I had no com-
fort to give myself over to the service of a mistress that was in awe of such a
man. ... I spake, what of grief and choler, as much against him as I could,
and I think he, standing at the door, might very well hear the worst I spoke
of him.

Essex, late at night, sent his sister away under escort,
and resolved to ship himself at Flushing "to see Sluys lost
or relieved," for una bella morire "is better than a disquiet
life."*

It is this passionate love of plain speaking, and of love of
truth, that in the opinion of all his biographers and friends,
was his ruin and downfall. And on this point Wotton,,
Cuffe, Naunton, and Lloyd agree. It was his ill-advised
but too direct reproach to the Queen that "her conduct
was crooked as her carcase, that cost him his head," says-
Raleigh, no mean judge of policy, or of the Queen's nature
and temper. "Yea, the late Earl of Essex told Queen
Elizabeth that her conditions were as crooked as her
carcase ; but it cost him his head, which his insurrection
had not cost him but for that speech,"! and with this,
saving a slight change of phrase, Clarendon concurs.

It is this disposition, so vividly in contrast with Bacon's
teaching, that convinces me that Mr. Spedding is wrong in
assigning, against contemporary authority, the whole of the
Masque of 1595 to Bacon, the reflections of the Hermit
being chiefly Essex's own, as well as part of the Soldier's
speech. The sentiments throughout are indeed the Earl's,
although Bacon's superintending hand may have passed

* Letter to Mr. Edward Dyer, July 21, 1587.— Lives of the Devereux, Vol. I., p. 186.
t Prerogative of Parliaments, Vol. I., 223, Ed. 1751.

I

130 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

over all. This is, I think, Essex's:* "So that if he
will indeed lead vitam vitalem a life that unites safety
and dignity, pleasure and merit ; if he will win ad-
miration without envy; if he will be in the feast
and not in the throng, in the light and not in the
heat ; let him embrace the life of study and contempla-
tion." Again ... " Such a sweet felicity is in that
noble exercise (of warlike command) that he that hath
tasted it thoroughly is distasted for all other. ... Is
it not the truest and perfectest practice of all virtues?''
Again, in his letter of advice to his step-son, Lord Rutland,
going on his travels, he says : —

So no man is wise or safe, but as he is honest. Nay, do you not see that
never any man made his own cunning and practice, without religion, honour,
and moral honesty his foundation, but he overbuilt himself and made his
Louse a windfall. . . . In is Seneca's rule, multum non multa, to endeavour
to do well, rather than to believe you do well. As the way to virtue is steep
and craggy, so the descent from it is headlong.'f

I will never forswear virtue for fear of ostracism. My enemies may be
advanced ; so I show who should be, let fortune show who be. — Essex to
Southampton, Jan. 1, 1599. — Abbott, Essex and Bacon, p. 111.

Curiously, this thought, varied a little, is in Mr. Sped-
ding's version of the advice to Rutland — "that you rather
be endeavouring to do well than believing you do well."J
Again —

I keep my heart from baseness, although I cannot keep my fortunes from
•declining. .... When the vilest of all indignities are done unto me,
doth religion enforce me to sue ? . . . Cannot princes err ; cannot subjects
receive wrong ?§

Clarendon says that Cuffe, his secretary/' well discerned
when he said of the Earl — ' Amorem et odium semper in
fronte gessit, nee celare novit' (He always carried on his

Another sentence is worth preserving: — "The gardens of the muses keep the
privilege of the golden age— they ever nourish, and are in league with time. The
monuments of wit survive the monuments of power ; the verses of a poet endure without
syllable lost, while states and empires pass many periods."
t January 8th, 1596.
J Life of Bacon, Vol. II., p. 20.
§ Essex to the Lord Keeper, Lives of the Devereux, Vol. I., p. 501. Cabala, p. 235.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 131

brow either love or hatred, and did not understand con-
cealment)."* And Reynolds, writing to Anthony Bacon in
1597, says: "And truly I fear that his lordship is wearied,
and scorneth the practices and dissembling courses of this
place [the court], and desireth to retire from among them."
When, in 1598, the Queen boxed his ears on some
unpleasant difference between them, which he declared a
wrong he would not have taken from her father, Henry
the Eighth, he writes to the Lord Keeper, in answer to his
friendly expostulation, "If I should acknowledge myself
guilty I should do wrong to the truth and to God, the
author of truth ; my whole body is wounded by that one
blow." Again, " I have been content to do her Majesty
the service of a clerk, but can never serve her as a villain or

slave I owe so much to the author of all truth as

I can never yield falsehood to be truth nor truth falsehood, "f

But the one aspect which commends Hamlet's idiosyn-
crasy to our attention as its most striking feature is that
phase of introspective melancholy and impatience; of
sadness, mingled with remorse, which seems to haunt him
as his shadow. These soliloquies, which strike a chord of
conscience in all men's bosoms; this impatience of
pretence, this consideration of death as a rest from
weariness, appear to present a parallelism in Essex which,
if merely coincidental and not intentional, is very curious,
if not amazing. { Here are some instances of his melancholy
vein, derived from his letters.

Letter to the Queen§ : —

From a mind delighting in sorrow, from spirits wasted with passion, from

* Wotton Reliq., 187.
t Lives of the Devereux, Vol. I., p. 501.

} " Physically and mentally Essex was as unstable as Hamlet."— Abbott, Bacon and
Essex, p. 32.

" Essex was a knight errant and a student ; bookish and contemplative." — Ib., p. 116.
" Like Hamlet, he was, and knew that he was, too liable to be passion's slave." —
Ib., p. 32.

§ Cabala, p. 233.

132 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET^

a heart torn in pieces with care, grief, and travail ; from a man that hateth
himself and all things that keep him alive, what service can your Majesty
expect, since your service past deserves no more than banishment or pro-
scription in the cursedst of all other countries. Nay, nay, it is your rebel's
pride and success that must give me leave to ransom my life out of this hateful
prison of my loathed body, which, if it happen so, your Majesty shall have no
cause to mislike the fashion of my death since the course of my life could
never please you. — August 30, 1599. Slightly different in Lives of Devereux,
Vol. II., p. 68.

In further illustration of his studious and remorseful
vein, I will add a few citations from his correspondence.

First, for my affection : In nature it was indifferently to books and arms,
and was more inflamed with the love of knowledge than the love of fame.
Witness your rarely qualified brother. . . . My contemplative retirement
in Wales, and my bookishness from my childhood. — Letter to Antony Bacon,
Lives of the Devereux, Vol. I. p. 485.

The world is as idle as false. — Jan. 7, 1597, to Lord Hy. Howard.
Let me honestly and zealously end a wearisome life. Let others live in
deceitful and inconstant pleasures. Let others achieve and finish the work,
and live to erect trophies. — To the Queen, Birch, Vol. II., 418. Lives of the
Devereux, Vol. II., p. 41, 25th June, 1599.

I think all places better than that where I am, and all dangers well
undertaken, so I might retire myself from the memory of my false, inconstant,
and beguiling pleasures. — Circa Oct., 1599.

Always certain it is that he (my Lord of Leicester) drew Essex first into
the fatal circle of the Court from a kind of resolved privateness at his house
in Lampsie, South Wales, where, after the academical life ... as I have
heard him say, not upon any flashes or fumes of melancholy, or traverses of
discontent ... he could well have bent his mind to a retired course. —
Sir H. Wotton, p. 162, Reliquce Wottoniance.

I protest death is as welcome to me as life. — Essex Letter, Dec. 23, 1591,
to Mr. Cecil. I shall die with more pleasure than I live. [Compare this with
Hamlet.] There is nothing I would sooner part withal, except my life, except
my life.

Let my dwelling be with the beasts of the field ; let me eat grass as an
ox.— To the Queen. Circa Sept., 1600. Lives of Devereux, Vol. II., p. 124.

Only miserable Essex, full of pain, full of sickness, full of sorrow,
languishing in repentance for his offences past, hateful to himself that he is
yet alive.— To the Queen. Birch, Vol. II., p. 462.

Happy where he could finish forth his fate
In some enchanted desert, most obscure
From all society, from love, from hate
Of worldly folk : then might he sleep secure ;
Then wake again, and ever give God praise,
Content with hips and haws and bramble berry

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 133

In contemplation spending all his days,
And change of holy thoughts, to make him merry,
Where when he dies, his tomb may be a bush,
Where harmless Robin dwells with gentle thrush.

— Sonnet ly Essex. Lives of Devereux, Vol. II., p. 120,

These features by no means exhaust the apparent
similarities, although from the internal evidence offered
by the text the presumption is strong that in "The
Kevenge of Hamlet," if the madness was presented at all,
it was of a wholly different character, yet undoubtedly
both in the first and second quartos, which for convenience
and simplicity's sake I had better refer to as the A and B
copies — viz., of 1603 and 1604 respectively, he is indicated
as partially bereft of his senses, in the appreciation of the
other personages in the play.

This madness, it has been pointed out by Mr. Knight,
differs in its expression in A and B. Although I am inclined
to think with him that this was not accidental ; I do not
agree that the madness is more emphasised in B, except
in reference to the treasonable outbreak which closed the
unhappy Earl's career, which, as might be supposed natural
to conciliate the powers that ruled, is "declared a madness
whereon he raves and all we mourn for," in B, instead of
being merely spoken of as a frenzy in A.

Writing in 1602, the poet might have hesitated, while
the wound of Essex's death was still unhealed, to denounce
this frenzy as madness ; but James the First's view of pre-
rogative left no doubt that whatever extenuation there
might be for the Earl's character, there was none for his
treason. The folly or imbecility involved in his declension
is softened, the wickedness of his rebellion heightened.
The lines, "he is bereft of all the wealth he had," and
" his wit's bereft him," are curiously neither in B nor in
the folio of 1623. The infirmity of his mind is ameliorated,
but his mad revolt is denounced in B. This certainly

134 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

accords with what we might suppose the poet intended, if
delineating a hero, who would be understood by implication
to be Essex, at the time his friends and kinsmen were once
more in power and in the highest favour at court.

Without pursuing this point of our inquiry into the
features of resemblance presented in the character of
Hamlet, delineated by the poet, and that of the noble Earl
further at this stage, as it may be subsequently affirmed in
dealing with the text of the plays, I may here suggest that
this identity of melancholy, rashness, courtiership, scholar-
ship, and remorsefulness in each, by no means exhaust the
proofs to be accorded. The characters of Horatio, Polonius,
Kosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Laertes are undoubtedly
intended to indicate Southampton, Burghley, Cobham,
and Grey and Cecil. The text which will establish this,
certainly also affirms other specific allusions aimed at the
immediate history of the time, and notably the reference
to the notorious perfidy of Bacon, which it seems strange
critics and commentators have heretofore missed.

As far back as the year 1862, while criticising in a
metropolitan journal — apropos of the German and Kemble
ideals of Hamlet — various features of the play, I drew
attention to some of the remarkable resemblances pre-
sented by the tragedy to the story of the Earl, and wrote
as follows : —

There are many circumstances which suggest that Hamlet was intended as
the eidolon of Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex, who was beheaded in
1601. The play was soon after produced, and was printed in substantially its
present form, within two years of his execution. Ballads were being pub-
lished to his memory, and the country was still ringing with his merits and
misfortunes ; his death, as an avowed friend and adherent of James, being
considered a species of martyrdom. In 1602, undoubtedly his fate and the
temporary triumph of his greatest foes — Raleigh, Cecil, Cobham, and Grey —
were the chief topics in men's minds. Naturally, from prudential reasons, for
the Star Chamber was a powerful censor, remote and not direct allusion waa
presumably the poet's intention, while the incidents of the earl's career are
sufficiently maintained to show some species of identity

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 135

The features of Essex's character, his melancholy, tem-
porary insanity, his fortunes, the character of Laertes as
Kobert Cecil, were adverted to in proof of this contention,
as they now are, but only generally and not in detail.

In the year 1864 His Grace the Duke of Manchester,
under the title "Court and Society from Elizabeth to
Anne," published the Kimbolton Papers. In editing some
of the letters stored among the historic treasures of his
family, two epistles from Robert Devereux to his sister
Penelope, Lady Rich, were unearthed. They were ad-
dressed to the fair and frail lady who figures as the Stella
of Spenser and the Rialta of the Sydney correspondence.
Unluckily they were undated. These notes, penned in all
the tenderness of affectionate amity, and certainly not for
effect, are eminently characteristic of their writer. They
present a better picture in miniature of his mind than
pages of disquisition would help us to. The quixotism,
the fatalist philosophy, melancholy, introspection, the philo-
sophic trifling and tricks of expression of the Earl are
mirrored in them in little, and give us a remarkable
insight into the humours and despondency, as well as of
the modes and manners of the writer. They reflect the
very texture of the author's poems which have descended
to us. They are just such letters as Hamlet might have
penned. This resemblance in style elicited from the noble
editor of the letters these remarks in reference to one of
the letters subjoined : —

Does there not seem in this letter from Essex to his sister, an echo, as it
were, of some unknown words of Hamlet ? Is there not heard in this reverie, this
humourous melancholy, this discontent with mankind, this disposition to seek
for rest in unbelief, something which suggests the weak and fantastical side of
Hamlet's mind ? Among the multitudes of commentaries on Shakspere, has it
ever been hinted that the poet may have conceived his characters of Hamlet
from Essex and Horatio from Southampton ?

Having seen these remarks, I at once pointed out in a
brief essay I then printed and enclosed to His Grace,

136 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

entitled "Who was the Lord Hamlet?" that I had
specifically suggested the same idea as far back as the year
1862, at the same time presenting in greater detail the
reasons I had advanced. I now advert to the point only
to show that, at any rate, I was not singular in the
impression I had derived from Essex's correspondence of
the partial identity of the ideal prince with Essex. The
Duke's reasons for further affirming the likeness are so
apposite and, to me, convincing, that I venture now to
reprint them.

To the common people Essex was a prince. He was descended through
his father from Edward the Third, and through his mother was the
immediate kinsman of Elizabeth. Many persons, most absurdly, imagined his
title to the throne a better one than the Queen's. In person, for he had his
father's beauty, he was all that Shakspere has described the Prince of Denmark
to have been. Then, again, his mother had been tempted from her duty while
her gracious and noble husband was alive. That handsome and generous
husband was supposed to have been poisoned by the guilty pair. After the
father's murder, the seducer had married the mother. That father had not
perished in his prime without feeling and expressing some doubt that foul
play had been used against him, yet sending his forgiveness to the guilty
woman who had sacrificed his honour, perhaps taken away his life. There is
indeed an exceeding singularity of agreement in the facts of the case and the
incidents of the play. The relation of Claudius to Hamlet is the same as
that of Leicester to Essex : under pretence of fatherly friendship, he was
suspicious of his motives, jealous of his actions ; kept .him much in the
country and at college ; let him see little of his mother ; and clouded his
prospects in the world by an appearance of benignant favour. Gertrude's
relations with her son were much like those of Lettice to Kobeft Devereux.
Then again, in his moodiness, in his college learning, in his love for the theatre
and the players, in his desire for the fiery action for which his nature was
most unfit, there are many kinds of hints calling up an image of the Danish
Prince. . . . Might not such a man as Hamlet have composed the ensuing
letter, of which the original is at Kiinbolton, in one of his meditative
wayward moods ?

THE EARL OF ESSEX TO LADY RICH.

DEAR SISTER, — ... To hope for that which I have not is a vain expectation,
to delight in that which I have is a deceiving pleasure ; to wish the return of
that which is gone from me is womanish inconstancy. Those things which fly
me, I will not lose labour to follow. Those that meet me, I esteem as they are
worth, and leave when they are nought worth. I will neither brag of my good
hap nor complain of my ill ; for secrecy makes joys more sweet, and I am then
most unhappy when another knows that I am unhappy. I do not envy,

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 137

because I will do no man that honour to think he hath that which I want ;
nor yet am I not contented because I know some things that I have not. Love
I confess to be a blind God. . . . Ambition, fit for hearts that already
confess themselves to be base. Envy is the humour of him that will be glad
of the reversion of another man's fortune ; and revenge the remedy of such
fools as in injuries know not how to keep themselves aforehand. Jealous I am
not, for I will be glad to lose that which I am not sure to keep. If to be of
this mind be to be fantastical, then join me with the three that I first reckoned,
but if they be young and handsome, with the first. And so I take my leave,
being not able to write more for pain. Your brother that loves you dearly,

R. ESSEX.

Unluckily, as this letter is not dated, we can only
proximately place it before 1598 — between 1589 and 1598.

Here is the second epistle —

" DEAR SISTER,— Because I will not be in your debt for sending you a footman,
I have directed the bearer to you to bring me word how you do. I am
melancholy, merry, sometimes happy, and often discontented. The court is of
as many humours as the rainbow hath colours. The time wherein we live is
more inconstant than women's thoughts, more miserable than old age itself,
and breedeth both people and occasions like itself, that is, violent, desperate,
and fantastical. Myself, for wondering at other men's strange adventures, have
not leisure to follow the ways of mine own heart, but by still resolving not to
be proud of any good that can come, because it is but the favour of chance ;*
nor do I throw down my mind a whit for any ill that shall happen, because I
see that all fortunes are good or evil, as they are esteemed.^ The preacher is ready
to begin, therefore I shall end this discourse, though upon another text. Your
brother that dearly loves you.J " ESSEX."

To my mind these coincidences of thought and ex-
pression, with many more not less remarkable which I
propose to point out, are not accidents. They are coinci-
dental, because the poet, like all true artists, was merely
idealising and presenting us with his conception of a living
and thoroughly well known personality. Usually artists
represent the externals of men — their dress, looks, and
acts ; Shakespere, in reference to all his characters, seems

* 'Tis a question left us yet to prove—
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love ;
Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own.

Hamlet, Act III., scene 2.
t For nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

Hamlet, Act II.. scene 2.
J VoL I., p. 297.

138 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

to have worked precisely in the converse way ; he repre-
sents the man from within. I think it is Mr. Emerson
who said, he seems to look out of the eyes of the person
presented. He first conceived a given character, and then,
compelling this man to act according to his idiosyncrasy,
made the circumstance and plot flow from the natural
action of the imaginary hero. He does not, in other words,
fit men into their position in relation to certain stories, or
appear to do so, but, making his puppets work, produces
the resulting circumstances by their seemingly spontaneous
action and motion. Psychologically their emotions and
passions make the play. With any other man than Mac-
beth, the plot of Macbeth would be all but farcical. With
such a nature as Macbeth's it is but too real and probable.
This applies also to Hamlet. The interest of the play
centres wholly in what he — Hamlet — will do and does do.
As a plot, according to the ordinary dramatic rules of MM.
Scribe or Legouve, nothing could be more preposterous.
The Ghost appears to no purpose. Accident supplies the
only tragic conclusion of the story. The narrative has
neither sequence nor consequence, unity nor indicated
design. But Hamlet, as all men agree, is a living and real
man. Inconsistent, capricious, emotional, impulsive, as
real men are. He was, however, in spite of all his defects
and faults, a man of an elevated and lofty ideal. Of an
ideal not the less, but the more exalted, because of some of
these very defects, if indeed they were not part of, and a
consequence of, that very supremacy of nature. His
actions and the circumstances of the play (given the
moving causes, the murder of a father, the appearance of
his ghost, the marriage of his mother) spontaneously evolve
the story, such as it is. An oak produces acorns, and not
edible fruit, because it is an oak. Macbeth plunges from
crime to crime in despairing hardihood because his ere-

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

139

dulous and visionary nature urges him on. Hamlet acts as
he does, because, as Lloyd said of Essex, " he was a man
of great performances but no design," because he was con-
templative and without purpose, rash and hesitating, open
as the day, " a great resenter and a weak dissembler."
Because, in other words, he was a scholar, philosopher,
and gentleman, of fiery Welsh valour, yet wholly given
to melancholy and contemplation, and not a simple
soldier. Every true growth of nature appears natural.
The charm lies in the true portraiture of a real
man, the expression and shadowy reflection of a most
exalted human soul, in its perils, agonies, and history, its
manhood and meanness, in sunshine and shadow, its fears
and regrets, every action answering to its prompting
passion, every calamity to its moving caprice, and all in
order and rhythmically moving to the harmony of the
spheres, as the stars in their courses, and because the gods-
are just.

I trust none of my readers will be so obtuse as to suppose
that I suggest that the story of Hamlet is based wholly on
the life of the Earl of Essex, or that Essex was simply
Hamlet. I suggest only the reasons why the play known as
" The Revenge of Hamlet" was published in 1589, and again
in 1602, and then altered, to suit the change of time, on the
coming in of James in 1604. Incidentally, in establishing
this position, I shall be compelled to show how closely the
character of the ideal Hamlet seems to apply to the poet's
earliest patron, the popular head alike of the persecuted
Puritan and Catholic parties, the Queen's relative and
favourite, the foremost man of his time, the nominated
successor to the throne, of the people, and the most muni-
ficent and popular hero of his day. Further than this,
moreover, my task will involve, unfortunately, a more or
less tedious analysis of the test of the A and B plays, in

140 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

order that I may explain their similarities and differences,
their allusions and changes, and further present my reasons
for declaring authoritatively the Genesis of the play.

My belief is that "The Revenge of Hamlet" of 1589
was not a tragedy, and did not end with catastrophe and
misery. That many of the incidents being the same, the
passages in which the Ghost appeared identical, the play
within the play certainly, the conclusion ended as in Saxo
Grammaticus, by the consummation of the Revenge, and
the elevation of Hamlet to the throne. Such a termina-
tion would better have graced the production of the play,
at the precise season and occasion on which it was first
offered, than any other. This, of course, is not a convin-
cing or wholly adequate reason. But if we consider its
earliest presentation, by its revival in 1602 we see that
the suggestion acquires an additional weight. But the
only arguments which can at present be adduced to sustain
the proposition must be gleaned from the text of the
surviving printed plays, and the alterations and changes
they underwent, their allusions and language, coupled
with, or based upon, the clear and indisputable references
to actual persons contained in their text.

Let me say, then, first, that the poet deliberately in-
tended, if not to pourtray the precise features and linea-
ments of the Earl of Essex, to refer to him clearly as the
hero of his play ; that by Horatio, he not less specifically
intended to represent the friendship and attachment, as well
as the character, of Southampton — " Gentle Wriothesley,
Southampton's star," as Peele describes him. That by
Polonius, the author, whether by accident or design, has
indicated, as tradition has always declared, Lord Burghley ;
that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were the Lords Cobham
and Grey, the drama doubtless containing other indirect
portraits or resemblances to life, as in Osric and Marcellus,
which are unknown to us.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 141

Certainly, in his own day, from the death of his honoured
father, in 1576, no character in that most brilliant reign of
Elizabeth, which answers to the heroic age of the Argo-
nauts in Grecian story, towered in his life so far above his
contemporaries in the world's eye and in public favour
as this her chiefest courtier, near kinsman, and lover,
the hero of Cadiz, and the patron of Spenser, Wotton,
Bodley, Anthony and Francis Bacon, the Sherleys, Peele,
Cary, Harrington, and Shakespere, the rival of the Cecils
and Raleigh, the confessed friend and ally of Henry IV.,
and the champion of the Protestant cause. A crusader
in the Low Countries, the companion, friend, and follower
of Sir Philip Sidney, lauded and distinguished for his
valour at Zutphen, he was a very Paladin of popular
romance. When he returned from the unfortunate
Portugal voyage, in May, 1589, temporarily in the Queen's
disfavour for his escapade, the poets, one and all, rushed
forth to welcome him. Shakespere, his man, presented
his play ; Spenser, his poem ; Peele, his " Ode
Gratulatory," —

He's a great bridegroom certes, but no swain
Save hers* that is the flower of Phoebe's plain.

16, 16, Paean !

He waits where our great shepherdess doth wun,
He playeth in the shade and thriveth in the sun.

Thus it was, no doubt, his father's fame, his own
munificence and generosity of nature, so like Antonio's,
ever prepared — for his friend — to say:

My purse, my person, my extremest means
Lie all unlocked to your occasions ;

his surprising rise to fortune, and in royal favour; that
presumably suggested to the poets — to Shakespere as to
Peele — his figure, as that of a popular hero for oblique rep-
resentation on the stage. The image of his murdered
father, in his habit as he lived, "majestical," explains fully
the secret and the utility of the introduction of the Ghost.

Elizabeth.

142 THE GENESIS OP HAMLET.

GENERAL ALLUSIONS TO THE EVENTS OF THE TIME.

Before proceeding to analyse the first and second quartos,
which I will for brevity's sake refer to in future as Nos. 1
and 2, instead of A and B, I cannot forbear referring to
certain general considerations and references in the text,
which affirm the appositeness and allusiveness of the text
to the precise occasion of the time and the death of Essex.

The first quarto having been played in 1602-3, and pre-
sumably printed, though not published, before March,
1603, necessarily could not allude, either to the death of
Elizabeth, the trial of the Cobham and Raleigh factions
which ensued in December, 1603, the comet which
appeared in the summer of that year, or the plague which
raged between the end of July, 1603, and March of the
following year. To all these events there is distinct allu-
sion in the 2nd quarto. As certainly there is no hint or
suggestion of these passages in No. 1, for there could not be.
If the lines to be hereinafter cited do not refer to these
incidents as suggested, why is there no trace of them in
the earlier play ? They were undoubtedly necessary to the
text, in the eyes of the author, and in his view improve-
ments, or they would have found no place in No. 2, or in
the folio.

The plague of 1603-4 raged so furiously that the Court
was exiled in December to Hampton Court ; the King's
public entry into the capital was postponed ; and the trial
of Raleigh, Cobham, and Brooke, the anti-Essex faction,
was remitted to Winchester, the Grand Jury finding the
Bill at Staines. Some 1,300 persons were dying each
week at one period, and thirty parishes in and about
London were infected. In August and September a comet
appeared with a train of fire, as may be read at length in
the interesting narrative of Anne, Countess of Dorset,

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 143

Pembroke, and Montgomery, printed in Spence, Yol. IV.,
p. 314 : " As we rid from my Lady Wallops to Lancelevell,
riding late by reason of our stay at Basingstoke, we saw a
strange comet in the night, like a canopy in the air, which
was a thing observed all over England." In addition to
this there had been a terrible drought, extending through
the whole summer, threatening famine and disaster.

What says Horatio, by way of enhancing the portent,
preliminary to the entrance of the Ghost : —

A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye.

In the most high and palmy state of Rome,

A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,

The graves stood tenantless and the sheeted dead

Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets :

As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood,

Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star

Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands

Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse.

These were the prologue to the omen coming on,
demonstrated to " our climatures and countrymen," which
so dexterously roused the attention of the drowsiest and
most apathetic spectator to the advent of the Ghost.

Again, the eloquent speech of Rosencrantz, alien to the
movement and progress of the play, commencing —

. . . The cease of majesty
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw
What's near it, with it : it is a massy wheel
Fixed on the summit of the highest mount,
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser things
Are mortised and adjoined, &c.

What is this but a reference to the death of Elizabeth,
which determines that, in spite of its title page, the quarto
of 1603 had been printed before her death ?

Again, the 'line in No. 2, not in 1, in reference to the
players, " I think their inhibition comes by means of the
late innovation." What inhibition is this ? What inno-
vation? -How is this] necessary to the play of Hamlet?

144 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

Why is this uttered apropos of events in a play founded on
a Christian hero who is placed on Danish soil ?

Simply this, the 1st of Jac., cap. 7, sn. 1, sub. s. 5, 6, 7,
and 8, re-enacting the 43 Eliz., c. 9, and 39 c. 4, was the
"innovation." This took away the power of the Barons to
license companies of players. The civic inhibition ensued
on the 30th January, 1604, and thus distinctly marks the
date of the play No. 2 as not being printed till this last
named year.

Again, can any person of moderate intelligence for a
moment doubt that this next ensuing passage refers and
was intended to refer, distinctly and pointedly to the
ingratitude and turpitude of Francis Bacon, who so
despicably and basely turned to rend his dearest friend
and patron in his extremity, and to assist and abet Cecil
and Kaleigh in procuring his death ?

The great man down, you mark his favourite flies,
The poor advanced makes friends of enemies,
And hitherto doth love or fortune tend,
For who not needs shall never lack a friend,
And who in want a hollow friend doth try
Directly seasons him his enemy.

If this is not such an allusion, how does it especially
bear on the text of Hamlet ?
Again, why does Ophelia say —

For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.

Why Robin ? Why not Hamlet ? Oh, it was an old
song, say the commentators, never at a loss for haphazard
conjecture. Yes, as old as Essex's execution. When the
ballad " Robin is to the Green Gone " was issued, the
answer is " Robin " was Essex's name with the Queen.
The Robin Redbreast, so friendly and bold," is his poetic
image or emblem in the ballads of the time.*

* The Ballad to the Memory of the late Earl of Essex, " Robin is to the Green
Gone," was entered in the books of the Stationers' Company, 3rd September, 1604.
VoL III., p. 270.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 145

Again, the ruin and downfall of "the faction" which
wronged Hamlet, and which followed on the trial of
December, 1603, is signalised in the lines —

So shall you hear

Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts ;
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters ;
Of deaths put on by cunning, for no cause ;
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
Fallen on the inventors' heads.

Again, why is there any reference to an opposing " fao-
tion " in Hamlet ? and what is the intention of the passage
in which Hamlet justifies his wrong to Laertes by his
madness ? " Who does it then ? His madness. If it be
so, Hamlet is of the faction* that is wronged."

If this was not the Cobham and Cecilian faction referred
to, what is its pertinence ?

In like manner the references to "the children of the
revels," and to the drinking habits of the Danes : " These
heavy-headed revels east and west, that soil our addition."
What are these but allusions, made more pertinent by the
manner of the Danish courtiers recently imported, and the
scenes of drunkenness referred to by Harrington and
Weldon when Christian IY. was in London ?

There is a curious coincidence, if not an allusion, in the
lines : —

Am I a coward ?

Who calls me villain, breaks my pate across
Plucks off my beard and blows it in my face.

* The nature of this faction may be seen in the trial of Cobham, Raleigh, and Brook,
and read in the letter so frequently printed of Raleigh to Cecil, commencing: "I am
not wise enough to give you advice ; but if you take it for a good counsel to relent
toward this tyrant, you will repent it when it shall be too late. His malice is fixed, and
will not evaporate by any of your mild courses. The less you make him, the less

he shall be able to harm you and yours. . . His son shall be the youngest Earl of
England but one, and if his father be now kept down (your son) Will Cecil shall be able
to keep as many men at his heels, and more too." Edwards' "Life of Raleigh," VoL II,
p. 222. See also " Carew Correspondence," Vol. LXXXVIIL, 0. S., p. 118 : "How partial
this kingdom was to condemn his opposites (Cecil's faction) of malice and practice." — Cecil
to Carew.

"He was rivalled by a strong and subtile faction, which cared and consulted for hia
ruin."— Lord Clarendon, "The Disparity," 188.

146 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

Essex complained to Nottingham and other of his friends,
and also at his trial, that his sister Penelope, Lady Rich,
twitted him with cowardice : " My sister did constantly
urge me on, with telling how all my friends and followers
thought me a coward, and that I had lost my valour."

BURGHLEY, HOW FAR POLONIUS ?

When Robert Cecil went into France, just before he came
of age, and presumably about 1583,* Burghley, after the
fashion of the age, gave him certain advice, formulated with
the precision of his character into ten " precepts " of con-
siderable length. Briefly summarised, these were in part
the precise "precepts" which Polonius gives to Laertes,
with the addition of Euphues' advice to Philautus in visiting
England. In the " Euphues his England" of Lyly, p. 246,
Lyly says — " Let your attire be comely, but not too costly.
Mistrust no man without cause, neither be ye
credulous without proof. Be not quarrelsome for every
light occasion. It shall be there [viz., in England] better
to hear what they say, than to speak what thou thinkest."
These remarks supplement those of Burghley, and are
adopted by the poet. Burghley, in substance, says, but
with statesmanlike verbosity and circumlocution : —

Precept 4. — Let thy kindred and allies be welcome to thy
table. Further them in all honest actions, and so double
the bond of nature.

Precept 5. — Beware of suretyship. Borrow neither of
friends or neighbours.

Precept 6. — Neither attempt law against any man, before
thou be fully resolved that thou hast right on thy side,
and then spare not money or pains.

Precept 8. — Toward thy superiors be humble, yet
generous ; unto thine equals familiar, yet respective.

* Robert Cecil, being then 21, was in Paris in Sept., 1584. Vide Wright's "Letters of
Elizabeth," Vol. II., 237.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. UT

Precept 9. — Trust not any man with thy life, credit or
estate, for it is mere folly to enthral oneself to a friend.

These maxims of experience, stand thus paraphrased in
Hamlet, in the folio of 1623 : —

And these few precepts in thy memory

See thou character [i.e., record]. Give thy thoughts no tongue,

Nor any unproportioned thought his act.

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. (Precept 8.)

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; (Precept 4.)

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment

Of each unhatched, unfledged comrade. Beware

Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in,

Bear it that the opposed may beware of thee. (Precept 6.)

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice.

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not exprest in fancy ; rich, not gaudy : (Euphues.)

For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Neither a borrower, nor a lender be, (Precept 5.)

For loan oft loses both itself and friend ;

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all : to thine own self be true (Precept 9.)

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou cans't not then be false to any man.

Surely this wholesale adoption of Burghley's advice was
intentional and allusive, and not without motive.

There is yet another general incident which, as it
appears to me to mark the date of Shakespere's first
draft of Hamlet as the year 1589, I cannot allow to pass,
The player in Hamlet recites a speech about Pyrrhus and
Hecuba — which was said to have been copied from or
framed on some speech in Marlowe and Nash's play of 1594,
4to, called Dido, Queen of Carthage, performed by the
children of Her Majesty's Chapel. Mr. Collier, with his
usual ingenuity, by changing the word "wound" to
" wind " in the lines annexed made this appear probable : —

Which he disdaining whisked his sword about,
And with the wound thereof the king fell down.

148 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

By altering "wound" to "wind" there is, of course, a
resemblance to the line in Hamlet —

But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword, &c.

In or about May, 1589, however, G. Peele published
in a pamphlet his " Farewell intituled to the famous and
fortunate generalles of our English forces," and in the
same publication a poem called " The beginning, accidents,
and end of the warre of Troy." In this the speech con-
cerning Pyrrhus runs thus —

Achilles son, the fierce unbridled Pyrrhus.

But he, when bloody mind and murdering rage,

Nor laws of God nor reverence of age,

Could temper from a deed so tyrannous,

His father's ghost belike enticing him,

With slaughtering hand, with visage pale and dim,

Hath hent this aged Priam by the hair,

Like butcher bent to slay ; and even there

The man that lived so many golden years,

With cruel iron, this cursed Greekish boy
Eids of his life.

And thus refers to Hecuba —

My pen forbears to write of Hecuba,
That made the glorious sun his chariot stay,
And raining tears his golden face to hide,
For truth of that did afterwards betide.

In Hamlet B —

The rugged Pirrhus, he whose sable arms,
Black as his purpose, did the night resemble.

With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish Pirrhus
Old grandsire Priam seeks ; anon he finds him
Striking too short at Greeks, his antique sword
Rebellious to his arm, lies where it falls,
Repugnant to command ; unequal matched,
Pirrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes wide,
But with the whiff and wind of his fell sword
The unnerved father falls.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 149

for lo ! his sword

Which was declining on the milky head
Of reverent Priam, seemed in the air to stick,
So as a painted tyrant Pirrhus stood ;
And like a neutral to his will and matter,
Did nothing.

So after Pirrhus' pause,
A roused vengeance sets him new to work,
And never did the Cyclops' hammers fall,
On Mars' armour, forged for proof eternal,
With less remorse than Pirrhus' bleeding sword
Now falls on Priam.

As to Hecuba, these lines —

The instant burst of clamour that she made,
Unless things mortal move them not at all,
Would have made milch the burning eyes of heaven,
And passion in the gods.

In this passage in Hamlet there is certainly, and it has
been suggested designedly, a mock heroic and burlesque
exaggeration of diction ; assumed, it has been said with
art, to remove it from the blank verse of the main tragedy.
It may be that this generous and playful satire, although
the poet has described it as a speech in "an excellent play,
well digested in the scenes, never acted, or not above
once " — which would not apply to Marlowe's play — caused
offence to Peele's friend, Greene, which induced his calum-
nious attacks.

This is, of course, simple surmise, and I merely present it
for what it is worth. It certainly, however, disposes of the
suggestion that the play of Hamlet must have been written
after 1594, as Marlowe's play was not until that date pub-
lished, for if it be a satire on Peele, it might well have
been written in the same year — 1589 — in which Peele's
poem was issued.

ANALYSIS OF THE 1603 AND 1604 QUARTOS.
In endeavouring to elucidate the design of the poet, by
the text of the quartos of 1603 and 1604 respectively, I

150 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

must necessarily be brief, and present rather a summary
than a complete or exhaustive dissection of what would be
otherwise an almost endless story.

In the year 1823 Sir Henry Bunbury was so fortunate as
to discover at Barton, in a small quarto barbarously cropped,
a, play of Shakespere's, unknown to all prior editors and
critics, bearing the date of 1603. This play was complete
save the last leaf, concluding with the death of Hamlet
and his exclamation, " Heaven receive my soul." In 1825
the Duke of Devonshire purchased this, at the time, unique
edition, but in 1856, a second copy of the same publication,
but retaining the last leaf intact, was discovered in
Nottinghamshire, and after passing through the hands of
a Dublin bookseller, by Mr. Halliwell's intervention found
its way to the British Museum. Neither copy was perfect.
The second lacked the title page. Thus by good fortune
the defect in each could be supplied.

On comparing this play with the quarto in existence,
which was known to Malone and the critics of the last
century, and the folio of 1623, substantial differences were
found to exist. In the first place, the later quarto, which, as
already indicated, will for convenience sake be designated as
No. 2, to distinguish it from that of 1603, termed No. 1,
contained almost double the number of words, and from this
fact, the announcement on the title page of No. 2, and other
causes, as well as the comparative immaturity of some of
its speeches and the halting versification, No. 1 was hastily
assumed to have been the first imperfect issue of the
author's brain, and " the original version " of William
Shakespere. The national poet, so destitute of originality,
as it was conceived, had also, according to the same sapient
authorities, based this version on that suppositions play of
another and earlier dramatist, which Malone, and all the
subsequent commentators, in this following with sheep-like

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 151

unanimity and accord, believed, without one tittle of proof,
to exist. It was obvious that neither 1 nor 2 had been
revised or corrected for publication by the author. The
manifold printer's errors and the defects in contrast with
the first folio established this. This view, viz. : that it was
the author's first draft, the skeleton of the completed play
based on an older Hamlet, was adopted by Mr. Knight,
Mr. Phillipps, Professors Delius, Elze, Gervinus, and others,
Mr. Collier suggesting, I think with accuracy, that it was
a maimed and surreptitious copy, probably printed from
shorthand notes.

Fortunately Mr. Timmins' scholarly prevision, and care
and accuracy in printing the two editions on opposite
pages, in one volume, greatly facilitated such a comparison
of the text of the two copies, as was, under the circum-
stances, indispensable to their complete apprehension.

The 1604 Hamlet, No. 2, declares itself "newly imprinted
and enlarged to almost as much againe as it was, according
to the true and perfect coppie." This would appear to sug-
gest that some other publication recognised by its publisher
had been made, and also, inferentially, by the concluding
words, that it was an authorised version from the writer's
own manuscript. It must be accepted, however, that this
was "mere trade commendation," and if it was printed from
"a true copy," that it was very imperfectly, and even
dishonestly, rendered — for there were many omissions,
including most noteworthy passages — and as certainly, it
was not authorised. Having in my previous paper denied
that there was any earlier play of Hamlet than that of
1589, or by any other author whatever, as well as offered
certain general reasons why it was produced on that first-
recorded date, and revised in 1602, it is necessary further
to sustain these suggestions as to its genesis, to proceed by
analysis of the text of the two versions, No. 1 and No. 2.

152 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

Before proceeding to this dissection, it would, perhaps,
be judicious to point out that the proof that Shakespere,
as Malone suggested, was "certainly in a lawyer's office
before leaving Stratford," and thus "a Noverint" (though on
what evidence save that of the accuracy displayed in his
technical legal language this assertion was made I cannot
say), and that this, as well as some collateral proofs that a
play of Hamlet by Shakespere existed before 1602, and that
Hamlet was the eidolon of Essex, etc., must be reserved to
the conclusion of the article.

HENRY W. BUNBURY

HENEY WILLIAM BUNBURY.

BY HAKKY THORNBEK.

AMONG the caricaturists of the last century, Bunbury
takes a high place, along with his contemporaries,
Rowlandson and Gilray.

Henry William Bunbury was born in 1750, being the
second son of the Rev. Sir William Bunbury, Bart., of
Mildenhall, in Suffolk. The Bunburys were an old Nor-
man family, and are mentioned in Stephen's time as
established at Bunbury, in Cheshire. Henry was educated
at Westminster School, and from thence proceeded to St,
Catherine's Hall, Cambridge. His propensity for carica-
ture displayed itself early, as, at Westminster, he etched
"A Boy riding upon a Pig," a copy of which is to be
found in the Print Room of the British Museum ; and, at
Cambridge, the dons and undergraduates afforded him
plenty of scope for the exercise of his powers as a humo-
rous draughtsman. After leaving Cambridge he travelled
in France and Italy — studying drawing at Rome. He drew
chiefly in pencil or black or red chalk ; but, unlike Row-
landson, Gilray, and George Cruikshank, was dependent
on others to engrave and etch his designs.

154 HENRY WILLIAM BUN BURY.

In 1771, Bunbury married Catherine, the eldest daughter
of Kane William Horneck, Lieut.-Colonel of the Army
of Sicily. She and her sister Mary were celebrated
beauties, both being immortalized by Goldsmith — Mrs.
Bunbury as "Little Comedy" and Mary Horneck (who
afterwards married General Gwyn, equerry to George III.)
as the " Jessamy Bride."

Bunbury had two sons; the elder, Charles John, who
died in 1798, was the "Master Bunbury " painted by Rey-
nolds in 1781 ; the younger son, Henry Edward, born in
1778, succeeded his uncle, Sir Charles Bunbury, as seventh
baronet in 1821, and died in 1860, was a highly distin-
guished military officer, holding the rank of Lieut.-General,
and the author of several valuable books, such as " Narra-
tive of the Campaign in North Holland, in 1799;" and
"Narrative of Certain Passages in the late War with
France."

Bunbury 's earliest designs were engraved and published,
for the most part, by J. Bretherton, at 134, New Bond
Street, London, the following being some of the most
notable : —

"The Kitchen of a French Post House," Feb. 1, 1771,
published by John Harris, Sweeting's Alley, Cornhill.
This bears the earliest date of any of Bunbury's
caricatures that I have examined. "View on the Pont
Neuf at Paris," Oct. 1, 1771. In these, Bunbury makes the
people very thin and poor looking, but they are curious,
as showing the manners and customs of that date.

"Englishmen at Paris, 1767," published Feb. 23, 1782;
a very humorous design, depicting a burly Englishman
walking through one of the Paris streets ; the Frenchmen
who, with the exception of the Priest, are very spare, are
gazing with astonishment at the stolid Englishman.

In 1772-3 he published two very good designs — "Strephon

&

B

HENRY WILLIAM BUN BURY. 155

and Chloe," and "The Salutation Tavern," the latter of
which is founded on the famous " Salutation," in Holborn.
The vicissitudes connected -with the sign of that house
form one of the most amusing chapters in the history of
" Sign-boards." In these years he also issued a goodly
number of foreign sketches, and a series of illustrations to
Sterne's "Tristram Shandy," such as "The Siege of
Namur by Capt. Shandy and Corporal Trim," " The Over-
throw of Dr. Slop," " The Battle of the Cataplasm," and
" The Damnation of Obadiah."

The most important designs in 1773-4 were "The Xmas
Academics — A Combination Game at Whist," "A Militia
Meeting," and " The Hopes of the Family — An Admission
at the University," in which a very countrified looking
looby is being examined by one of the dons, and a rather
rakish undergraduate, with his hands in his pockets, is in
the background surveying the scene smilingly. The father
of the would-be undergraduate has an approving look on
his face, whilst his son is being questioned. Altogether,
this, among many others, shows that Bunbury was exceed-
ingly good at delineating character ; in fact, it is stated,
" That his sketches approached nearest to Hogarth of any
painter of his period in the representation of life and
manners."

"Pot Fair, Cambridge," published 1777, is one of
Bunbury 's happiest creations. Almost the same may be
said of a pair which appeared in the same year, entitled
" Newmarket : a Shot at a Pigeon," and " Newmarket : a
Shot at a Hawk."

" A Tour in Foreign Parts " is the only important design,
that appeared in 1778, the drawing of which I should
think was made a few years earlier.

From 1780 to 1791 Bunbury produced a great many
designs, which, for the most part, were engraved by some of

156 HENRY WILLIAM BUNBURY.

the very best stipple engravers, such as F. Bartolozzi,
W. Dickinson, C. Knight, P. W. Tomkins, &c. The best of
these are "A College Gate," "Billiards," "Hyde Park,"
and " A Riding School," in 1780.

" Morning ; or the Man of Taste," " Evening ; or the
Man of Feeling," " Chop House " (containing a portrait of
Dr. Johnson), "A Coffee House," "A Family Piece," and
a portrait of "Charles James Fox," and "Hints to Bad
Horsemen," appeared in 1781.

In 1782, " A Long Story " appeared, which shows that
people were in the habit of being bored by long-winded
individuals even in those days. The only one who seems
to have any energy, is the tale-teller. Even the boy who
brings in the bootjack, is yawning hard enough to break his
jaw. "Richmond Hill," the original drawing for which
belonged to Horace Walpole, was published in 1782.
Concerning this drawing, Walpole wrote to Bunbury as
follows : " I am just come from the Royal Academy, where
I have been immensely struck, as I always am by your
works, by a most capital drawing of Richmond Hill — but
what was my surprise and pleasure — for I fear the latter
preceded my modesty when I found your note, and read
that so very fine a performance was destined for me !
This is a true picture of my emotion, but I hope you will
believe that I am not less sincere, when I assure you that
the first moment's reflection convinces me how infinitely
you think of overpaying me for the poor, though just
tribute of my praise in a trifling work, whose chief merit
is its having avoided flattery. Your genius cannot want
that, and still less my attestation, but when you condescend
to reward this, I doubt I shall be a little vain, for when I
shall have such a certificate to produce, how will it be
possible to remain quite humble." In this year also
appeared " Conversazione," engraved by W. Dickinson.

HENRY WILLIAM BUNBURY. 157

This is presumed to have taken place at Mrs. Thrale's, at
Streatham. There is Dr. Johnson trying to snatch a cup
of tea. Boswell is sitting on the edge of a chair, Mrs.
Thrale looking into her tea-cup, and the figure on the
right of Dr. Johnson is said to be Dr. Parr.

" The Inflexible Porter," produced in 1783, is one that
shows Bunbury's command 'of character ; and " Morn-
ing Employment," produced in 1784, well shows his
delineation of grace and beauty.

In 1785 appeared " The Gardens of Carlton House with
Neapolitan Ballad Singers," engraved by W. Dickinson.
This is the most charming engraving after Bunbury —
indeed, it is one of the choicest of the stipple engravings
of the last century. There are about twenty figures,
which are presumably portraits of notabilities of that day.
George, Prince of Wales (afterwards George IV.), is in the
centre of the picture, with a beautiful lady on each arm.
The lady on his right is Georgiana, Duchess of Devon-
shire, and the lady on his left is the Duchess of Rutland.
In this year was published "A Barber's Shop," from a
drawing by Bunbury in the possession of Sir Joshua
Reynolds. This is the first of the two bearing that title ;
the other one being executed in 1811, and published
May 15, 1818, and is memorable on account of its being
the last plate upon which the prince of caricaturists,
James Gilray, was engaged before he became hopelessly
insane. Two very pleasing compositions, " A Dancing
Bear" and "A Band of Savoyards," were also issued in
1785.

1786-87. To these years belong five very good designs :
" Love and Jealousy," " Love and Hope," " Gleaners " (a
pair), and " A Tale of Love."

The three works, however, by which Bunbury is best
known all belong to 1787. " An Academy for Grown

158 HENRY WILLIAM BUNBURY.

Horsemen," by Geoffrey Gambado, is a collection of
humorous designs of equestrian adventures. "How to
pass a Carriage, ' " How to make the most of a Horse,"
" How to make the least," " How to do things by Halves,"
"Tricks upon Travellers," "How to ride a Horse upon
Three Legs," " How to travel upon Two Legs in a Frost,"
being among the best.

"A Long Minuet, as Danced at Bath," published
June 25, is generally considered to be Bunbury's chef d*
ceuvre, and will bear favourable comparison with the best
examples of any other artist of the same class. It repre-
sents ten couples, and although extravagantly burlesqued,
there is nothing objectionable in any portion of the picture.
It is rather difficult to get a clean, untorn copy now, it-
being so long (seven feet), and is very soon soiled. The
same remark applies to the next — " The Propagation of a
Lie," published Dec. 29, which is nearly as long and con-
tains eighteen figures — all male. The expression on the
faces is finely conceived and executed, and it is a design
that may take equal rank with " A Long Minuet."

In 1788, "Misery," in which parents are bartering their
daughter's honour for gold, shows that Bunbury is possessed
of tragic power when he cares to exercise it.

" A Country Club," " Autolycus Selling His Wares," " The
Duel between Sir Andrew Aguecheek and Viola" (Mrs.
Jordan as Viola) and " As You Like It " (with portraits of
Mrs. Mattocks, Mr. Bensley, Mr. Quick, Mrs. Jordan, and
Miss Pope) appeared in this year.

From 1786-90, Bunbury made some designs for the
" Arabian Nights," which were engraved mostly by Ryder,
and are exceedingly pleasing, the one where " Morgiana
discovering the Arabian Robber through his Disguise,
stabs him whilst dancing before her Master," being a most
graceful composition ; but " Sheik Ibrahim entertains

HENRY WILLIAM BUN BURY. 159>

Noureddin and the Fair Persian in the Palace of Pleasures,"
is to my mind the best of the lot.

In 1791, he produced a set of military portraits, which
were engraved by F. D. Soiron. After this date it does not
appear that Bunbury produced much. He was a contribu-
tor to Boydell's Shakespeare, 1803-5, and in 1811, the year
of his death, " Patience in a Punt" and "Anglers in 1811, '*
were etched by Rowlandson.

From the foregoing it may be gathered that he was a
man of no ordinary talents, and had he been obliged to
pursue art for a living, would not only have made a more
lasting reputation, but would most likely have amassed a
fortune as well.

During his own day he was not only made much of by
the people of quality, but artists and critics alike vied with
each other in bestowing praise on him. Horace Walpole
coveted his sketches, and Sir Joshua Reynolds and Ben-
jamin West paid him flattering compliments.

Bunbury appears to have spent the greater part of his
time on the estates belonging to his family, with occasional
trips to the Continent and visits to his patrons, the Duke
and Duchess of York at Richmond, and other residences.
He was a frequent guest of Sir W. Wynne, and amongst
the designs he has left behind are some of the theatrical
gatherings at Wynnstay, and " Peasants of the Vale of
Llangollen," " Welsh Peasants," etc.

Bunbury was a man of a genial, kindly nature. He
was the friend of Reynolds, Goldsmith, and Garrick, who
more than once indited some very complimentary lines on
him. He first exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1780,
and was a contributor until 1808. He did not exhibit
every year, as in the twenty-nine years he only sent
twenty pictures.

As a draughtsman he was inferior to both Rowlandson

160 HENRY WILLIAM BUN BURY.

and Gilray; but he could, nevertheless, draw quite as
lovely female faces as either of the artists named. He
had the keenest sense of humour, and some of his designs,
both for force and insight into character, will bear com-
parison even with Hogarth's. In one respect he was
superior to all his contemporaries. He was never personal,
and in all his designs was free from offensiveness or coarse-
ness, and, as far as I know, was absolutely free from in^
decency, which, considering the age in which he lived,
speaks volumes for his kindly disposition and high moral
rectitude.

On the death of his wife, which took place at her
brother-in-law's (General Gwyn's) residence, Egham Hill,
July 8, 1799, he retired to Keswick, where he continued to
reside until his death, May 7, 1811.

From an obituary notice in the Gentleman's Magazine
we learn that " he was a good classical scholar and an ex-
cellent judge of poetry. No one was ever in his com-
pany without being pleased with him, none ever knew him
without loving him. His feelings were the most benevo-
lent, his affections the most delicate, his heart the most

PATTY.

BY BEIDLE-PATHS THROUGH "LAS
TIERRAS CALlENTESr

INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL WITH MEXICAN AREIEROS, 1858.
BY J. G. MANDLEY.

TTOLL thirty years have run their course since I wrote
J- out, from rough notes made on the journey, and
posted from the city of Guanajuato to anxious ones at
home, the crude page from which I have taken the pas-
sages that form this paper.

In the year 1858 there was not throughout the Kepublic
of Mexico a single mile of railway open for traffic. A
beginning had been made at Vera Cruz, on the Gulf Coast ;
but, that city having " pronounced " against the new Presi-
dent, the short length of rails had been torn up, and the
embankment was daily swept by the fire of besiegers and
besieged. A like pronunciamiento had taken place at
Tampico ; but when I set out from that port it was occu-
pied by troops sent from the city of Mexico to drive out
the " rebels." The Governor of Tamaulipas (the State to
which Tampico belongs) had, however, also refused to
recognise the new President, and, after harassing the com-
merce of the port with the interior for many month^ had

L

162 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

at last laid siege to the place. He (General Garza), with
his hordes of half-starved, ragged Indians, had encamped
in the dense bush and on the thickly wooded heights that
lay betwixt us and the sea. When ready to open fire from
his batteries, he commanded all non-combatants to come
out of the doomed town, and to bring their movable
property with them. Politely declining this invitation,
we — el comercio — were denounced as contumacious, and
threatened with dire consequences. The term of grace
had already expired, when I received a letter from Guana-
juato urging me to start at once for that city. Bay by
day, for more than three weeks, I dodged shot and
shell while in active search of a horse and mules, but
the search was fruitless. Meantime, from Fort "Ando-
nergui" — situate on the heights of the opposite shore
of a shallow lagoon between Tampico and the sea — the
enemy favoured us with a desultory fire from a queer
medley of artillery, ranging from 8 to 24 pounders. The
missiles were, however, impartially distributed ; the forts,
the church, the almacenes, and the dwelling-houses, being
each aimed at in turn. Our own almacen and residence
were not neglected. In the courtyard, and close by the
dining-room, were many long rows of marble tiles (lozas)
set on edge. Ricochetting, a cannon-ball bounded on to
one of these rows, along which it bored its way the whole
length, utterly ruining the tiles, while the din made was
appalling. Another ball burst through the roof of the
almacen, and spinning its way riotously along the top of
one of the side walls, under the eaves, finally fell into a
washhand basin in the corner of a ground-floor bedroom,
smashing the stand and all its accessories into fragments.
Exciting as this game was, not to mention the threatened
saqueo, in case the town were carried by storm, I, never-
theless, was most anxious to set out on my journey. At

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 163

last, I met with two shopkeepers from Zacaultipan, who
told me they were on the point of starting for that town
from Pueblo Viejo, with cargo, and that their arriero
would furnish me with a horse and mule, and also find me
a good, reliable servant. Every avenue of escape in the
direction of the San Luis Potosi route being blocked by
the rebels, I thankfully accepted this offer. My prepara-
tions for the journey were very hurried and, therefore,

scant ; but my good friend, Don Pedro H supplied me

liberally with groceries, brandy, and wine, while my office

companions, Don Carlos and Don Nicolas vied

with each other in supplying my other wants. Early next
morning I stepped into a canoe on the river shore ; my
breast swelling with emotion as I waved my farewells to a
group of long proved good friends, most of whom I could
hardly hope ever to see again.

The canoe rapidly descended the broad and caudaloso
Panuco, and I thought that I had never seen the town,
gloriously lit up as it then was by the morning sun, look
so highly picturesque. Despite its intense heat and clouds
of ferocious mosquitoes, I felt a pang of regret at leaving
the place, as I feared, for ever. In our descent of the
river — a sail of nearly three miles, and much enlivened
by the bursting of a shell close by us — we made obliquely
for the opposite shore. When near the sharp bend where
the river turns to run straight to the much dreaded Bar,
across which it fights its way uproariously into the Gulf,
we entered the narrow channel called El Estero, which
winds a mile or more through a low wooded swamp into
the lake of Pueblo Viejo. About midway in this channel,
and hidden by trees and bush, was moored a big barge,
with a swivel-mounted cannon midship. Here we had to
show our permit, which I doubt if El Senor Capitan could
read, but he politely bid us proceed. Once in the lagoon,

164 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

the Old Town (the former site of Tampico) lay, about a
mile distant, smilingly before us ; its gaily painted casas,
palmetto-leaf thatched casitas, and primitive church nest-
ling under steep, richly wooded hills. Springing on to the
glistening white pebbly beach, I soon found my future
companions, and was also greeted by many of the gente
decente who had fled from Tampico. Preferring the bag-
gage mule to the horse provided for me, I requested the
mozo to transfer the saddle to her. " Pues, no senor"
interposed the arriero, " no se puede ; the mule knows not
the saddle, and the horse knows not carga" That settled
the matter, as not another horse or mule was to be had at
any price.

After laying in a further supply of food and comforts,
we embraced our acquaintances, and, mounting our steeds,
were soon ascending the steep rocky path through the
woods. On our way we passed the poetically beautiful
well, La Fuente, and I once more revelled in delicious per-
fumes, and in the sight of myriads of gorgeously painted
butterflies, dragonflies, and other beautiful insects, flutter-
ing and darting around, or busy at work on the multitude
of flowers in the undergrowth of the noble forest trees that
lined our path. On reaching La Mira, at the crest of the
hill, I drew up to take a parting glance at the vast and
lovely panorama below — the broad lagoons, the intervening
woods, the noble lily-decked Panuco, Tampico, the bat-
teries of the enemy across Lake Carpintero, the low wooded
shore beyond, and, finally, the deep blue waters of the

Gulf.

THE CAVALCADE.

The narrowness of the path compels us usually to ride
in single file. First goes "the Asturian" (a native of
Asturia, in Spain). About middle height, and younger
than his compatriot, he would be good-looking, as most

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 165

young Spaniards are, had not the smallpox left many
deep pits in his face; but he sits his tall Pinto* like an
English hussar. Next after him is "the Gallego" (a
Galician). Much taller than the Asturian, he seems when
riding the lesser of the two ; for, like many Mexicans,
when on a long journey, he alternately draws one leg up
and lets the other hang loose, leaning sideways on his fine
mule so as to shield himself with his sombrero from the
sun. His fully-shaven face is small and chubby, lips thick
and pouting, and his general expression decidedly "boosy."
Following him comes your humble servant, " El guerito "
(the fair-haired) mounted on a small, thick-set, white
horse. The last of the party is El Senor Don Bernabe*,
my mozo, his long legs astride a remarkably bright-eyed,
well-formed, and very lively little mule, and driving before
him my mulct, de equipage. The mozo is a tall, high-
shouldered, but lithe mestizo, wearing a huge sombrero,
extensively ornamented with toquillo, chapetas, and gold
and silver lace, now much the worse for wear.

As my little horse failed to keep pace with the animals
in front, I expressed my annoyance to the mozo. He
laughingly replied: " Pfyuelo, senor, peguelo ; pero rtfcio"
(Hit it ; hit it — but hard). " Little horses and little mules
are far the best for long journeys ; porque, senor, el caballito
no es mas que flojo, y aguanta bien — -pero es preciso
pegarle muy, muy duro" — meaning that the horse was
only lazy, and would hold out well, but I must not spare
the whip. "Echelo cuarta ! e'ehelo cuarta !" he kept crying
out, and at last I did give it cuarta (whip). At the first
halt my companions made a complete, and by no means
becoming, change in their attire. The Asturian had
donned a faded green alpaca jacket, trousers of equally
faded brown moleskin, a dirty cotton shirt, and low shoes,

* A black horse with streaks of white, and usually very valuable.

166 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

betraying the absence of socks, matching the rusty-hilted
sabre buckled round his waist. The garb of the Gallego
was no better, namely ; a blue linen blouse, with a broad
leather belt round the waist (holding a pair of nickel-plated
"five-shooters "), much worn olive-green velveteen trousers,
and brown blucher boots. His sword, a big clumsy weapon,
was fastened, in Mexican fashion, to the pommel of his
saddle, and passed under the broad stirrup-strap, but so
that the hilt stuck up higher than the ears of his mule. My
long-legged, calfless mozo had turned his split and ragged,
but handsomely embroidered, linen shirt into a tunic, with
a much frayed pink silk sash round the waist, and put on
a pair of wide calico trousers, unseamed below the knees,
and white cambric drawers. Instead of pistol or sword, an
old-fashioned military carbine was slung, along with a pair
of well-filled templates (food bags), from the pommel of
his saddle.

Despite her heavy load, la venada — the mozo's little
mule — perpetually strove to get to the front, often grazing
my knee in the attempt. Her master never gave her
" cuarta," and, whether to cool his feet or ease her burden,
whenever we came to a particularly sludgy spot, he slipped
from the saddle, and with light, elastic step, resembling the
Irish " bog-trot," walked the full length of the mire.

Always anxious to please, Bernabe never hesitated to
name any tree, plant, bird, or insect that attracted my at-
tention. But so evident were many of his bold attempts
to coin a word with an Indian sound, that I grew distrust-
ful. It was quite useless to ask either of the Spaniards, as
they were as ignorant on the matter as I. Here, then, was
I in the midst of a perfect paradise — sundry sanguinary
pests excepted — with new beauties arresting my eyes every
few yards, yet only able to gaze and admire ; or, at most,
make a few unscientific notes on the objects of my admira-

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS T1ERRAS CALIENTES. 167

tion. Figure to yourselves, then, my perplexity, seeing
that my friends, at home, had gravely exhorted me to note
down religiously the name and habitat of every tree, plant,
animal, and insect peculiar to the region I was about to
travel through, also the geological formations, &c., — as
though I were a Leo Grindon and a Professor Prestwich
rolled into one. Not then even knowing the meaning of
the word Orchidacece, I well remember the wonder and
awe with which I gazed at a large moss-covered tree, in a
swampy hollow by the wayside, and at the strange flowers
it appeared to bear. On both trunk and branches were
many flowers differing in size, form, and colours, but all of
exquisite beauty, and often of gorgeous hues. I could not
get near enough to examine any of them : but, recognising
one of them again, from the depth and richness of its
purple hue,* I pulled it down with the lash of my whip, and
then saw it was a parasite, and infested with garapatos.-f'

Like Gil Bias, whose study of logic led him to " discurrir
y argumentar sin ttfrmino " with every one he could detain,
the Asturian (who had been educated in a Jesuit college),
eagerly fastened on every remark, however casual, made
by the Gallego to found a dispute, and a hot encounter
generally ensued. The latter, despite his positive asser-
tions and violent demeanour, nearly always came the worst
off. I did my best to keep out of these wrangles, but when
the dispute related to the direction of any fresh path met
with, and the disputants seemed to be about to part com-
pany, I became anxious. So hot at times were the dis-
putants that I feared blows would be come to ; but when
the crisis arrived both would pull up, face each other,
stare defiantly for half-a-minute, and then burst into loud
laughter. The old Spanish phraseology and provincialisms

* L(etia anceps.
t A sort of tick, or wood-bug, of various sizes, from a pin-head to a pea.

168 BY BRIDLE-PA THS THRO UGH LA S TIERRAS CA LIENTES.

of the mozo amused me more than these miserable wrangles.
He almost invariably changed the letter s into j, h into g,
c into ch (soft), and; into dj— thus: Quijo for quiso, agora
for ahora, moschas for moscas, carradjo for carrajo, etc.
When encouraged to talk, he had apparently two themes
only, namely ; the exploits of his valorous brother, whose
dexterity with la navaja (knife), amours, and many appli-
cations of la cuarta to his muger (wife), he related with
loving pride ; and, next, the wonderful sagacity and endur-
ance of his mulita, — most of which tales were quite beyond

credence.

A WAKEFUL NIGHT.

The elaborate, though feeble, attempt to portray my
companions ending here, I pass over what follows until I
alight on something more amusing. Here is an account
of how I spent the third night of my journey : —

We had halted on some rising ground at the easterly
side of a wide park-like plain. By the time the arrieros
had arrived and attended to the mules, the sun was on the
point of setting behind a long ridge of palm and bush-clad
heights. Towards the end of April the sunsets in this
region are always splendid, but no words can paint the
gorgeous beauty of the one I then beheld. Already the
tall palms, the graceful saplings and huge forest trees, the
bushes and the long rank grass were bathed in a flood of
mellow golden light. The clouds and cloudlets then
became rapidly dyed a deep crimson, gradually softening
towards their edges into the most tender vermilion and
rose-pink, fringed with gold. As the great ball of fire
touched the crest of the hill, the fiery metallic hues of the
clouds underwent every gradation of carmine, purple,
violet, and brown ; while the unobscured sky was tinted
pale blue with patches of a delicate green. A little later,
and intensifying the enchantment, fan-shaped streamers,

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 169

radiating from the sun, shot up rapidly, covering the vast
expanse of the heavens right up to the zenith, as though
with a fairy mesh of bright gold. As the glorious hues
slowly faded, the silvery rays of the moon stole quietly
over the scene, and a white mist (la serena) was revealed.
The open, thatched shed under which we were to lie
was now barricaded with the packs and gear of the mules,
and on the low rail around were hung the saddles, cloths,
and food-bags, to be kept dry and free from vermin. My
cdtre — a low couch made of strong linen canvas stretched
on light jointed poles, one lengthwise and the others
Crossed, and the whole so contrived as to roll up and
enter a bag — had been set up under where the over-
hanging thatches of the shed and the bamboo hut of the
owner nearly met. Supper despatched, puros (cigars) and
cigarettes lit, each wayfarer lay down to sleep. The
beds of the Spaniards were of the ordinary costal y
petate (that is, a coarse fibre mat covered by a soft
palmetto-leaf matting), and were laid on the cracked,
baked mud floor; the coverlets being the indispensable
zardpes. In spite of the great heat, I did not venture to
do as the others and strip myself to the drawers, but
merely took off my boots. Not liking the looks of a
couple of dirty fellows who had silently joined us, I put
my revolver and bowie-knife by my side, under the rug,
and my sombrero on its edge, against the couch. Long
after everyone else seemed to be fast asleep, I lay smoking,
in the endeavour to allay the feverish irritation, due to in-
tense heat of the sun and bites of insects. As the night
wore on the air grew cooler, and I sought relief by gazing
at the fairy landscape, then lit up by a brilliant moon. At
last drowsiness set in and I had begun to slumber, when I
was awakened by a loud rustling in the thatch, just over
my head. " Carramba ! what's that ? " " Hats," murmured

170 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES

the mozo, as though dreaming. The squeaks that followed
a fresh rush proved he was right ; the little innocents were
either chasing each other, or being chased by a snake.
However that might be, I had such a lively dread of a
sadden descent of some of the party on to my upturned
face that I kept a sharp eye on the streak of light between
the two roofs. At the end of about twenty minutes, the
sports aloft having then ceased, I turned on my side, and
courted sleep again. It seemed an age before I began to
doze ; but in a very brief time a fresh disturbance aroused
me. A loud, sharp "Carrajo," uttered in a furious voice'
set my heart palpitating, and grasping my bowie-knife, I
sat up and looked anxiously around. " Que es ? " cried
several, thoroughly aroused. " Me ha picado un maldito
alacrdn!" (a scorpion has stung me). Involuntarily, I
gave my rug a brisk shake, blessing my stars that I had
not to lie on the ground. Some one, in his shirt, bare-
legged, and with a boot in his hand, passed close to me,
and began to grope about. In a few minutes I heard him
give several rapid blows on the ground, followed by a grunt
of satisfaction, and muttering "Lo he matao " (I have killed
it), he was quickly snoring again. I composed myself for
sleep once more, and was just going gently off, when there
came a squeak close to my catre. "By Jove ! they are at my
sombrero." The jump I gave alarmed the depredators, and
they were off like a shot. But, in another minute or two,
the game in the thatch was renewed with such vigour that,
despite my dread of creeping things, I rose and carried
my bed, boots, and sombrero into the centre of the shed.
In doing so I aroused the Gallego, who asked me what was
the matter. I said merely I was changing my position,
and he replied : — " Tiene fasted muchisimo razon, porque
estd lluviendo d cdntaros, and I am wet." " That cannot
be," I said, "otherwise I should have been much wetter."

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 171

At that moment a movement overhead was heard, and not
of rats. " Mil demonios ! yelled the Gallego, " los mucha-
chillos me han meado en la cara." He now understood
the cause of his previous wetting ; some three or four lads
were lodged in the granary above, and had been too tired
or too lazy to descend. Anathematising the culprits with
that expressiveness of invective in which his mother
tongue is so rich, he lay down and was soon asleep. As
for me, wakeful as I was, my troubles had not ended.
Every unfamiliar sound attracted my attention. Now it
was an invasion of pigs in search of a few grains of maize
scattered on the ground, and who could only be kept from
trying to get under my couch by the savage blows on their
snouts I gave with my boot-heel. Next came bats flitting
to and fro, close to my nose, attracted by a white hand-
kerchief round my head. Then a distant clatter of hoofs
and clinking of steel would bring up a vision of ladrones.
Indeed, right glad I was when, at last, I saw the arrieros
lighting their fires, and setting up the crossed sticks for
the cooking-pots. Although still quite dark I rose, put on
my boots, first banging them sharply on the ground to
clear out any unwelcome occupant, and, the mist being
still chilly, I went out to smoke by the blazing fires. ' In
less than an hour we were again en route.

LOST IN THE FOREST.

At last ! The many miles of chaparral* had really come
to an end, and we now were getting some shade from the
scorching sun. Instead of the harsh cries and screams of
chachalacas, parrots, and jackdaws, we should have the
sweet warblings of the lesser birds, and the hum of
chuparosas ; f while occasional glimpses of the glades
of the forest would be a welcome relief to the eye

* Thicket, or jungle. t Humming birds.

172 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

that had so long sought to penetrate the dense jungle.
Taking leave of the rancheros grouped round the pozo
(well), and a final glance at the profusion of lovely flowers
on the rocks above it, we ascended by a somewhat precipi-
tous path to the higher ground, Knocking our sombreros-
against branches of graceful trees, crushing aloes, mimosar
and other flowering shrubs that almost blocked the path,
inhaling the delightful scents that filled the air, and
refreshed by the crystal dewdrops left by the morning
mist, we rode cheerily on. A short stage brought us to-
another clearing, the site again being one of the many
smoothly rounded low hills dotted about in this region.
Here were cattle sheds, a field of maize, and patches of
beetroot, sugar cane, sweet potatoes, rice, lettuces, plan-
tains, etc. Although rude, the culture was much in
advance of what we had yet seen, and the folk about
seemed more contented and lively than the listless, de-
pressed looking Indians on the lower lands. Still the
only dwellings visible were the pairs of cages called
jacales* but cleaner and brighter looking than usual. At
the door of one stood "la madrecita," her long, straight
hair, as white as snow, and who, I was assured, was a cen-
tenarian. With a bright smile she handed us the lumbrita,
(light) we asked for, and began to tell us of a short cut
through the woods ; but the Gallego, just worsted in hot
dispute, rode on, saying he knew the road well enough.
False pride would not permit the Asturian to follow ; he
therefore led us across the beet-root patch, and finding a
well-beaten track we rode quickly along it, expecting to
head the Gallego. In this we were disappointed, and,
eventually, we were driven to whistle and holloa in the

* The jacal consists of two huts, a few yards apart, one for sleeping in and the other
for cooking, etc. Both are of bamboo cane, partially plastered with mud on the
eather side, and thatched with palmetto leaves.

BY BRIDLE-PATES THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 173

hope that he would hear us ; but we only elicited screeches
and cries of birds. Engrossed by the beauty of the scenery
I, however, paid little attention to this circumstance. What
struck me most was the infinite variety of the colours and
tints of the foliage of the trees and larger shrubs, gold
green and purple prevailing, and also the remarkable
whiteness of the trunks and branches of the trees. No-
where did the forest assume that solemn gloom one
sees in our own noble forests, the densest parts being
brightened by the brilliant rays of the sun ; while flowering
trees, shrubs, and creepers imparted a wealth of colouring
hardly realisable by anyone unacquainted with the tropics.
One tree in particular excited my admiration. Its leaves
were small and somewhat scant, but it was of majestic size,
the trunk and branches of a silvery white, and it bore a
profusion of large and most beautiful lily-shaped flowers of
a very delicate rose colour streaked with purple. I took
it to be a tulip tree, but I could not learn its name, nor
whether it bore any known fruit. Suspended from this
tree were often to be seen long purse-nests, each one
guarded by a bird about the size of a thrush, its head,
neck, and breast of a bright orange, and the rest of the
body and wings apparently of a light slate. Although the
nests were about 15 to 18 inches deep, the male birds kept
hopping in and out, singing the while as melodiously as a
lark, and so transparent was the network of the nest that
oven at many yards away the bright orange of the bird
within was distinctly visible.

It was only when our leader — who had ridden on for
about an hour, smoking in silence — came suddenly to a
halt, and began to examine the ground carefully, that I
became aware of the predicament we were in. On enter-
ing the forest the shrubs and brambles were so thick that
the path beaten through them was plain enough. As

174 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

these became scantier a multiplicity of fainter tracks were
met with, each animal or its rider diverging to the right or
left as fancy led. At this spot, however, where a small
pool of clear running water had formed, fresh tracks
converged from every quarter, many evidently those of
wild denizens of the forest. It was no use attempting to
retrace our steps, as there was nothing to guide us.
Indeed, in the course of the last mile or more the
character of the forest had changed completely; tall
palms and fan-shaped palmettos — many bearing large
clusters of flowers — now almost entirely occupying the
ground. Being without a compass, we could not tell the
direction in which we were going, save from an occasional
shadow thrown where the palms were less thickly planted.
The Asturian sought to get out of the dilemma by
choosing the widest trail, but from the way the Pinto
raised his head and cast inquiring looks around, I felt sure
that we were not following any ordinary bridle path. It
was now past mid-day, and we had not yet breakfasted ; I
therefore suggested a halt for refreshment. " Ojala ! "
cried the mozo, mournfully, " but we have nothing to eat."
The Gallego had, unhappily for us, kindly relieved the
little mule of the food-bags, and, with them, of the bottles
of brandy. Following the example of Bernabe, I broke off
young branches of the palmita, and ate with gusto the
part that immediately springs from the trunk. In white-
ness and taste it resembled fresh celery, with something of
the sweetness of a young garden turnip, and it certainly
satisfied my hunger and thirst for some hours. As the day
wore on, and the moist vegetable mould no longer showed
a single hoof mark in advance of us, the Asturian grew
sullen, and querulous with the mozo ; the loss of his flint —
our only means of getting a light — having angered him.
But until I realised the great probability of our having

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CAL1ENTES. 175

to pass the night in this moist wilderness, without even a
fire to protect us from wild beasts and venomous reptiles —
a couple of ferocious tiger-cats had already come out to
survey us and growled their displeasure, and my horse had
nearly thrown me, by shying violently, on seeing an arma-
dillo crossing in front of us — I had vastly enjoyed this, my
first ride through a palm forest. True, palms and palmet-
tos were no novelty to me, but, ere this, I had only seen
them more or less isolated, or in small clumps ; here, how-
ever, for leagues we had nothing but palms and palmettos,
save a few, and very occasional, aloes and shrubs. Of the
palms, I could only recognise a few, such as the date and
the cocoa-nut, the rest were quite new to me. Some had
their stems laced or plaited either the whole length up to
the leaves or from the top about a third of the height
downwards, while others had their stems quite smooth.
Here and there we came across one or more of these grace-
ful trees lying prostrate, having apparently been brought
down by the application of fire and the machete, probably
the work of some Indian to get at the fruit, as others, still
erect, bore marks of such attacks. Hour after hour passed
without the least noticeable change in the character of the
forest, and as the brightness of the day was fast waning, we
began to discuss the question how we should pass the night.
The prospect was indeed alarming, as unless we should
speedily come to drier ground, we could only have the
choice of sitting in our saddles or standing by our horses,
from dark to daybreak, enveloped in a chilly and penetra-
ting mist. Visions of lions, tigers, and such like night-
prowlers sniffing around us, and, worse still, of deadly
snakes, arose in our minds ; and the thought was by no
means pleasant. Growing reckless, we dug our spurs
into the sides of our beasts, and they at once broke into
a gallop. Just as the marshy ground was becoming a

176 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CAL1ENTES.

dangerous swamp there came a break in the forest, and
a very few yards brought us to rising ground. " Gracios
a" Dios!" cried the Asturian, "a casita or two cannot
be far off." Our horses rushed up the hill, and our
ears were then gladdened by the barks of house dogs.
By that time it was quite dark, but in answer to the
loud shouts we gave, torchlights were displayed from
various quarters. Out of the darkness a voice asked
who we were and what we wanted. I was deputed to
reply, and in response to a whistle, the men with the
torches converged to where we sat. We were then
led to a neat, solidly-built dwelling, where we saw two
ladies sewing by the light of a lamp in the verandah,
or portal. After giving us a glass of aguardiente each,
our host led us to the track we wanted, which was only
about a hundred yards away. Once attained, our steeds
needed neither whip nor spur; poor creatures, they had
not eaten anything, save a few leaves, since 3 o'clock a.m.
On our arrival at the small group of jacales called Las
Tinajas, we found the Gallego, who said that he had been
there at least four hours, anxiously awaiting us, although
he had, he asserted, frequently pulled up to allow us to
overtake him. I need hardly say that the contents of the
tompiates showed that he, at all events, had neither starved
nor thirsted since we parted. With the aid of the arriero
we soon had an excellent meal, consisting of fowls, rice,
frijoles, eggs, and tortillas. After fully satisfying the inner
man, we lit our puros, lay down under a large open shed,
and had a good night's rest. Thus happily ended for me
a day of great delight mingled with considerable alarm.

ALONE AMONG INDIANS.

The monte de maleza, or chaparral, through which the
narrow path we had followed had now run a distance of

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 177

about three leagues, was the densest we had yet met with.
Pheasants, turkeys, doves, and .many birds of the most
brilliant plumage abounded, and the screeches and cries of
the noisier birds were quite deafening ; while the myriads
of richly-coloured winged insects actually tired the eye. I
therefore began to long for a change. When it came it
was as sudden and complete as any transformation scene.
Right out of the midst of thick shrubbery we dropped
down the bank of a river, then dry, and on mounting the
opposite bank we at once entered a cane-brake. The soft
marshy soil, acted on by the fierce rays of the sun, gave
off a vapour that rendered the air unpleasantly humid,,
but the canes gwere remarkably bright and lofty. They
grew in thick clusters of a dozen to fifty or more, spreading
out their beautiful fronds like an open parasol, thus form-
ing shady avenues in every direction ; so that we might
have been likened to pigmies riding under bracken.

I pass over the account of the rest of the day's journey
until it reaches our intended halt for the day. On the
arrival of the arrieros I found that we had to start again.
Asking Bernabe' the meaning of this, he hesitatingly
replied : " Para escondemos en el bosque, me parece " (To-
hid e in the forest, I think). This time the arriero was our
guide. When well out of sight and hearing of the folk at
our temporary halting place, we entered the forest, and
then doubled till a trail was found. This led us to a deep
pond, where the bestias were watered and fed, and then a
fresh trail was followed that brought us to higher ground,
and then into an oval clearing. Here we saw no signs of
cultivation ; but three jacales, widely separated, and the
ruins of a large well-built house spoke of former pros-
perity, and I learned later on that the place was called
still La Hacienda del Nopal. One of the men rode to the
nearest hut and made some enquiries ; but as he spoke in
M

178 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CAL1ENTES.

the native dialect I could not tell what passed. On re-
porting to his master the latter led us to the furthest corner
of the clearing, where his men set to work vigorously, be-
hind a gigantic yellow wood tree, cutting away the monte
— " a perfect labyrinth of tall weeds, vines, passifloras, and
convolvuli " — and soon cleared a space large enough for the
cargo and themselves. After unloading the mules and
tying them to trees in the thicket, the men ate their food
cold, not having lit a fire ; and, although the sun had not yet
set, they spread their mats to sleep on. Seated on one of
the huge roots of the tree, I had watched these proceedings
in silence, and had come to the conclusion that I would
pass the night in that position. But, by the time it had
become dusk, I found that I could no longer endure the
increasing numbers of insects attacking me. For, in
addition to the usual pests, a tick, very much larger than
the garapato, and which ordinarily confines its attentions
to quadrupeds, had joined in the assault. The conchural,
like the garapato, uses its barbed claws to cut through the
skin, and once its head and claws are inserted and the
blood got at, there they stick with bull-dog tenacity, even
when the body is plucked away, and a stout thorn or a
pen-knife has to be used to dig them out. So I peremp-
torily ordered the mozo to find my catre and place it by
the nearest jacal. Nothing loth, he promptly obeyed, and
not many minutes later we were followed by the two
Spaniards; even they could not "aguantar los conchu-
rales."

Notwithstanding our many blandishments, no other
answer could be got from the woman in the cocina (cooking-
hut) than the stereotyped — "No hay," even when asked
merely for a light from their fire. Contenting ourselves
with the remains of our bread, some sticky cheese, and a
few drops of cognac, we sought repose. In a short time,

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 179

however, the Asturian cried out that he was very ill, and
as he shivered like one seized with la calentura (ague), I
promptly offered him my catre. This was carried into the
open division of the sleeping-hut, put in a corner on the
top of a heap of ears of maize, and the sufferer lay down
there, with ropes of dried beef hanging close to his
nose. Partly to escape observation, but chiefly to avoid
the unsavoury mud, caused by slops from the cocina,
our beds had been placed some yards from the jacal;
but even where we were the ground was dangerously
moist. For the first time, therefore, I fully realised
the amount of comfort afforded by my frail bed con-
trasted with the misery of a pair of mats, when laid on
juicy ground. Towards 8 p.m. the rays of the moon
revealed the tops of the larger trees in the forest encircling
us, but not the least sign of the arriero's encampment was
visible. All was weird and silent as the grave, save when
broken by occasional yelps of wild dogs and the answering
barks of the dogs of the jacales. Some three hours later
my quick ear detected the clank of steel, and I fancied I
saw through the white mist the form of a horseman cross
the clearing and then ride rapidly back. Awaking my
companion, I told him of this, but he was too sleepy to
comprehend. Another hour, spent by me in wakefulness,
had passed, when a much louder jingle of swords and
stirrups compelled me to thoroughly arouse the Gallego.
Misty as it still was, we were able to descry a long file of
horsemen cautiously crossing the clearing. Halting about
midway, they appeared to break up into small sections and
disperse. Convinced that they were ladrones, and certain
to be badly armed, I got my weapons ready, and demanded
to know the purpose of the Spaniard — to fight, or to yield.
Intently gazing at the dim outlines of the men coming and
going, he at last replied, with a groan, " They are far too

180 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

many." A minute later he whispered, " Let us hide our
pistols in the chaparral." I refused, and told him that if
he were afraid of his revolvers being found on him I would
take charge of them. To this he consented, saying, " They
will not punish you as they would me, as you are not a
Gachupino."* Eventually nine of the band assembled
where the Asturian lay, and we were quickly discovered.
Their leader then approached us, and, taking off his som-
brero, accosted us with the usual greetings, to which we
politely responded. After a short pause, he said : " Senores
caballeros, I am instructed that you are in charge of cargo
that has not paid the legal duties." The Asturian stoutly
denied that such was the case, and offered to show the
gums and pases, which he insisted were in perfect order.
After much platicando, the officer ordered both the
Spaniards to get ready to follow him. Kaising myself on
my elbow, I then asked, as calmly as I could, whether I
was included in that order. " Yes, sir, you also will have
to go with me to the General," was the reply. " And who is
the General, and where is he?" I asked. "That you will know
later, sir, I am not permitted to answer any questions."
Doubtful of the truth of these replies, and positively
dreading a midnight ride through the forest with men who
might still be only a gavilla of robbers, I became utterly
reckless. " Seiior capitan," I said, in a very angry tone,
" I am an Englishman, and on my way to the capital ; to
prove this I have my carta de seguridad and pases. No one,
not even your general, has the least right to stop or molest
me, but every official is required to render me every aid,
and I most positively refuse to stir from this spot ; if you
attempt force, I shall resist." At this point, as though
accidentally, I — no doubt unwisely — let my weapons be
seen. " Sir," replied the officer, " now that I know you to

* A contemptuous name for a Spaniard.

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CAL1ENTES. 181

be a foreigner and a traveller only, I apologise for disturb-
ing you ; I pray you to lie down again and my men shall
see that your equipage is got together and put in safety."
Not to be outdone in politeness, I answered : — " Ah, now
that I know that I have the honour of dealing with a real
caballero, permit me, as the mist is very chilly, to offer you
my flask; it contains real French cognac." "And this,
sir," said he, offering his cigar case, " contains puros legiti-
mos de la Habana ; pray do me the favour." Meantime a
blazing fire had been made, quite close to us, and further
interchanges of the flask and cigar-case ensued. For the
captain, who, it appeared, was a Tampiqueiio (a native of
Tampico), finding that I was intimate with many of his
friends, was anxious to hear about them, and our conversa-
tion soon grew exceedingly lively, and was prolonged for
some hours. It was still quite dark when I heard the
mules pass by, evidently escorted by troops, and then the
captain wished me a very friendly good-bye, and called
upon the Spaniards to accompany him. A subaltern and
four men remained, either to watch me or to form a rear
guard. So quiet had Bernabe kept throughout all this that I
was not aware of his presence, until I heard one of the
men call out angrily: — "Come back." In a tone of voice
that surprised me, I heard the mozo reply: — "What are
you afraid of?" "Carrajo! 'afraid of?' It is you that
are afraid." "What, of you!" "Yes, of us; you are try-
ing to escape." " Or," said another of the four, " you are
about to go for your friends to fall upon us." I laughed,
but the boyish-looking subaltern seemed to grow uneasy as
the mozo, waxing bolder, declared that if his amos gave
the word he would " eat up " the lot of them — " miserables
vaqueros" The first spokesman made a show of loosening
his carbine — a flint-lock affair, as old as Waterloo — but it
was so tied up with mecate that he did not succeed before

182 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES.

the officer, telling me that he would see the captain about
my mozo, rode off rapidly. A few minutes later he re-
turned, gave the order to mount, and after warning Bernabe
not to stir an inch, he and his men rode off. As they did
so the mozo gave vent to his anger by loud whoops of de-
fiance, mingled with yells of "Pendejos!" "Cabrones!"
and similar insulting epithets ; and I fully expected a few
shots, by way of reply.

How long afterwards it was before I fell asleep I have
no idea; but when I awoke it was broad day, and then I
found myself alone. On looking round I could not, to my
dismay, find any trace of my horse or mule, but eventually
I discovered my baggage along with the catre piled up in
the hut. Still almost wet to the skin, this state of things
was not enlivening, and I began to feel very miserable.
But about an hour later my spirits revived on hearing the
voice of my mozo. He had been in search of his " dear
venada," his " preciosa mulita." That the " maldita,
gavilla de ladrones " had not carried her off he was certain,
for he had hidden her behind the jacal and had never
taken his eyes off the spot, for he would have " died in her
defence." The woman supplied him with a large mess of
greasy frijoles and a pile of tortillas, which he quickly
bolted, and then, after ransacking the tompiates, off he
went ; his calico trousers rolled up so high as to expose the
full length of his lanky legs, a carbine in one hand, and a
bag of maize in the other. Placing my catre under the
boughs of a large tree at the edge of the chaparral, but
whose scanty leaves afforded no shade, I sat down on it to
consider how I should act if long detained here. As for
the cooking-hut, it was so horribly puerca that, hungry as
I was, 1 would not even approach it. From 9 a.m. until
near dusk, I sat waiting ; waiting ; without even a cigar or
a drop of cognac to cheer me ; while my gorge rose at the

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 183

mere idea of eating or drinking anything out of that horrid
hut. There I sat, bent forward, my sombrero canted to
shade my head and knees from the broiling sun, and so
lazy as not even to care to explore the tompiates for some-
thing to eat. Torpid as my limbs were, my blood seemed
coursing high, while my skin was in a state of great irrita-
tion from the assaults of mosquitoes, sand-flies, and ticks.
Who in the course of his boyhood never envied dear old
Crusoe his solitary little kingdom; or, say — the Swiss
Family Kobinson their still more wonderful island ; an
island which, although a mere speck in the ocean, con-
tained every specialty, animal and vegetable, of every
region on earth, and always found when and where it was
wanted ! That island, like the spot where I was now
stranded, was within the tropics ; why then were our Swiss
friends never troubled with such sanguinary imps as these ?
Such was my thought after drawing out my hand from one
of the tompiates. The near approach of night had led me
to overcome my repugnance to the stench and filth of the
hut, so far as to ask for boiling water to make some coffee.
With the mixture of coffee and sugar, I also took out of the
bag a host of ants, which quickly made their presence
felt. The stinging pain was intense, and, as my hand was
swelling rapidly, the woman, noticing my distress, brough
me some cold water, motioning me to put my hand in it
which I did and soon got great relief. By this time her
husband had come home, accompanied by an old man
whom I took to be his father-in-law. The younger man
was a typical mestizo of his class, having well-proportioned
features, very small beard and moustache, long lank black
hair, melancholy-looking eyes, and was clad in the usual
shirt, or tunic, and wide trousers of grey manta (domestic).
He appeared to be quite ignorant of Spanish, and after eating
heartily of eggs, beans, and tortillas, he sat sharpening his

184 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALTENTES.

machete with a stone, and without speaking a word, until
long after dark. The machete is a long blade of iron,
steeled at the cutting edge, and fixed in a slightly curved
wooden handle ; a cord passes through a hole in the latter,
and the instrument is suspended, like a sword, by the side
of the wearer. In none of the jacales did I ever see an
axe or a saw, so I presume that all the carpentry and wood-
cutting there is done by this wretched tool. The old man
was very ragged and dirty, and his toad-backed skin,
grizzled beard, and snake-like eyes, glittering from beneath
his thick bristly eyebrows, gave him a very forbidding
look. He asked me several questions in broken Spanish,
which I had some difficulty in understanding, and, after a
big meal, he lay down to sleep. His bed, a filthy mat
snly, was laid on a causeway of roots, stones, and mud,
connecting the two huts, and at first I pitied him. But
the look he gave me, while bowing almost to the ground,
as he said " Que pase uste buenas noches " (Good night)
did not tend to make me sleep any the sounder.

" What a life to lead," I thought, " in a region where the
merest scratch of the soil, the scattering of seed, or thrusting
in of seedlings, will, without the aid of manure or irrigation,
bring forth quickly an immense increase — where land can
be bought right out for the veriest trifle, and cattle, pigs,
fowls, etc., can forage for themselves the year through.
Yet here are two strong, able-bodied men, and their wives,
living amid the greatest squalor and discomfort, and feeding '
almost entirely on unleavened maize cakes, beans, and
eggs, although almost overrun with pheasants, turkeys,
hares, and rabbits." (Not that they prefer a vegetable
diet, but they have no guns, let alone ammunition, and no
money to buy them, and they are much too apathetic to
set snares. As for hares, which they could knock down
with the machete, they will not cook, much less eat, one,

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS C ALIEN TES. 185

as they affirm that hares feed on dead bodies, especially of
human beings !) " Neither of these two fellows has, appa-
rently, ever attempted to cultivate even the smallest patch
of the ground near the jacal, but both appear to gain their
livelihood by cutting ojite* in the bush for the mules and
cattle of some distant ranchero. But what a bed for a
man well nigh on to sixty years old ! — a hard mat of coarse
fibre, the surface not more than an inch higher than the
mud and slops around, overrun with cockroaches and other
vermin ; visited frequently by rats and venomous insects,
and, as the pigs are lying in close fellowship, possibly also
by the dreaded nigua. Still this old fellow seems to sleep
soundly ! Then, again, what a life for the women, old and
young. There they are, all the livelong day, kneeling on
the ground, crushing, crushing, amid blinding smoke,
the maize on the metale for the eternal tortilla, save
when frying eggs or beans in the fat they skim from the
pots of half putrid ropes of jerked beef simmering by the
fire. As for the children — kept stark naked until about
six years old — they (like the pigs, dogs, and hens) seem to
have no other diversion than in running in and being
driven out of the cooking hut, and in paddling in the mud
around it. Truly these people are not yet fit to be their
own masters." As might be expected, but few children
survive infancy exposed to such surroundings. At this
particular jacal there were two only, twins evidently, and
about five years old. Both had extremely large heads,
miserably thin arms and legs, huge pot-bellies, sore eyes —
an eye of one had been burst — and hoarse, croaking voices.
My presence had afforded them a novel amusement. For
hours together they kept up an unflagging game of trotting
up to the catre, to take a long stare at me, and then trotting

* Ojite is a shrub with leaves like those of the laurel, and its branches are much
relished by mules and cattle.

186 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS G ALIEN TES.

back to the woman to scream for pulque. What is called
pulque in this region is not the real article made from the
maguey, but consists of water thickened with maize flower
and sweetened with little loaves of crude sugar, called
piloncillo. The large quantities of this stuff drank daily
by the twins may possibly account for their big bellies, but
I was told that was due to worms. So foul and mal-
odorous were these grotesque little creatures — the only
way of cleansing them being a dry rub with a core of an
ear of maize — that I durst not encourage them by word
or look. Ultimately a little girl, Polycarpia, who came, I
thought, from one of the other jacales, seeing my
annoyance, did her utmost to keep the twins away, but
they bit and scratched like cats and their screams were
horrible. Polycarpia, about eight years old, despite her
matted hair and dirty face, was decidedly pretty, for her
features were very regular, her teeth beautiful, and her large
eyes a lovely blue black, matching her profuse raven black
hair. She knew Spanish fairly well, and she told me that
the reason why the twins were so often sick was because
they would chew tierra (an oily sort of clay) and drink so
much pulque. What a pity, I thought, that this sprightly
and really beautiful child should have no better prospect
before her than to pass her life in the squalor and drudgery
of the jacaL

Dreading the night mist and the damp soil, even more
than stench or insects, I put my catre in the shed of the
sleeping-hut, keeping clear, however, of the jerked beef,
and was about to lie down when Bernabe reappeared. He
brought a rabbit and a chachalaca that he had shot, and
these he cut up and put in a cooking-pot, adding a mass of
pounded long pepper-pods. On the lid he put a rim of
clay to keep the steam in and then raked live embers over
the pot. This done, he began to tell me of his wanderings.

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 187

Poor fellow, he had not been able to get any tidings of his
pet. He was sure she was not with the Yeguas (semi-wild
mares, with their foals), as, unless she saw with them
either the Pinto or the Mule, she would not join them, but
would " travel leagues and leagues in search of her friends.'7
When the stew was ready I was not too dainty to join the
mozo in picking out the tender and savoury lumps, al-
though we had to do so with our fingers only. He put out
of sight also a large pile of tortillas and a heap of frijoles,
washing the whole down with copious draughts of that
horrible pulque; but the stew alone sufficed for me. No
sooner was the moon well out than Bernabe, after reloading
his carbine, bade me good-night ; he would find la venada
or die in the attempt. " Ah," he cried, " if she could only
hear the bell!" According to the arrieros, every mule,
belonging to a regular train, knows the particular sound of
its leader's bell, and can distinguish it amid the tinkle of
a dozen others ; an assertion by no means incredible, from
my own observations.

I had not been stretched on my catre more than a few
minutes when our host and hostess passed close to me and
entered the dark windowless compartment where those
blessed twins, separated at last, were reposing on mats,
slung hammock fashion, close to the roof. The man threw
himself on a wide cane bench, his head towards the inner
doorway, while the woman lit a resinous torch — a candle
is only used on a special Saint-day, and, if of wax, it has
to be bought of a priest (wax being a church monopoly),,
who may be several leagues off. After fixing the torch,,
she took a long leaf of dried tobacco and rolled it carefully
in a straw from a husk of maize ; then after taking a few
whiffs herself, probably to draw off the rankness and
humidity, she put the "cigarro" between the man's lips,
he closing his eyes in ecstasy.

188 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS C ALIEN TES.

Early morning of the next day saw me again seated on
my catre under the same tree, and still troubled by the
unsavoury twins. Ultimately, determining to shake off
this lassitude, I rose and strolled to the other jacales.
Each was almost an exact copy of that I had left, and the
people quite as poor and dirty, but minus the twins. At
both I found the owners sharpening their machetes, always
a, long operation, but neither of them took the slightest
notice of me. The women, of course, were more cordial,
but they appeared to know no more Spanish than sufficed
for the usual greetings. I managed, however, to buy a
dozen fine eggs for a medio (3d.), and a cheese of about
two pounds' weight for a medio y tclaco (3f d.) I did not
see Polycdrpia, but there was no trace of Spanish blood
in the folk at either of these jacales. I returned and
gave the cheese and eggs to the women at our jacal.
I then went across to the ruins of the hacienda, from
which, however, I soon beat a hasty retreat, for I found
the stuccoed walls alive with nasty crawlers, and the
interior a mass of rotten beams — the roof having fallen
in — and other de'bris. Long columns of ants afforded,
some guarantee against the presence of snakes, but the
rotting timber was highly suggestive of centipedes and
alacranes (scorpions), so I contented myself with a peep
through the main doorway. No doubt this was at one
time the beautiful home of some proud Spanish Don, and
had come to grief during the revolution, possibly accom-
panied by the massacre of its inmates. From near the
corner of these ruins, the path we had to follow was
lined with fine forest trees, and made a sharp descent, and
at this point I was able to get a view of the high hills
beyond, but could form no idea of their distance. The
view along the broad path was highly picturesque, and
I began to speculate on the distance I might have to walk

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS CALIENTES. 189

before coining to any decent poblacion, or rancho, if my
companions did not return in a day or two. But the
intense heat of the sun during the day time, and the
positive danger of being met alone, and on foot, by prowling
vagabonds, besides the unknown length of the journey,
were by no means encouraging. Quite faint through want
of food and drink, I turned back to resume my seat, but I
could not resist firing at a swarm of rabbits that crossed
my path. One fell over, but as I stooped to pick it up it
wriggled away under a thorny cactus at the edge of the
monte, and I did not care to enter the bush. As I turned
away, the old man came up, accompanied by two Indians,
and in a very excited manner he made me understand
that one of them had just seen un leon (the maneless lion)
kill a deer in the chaparral at the back of our jacal, and,
pointing to my revolvers, he asked me to shoot the brute
so that they might secure the deer (venado). Weak as I
felt myself, I knew that it would never do to " show the
white feather," so I signed to them to show the way. The
younger men at once sprang into the bush, I after them,
and the old man close behind. We had crashed our way
about a hundred yards through the usual dense entangle-
ment, regardless of pricks and scratches, when we came to
the trunk of a great tree, the lower branches of which were
almost hidden by the undergrowth. Taking hold of one of
the boughs with both hands, the youngest fellow, his
machete betwixt his teeth, slid under it on his back, and
then disappeared, apparently down a steep bank. Raising
his sombrero, and with a low bow, the old man motioned
me to follow, and after vainly trying to see what was
behind the bough, I prepared to do so. But while in the
act of securing my revolver in its case — like a flash, I had
a vision of the wicked eyes of that old man, just as they had
menaced me while dozing in the night. Quickly turning,

190 EY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS TIERRAS C ALIEN TES.

I saw the reality of that deadly glare. Both men were
standing in an expectant attitude a couple of yards behind
me, not close together but on either side of me. Distrust
having set in strongly, with simulated politeness I signed
to the two to precede me, but they did not seem inclined
to do so. Stooping quickly to look under the bough, I
saw a face rapidly withdrawn. Then the thought struck
me — "Ah! is he there to seize my legs as I slide under
the tree, and the others behind in order to slash at my
head and hands with their machetes ?" With that thought
in my mind, I again motioned to the men to go under the
bough, resolving if they did so to work round the tree and
ascertain what was there — a bank, a pond, or a newly-made
grave — before I followed. The younger of the two, seeing
that I was firm in my demand, was about to obey, when the
old man pulled him back. I insisted, but with much
bowing and scraping, the old fellow persisted in his " despues
de uste, senor" Now thoroughly convinced that foul play
was intended, I took out and cocked my Colt's Navy
revolver, and fixing my eyes steadily on those of the two
men, in turn, I sternly pointed to the way we had come.
They understood me, but never shall I forget the rage
depicted in the old man's face as he slowly turned to go.
Both went back without uttering a sound, and I took good
care to be close in their rear, lest they should suddenly
bolt and leave me to find my way out. When we emerged
from the thicket the men silently saluted me, and went
away. As for the pioneer of the party he remained
behind, and I never saw any one of the three again.
Appearances may have deceived me ; but both Spaniards,
when we met again, took the matter very seriously, and
expressed their astonishment that I had let the men off so
easily. " Why," said the Asturian, " surely you ought to
know that these fellows would kill you, if they could do so
safely, for your zarape alone, not to speak of the three

BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS T1ERRAS CALIENTES. 191

revolvers, money, and other property they would have got
hold of had they disposed of you so neatly. Remember,
you are not in England ; here there are no police, and no
inquests. We should have been told that you had gone on
with some other travellers, as you could not wait, and we,
not suspecting your imprudence, should have expected to
find you at Zacaultipan." So strong, however, was my
belief that my murder had been intended that, as I sat
picking off the garapatos I had gathered, I could not help
thinking over the way I should pass the night, if left alone
again. Removing my catre still further from the jacal,
and to where I could the better survey the whole clearing,
I sat considering the course I should adopt when darkness
set in. While so engaged, I was struck by the strange
behaviour of a splendid mariposa (butterfly), which kept
fluttering about my legs. At first, I tried to catch it, but
afterwards I sat perfectly still, to watch its antics. I then
discovered that an army of ants was marching and counter-
marching betwixt my legs, the rank and file laden with
bits of leaves and flowers thrice as big as the bearers, and
officered by much larger ants. Notwithstanding the closest
attention, I failed to make out the object of the butterfly,
whether to attack the ants or their burdens; but every
two or three minutes it swooped down on the column like
a falcon, scattering a dozen or two of the little creatures,
and they, as usual, quickly fell into line again.

Shortly after mid-day my mind was happily set at rest.
When the relief came I was busily engaged in overlooking
the labours of another lot of industrious little workers.
This time, they were a gang of beetles, which were actively
engaged in transporting sundry balls, as big as a
boy's marble, composed of some greasy-looking substance.
It was not only funny, but highly interesting, to see how
they accomplished their task. To every ball there was a
pair of workers ; each in turn pushed from behind, and as

192 BY BRIDLE-PATHS THROUGH LAS T1ERRAS CALIENTES.

the ball rolled over the beetle went with it until the ball
rested on its belly, and then helped it on with its legs from
underneath ; so that there was always one beetle at the
top and one at the bottom of the ball, and the movement
was rarely arrested a second. So absorbed was I in this
business, that I had not noticed the sound of hoofs until
the riders were close on to me. For the moment I
expected enemies, and had already put my hand to my
revolver. Judge, then, of my delight when I beheld
both Spaniards, Bernabe, and the head arriero. They told
me that the cargo had been left guarded at Chontla, but
they themselves had been carried on to Tantina. There
the General had fined them $400, and ordered them to be
detained until the money was paid. Next day he sent for
them, and interrogated them about myself, making them
describe me minutely. All at once he cried out, " Why, it
must be Don Santiago, my good friend ' El guerito.' " (I
had once lent him $5 when he had to fly the town.) The
Spaniards confirmed his belief, and he, being now quite
satisfied, reduced the fine to $80, and took a draft on
Tampico for the amount. My friend Barbarena (the
General), then ordered a basket to be filled with roast
fowls, bread, claret, cognac, cigars, etc., and sent it by the
arriero to me, with many expressions of his regard, and
regrets at the annoyance I must have suffered. The
Spaniards were in high glee, and we all sat down to the
first square meal since starting. Poor Bernabe ! he had
not found his treasure, and he vowed that he would not
leave this spot until he discovered her, failing which he
would volunteer under my friend "El General." Ere
putting spurs to our horses, I shook hands with the mozo,
and wished him good luck, a wish he valued more than the
present I made him, and his eyes filled with tears as we all
bade him good-bye, and rode rapidly from that hateful
" hacienda."

EVENING IN THE WOODLANDS.

BY JOHN PAGE.

"QOUTHWARD, on Surrey's pleasant hills," wrote
^ Macaulay. That Surrey's hills are pleasant, and its
valleys too, we, whose boyhood was spent upon them, in
them, and amongst them, are qualified to testify. We love
to revisit them whenever an opportunity presents itself,
and many birds of our acquaintance do so annually. Our
temporary abiding-place upon one of these occasions was
at a farmhouse in one of Surrey's inevitable valleys. The
front of the house was entirely covered with roses, and its
porched entrance embowered with honeysuckle. The
parish was, and still is, thoroughly rural, sparsely popu-
lated, and most of its houses are detached cottages, roofed
with thatch or red tiles. Their style may be said to be very
early English ! It was an evening in the first week of
June, and as the sun descended behind a dense bank of
rainclouds, it threw a lovely roseate light far up into the
sky above them, which told us of wind being down there.
A misselthrush, perched upon the topmost bough of a big
apple tree in the orchard, broke out in a prophetic song,
the meaning of which when properly translated being,
"We shall have a storm before morning!" Notwith-
standing the bird's warning notes, we determined to take a
twilight stroll.

I love thee, Twilight ! As thy shadows roll,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul !

N

194 EVENING IN THE WOODLANDS.

"Which direction shall we take?" was the question.
" To the woodlands," was the answer ; and as both question
and answer came from ourselves, and we could not take a
division upon it, it was passed nem. con. After lighting
our pipe, therefore, we started, and in a few minutes had
to pass the village inn, a public of some importance before
Stephenson's iron horse had driven the dear old coaches
off the road, and post-chaises became things of the past.
Against the front of this house was a long rough seat, with
a table or two in front of it en suite. Upon the seat there
were about half a dozen unmistakable rustics, each with a
pint pewter vessel before him, and some of them enjoying
their pipe of peace after the labour of the day was done.

The outer garment worn by these men was the long
smock-frock, the good old gaberdine of their Saxon fore-
fathers, which still lingers in the out-of-the-way corners
and bye-lanes of Surrey, Sussex, and Kent. Amongst the
company we recognised the old shepherd of the home
farm, who was known to us. His crook was leaning against
the wall, and we knew that also. Was not its long shaft
embellished with rude carvings of sheep, hurdles, and
foliage ? And had we not been told upon, at least, four
different occasions, that the said carving had been done by
the present owner of the crook's grandfather ?

With a few cheery words and a kindly good night to the
al fresco customers of " The Buck," we passed on up the
lane at right angles to the turnpike road. One side of this
lane was hemmed in by what we once knew as a neatly-
trimmed quickset hedge ; the thorns, however, have long
since run riot, but compensate for their unruly conduct one
month in every year, when they deck themselves out with
sweet-scented, snow-white blossom. The blossom has now
faded and fallen to the ground, having fulfilled its function
by providing the germs of many a bird feast to be enjoyed

EVENING IN THE WOODLANDS. 195

in the early winter months. On the other side of the
thorn hedge is a meadow of mowing grass, and from it
comes the curious and somewhat discordant cry of the
corn-craik, a bird which is constantly puzzling one as to
its exact locality. On the. opposite side of the lane are
some noble elms, throwing their huge limbs across high
over head. A break in the thorn hedge farther up the
lane affords us a view of the western landscape which is
now fast fading out, and a rail placed in the gap tempts us
to take a brief rest and to replenish our pipe. The flute-
like notes of a blackbird come up to us from a thick
hedgerow in the hollow, and a songthrush is finishing his
evensong in the branches of one of the elms. If this bird
were a nocturnal songster, Philomel, so much lauded by
many of our poets, would have to take a back seat. The
song of the thrush is always cheerful and lively, and uttered
sometimes with but scant encouragement from the weather,
whilst, if Milton was any judge of music, the song of the
nightingale is "most melancholy." A faint sound of
sheep bells now reaches us, unaccompanied by bleating,
however, for the sheep have been newly folded upon green
rye in the valley, and have nothing to cry about. The
shepherd has gone home and left them for the night, as he
always does except in lambing time, but their bells will tell
him if the sheep have broken fold and strayed, or are
being chased and worried by some evil-minded and dis-
reputable mongrel trespasser. From the depths of the
wood on the opposite height comes the peculiar bark of
the fox, who is making a short communication to one of
its kind at a distance. By persons unaccustomed to the
bark of the vulpine animal the sound would be attributed
to its congener, the dog. Martins and swallows have been
on the wing from sunrise to sunset, and after destroying
myriads of noxious insects have retired to their snug nests

196 EVENING IN THE WOODLANDS.

for the night. But there are other insects which are
nocturnal in their habits, and do not leave their hiding-
places whilst the sun is above the horizon, and then to find
that Nature has its night police as well as its day.

0 Nature, how in every charm supreme,
Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new !

Vast numbers of that curious little animal, the bat, are
now on the wing in pursuit of their prey. No sound what-
ever is made in their flight which would give alarm to the
victims, and the nightjar is silently lying in wait for chafers
and other large beetles. Pursuing our walk, at a turn in
the lane we come to a five-barred gate. It is locked, and
admits only to a private drive on the green headlands
which skirt the wood. Near the gate stands a fine old oak,
whose bole and branches are almost covered with ivy.

From its dense foliage, a wood-pigeon, with a sharp clash
of its wings, takes its rapid flight. In all probability its
mate is incubating on two eggs, or covering a pair of its
young in a slovenly-built nest on one of the tree's lower
branches. He will return to her, however, as soon as he
is assured of our absence, for he is a good husband and
father. We lean upon the gate and listen for any sound
which may come to us, for to those who know how these
woodland sounds originate, they bring a charm and an
interest which town-bred men can never know, and by
whom they pass unheeded. On getting over the gate we
alight in a clover field; and although we are not conscious
of making the slightest noise our footfall has been heard,
and it has caused a stampede of numberless rabbits who
were feeding on the clover, and they scamper, with their
white scuts erect, to the security of their burrows in the
wood. In an adjoining fallow a fine hare is on the move.
He has somehow got a notion that there is danger about,
probably warned by the precautionary measures taken by

EVENING IN THE WOODLANDS. 197

the rabbits. He is now in full flight down one of the fur-
rows parallel with the wood, then stopping short and with
erected ears he sits to listen — hares and rabbits, like
judges and magistrates, invariably sit when they listen — he
turns his head awry for a moment to increase his range of
vision, then leaving the furrow at right angles makes direct
for the wood, and we see him no more. An owl passes by
us on noiseless wing, quartering the fringe of the wood in
search of his prey. He has been dozing all the day with
half-closed eyes in dense ivy or hollow tree, or some place
where much light could not reach him ; but when twilight
falls his eyes display a very different appearance, " the lids
are wide open, the curtain is folded back, the pupil is
widely dilated, and they gleam with lustrous effulgence."
Their eyes are then quick to discern the creeping animals
upon which they feed. The owl's sense of hearing is also
wonderfully acute ; they are the only birds in fact which
have external ears. Waterton says of the owl : " If this
useful bird caught its food by day instead of hunting for
it by night, mankind would have ocular demonstration
of its utility in thinning the country of rats, mice, moles,
and shrews, but never birds." When the owl has young,
it is said to bring a mouse to its nest every twelve or fifteen
minutes during the night.

The gamekeeper's house is at the top of the wood, but
we shall not see it to-night. It is not a cottage, but
was built for a farmhouse when homesteads were more
numerous and their acreage not so extensive as at the
present day. Near the house is a barn, no longer used as
such. One of its bays is occupied as a store for the wood
intended for the year's fuel. Invalided dogs are some-
times quartered in it, and broody hens find cosy nooks for
themselves therein. One gable of this building is used by
the gamekeeper for gibbeting the vermin, both of fur and

198 EVENING TN THE WOODLANDS.

feather, which have been destroyed upon the estate. But
ignorant gamekeepers call almost all creatures vermin that
are not game ; some of them even include human poachers
in the appellation, although we cannot say that we ever
saw one of the latter nailed to a barn gable ! That gable
is to us a most hideous thing ; there are on it the bodies
of beasts and birds in all stages of decomposition, rows
of hawks, owls, jays, magpies, nightjars, a raven, and a
carrion crow, together with polecats, weazles, stoats, etc.
Amongst the birds are some of the very best friends of
mankind ; at the head of them are the owl and the night-
jar. Ignorance has attributed physical impossibilities
to some of its victims, whilst others have been convicted
upon suspicion only. Amongst these gibbeted bodies, how-
ever, we do not find that of the domestic cat, not because
the gamekeeper does not destroy many members of that
family who have a sporting turn of mind, and make
nocturnal visits to the preserves, but because they mostly
belong to the squire's tenants. The fact of their destruc-
tion becoming known would bring odium upon the
destroyer, and therefore he quietly inters their bodies, and
asks no one to the funeral ! His own cats are uncanny-
looking beasts, having had their ears cropt close to the
cranium ; this mutilation is to prevent them from wander-
ing among wet grass and underwood, for a drop of water
in the cat's ear is an abomination unto the cat ; she
therefore, finding that she has been denuded of the
natural cover of that orifice, makes a virtue of necessity,
and stays at home.

We are now in the lane again, with our face towards
home ; the rain-clouds have come up out of the west, and
have got nearer to us ; a chilly breeze is springing up just
enough to bring soft music out of the glossy foliage of the
beeches, and a somewhat melancholy moaning from the

EVENING IN THE WOODLANDS. 199

heads of the giant elms. The labourers have drunk their
beer, and left the benches in front of the hostelry ; some
have gone home, and to bed ; all have not yet retired for the
night, however, for the lights are peeping out of the small,
diamond-paned windows of some of their cozy cottages, most
of them half hidden by roses, honeysuckle, or other climbing
plants. The smoke issuing from some of their chimneys also
informs us that the fire on the hearth below is not yet extin-
guished ; and its violet colour, that the fuel being consumed
is wood. Reaching our quarters we found the air heavily
charged with perfume from the roses, and the last sound we
heard, before lifting the wooden latch of the porch, was the
deep baying of the kennelled mastiff, at the home farm
above a mile distant. It was cool enough inside for us to
enjoy a pipe by the wood fire we found sending a cheerful
glow from the dog-irons, and a gossip with our host.

The last sound of all we heard that night was the
pattering of heavy rain-drops against our dormitory
window, and we said " Truly the stormcock is a prophet,
and notwithstanding a musty proverb to the contrary, he
hath honour in his own country !"

TWO SONNETS.

BY THOMAS ASHE.

I.— A PHOTOGRAPH.

THE sun has seized of Elsie just the look
She has when she is kind, — when is not she ?
And fix'd her crisp and rippled hair for me,
And peace-fill'd eyes, like picture in a book, —
Of fairy-tales, — Undine, or river Niss ;
Or elf-maid of a Rhineland lake, we feel
Other than human, at a spinning-wheel
Sitting till dusk, and whom we'd fear to kiss.
What do I say ? Nay, Elsie, you've but power
Of a sweet woman, made to sit beside
A quiet hearth, still chatting, tranquil-eyed,
Helpful and gentle, to make life a dream !
Such life, spent you anigh, so well might seem,
While calmly by would glide each happy hour.

II.— PALINGENESIS.

New love will thrive, nestling 'neath old regrets,
And still the heart, long numb, grow quick again ;
And hope push fair, 'neath sorrow that was then,

And dead leaves shield from frost the violets :

May on the thorn betimes its white bloom sets,
More fresh and winsome for the April rain ;
And to forget past storms and winds are fain

The dells and hillsides and the fishers' nets.

Why for things gone still droop your head and sigh ?
Roses in summer, primroses in spring,
Grapes, when leaves redden, still go harvesting :

Love while you may, and let the past go by.

Venture your craft to sea, and set your sail,

While outset tide and seaward winds avail.

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A,

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.

BY EICHARD HOOKE,

"FvISTINGUISHED men, in many cases, stand in public
*J estimation either far above or far below their real
merits, and no class or calling suffers greater tossings on
the fickle tide of fashion than that of the artist. Some of
them have the good fortune to be idolised and overrated
during their lifetime, live in affluence and honour, but
soon sink into oblivion, and their works follow them.
Others live in poverty, and die neglected, but their works
live after them. Pictures that are without merit get into
the hands of clever and unscrupulous men, who, for mer-
cenary ends, and with the powerful assistance of the
pen and the press, laud them beyond all measure, and
the verdict is willingly accepted by an ignorant and
foolish public, ever swinging to-and-fro in the crazy
extremes of fashion. Of these mysterious fluctuations of
fashion and taste, the subject of the present paper affords
a singular example as one who, I think I shall be able
to show, was remarkable as being, during his own life-
time at least, the most popular artist of his age, or, I might

THE MANCHESTER QUARTERLY. No. XXXI., JULY, 1889.

202 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.

venture to say, of any other age or country, but whose
reputation seems to suffer the foulest injustice from igno-
rant and presumptuous art critics of the present day.

I think I can lay claim to the privilege of knowing
more about the life and works of this artist than many
now living, because I chanced to spend twelve months
as a private pupil in the studio of the late John
Wood, an artist of high eminence half a century ago,
and who in his early life was many years pupil and
assistant to Lawrence, whom he regarded as little short of
being the greatest of artists and the greatest of men. This
gentleman had access to most of the private galleries and
collections in which Lawrence's best works may be found,
and he seemed to think that the greatest kindness he could
confer on me and other of his friends — besides being a great
pleasure to himself — was to take us on little holiday excur-
sions to these places. 1 have often heard him make the re-
mark that of all great artists Lawrence is the least fairly
represented in the public galleries of his native country, and
Mr. Wood's explanation of this was that the wealthy owners
of Lawrence's best works — and these being chiefly family
pictures — prized them too highly ever to let them out of
their possession. The Lawrence display at the Art
Treasures Exhibition at Manchester, in 1857, compared
with what I had seen in private collections, confirmed me
in the same opinion. In our late Jubilee Exhibition,
Lawrence was represented by two of the feeblest portraits
I have ever seen from his hands, if they were from his
hands, which I much doubt. If only his original portrait
of Canova — of which I have seen many weak copies
— had been hung in this exhibition, I believe it would
have ranked in the highest class of portraiture.

Thomas Lawrence was born in Bristol in the year 1769.
His father, Thomas Lawrence, was one of those gifted men

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 203

who are everything by turns, and nothing long. For a
time he was landlord of an hotel in Devizes, near Bath ;
he was a man of very refined tastes and sanguine tempera-
ment ; he was notable for his great affection for, and pride
in, his son, and also for his unwise interference with that
son's artistic education.

Mr. Lawrence, however, had, it appears, much blue blood
in his veins, which had run in a long stream through both
sides of the house for many generations. A Mr. Lysons,
whom Thomas Campbell, the poet, calls the most learned
antiquarian of his day, traces it back to Sir Robert Law-
rence, who valiantly helped the lion-hearted Richard to
slay Saracens in Palestine in 1191. An aristocratic writer,
in a periodical of the time, says : " Yes, the great artist
belongs to our caste, and that he is not of plebeian breed
may be read in his lineaments and manners, as in the
mould of his mind." This is not the only one of the
admirers of the successful artist who indulges in such ful-
some flattery, for another writes: '' Lawrence's perfect
development of form and face, as well as his genius, is due
to his pure blood and high breeding." I, for my part,
dissent widely from such opinions, as whatever high or
pure breeding may do for the lower animals, I don't
believe it has been proven to develop either the intellect
or physique of the human race, else why is it so notable
that old families degenerate, die out, and leave their places
to be filled by those who rise from the ranks ? This may
probably be accounted for by the well-known evil effects
of indolence and luxury on our physical and intellectual
powers, while poverty or necessity give a stimulus to both
mind and body; hence, most of our greatest men have
sprung, not from the fanatic knights of Palestine, but from
the masses, whose healthy brows have sweated for genera-
tions over the plough and spade. But to return to young

204 SIX THOMAS LAWKENCE, P.R.A.

Lawrence — whatever was his lineage — at ten years of age
we might venture to say he was the most remarkable boy
in England. At eight years old, it appears, he could sketch
a most faithful likeness in seven minutes, and his talent for
the drama was equally developed, so that the great Garrick,
who often made him recite in his presence, was unable to
advise whether he should pursue art or the drama. He
was also later on a great athlete, and it was said by Lord
Charles Stewart, afterwards Marquis of Londonderry, and
known in military circles of the time as " Forty-fifth,
follow me," that had Lawrence's brain been less developed,
he would have been the first pugilist in England.*

The popularity of Lawrence at an early age may be
judged of when his portrait, painted by Prince Hoare,
an artist then considered second only to Reynolds, was
engraved, being subscribed for by a long list of the nobility,
gentry, and the highest talent of the land. So promising,
also, at this time were his talents for the drama, that it
was deemed necessary by his friends to form a plot (a
mean and unjust one, too) to disgust him with the stage,
and turn him back to the easel. He afterwards expressed
his regret, solely because he thought that as an actor he
could have done more for his parents and family than
as an artist. The filial attachment of this young man to
parents and family was proverbial amongst his friends and
acquaintance, and this affection and exaggerated estima-
tion was returned in a manner adverse to his education
and training as an artist, for about this time, or at a little
later period, a nobleman (I think a Duke of Rutland) ex-
pressed a desire to send him, at the expense of a thousand
pounds, to study in Rome, but his father's reply was that his
son's talents were such as to require- no formal cultivation.

* Wood's Anecdotes.

SIH THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 205

So Lawrenca stood alone, from first to last, an entirely
self-taught artist. Now I hold that those critics who now-a-
days take it upon them to depreciate the transcendent
abilities of this artist, should make ample allowance for the
singular and exceptional position in which he was placed.
One of his biographers writes as follows : " His studio,
before he was twelve, was the favourite resort of all the
beauty and fashion of Bath. Young ladies of rank and
beauty loved to sit and converse with the handsome and
talented youth; men of taste and vertu purchased his
crayon heads, which he drew in such numbers, and carried
them far and near, even into foreign lands, to show the
works of the wonderful boy artist of England." His father,
his friends, and the public conspired to make him a cox-
comb, but his natural good sense, strengthening day by
day, and his genius expanding with his growth, carried him
over the quicksands on which any ordinary spirit would
have been shipwrecked.

The chief faults with which Lawrence is charged by his
detractors of the present day are the staginess and affecta-
tion of his style, faults shared, in a much larger degree,
by many of the artists of that period, but it should be borne
in mind that he has most truthfully rendered for us the
forms and fashions of the day in which he lived. Another
writer, describing the absurdities of fashion against which
Lawrence had to contend, says : " The geometrical lines,
manifold points, innumerable buttons, high collars, peaked
lappets, hanging cuffs, pointed skirts, etc., are sorely in the
way of a young artist, thinking of Michael Angelo and the
antique, and the attire of the women is still more extrava-
gant, hair frizzed and filled with pomatum, wide hat, wide
shoulders, pinched waists, and expanding petticoats were
assuredly sad frights either in life or in pictures."

At the age of thirteen Lawrence had made a crayon copy

206 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.

of a copy of the Transfiguration, by Raphael. This was sent
by his sanguine father to compete for the medal of the
Society of Arts, which at that period was more prized than
that of the Royal Academy. The medal was awarded to a
certain number, and on opening the papers containing the
names of the candidates, Thos. Lawrence, of Bath, aged 13,
was found attached to that number. The committee, after
satisfactory inquiries, recommended the society to give the
greater silver palette (gilt) and five guineas to young
Lawrence as a token of their appreciation of his youthful
abilities.

Strange to say that, coincident with this early and extra-
ordinary success, Lawrence was seized by that constitutional
malady of genius — art genius in particular — impecuniosity,
and from this he suffered during his whole life of unparal-
leled success. Every step in his good fortune served only
to stimulate his loving and sanguine parent to embark in
some new speculation far above his capacity or purse, and
the loss always fell on the devoted son, so that he began
the world poor, was kept burdened with debts, not his own,
and even in manhood, when money poured in to him as it
never had to artist before, the half was lost in the traffic of
accommodation bills or in matters of charity, as his
generosity at all times far outstretched the bounds of
prudence.

Mr. Wood told me that Lawrence, even in his busiest
moments, would leave his work to listen to a tale of dis-
tress, which, when plausibly told, would rarely fail to open
his purse to incredible amounts.

An unsuccessful artist of Lawrence's day became an art
critic for the papers, and for years was Lawrence's most
severe and unsparing critic and detractor. This man fell
into poverty, even to starvation. His wife, who had heard
of Lawrence's unbounded generosity, at length dragged

SIX THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 207

him with her to call on the President. Lawrence received
them kindly, listened to their long tale of misfortune, sat
down, wrote a cheque for £50, and dismissed them in tears
of gratitude.

A certain duchess, who was noted for extraordinary pride
and vanity, was once sitting to Lawrence for her portrait.
During her sitting a letter from the King of Denmaik was
handed to Lawrence, who, after asking her liberty, read
the letter. When he had done so, the Duchess asked per-
mission to look at the Royal missive. After reading, she
laid it down, exclaiming, " What extraordinary condescen-
sion ! Why, His Majesty of Denmark addresses you as
though you were his equal, or one of his own family ! "
" Very extraordinary," said Lawrence, " I can only explain
it by supposing that His Majesty has heard that I have the
honour of painting your grace's portrait."

Lawrence was seventeen years of age when he commenced
to study in oil. He must have made most rapid progress,
for at nineteen he received a Royal Commission to paint
the Queen and the Princess Amelia. These, exhibited in
the following year, added to his fame, and won him the
royal favour and the patronage of the Throne, which he
never lost during life. George the Third, in the prune of
his life, had much natural shrewdness, which led him to
despise those artists who claimed fame and favour from
having studied abroad, and young Lawrence was wholly of
home manufacture and self-taught.

At twenty-one years of age Lawrence was proposed, with
the sanction of Reynolds and West, as an Associate of the
Royal Academy, but the laws of the Academy forbade the
admission of any artist under the age of twenty-four.
However, it was afterwards proposed that Lawrence should
be made a sort of extra or supernumerary associate, till
his years should entitle him to come in regularly, an

208 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R A,

honour which no other artist has ever enjoyed before or

since.

Soon after this Lawrence painted the two great portraits

of the King and Queen, for presentation to the Emperor of

China, and which caused such a sensation in the Celestial

Court.

It is a remarkable fact, related in the lives of both
artists, Reynolds and Lawrence, that Sir Joshua never
received an order to paint the King or Queen. He did
paint both, but it was at his own request and at his own
expense.

At twenty-three years of age Lawrence was the flattered
and admired of all admirers. He was the wonder of the
day; he was called the Raphael of England, superior to
Titian, and all manner of such foolish flattery, enough
to explode the brain of any young man not possessed of
common sense equal to his genius; but Lawrence stood
unmoved, amiable, humble, and kind to all, pursuing
his studies with incessant industry, and the long
yearly lists of his portraits of persons of rank, beauty,
and genius told of the almost superhuman fertility
of his pencil. At twenty-six he was elected a full
member of the Academy, and money matters having
become a little easier, he turned his attention to Shak-
speare and Milton, and dreamed of historical painting;
but the rush of people of rank and title, pressing for their
portraits, and his father having made another unfortunate
speculation, drove him back to the more lucrative occupa-
tion, leaving his designs of " Satan calling up his Legions,"
" Hamlet," and others, only in embryo. It was about this
period that the following words attributed to Reynolds, and
recorded in the lives of both artists — viz., " This young man
has begun at a point of excellency where I have left off,''
were used. Lawrence was now thirty years old, kings and

LADY LYNDHUR8T.

SIR THOMAS LA WRENCE, P.R.A. 209

princes were his patrons and companions, nor had England
a genius who reckoned not his acquaintance a pleasure and
an honour. He was called painter, player, and poet. Ladies
spoke in raptures of his poetry. I possess a good many of
his stanzas, but have not transcribed any, as I do not find
anything in his poetry superior to many of the productions
of the ordinary versifier. His letter-writing is equally
praised. The letters are as good gossipy ones as could be
found. I have selected one that can hardly fail to be interest-
ing. It is addressed to a lady friend, describing a brilliant
evening party at which he had been present, and speaking
of Byron, whom he had met at this party, he says: —
"Lavater's system never asserted its truth more forcibly
than in Byron's countenance, in which is mirrored all his
character ; its keen and rapid genius, its pale intelligence,
its profligacy and its bitterness; its original symmetry,
distorted by the passions ; his laugh of mingled merriment
and scorn ; the forehead clear and open ; the brow boldly
prominent ; the eyes bright and dissimilar ; the nose finely
cut, and the nostrils acute and perfect ; the mouth well-
formed and firm, but wide and contemptuous, even in its
smile, falling singularly at the corners, and its vindictive
and disdainful expression heightened by the massive firm-
ness of the chin, which springs at once from the centre of
the full under lip ; the hair dark and curling, but irregular
and untrimmed; the whole presenting to you the poet
and the man, and the general effect is rather heightened
by a thin, spare figure, and, as you have heard, by a
conspicuous deformity of limb."

I here give a short extract from a letter written by the
great poet thus described: — "January 5th, 1821. — The
same evening I met Lawrence, the painter, and heard one
of Lord Gray's daughters play on the harp so modestly and
ingeniously that she looked the very spirit of music. I

210 SIX THOMAS LAWRENCE, PR. A.

would rather have had a talk with Lawrence — who talked
delightfully — and heard the girl, than have had all the
fame of Moore and myself put together."

Just one other extract from another celebrity of the day —
Washington Irving: — " February llth. — Dined with the
Venerable Dr. Hughes. Met Sir W. Scott and Sir T.
Lawrence. The latter said little, and seemed only anxious
to hear the great poet, who certainly talked a great deal,
but in a way to charm every ear. Lawrence being appealed
to on the subject of art critics who had no practical know-
ledge of art, he expressed, in strong terms, his objections to
the effrontery of most of them. 'Nay,' said the poet,
' consider, Art professes to be a better sort of Nature, and,
as such, appeals to the taste of the world, therefore a wise
man of the world may judge its worth, and feel its senti-
ment, though he knows not how it is produced.' Lawrence
said he admitted this as a good argument on one side of the
question. Conversation took another turn."

I don't know if I need allude to a story which the
gossips of the day exaggerated into a great stain on the
private character of our artist; that is — that he, after
having gained the affections of one of the two beautiful
daughters of the great Mrs. Siddons, transferred his affec-
tions to the other, and forthwith offered her marriage, and
by this the heart of the first was broken, and she died.
Mr. Wood, before-mentioned, was very strong on this
subject; he called it a shameful calumny. Lawrence, he
said, was the most deeply affected of all, and was as friendly
with Mrs. Siddons and all the Campbell family after the
event as ever he had been before it.

The other story of his intimacy with the Princess
Charlotte was, perhaps, as groundless, although it led to a.
public investigation, in which Lawrence was forced to-
acknowledge that he had been more than once alone with

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 211

the Princess up to very late, or, rather, early hours, but
declared on oath that he would not have cared if the whole
Court had been present during those hours. He was
believed, at least by the Court, else, I think, he would not
have been employed to paint another portrait of the
Princess after her marriage to Leopold. But to return to
the artist. Lawrence's chief strength lay in the represen-
tation of female beauty. There may have been greater
masters in limning the lords of creation, but in portraying
those softer and more delicate looks, expressive of love and
grace and general sensibility, so elusive to the ordinary
brush, Lawrence, in my opinion, stands alone and unap-
proached. I am not sure whether or not it is Mr. Frith
who says, or quotes, as follows : — " A manly face is one of
those broad marks easily hit, and by seizing only a part
the likeness is secured. Not so with the face of beauty : it
is composed of many delicate pencillings and colours, laid
on by Nature's most cunning hand, and defying many of
our greatest artists to transfer to canvas."

As I hasten on through the records of this artist's life,
nothing appears so surprising as the long lists of the most
eminent names in the history of that eventful period
whose portraits he yearly placed on canvas. An old
artist (Sass — a well-known name) told Mr. Wood that
Lawrence's portraits of celebrities exceeded in number
those of Reynolds, Romney, Hoppner, Opie, and Beechy
all combined. Now, if we admit that the taste and judg-
ment of the men of those days were pretty much on a par
with the men of our own times, we have good reason to
suppose that he must in some way have deserved his
unparalleled popularity; but, as another and stronger
proof, I may here briefly mention the prices paid for what
Byron calls, " Lawrence's costly canvas." It is recorded in
the lives of both artists that Reynolds, who is placed at

212 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.

the head of English art, never received more than 50
guineas for a half-length portrait, and Gainsborough only 40
guineas ; Lawrence, at 30 years of age, received, for a half-
length 420 guineas, for a Bishop's half-length 500 guineas,
for a full-length 630 guineas, and for a Bishop's full-length
750 guineas. Mr. Williams, a biographer of Lawrence,
possessed a receipt from him to Lord Gower for 1,500
guineas for his portrait of Lady Gower and child. This,
at that period, was the largest price ever paid for a portrait.
In 1814, when the short peace was established, and
Napoleon confined in Elba, Lawrence set out to visit
continental galleries, an advantage he had not hitherto
enjoyed, but he had only reached the Louvre when he was
hastily recalled by the Prince Regent, as the Emperor of
Russia, the King of Prussia, Prince Blucher, and the
Hetman Platoff were all waiting to take their turn at his
easel. These pictures, painted in memory of the visit of
those princes, who were called "The Conquerors of the
Conqueror," including the portraits of Prince Metternich,
and the Duke of Wellington, were all exhibited in the
following year, and at the same time the Prince Regent
bestowed on the painter the honour of knighthood, and
assured him and those present that he felt proud of the
man who had so raised the character of British art in the
estimation of all Europe. The public, ever ready to give a
lift to those who are up, as it is to trample upon those
who are fallen, now showered its honours upon Lawrence,
and foreign nations vied with one another in this, so that,
as Campbell the poet puts it, "he received in one year
as many titles as would satisfy a Spaniard " : — (1) the
Academy of St. Luke's at Rome elected him an honorary
member ; (2) the American Academy, where his name is
enrolled between those of Napoleon and Canova ; (3) the
Academy of Florence ; (4) the Academy of Venice ; (5) the

SI£ THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 213

Academy of Bologna; (6) the Imperial Academy of Vienna ;
(7) the Danish Academy ; (8) the Irish Academy ; and
(9) — perhaps the greatest — a Chevalier of the Legion of
Honour in France.

All this accumulation of honours made no changes in the
artist's manner of living ; the ever-increasing pressure of
commissions left him no time to think of them. In one year,
I think, about this period he received four commissions to
paint his own portrait at his usual price ! The King, Sir
Kobert Peel, Lord Francis Leveson Gower, and the city of
Bristol each and all desired to possess a portrait by himself
of this most popular artist. Yet, strange to say, owing to
the urgency of other works, only one of these portraits was
he allowed even to commence, and this was left unfinished
at his death, and was purchased at the sale of his effects by
the Earl of Chesterfield for 480 guineas.

I now approach the climax of the artist's prosperity and
fame. Napoleon had struck his last blow on his bloodiest
field, and the sovereigns of Europe had sent him to perish
on his distant rock, and were holding holiday, in the mood
of a brood of chickens, no longer scared by the shadow of
the eagle's wing. They had met at Aix-la-Chapelle, to
arrange the affairs of the world, and it was the pleasure of
the Regent of England that his painter should hasten to
the royal headquarters, and execute portraits of the
principal personages, for the Royal Gallery at Windsor.
Lawrence was summoned forthwith, and in order that the
artist might appear in a style worthy of the greatest mari-
time power in Europe, a thousand a year was allowed him
for contingent expenses, exclusive of full price for his
portraits. And when the Aix-la-Chapelle part of the com-
mission should be accomplished, he was engaged on the
same conditions to go on. to Rome, to paint portraits of the
Pope and some of his Cardinals.

214 SlJt THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.

If I am not too tedious I will give you the names of a
few of the illustrious personages who came to the easel of
Lawrence at this period. I do this because I always
regard this as the most interesting and eventful period
of European history. Francis, Emperor of Austria, Louis
XVIIL, Charles X., The Archduke Charles, Prince
Metternich, General Tchernicoff, General Ouveroff, Baron
Hardenburg, Count Nesselrode, Baron Genly, Prince
Schwartzenburg, Alexander I. of Russia, Count Capo de
Istria, the young Napoleon, His Holiness Pope Pius VII.,
Cardinal Gonzalvi, etc., in all twenty-four, and when these
were completed, the artist was obliged to remain, to portray
the august spouses and children of many of the most illus-
trious men of the world's history of that perod. Nearly all
these, even the Pope, expressed their high appreciation
of the artist, by presenting him with costly gifts, with all
manner of courtly thanks and compliments, and better still,
he was commissioned by nearly all to paint replicas of their
portraits to be placed in their own palaces. On his return
to England, after an absence of less than two years, during
which he, single-handed, performed the work of a lifetime,
he was warmly thanked by the King, welcomed by the
Royal Academy, and almost unanimously elected its
president. The King, in giving his sanction to the election,
added a gold chain and medal of himself, inscribed thus :
" From His Majesty George IV. to Sir Thomas Lawrence,
President of the Royal Academy."

Lawrence's high station now enabled him more and more
to befriend youthful talent, or unsuccessful genius. " I can
safely say," writes Mr. Howard, late secretary to the R. A.,
" that Sir Thomas Lawrence was the most generous man
I ever knew ; his purse was ever open to a swarm of
unprincipled adventurers, who care not who feeds them, so
that they be fed. Unsuccessful artists, and mendicants of

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 215

all professions were seldom from his door, carrying off
incredible sums, whilst he himself was seldom free from
debt."

Lawrence, take him all in all, as a portrait painter, in
my humble opinion, stands alone, due allowance being
made, as it certainly should be, for the bewildering amount
of work ever on his hands, pressing on his mind, and, as it
were, diluting a genius which, had its full force been allowed
to centre on fewer works, these would surely have taken
the highest rank in the art treasures of the world. One of
the deputation from Lawrence's native city of Bristol who
waited upon him to request his portrait for that city, to be
painted by himself, and at his own price, wrote home as
follows: — "Sir Thomas expresses himself deeply grateful
for the honour, but respectfully pleads want of time ; and
indeed when we looked round his walls and easels, and saw
the immense number of portraits of illustrious individuals
in an unfinished state, it appeared to us that his life must
be extended far beyond the allotted period if the whole
should ever be accomplished."

Many think, and rightly too, that it is much to be
regretted that the unparalleled influx of Lawrence's sitters
after he had acquired his unrivalled skill in the mechanical
part of his art left him no time for what are called works
of a higher order. He himself imagined that his genius
fitted him for historic composition, and withdrew from it
reluctantly, wisely fearing that it might end with him, as
it had with so many, in disappointment and misery ; and
this perhaps is not to be regretted, as his skilful personation
of human thought, and the exquisite grace and loveliness
with which he inspired all that he touched, place him in
the first rank as a portrait painter, and a whole age of the
greatest men and courtly beauties of England live in their
goodliest aspects on his canvas.

216 SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.

In drawing this imperfect sketch to a conclusion, I
must needs pass over a number of years of the artist's life,
each succeeding year displaying the abundant fruits of his
incessant and untiring labours. His usual contribution
to the Royal Academy exhibition each year was eight
pictures, but these were only a portion of his yearly
production.

It would be hard to conceive a man more fully possessed
of "all the means and appliances" to ensure happiness at
sixty years of age. No artist of modern Europe had been
equally distinguished by the highest ranks of his own and
of foreign nations ; he was surrounded by all that could
flatter vanity, dignify pride, and gratify taste. His chief
source of enjoyment, the solace of his solitary hours, and
that which shed the happiest influence over his exertions,
was the power he acquired of adding to the prosperity and
comfort of his relations, who were, chiefly through his
abundant generosity, now amply and satisfactorily provided
for. Outwardly he enjoyed the world, and the world
enjoyed him. The King of England, allowed by all to be
a thorough judge of manners, pronounced him "an esti-
mable and high-bred gentleman." The King of France, in
addition to all the honours before-mentioned, sent him at
this period a costly present of royal porcelain ; and, as a
crowning honour, his native city of Bristol voted him its
freedom. On the reception of this honour, he writes: —
" I feel that I have received from my native city the very
highest honour that could have rewarded my professional
exertions. I beg to express to you and all concerned the
sincere gratitude and respect with which it has inspired
me, and the attachment it has strengthened to the place of
my birth, as well as the zeal with which I shall attempt to
forward any measure conducive to the honour and improve-
ment of its refined establishments."

LADY GREY AND FAMILY.

SIR THOMAS LA WHENCE, P.R.A. 217

Byron says : — " There is an order of mortals who grow
old in their youth, and die in middle age — some of
pleasure, some of toil." If ever a man sank under the
effects of "toil," or brain exhaustion from over-work,
Lawrence did. The pressure to obtain his works was ever
on the increase, and at sixty years of age there was no
abatement of his labours. Outwardly, he retained the look
of health ; his fine frame was still erect, and his finer coun-
tenance retained its vivacity ; but its deathly pallor foretold
to all that life was ebbing away, while the utter confusion
of his accounts, and the trouble he had, chiefly owing to
his unbounded generosity, in making his income meet his
expenditure, pressed sorely on him, and increased that
melancholy drooping of the spirit ever joined to declining
health. It was said by some that Lawrence was a pious
man throughout life, as shown by his continued acts of
charity. Mr. Wood was sceptical on this point, as he said,
" Lawrence was too often in the company of George IV. and
his followers, to be much of a saint." Whatever be the truth,
most of his private letters, about this period, breathe of
piety and respect for God's ordinances, and for some years
before his death, he showed a marked preference for the
society of devout men. He ceased to work on the Sabbath,
about which in earlier days he felt no scruples, and became
almost constant in his attendance at church.

Toward the close of 1829, Lawrence was observed to
walk feebly, the pallor of his countenance increased, and he
became subject to drowsiness in company. He complained
of his eyes and forehead feeling hot in the evenings, and
he frequently tried to relieve himself by bathing them in
cold water. At this year's dinner to the Artists' Fund, to
which he was the most liberal contributor, when his health
was drunk, and loudly cheered, he was deeply moved.
He said : "I am now advanced in life, and decay is
p

218 SIR THOMAS LA WHENCE, P.R.A.

approaching, but come when it will, I hope to have the
good sense not to prolong the contest for fame with younger,
and perhaps abler men. No self love shall prevent me from
retiring, and that cheerfully, into privacy ; and I consider
that by this I shall do but an act of justice to others, and
of mercy to myself."

On the 2nd of January, 1830, he dined at the house of
Sir Robert Peel, where he always looked upon himself as
at home. "I sat opposite to him at the table of Sir
Robert Peel," writes Washington Irving ; " he seemed
uneasy and restless, his eyes were wandering ; he was pale
as marble ; the stamp of death was on him ; he told me he
felt ill, but he wished to bear himself up in the presence of
those he so much esteemed. He went away early." Next
day he worked for an hour on the King's portrait, and a
short time on that of Thomas Moore for Sir R. Peel ; drew
some lines on that of the Queen of Portugal, and in the
evening attended a meeting of the committee of the
Athenaeum Club, and gave his opinion as usual on matters
of business. On the 6th he experienced a violent relapse,
but on the 7th he recovered, under the remedies applied
by the eminent physicians, Sir Henry Halford and Dr.
Holland, and all save these thought that danger was over,
and he begged his friends not to be alarmed. In the
evening his friend Keightly called, and he desired him to
read to him an article by Thomas Campbell on the genius
of Flaxman. As Keightly read, the sick man's counte-
nance changed; he shook hands with some ladies who
were present, and desired all to leave the room. They
had hardly gone when his servant John was heard to
cry for help, and Keightly, on running back, found
Lawrence stretched on the floor. His last words were —
" John, my good fellow, this is dying." He then expired
without a groan. Every paper and periodical announced

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A. 2191

the death of this great and most estimable man as a
public calamity, and vied with one another in eulogiums
on his life and talents. His public funeral was a truly
national ceremony. He was interred in St. Paul's, beside
his eminent brethren, Reynolds and West. Never perhaps
was artist honoured by a procession so august as that
which accompanied Lawrence to his last resting place. The
Earl of Aberdeen, Earl Gower, Sir Robert Peel, Lord
Dover, and Earl Clanwilliam were his pall-bearers. The
carriages of the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs preceded the
hearse ; the whole of the members of the Royal Academy
accompanied it. Sixty-four carriages of the nobility fol-
lowed, with an innumerable concourse of people. On his
coffin lid was inscribed — " Sir Thomas Lawrence, Kt.,
LL.D., F.R.S., President of the Royal Academy of Arts
in London, and Knight of the Royal French Order of the
Legion of Honour. Died 7th January, 1830, in the 61st
year of his age."

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.
PART III.

ANALYSIS OF THE 1603 AND 1604 QUARTOS (Nos.
1 AND 2).— FINAL PAPER.

BY JAMES T. FOARD.

THE differences between Nos. 1 and 2 are of many kinds,
pointing to very many conclusions. Assuming, as we
must, by comparison of the text of No. 2 with that of the
first folio (1623) issued by Shakspere's literary executors,
friends, and co-managers, we find that it was a complete,
finished, and authentic version (errors and omissions ex-
cepted) of the author's greatest tragedy and masterpiece,
and also that it is certainly a more perfect work.
It contains many long speeches and soliloquies, and
these among the noblest, of which only brief hints
are presented in No. 1 ; also passages, as already noted,
which could not have been in No. 1, because they
refer to events which happened after its publication,
which were superadded, just as there are some few passages
in the folio, probably interpolated by the author after 1604.

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 221

Beyond these variances, which alone suggest many con-
siderations, as the plausible but unsound deduction that
the long speeches were omitted in acting copies, and that
No. 1 was a transcript of a stage copy, there are alterations
in the business of the drama, in the progress of the action,
in the arrangement of the scenes, in the nature and deli-
neation of the principal characters, in the wealth and
polish of the diction and dialogue, as well as in its copious-
ness and expansion. Moreover, not all the amplification
tends to assist the progress of the play, as already indicated,
but undeniably, every change and addition tends to exalt
the refinement and literary perfection of the tragedy.
To trace briefly some of these dissonances. Prose passages
in No. 1 are printed as verse in No. 2, and vice versa — that
is, verse as prose. The rhythm and sense which in No. 1
are often lost, or distorted, are established; the names,
and also the identity, of the characters are changed. The
characters of Hamlet and Claudius are in No. 2 greatly
exalted and refined. The King's speeches are perfected
rhetorically and expanded. The lineaments of Gertrude
are softened. Speeches incorrectly, certainly with less
dramatic precision, assigned to one personage, are allotted
to another. There is a change not merely in the details
of personal character, in the language and expression, but
also in the motives and dispositions; in the progress of
the incidents, and in the conclusion of the play. There
are very many additions, but some omissions. The
general result is undoubtedly a vastly nobler work, in
which changes have been designedly made, and the ques-
tion then arises, Was No. 1 the crude and imperfect draft,
or only a maimed and distorted transcript ?

To persons who consider that the most trivial details
are important which will throw authentic light on the com-
position of so transcendant a composition and work of art

222 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

as Hamlet, the differences between a completed and tran-
sitional task are of interest. Like the first and last state
of some world famous etching, the changes mark the
growth of the author's mind, or his altered conception of
episodes of artistic value. If we knew that No. 1 was
but an imperfect rendering of No. 2 through the stupidity
of a reporter, all interest would cease. But we know more
than this. We know that No. 1 cannot be a merely
blundering transcript of No. 2. We know, as already
suggested, that No. 2 contains passages that could not
have been in No. 1. But we know, moreover, that some of
the most polished passages are presented perfectly in No. 1.
A hundred suggestions might be hazarded to account for
existing difficulties, but none suffice. Almost as many have
been propounded by various editors and commentators. Mr.
Furnival, Mr. Collier, Mr. Staunton, Mr. Dyce, Professors
Elze, Delius, Mommsen, Mr. Grant White, the Cambridge
Editors, the Clarendon Press Editors, all differ in their
views as to the cause of these dissimilitudes which exist.
Undoubtedly, however, the weight and balance of opinion
Is that No. 1 is distinctly a different play from an earlier
original, and that its allusions, such for instance as the
reference to Tarleton or his unworthy successor Kemp, in
the advice to the Players, wholly omitted in No. 2,
accentuate its difference in details, though the substantial
outline has been preserved.

And then you have some agen, that keeps one suite

Of jests, as a man is known by one suit of

Apparell, and gentlemen quotes his jests down,

In their tables, before they come to the pky, &c. (P. 48.)

The elision of this advice and the introduction of entirely
new ideas seem to suggest emendation, because it estab-
lishes the utter want of identity in text in such passages,
although the version of No. 1 is, in many scenes, so

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 223

marred and mistranslated as to be scarcely recogni-
sable as poetry at all. Then again, the change in the
•character of the Queen, and of her affection and attitude,
in reference to her son, is distinctly emphasised between
the versions Nos. 1 and 2. In No. 1, she is willing to aid
him even against her husband, and with disloyalty to her
spouse ; in No. 2, she is not. Her affection in reference to
Hamlet is also more marked in No. 1 than in No. 2. The
•differences in the names of the principal characters, the
•casual references to events happening after March or
April, or even July of 1603, as to the "innovation" which
occurred on 30th Jan., 1603-4, that is, the licence " to the
children of the Revels to play at the Blackfriars and other
convenient places," the comet, the drought, etc., all affirm
the same conclusion. There may be indeed some silly
persons who think such minute criticism mere waste of
time and folly, just as there are persons who think all
that is to be found in books is rubbish, but these we are
neither bound to inform nor convince ; it is sufficient, as
Dr. Johnson once hinted, " if we find them reasons, we are
not bound to find them understanding."

The general conclusions to which attention is now in-
vited are those already indicated, viz. : —

(1) That the play of 1589, The Revenge of Hamlet, was
the foundation of the 1603 quarto, No. 1.

(2) That this No. 1 play was wholly piratical, and was
made up of notes, taken down by ear — possibly in some
abbreviated hand — by an ignorant person, who frequently
could not understand the meaning of the author, and who
had but an indifferent knowledge of versification. But
that the part of the Ghost, as well as some of the speeches
of Horatio and Hamlet in the earlier part of the play,
were copied from MSS., no doubt surreptitiously obtained,
and remain exactly as they stood in the play of 1589, as

224 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

well as in No. 2, and as Shakespere wrote, conceived, and
finally retained them, save some typographic errors.

(3) That No. 2 is altered and enlarged on the play of
1689, which had been, no doubt, altered and supervised
by the author for reproduction in 1602, especially in the
later acts and scenes, and fitted with a different termina-
tion. That this finished version was piratical, and full of
misprints and omissions as printed ; but, saving these, is,
perhaps, a " true and perfect copy " of a playhouse tran-
script of the author's MS.

(4) That some further slight additions and alterations —
for example, the twenty-nine lines referring to the children
of the Revels — which appear in the folio, were made by the
author before his death.

(5) That we have no revised or corrected tragedy of
Hamlet, all the texts being more or less corrupt.

To present some of the reasons for these conclusions, it
would, perhaps, be desirable to arrange them in order,
thus : —

(1) The changes in the principal characters, which
establish that No. 2 is an improvement on the original of
No. 1, that is, on the play itself that No. 1 so imperfectly
transcribes.

(2) The proofs that, except the part of the Ghost and
the passages and scenes in which he appears, No. 1
was merely a bad rendering by a stupid person of the
actual No. 1.

(3) The textual blunders of the copyist.

It would be, of course, presumptuous to declare abso-
lutely, in reference to particular passages, what change in
No. 2 is due to amendment, what imperfections in No. 1 to
bad reporting, the play having been undoubtedly altered
after July, 1603, all that can be hazarded being the general
conclusions so far epitomised.

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 225

The character of Hamlet, allowing for the defects of
No. 1, is clearly modified and amplified; modified in its
crudeness, amplified in its philosophic indecision and intro-
spection. There is in No. 1 very little indebtedness to the
historic Hamlet of Saxo Grammaticus, or the Anglicised
version of the character enshrined in Capell's tract of
1608, called " The History of Hamlet," or Professor Cohn's
German version ; but in No. 2 the Prince is removed by
cycles of ages from the coarse brutality and bestial cunning
and unscrupulousness of his prototype. In the History,
Hamlet suspects an eavesdropper behind the arras before
he enters on the conference with his mother, and his
homicide of Polonius has thus the premeditation of murder ;
and apparently this idea existed in No. 1, for he says, " We
will make all safe," on entering. But in No. 2, it is the
cry of Polonius, on the call for help of the Queen, that
rouses the Prince in a moment of passion, and without
consideration or pause, to use his rapier with such deadly
effect.* The metaphysical and theologic vein and in-
decision of the character, so marked now in its expression,
most probably the work of Shakespeare's matured faculties
and riper judgment and experience, were no doubt lacking
in the play of 1589, as they are almost wholly absent from
No. 1. The morbid introspection and paralysis of purpose,
the hesitancy due to the questionings of religion, as the
pause in killing the King, with the doubt, "Is it not
perfect conscience to quit him with this arm?" and the
subsequent lines, only to be found in the folio, "The
interim is mine ; and a man's life no more than to say
' One,' " which perfect the thoughts, which mark his
intellectual resolve and extremity of purpose, however

* So also in No. 1, Hamlet, after addressing Roaencrantz opprobriously as a "sponge,"
dismisses him with, "Farewell, farewell, God bless you!" which suggests a very un-
dignified if not unworthy courtesy.

226 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

infirmly he may act, are wholly wanting in No. 1. The
magnificent soliloquy —

What is a man,

If his chief good, and market of his time
Be but to sleep and feed, a beast, no more :
Sure he that made us with such large discourse
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unus'd. Now whether it be
Bestial oblivion, or some craven scruple
Of thinking too precisely on the event,
A thought, which quarter'd hath but one part wisdom.
And ever three parts coward,

. Rightly to be great,
Is not to stir without great argument,
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw
When honour's at the stake, &c. (P. 71.)

some thirty-six lines in all, has no trace in No. 1. The
speech "To be or not to be" is presented in outline,
but fearfully mangled, thirteen of the finest lines being
omitted, and the self-condemnatory confession " Oh what
a rogue and peasant slave am I," is reduced from 56 to
37 lines. Whether this is due in part to the ignorance of
the pirate in No. 1 it would perhaps be difficult to say, but
the evidence certainly suggests it. The same may perhaps
be concluded of the exalted aspect given in No. 2 to
Hamlet's friendship and regard for Horatio. The generous
tribute to his friend's nobility of soul of No. 1, lacking
all the discriminating appreciativeness and graceful homage
" since his dear soul was mistress of her choice," of No, 2.
In fine, No. 1 mars what it transcribes, and omits every
phrase of momentous worth, and perhaps on this ground
its too palpable defects may be assigned to the inherent
stupidity of the transcriber as the most natural cause,
rather than the poet's carelessness or haste, subsequently
amended in the second version.

Whether to a like origin, or to an intentional change in
the author's work, is to be attributed the superior esti-

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 227

mation of Hamlet with the multitude, which demanded a
more astute policy in the King's conduct towards him, is
another matter. It appears to arise from design.

For some reason, Hamlet's popularity, not referred to in
No. 1, is emphasised in No. 2 (Act iv., Scenes 2 and 7) in
the two speeches of the King, " the great love the general
gender bear him," and " He's loved of the distracted
multitude," which, if referring to Essex, would have been
a dangerous allusion in 1602, but judicious in 1604, when
his friends were again in power. This is as clear, as that
•Corambis is changed to Polonius, that the Duke Albertus
becomes Gonzago in the inner play and that he and the
nameless Duchess become, respectively, the King and
Queen. Montano (whose name appears in Othello) disap-
pears ; Leartes, Rossencraft, and Gilderstone become
Laertes, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. These final
differences, like Guyana for Vienna, etc., were probably
the blunders of the scribe.

Mr. Knight was of opinion that Hamlet's madness was
less marked and was abated in No. 2, but this was an
•erroneous and hasty conclusion. His reasons were based
on the King's words, " He hath lost the very heart of all
his sense," and also on Ophelia's and Polonius' description,
but summarising all the allusions, the difference is perhaps
attributable to the crudeness of No. 1, and the reasons of
policy, in reference to James, and the final rebellion of the
Earl, already assigned. There is as much madness expressed
in the reference "to his noble and most sovereign reason,
blasted with ecstacy," and the result, if varied, is substan-
tially the same.

The great and chief difference, however, in the two
transcripts is in the character of the King. Claudius, in
No. 2, attains a Regal majesty, a philosophy and polish of
diction, with an occasional divergence into rhetorical artifice

228 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

and antithesis, quite foreign to No. 1. His speeches are
elaborated to twice or thrice their original length. If the
difference is due to the neglect of the transcriber of No. 1,
clearly he has with great discrimination missed all the
sense and dramatic propriety and elevation of language of
the part. The character wears in No. 2 a refined and
subtle, even a laboured hypocrisy. It is more astute, but
it has also a loftier sentiment of remorse and tenderness,
wanting in the preceding version. Its dissimulation is
concealed with more artifice, and also with greater
art. The frank brutality of Fengon disappears. The
vices of Claudius are royal, and he displays genuine dignity
in reference to Laertes, Hamlet, the Queen, and Polonius.
In No. 1 he is an undisguised tyrant. In No. 2 he is a
reserved, politic, and Machiavellian monarch, subdued by
remorse and the stings of outraged conscience. This change
and elevation, whether attributable to an actual improve-
ment made by the author, or the incapacity of the tran-
scriber of No. 1, is conspicuously greater than in reference
to any other character, and balances the character more
evenly with Hamlet.

The Queen in No. 1 plots with Horatio, in perfidy to her
lord the King ; acquiesces with Hamlet in treason to her
spouse, and offers to conceal, consent, and do her best to
aid him " what stratagem soe'er he shall devise," truthfully
or no. Moreover, she, in No. 1, declares more emphatically
that she knew not of her first husband's murder : —

But as I have a soul, I swear by heaven

I never knew of this most horrid murder. (P. 64.)

which is not in No. 2.

The proofs that No. 1 was a poor rendering of the actual
text are established by the facts ; That the Ghost's speeches
of 19 lines in No. 1 are the same in No. 2 (p. 19),* save that

* Mr. Timmins'a Ed., I860, is cited in this, prior and succeeding references.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

229

" ceremonies " is printed for " cerements ; " That Horatio's
speech at p. 12, the ten lines of Hamlet at p. 14, and the
speeches of the Ghost at pp. 19, 20, and 21, are the same
in No. 1 as in No. 2, as is also the speech of Voltemar of
21 lines, at p. 31. On the other hand, there are pages
of many lines especially of the more notable, eloquent,
and striking passages, which do not appear at all in No.
1. It would be preposterous to suppose that a long, com-
pressed, and comprehensive speech like that of the
Ambassador could have been presented by a reporter,
who blunders at the five lines of the King succeeding,
losing the metre, and who could not render half-a-dozen
of the best thoughts of the principal speaker correctly.
It is not less conclusively clear that the poet himself
could not have misapprehended the point and sense of his
own conceptions, as is shown in the textual blunders to be
presently recited.

It remains now but to deal with .these textual imperfec-
tions due to the incapacity of the transcriber, which affirm
the 2nd conclusion, already drawn, and support the 3rd, 4th
and 5th suggestions, and to glance at the proofs that Shake-
spere was in truth "the Noverint" of 1589, and then to
summarise the evidence which points to the fact that the
character of Essex, and his relation to the Kaleigh and Cob-
ham faction, is obliquely indicated, and also that indirect
and intentional allusion was made to his character and for-
tunes, as well as to the fidelity and friendship of Southamp-
ton, the poet's patron, and the other historic incidents of
the time.

Under the first head the proofs are more than abundant ;
they are redundant. The most striking are the mutilations
of the most popular and easily remembered passages, the
sense being mistaken. Inasmuch as the entire thought and
scope of these citations exists, the conclusion is irresistible

230 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

that No. 1 is not an inchoate draft of the earlier play, after-
wards expanded in No. 2, but that it is in effect No. 2:
truncated. Thus the speech at p. 9, " Seems, madam," etc.,
with eleven lines eliminated, is presented wholly in skele-
ton, but most vilely set forth. The same at p. 10, " Oh that
this too, too solid flesh would melt." To establish this, it
would be well to contrast the version of No. 2 with the form
of No. 1, as an index of the nature of the deterioration, pre-
mising that in No. 2 the address is to the mother, in No. 1
to the King.

Hamlet. — " Seems madam, nay it is, I know not seems,
'Tis not alone my inky cloak good mother
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath,
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage
Together with all forms, modes, shapes of grief
That can denote me truly, these indeed seem," &c. (P. 9.)

Thus in No. 1-

Hamlet. — My Lord, 'tis not the sable suit I wear :

No nor the tears that still stand in my eyes,
Nor the distracted haviour in the visage,
Nor all-together mixt with outward semblance,
Is equal to the sorrow of my heart, &c.

Again, at p. 21, No. 2 —

Ghost. — I am thy father's spirit,

Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,
And for the day confin'd to fast in fires,
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature
Are burnt and purg'd away.

Thus in No. 1-

" Ghost. — I am thy father's spirit, doomed for a time
To walk the night, and all the day
Confined in flaming fire,

Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature,
Are purged and burnt away." (P. 20.)

It is clear that the metrical paraphrase here attempted, as
in the preceding lines cited, is but indifferently achieved,
and that the entire sense is couched in verse impossible to
the author.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 231

Again No. 2, p. 58 —

Claudius. — 0, my offence is rank, it smella to heaven,
It hath the primal eldest curse upon it,
A brother's murder, pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will.

Thus in No. 1—

Oh that this wet that falls upon my face
Would wash the crime clear from my conscience.

Again, No. 2, p. 10, in the terrific burst of the imprisoned
spirit —

Oh that this too too solid (sallied) flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew !
Or that the everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter, &c.

is thus maimed in No. 1 —

Oh that this too much grieved and sallied flesh
Would melt to nothing, or that the universal
Globe of Heaven would turn all to a chaos,

which is little more than a parody of the sense and sound
and robustious nonsense. Thus No. 2, p. 44 —

To be or not to be, that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, &c.

given in No. 1 — thirteen lines wanting in length, p. 34 —

To be, or not to be, I, there's the point,
To die, to sleep ; is that all ? I all :—

This prose passage in No. 2, p. 36 —

. . . Indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that this goodly
frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory ; this most excellent canopy
the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof
fretted with golden fire, why it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and
pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man, how noble
in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving, how express and
admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a God,
&c. . . . Man delights not me, nor woman neither, &c. . . .

is thus lamely put, in verse in No. 1, p. 39 —

Hamlet. — Yes faith, this great world you see contents me not,
No nor the spangled heavens, nor earth, nor sea,
No nor man that is so glorious a creature,
Contents not me, no nor woman too, though you laugh.

232 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

The critic who conceives that Shakespere wrote the
Hamlet of 1602, as it is in these preceding instances
printed, must have a curiously credulous mind. It
seems as obvious as the day, that the whole passage
of p. 36 was heard, and must have existed, for the
concluding reference " nor woman neither," is indicated,
but the exquisite 15 lines are reduced to 4, the residue
being simply omitted, from being scamped, or misunder-
stood. Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps suggested that the printers of
the 1603 and 1604 qtos. worked from the same copy, because
of one or two incidental typographic blunders, such as
" solid " printed " sallied " in both editions. This seems to
me a grotesque conclusion. The poet who wrote this
"glorious overhanging firmament," never wrote "spangled
heavens" for the same thought, be sure. The poor
transcriber was at sea with this, to him superfine diction,
and the sense of No. 1 is not improved by the correction if
it were made " Oh, that this too much grieved and solid
flesh would melt." The fact that No. 1 contains probably 18
or 20 lines which are omitted in No. 2 — whether chiefly from
accident or design it would be difficult to say, but in one
or two instances, apparently from a change of purpose in the
author — does not militate against this conclusion, for it is
certain that the author re-cast the play and added passages,
and was thus compelled to drop some lines inconsistent with
his revised version. Thus, at p. 17, six lines of advice by
Corambis to Ofelia, printed in No. 1,* are omitted in No. 2,
though undoubtedly in conception the poet's. Similarly the

*Cor. — Ofelia, receive none of his letters,

For lover's lines are snares to entrap the heart ;
Refuse his tokens, both of them are keys
To unlock chastity unto desire ;
Come in Ofelia, such men often prove,
Great in their words, but little in their love.

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 233

advice, in the lines especially directed to the low
comedian already adverted to, are thus printed in No. 1 —

And then you have some again, that keeps one suite
Of jests as a man is known by one suit of apparel, &c.

which was probably intended for Kemp, who died in
November, 1603, and is therefore expunged in No. 2. It
was no longer required for his correction.

Let us next briefly take some of the textual errors and
misapprehensions of sense in No. 1, limiting our reference to
words and phrases, changed chiefly from similarity of sound.
"Invelmorable" for "invulnerable," "Guyana" for "Vienna,"
"greeved" for "grained," "impudent" for "impotent,"
"distracted" for "dejected," "vessels," for "eisel" (vinegar),
"oosel" for "Ossa," "pellon" for "Pelion," "wast" for
"vast," "armed to point" for " armed at point," "envenomed
steeped" for "in venom steeped," "weak" for "lank,"
"born" for "bourne," "Arganian" for "Hyrcanian/
41 calagulate gore " for " coagulate gore," " imparched " for
"ore-cised," "Plato" for "Plautus," "ceremonies" for
" cerements," " right done " for " writ down," " guise " for
"gules," "trapically" for "tropically," " artive " for
" artery," " epiteeth " for " epitaph," " courage " for "com-
rade," "ghost" for "quest," "bleach" for "blench,"
"Voltemand" for "Voltemar," "fearful" for "fretful,"
"Gertred" for "Gertrude," nearly all of which imperfec-
tions seem due, primarily, to a mistaken sound.

Next the textual errors from partial apprehension of the
sense, but inability to supply the words —

Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy life
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth.

Thus in No. 1, p. 6—

Or if thou hast extorted in thy life,

Or hoarded treasure in the womb of earth.

Again, page 11 —

She married, 0 most wicked speed ; to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets.

Q

234 THE QENESIS OF HAMLET.

Thus in No. 1, p. 11—

Oh, wicked wicked speed, to make such
Dexterity to incestuous sheets.

The repetition here, as of "wicked," occurs again and again
in No. 1. In fact, when the transcriber was in a difficulty
with the metre, which was not seldom, he seems to have
resorted to reduplication ; thus, at pp. 33, 38, 56, 98, we have
" obediently obeyed," " satirical satire," " you shall be dry
again, you shall," "venom to thy venom," all errors of the
same class.

Again in No. 2, p. 15 —

Do not as some ungracious pastors do,

Show me the steep and thorny way to Heaven.

Thus in No. 1, p. 15—

Like to a cunning sophister,

Teach me the path and ready way to Heaven —

a complete inversion of the sense.
Again in No. 2, p. 85 (prose) —

His statutes, his recognisances, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries.

Thus, No. 1 (as verse) —

. Where is your

Quirks and quillets now, your vouchers and
Double vouchers, your leases and free hold
And tenements.

Mere nonsense. Shakespere as " the Noverint" was not
likely to mix up and confound deeds and indentures with
the property they gave title to, and of this there is another
striking instance in No. 2, p. 5 —

Did forfeit (with his life) all these his lands
Which he stood seized of, to the Conqueror.

Thus in No. 1—

. Did forfeit with his life all those
His lands which he stood seized of by the Conqueror.

Absurdity ! showing that the transcriber did not
know what " seizin in law" meant. Similar blunders
and perversions of meaning and expression, arising

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 235-

from misapprehension of the sense, are the following.
"Godly ballet" for "Pious chanson," "wall" for
" hedge." " Such divinity doth hedge a king," printed
" doth wall." " Some undoubtful phrase " for " some
doubtful phrase." " All trivial fond conceits " for " all
trivial fond records." " Sweaty march" for " sweaty haste."
" A beast devoid of reason " for " a beast that wants dis-
course of reason." " Increase of appetite had grown by
what it looked on" for "what it fed on." "You have
grown higher than you were" for " nearer to heaven than
you were." "Lady, in thy orisons" for " Nymph, in thy
orisons." "In that dream of death" for "in that sleep of
death what dreams may come." " Pounds" for "ducats."
" Adorn " for " decked.'' " A king of clouts, of very shreds "
for " a king of shreds and patches." " Ornaments " for
" trappings of woe." " Boarded " for " coted." " Bridle " for
" reason." " As mild and gentle as a dove " for " as patient
as the female dove." " A sight of lawless resolutes " for " a
list of lawless resolutes." " Yon high mountain top " for
" yon high eastward hill." " Demises " for " devices " (p. 53).
"Forced grant" for "slow leave." "Weakness" for
"courage." "A face to outface Mars" for "an eye like
Mars." "An eye at which his foes did tremble at" for
" an eye like Mars to threaten and command." " Here is
your husband with a face like Yulcan " for tf here is your
husband like a mildewed ear." " This is a benefit and not
revenge," " Oh, this is hire and salary, not revenge," printed
" base and silly " in No. • 2, but thus in folio. " Partners " for
"rivals." "She married, 0 God, a beast," for "0 God,
a beast that wants discourse of reason." "Why what
a dunghill idiot slave am I " for " Oh what a rogue and
peasant slave am I." I am aware that I have not ex-
hausted my illustrations. I am sure that I have exhausted
my readers' patience and the space at my disposal. It

236 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

remains, therefore, merely to refer to the evidence that
Shakespere was undoubtedly legally educated in some form,
presumably in an attorney's office, and therefore "the
Noverint."

On this I can offer, I think, no better evidence than
Lord Chief Justice Campbell's testimony in his own words.
That " while novelists and dramatists are constantly
making mistakes in legal phraseology and in their law,
which is a species of Freemasonry, that as ' to the law of
marriage, of wills, and inheritance, to Shakespere's law,
lavishly as he propounds it, there can be neither demurrer,
nor bill of exceptions, nor writ of error.'" Again, that
his Lordship " was amazed by the accuracy and propriety "
with which the poet's "juridicial phrases and forensic
allusions " were uniformly introduced, and the wonderful
knowledge of law which he undoubtedly displays."* To
the same purport is Malone —

The comprehensive mind of our poet embraced almost every object of
nature, every trade, every art, the manners of every description of men, and
the general language of almost every profession ; but his knowledge of legal
terms is not merely such as might be acquired by the casual observation of
even his all-comprehending mind ; it has the appearance of technical skill, and
he is BO fond of displaying it on all occasions, that I suspect he was early
initiated in at least the forms of law, and was employed, while he yet remained
.at Stratford, in the office of some county attorney.

Mr. Lowes Rushton, a barrister, in a pamphlet, published
in 1858, " Shakspere a Lawyer,'' drew the same conclusions
as to the poet's technical acquaintance with law, and
Mr. Charles Armitage Brown, in 1838, pointed out that
Shakespere's earliest poems, "Venus and Adonis," "The
Rape of Lucrece," and the Sonnets, presumably written in
part while the author was very young, abound in
legal terms and phrases. "The first heir of his inven-
tion," the poem here first cited, though not printed till

* Shakespeare's Legal Attainments, by Lord Campbell, 1859.

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 237

1593, being the most full. I do not propose to give Mr.
Brown's illustrations, which are very numerous, but
may instance a few which appear to me, like the legal
allusions in Hamlet, to prove such technical knowledge as
only a lawyer could possess. "The barren tender of a
poet's debt." The technical meaning of " tender " here seems
adopted. Again, " determined," in its artificial and legal
sense, as a final conclusion. " Set thy sign manual on
my wax-red lips " ; " thou art the next of blood, and 'tis
thy right " ; " notary of shame " ; " proving his beauty by
succession thine " ; " impression of conceited faults,
wherein I am attainted," and the following couplets —

But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks as desperate in his suit.
But be contented when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away.

Mr. Brown concluded, that his faith in all internal
evidence would be shaken if in the writings of so young a
man, these allusions did not indicate that he had been hi a
lawyer's office.

In Hamlet there are four or five passages which especially
seem to affirm the same view. " Quietus " as an acquit-
tance and final discharge. "Though I am native here
and to the manner born," in reference to a custom, there
being a pun on the word manor, the ordinary form in
enfranchisement deeds being of the " nativus" (or Anglice,
" native" villein), who was adscriptus glebce (Barrington on
the Statutes, 273, 275, et seq.).* Again, " Observe, my uncle,
if his occulted guilt." This appears to me peculiarly tech-
nical. Hamlet is referring to murder and a murderer, and
primitively in English law, murder was occulta hominis
occisio, nullo prcesente, nullo scievte (Bracton, 134). It

"Nativus de sanguine or servus, called in the common law nativu."— 1st lust.,
8. 172 ; 2nd Inst., s. 28.

^38 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

was a " secret " as distinguished from a " malicious "
killing. The reference to the statutes, recognisances, &c.,
in the graveyard scene, the use of the word " seizin " (with
accuracy "seized to") — and not by — and the word "cautel"
employed by Laertes — and " Now no soil nor cautel
doth besmirch the virtue of his will," cautel being
used for cautela — a caveat, no doubt written accurately
by the poet, or used in its secondary meaning as a
condition suspending the operation of the will. Or
finally, the law as expounded by the Sexton, in the
last act, with reference to felo de se. " If I drown
myself wittingly, it argues an act ; and an act hath three
branches ; it is, to act, to do, and to perform ; argal, she
drowned herself wittingly. ... If the water come to me, I
drown not myself : but if I go to the water and am there
drowned, ergo, I am guilty of my own death." Now, I
should suggest on this, that no man that ever lived who
had not read at first hand the case of Hales v. Petit in
the C. B. in " Plowden's Commentaries" could have so
dealt with the legal arguments therein solemnly advanced
with graceful and pleasant as well as apt raillery, such as
the poet has here achieved by this playful and sarcastic
allusion. Coaching at second hand in a case argued before
the poet was born, would not have been possible, besides
being in other respects eminently improbable.

Hales v. Petit, in black letter Latin and Norman- French,
extending over some 15 pages folio, an argument or de-
murrer in an action of trespass, was not likely to be adopted
as light reading by any poet or novelist that ever existed;
not being a lawyer. The demurrer was to put in issue the
title of the plaintiff to certain land as against what we
should now call the Crown, or, more exactly, whether a
term (in the land) was divested out of the plaintiff and
passed to the King and Queen, viz., Philip and Mary, by

THE GENESIS OP HAMLET. 239

reason of a suicide. The plea in bar to the new assign-
ment demurred to, recites, amid a very wilderness of
verbiage, that the aforesaid James (Sir James Hales), not
having God before his eyes, but seduced by the art of the
devil, on a certain day, in a certain ward, in a certain
parish, in a certain county, approached by certain ways
and so on ad infinitum, "voluntarily entered into a
certain river or water-course, and himself therein then
feloniously and voluntarily drowned, against the peace,"
etc. The case was argued by four learned Serjeants,
and the justices themselves after, as the manner then
was, and Walsh (Serjeant) said "that the act consisted
of three parts : the first, the imagination ; the second,
the resolution ; the third, the perfection, which is the
execution. And upon these solemn questions Sir James
Hales having, it was conceded, drowned himself, whether
the act of felo-de-se was achieved by voluntarily
throwing himself into the water, and at what part of the
act, and at what instant of time, and whether or no in his
lifetime, and when, the forfeiture of estate, if any, accrued ?
The demurrer was overruled, and the plea in bar held
sufficient to preclude the plaintiff in her claim. A few
lines from the judgment might be cited to show the point
of the Gravedigger's satire. " It had been said Sir James
Hales was dead, and how came he by his death ? It may
be answered by drowning, and who drowned him (it was
conceded he had voluntarily entered into the water) ? Sir
James Hales. And when did he drown him ? In his life-
time. So that Sir James Hales being alive, caused Sir
James Hales to die, and the act of the living man was the
death of the dead man. . . . But how can he be said
to be punished alive when the punishment comes after his
death ? " etc. If anyone, coupling this with Shakespere's
general legal knowledge, doubts that he had read this

240 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

report, and had, as I should suggest, a fairly advanced train-
ing in law, he must be unapproachable by evidence. But if
he is still incredulous, I must refer him to the pages of Mr.
Bushton, and in his " Shakespere a Lawyer," Shakespere
illustrated by old authors, by the lex scripta, etc., etc., he
will find many other and not less striking proofs. One
other argument, that the play by Shakespere — to meet the
suggestion that it was omitted by Meres in 1598 in his
recital, which did not profess to be a complete or exhaus-
tive summary — was written before 1600, is to be found in
Gabriel Harvey's contemporary note, written in Speight's
Chaucer, Edition 1598, and which note was first published in
1766 by Stevens, written, as Malone, in 1803, asserted,
before 1600 : " That Shakespere's Hamlet and his Lucrece
have it in them to please the wiser sort." Malone, believ-
ing that the first Hamlet was not Shakespere's, afterwards
discarded this allusion as fatal to his position, but its-
value remains, if his conclusion, and that of Stevens that
it was inscribed before 1600, is correct. The change of
names is also corroborative, if not conclusive, that there was
an earlier Hamlet than 1602, because the substitution of
Polonius for Corambis and Reynaldo for Montano, if this
was a first sketch in 1602, would hardly have been made
in 1603, or adopted at the earlier date to be immediately
or so soon after discarded.

To summarise what I have attempted to set forth in
these papers, in conclusion, I desire to reiterate that I have
not suggested, or intended to suggest, that any one of the
characters in the tragedy was directly and rigidly or ser-
vilely copied from life, but that one or two of them—-
notably those of Hamlet and Horatio — were immediately
or mediately pointed at the personalities of Essex and
his friend, Southampton. The very graceful and elaborate
compliment paid to Horatio (" Damon dear ") in No. 2, p. 49,

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 241

in the subjoined passage, when Southampton was already
restored to power and favour, has no hint in No. 1, while
Elizabeth still lived and he was a prisoner in the Tower.

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee

Where thrift "may follow fawning ; dost thou hear,

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

And could of men distinguish her election,

She hath sealed thee for herself, for thou hast^been

As one in suffering all that suffers nothing,

A man that fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks ; and bless'd arejthose

Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled

That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger

To sound what stop she pleases : Give me thatjnan

That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him

In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of hearts,

As I do thee. Something too much of this.

These 15 lines had a peculiar fitness in 1604, when the
Howards, Bacon, Cecil, Nottingham, the Herberts and
other sycophants of the Court, were reaping innumerable
benefits and honours, and when 222 knights had been
made, and places were being distributed with a wildly
reckless hand. It was the spontaneous tribute of the poet
to his patron, and his faithful friendship, for the martyred
Essex, graceful, as was natural, and in admirable taste.

The reference to the Judas-like betrayal of Francis Bacon,
wholly absent in No. 1, but interpolated in No. 2 (p. 53),
already cited, ' is not less marked. The " Long live the
King " of Bernardo, not in No. 1, but in No. 2, sufficiently
establishes that the play of 1603 was written or altered
before the Queen died, even if it was printed after, and
that No. 2 was revised and amended by the author, this
line being inserted after James's ascent to the throne. As
certainly do the words put into the mouth of Hamlet
(Essex) at his death —

But I do prophesy, the election lights
On Fortinbras, he has my dying voice,

242 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

allude to Elizabeth's choice of James, when in eoctremis as
it was, then and at that time, declared.

Again, these three lines following, not in No. 1, Grey
and Cobham having been condemned to death in November,
1603, are not without significance to the auditory —

The ears are senseless that should give us hearing,
To tell him his commandment is fulfilled,
That Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.

And again, Fortinbras' statement —

I have some rights, of memory in this kingdom,
Which now to claim my vantage doth invite me

" vantage" being substituted for "leisure" in No. 1, both of
which passages prove an intentional reference by the poet
to the coming in and succession of James I.

I have now concluded, and will shortly recapitulate
what I proposed on setting out to establish, and appeal
to my readers if that which was projected, has not been
affirmed.

(1) That the play of 1589, by "the Noverint," was by
Shakespere, and that he was that despised person. That
this play was not in form a tragedy with a sad ending, but
was called "The Revenge," because it followed the history
of the real Hamlet, and made him the successor to his
uncle. Further, that it was probably adapted from a
French novel so called, or a translator's version of Saxo
Grammaticus, assisted by actual reference to the latest
text of the annalist.

(2) That this play was in 1602 revived and refurbished, and
a new and tragical ending supplied, referring to the death
of Robin (Robert, Earl of Essex).—" The Robin who to the
greenwood had gone " of the ballads, the Robin who had
in the various songs " no peer " contrasted with the night-
ingale Raleigh ; " who feared the look of man."*

* See Poem 61, "Camden Miscellany," p. 69. A great deal of conjecture and specu-
lative nonsense has been written about some possible reference to a ballad, " Robin Hood
has to the greenwood gone," which presumedly never existed. The poem in the text
mentioned appeared in 1602 or 1603.

TEE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 243

(3) That all the action of the matured play of 1604
existed in the play of 1589. That the Ghost was certainly
there, the play within the play, the rampart episode, and
all the varied scenes necessary to enforce the poet's then
conception of his principal character and story. That the
Ghost, with "his eye like Mars,"* was intended to revive
the memory of Walter Devereux, as Naunton has said.-f-

(4) That the 1603 quarto is in part a textual and correct
rendering of the 1589 play, to which has been added a
mutilated version of the residue of the play then current
and running from March or April, 1602, by some ignorant
and unprincipled person, who wished to acquire the profits
of popularity by fraud. That the author's text in these
additions so made is rather murdered than mutilated or
merely misrepresented.

(5) That the play No. 2, the 1604 quarto, is a revised
edition of that of 1602-3, transposing some of the scenes and
action, omitting some few — perhaps in all 18 or 20 — lines,
chiefly those of personal rebuke to Kemp, the clown, and
containing several additions, consequent on the Nemesis
which pursued the anti-Essex faction — " Grey, Brook,
Cobham, and Raleigh, hoist by their own petard" — the
oblique reference to the intemperance of the Court, J
the inhibition, the comet, the plague, etc. This, however,
was a piratical edition, never revised by the author, and

* Bishop Lloyd said, in his funeral sermon on Walter Devereux, " He was by nature
the son of Mars."

t Sure it is that he [Essex] no sooner appeared in court but he took with the Queen
and courtiers ; and I believe they all could not choose, but look through the sacrifice of
the father on his living son, whose image, by the remembrance of former passages, was
afresh, like the bleeding of men murdered, represented to the Court, and offered up as a
subject of compassion to all the Kingdom.— Fragmenta Regalia, p. 268.
{ This heavy-headed revel, east and west,
Makes us traduced, and taxed of other nations ;
They clepe us drunkard, and with swinish phase,
Soil our addition. ... (in all 22 lines).

Harrington's testimony, July, 1606, to the drunkenness of the Court on the arrival of
Christian IV. in London, "when both kings went reeling to bed," suggests an almost
prophetic discrimination in the allusion of the poet.

244 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

consequently omits several lines certainly existent in the-
genuine MSS., and is marked by blunders in the text, as
" base and silly" for " hire and salary," etc.

(6) That the Earl of Essex and Lord Southampton were
represented by Hamlet and Horatio,* and Lady Leicester
by Queen Gertrude. That no portraiture is attempted in
Laertes, Claudius, Polonius (except perhaps of Burghley,,
in his dotage, as known to the poet only after 1590), or
Ophelia, that can be traced, but that "Rosencrantz and
Guildenstern " were certainly aimed at Essex's "school-
fellows," and the former especially " at that sycophant, per
excellentiam" Cobham, Guildenstern indicating Grey.f

(7) That the play within the play is based on G. Peele's
pageant of Priam and Hecuba ; or, the Beginning, Acci-
dents, and End of the War of Troy, a poem produced and
published early in 1589.

(8) That some slight additions were made to the play of
1604 by the poet before his death, and that the folio
version of 1623, being only an acting play, omits some
most material and essential passages, in all 118 lines.
The Globe edition of Hamlet contains 3,891 lines. Quarto,,
No. 1, only 2,143.

* Horatio, that is, Southampton, is referred to in Sonnets 26 and 107 ; in the latter
his imprisonment "as resolved doom " and release from the Tower by warrant of April
10th, 1603, are signalised in the lines—

The mortal moon [Elizabeth as Cynthia] hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage,
Uncertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.

The lines in the 26th Sonnet echo the dedication of " The Rape of Lucrece " to Henry
Wriothesley—

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written embassage
To witness duty, not to show my wit.

DEDICATION.

What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours, being part in all devotedl
yours. Were my worth greater, my duty would show greater, &c.
t Rosencrantz. Take you me for a sponge, my lord?

Hamlet.— Ay, sir ; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards, authorities.
(This allusion, in Elizabeth's reign would be well understood.)

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 245

(9) That we have no revised or correct text of Hamlet,
.its the author wrote it. All are corrupt ; but that of 1604
is proximately and, "errors excepted," probably, if not
certainly, the best.

Beyond the evidence already furnished, and the strange
likeness and resemblance of character and idiosyncrasy
which have been so often dwelt on, without reference to
.any hypothesis, there is in Hamlet, as in Essex, an actual
vein of madness — a sanity, perhaps trembling on insanity,
which was not in the original Amleth certainly, and most
most probably not in the play of 1589. In Saxo ; Hamlet
was cunning and treacherous and restless as Ulysses.
In the History of 1608 (Capell's tract) he was the same
man, sane but truthful. But Hamlet in his conduct to
Ophelia, in his " towering passion " in the grave scene, in
his interview with his mother, in which he mentally
conjures up the Ghost unseen by her, though it was visible
to all when it appeared early in the play, is certainly
frenzied, if not distraught. His conduct is otherwise, in
such a courtier and gentleman of so noble a nature,
wholly inexplicable. Like Essex, he was " blasted with
-ecstacy," and with the same features of melancholy,
uncertainty, rashness, hatred of pleasure,* recklessness,
the same suicidal promptings and tendencies, devotion,
and religious doubts that marked Essex's mad revolt, and
the features of his trial and confession. The passage in
No. 1, at the same time, it must be noted, which made
him wholly mad, is struck out —

The jewel that adorned his feature most

Is filched and stolen away, his wits bereft him. (P. 28.)

Then, it must be noted that in No. 1 Hamlet dies with

•Mr. Harness, VoL IV., "Variorum Shakespere," Hamlet, Vol. II. , p. 213, referring
to Hamlet's madness, remarks : He wears "an oppressed mind, to which every ordinary
source of pleasure has become indifferent, or presents itself in a morbid, joyless form."
How truly this was Essex's c ise this paper shows.

246 THE GENESIS OF HAMLET.

the precise words on his lips which the history of the time-
ascribed to Essex, viz., " Heaven receive my soul."'
Camden's version of the final sentence of the unhappy
soldier was, " Into Thy hands, Lord, I commend my
spirit" (Ed. 1630, p. 188), which differs slightly from the
State Trials, as well as from the later edition of the
historian, "That thy blessed angels may be ready to
receive my soul." *

The play of Hamlet is the most philosophic and absorb-
ing treatise on the human mind, facing the visionary and
unknown world by which it is environed, while subjected
to the most complex and overwhelming trials of filial love
and duty ever dealt with as a psychologic problem. As a
"fond familiar record" of the waywardness and caprices of
human life, when subject to the fitful passions, the latent
springs and fountains of individual character, on the
spur of great occasions, it has no parallel. Like some
spontaneous and capricious production of nature, it defies
method. The tragedy, as a whole, indeed, manifests no
apparent dramatic or theatric design. Its surprises
suggest neither art nor artifice. No situation seems pre-
pared or projected. There is no charmingly melodious
sequence ; there are no rescues at the last gasp ; no
miraculous escapes; no sudden arrest of intelligence, ta
be soon after abruptly regained, to release and explain
events ; and no orderly and methodic or systematic
treatment. " The rain falls on the just and the unjust. >r
Yet is the development natural and probable, even while
most seemingly inconsistent. The whole depends on the
mental phenomena presented by the career and character
of one man. " II est plus aise de connaitre I'homme en
general que de connaitre un homme en particulier."

* Camden, Ed. Kennett, Fol., v. 2 (1706), p. 676, App. This in No. 2 is placed in
Horatio's lips thus : "And nights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

THE GENESIS OF HAMLET. 247

The one man of his time selected by Shakespere as his
chief Hero, from his misfortunes and conspicuous per-
sonality, was a very Paladin of chivalry and generosity.
Spenser styled him "Fair Branch of Honour, flower of
chivalry." Yet was he weak and vacillating, cowardly in
his self-abasement and self-reproach, and from his rashness,
a very Cloten in the hands of his enemies. Shakespere
was no recluse, He was in the world and of the world,
and the grand panorama of moving events in the life of
Elizabeth is mirrored in his pages. The Hero of Zutphen,
Gournay, and Cadiz, was a figure worth even his attention,
and the tragedy of unreal life assumes the aspect of reality,
because a genuine and authentic and organic life is therein
enshrined. It is this living and vital organism, this natural
growth and spontaneity of an actual existence which gives
the drama its consistency and strength. It is my proposi-
tion that the poet has presented us with the image idealised
of a particular and distinguished personality, of whom
Camden said, "No man was more ambitious of glory by
virtue ; no man more careless of all things else." Truly
great praise, and if I have in any wise thrown a gleam of
light on the problem here submitted, I am satisfied.

REMINISCENCES OF A MANCHESTER
POET— WILLIAM HARPER.

BY GEORGE MILNER.

THE present generation has probably entirely forgotten
William Harper. His life was noiseless and unobtru-
sive, his personality shy and reserved, and after his death,
though he had a few warmly-attached friends, even the
memory of him passed quietly and yet quickly away, in a
manner which often seemed to the writer in harmony with
the character of the man himself. He lived as if he almost
desired to be forgotten.

He was one of that band of local poets which, towards
the close of the first half of this century, appears to have
been grouped around Charles Swain and Samuel Bamford.
It has been said that he was one of the confraternity which
met at Poets' Corner. I think that is an inaccuracy. He
may have made occasional appearances there, but they
would be very few, and no contribution appears from him
in the Festive Wreath. Swain knew him well, and appre-
ciated highly his poetical work, but his immediate asso-
ciates were not distinctly literary. They constituted a little
knot of old-fashioned Church and King men, who clubbed
and dined together, on a basis which had less to do with
letters than with politics and social enjoyment.

REMINISCENCES OF A MANCHESTER POET. 249

My first recollections of William Harper go back to the
time when I was myself a very young lad, and when he
was a little over thirty. He was connected with the well-
known schools in Bennett Street, and often gave addresses
there. He was also prominent in the efforts made at that
institution — and they were among the earliest in Man-
chester— to provide popular elementary education for
working-people in evening classes. There was a tradi-
tion current in the school that he had been "intended
for the ministry," but that commerce had "claimed
him for her own." He had certainly always the tone
of a person of considerable education, and his manners
were those of a refined gentleman of the older sort. He
spoke well and with natural oratory. His accent was
peculiar, and I mention it because it was characteristic of
many Manchester men of his period, and may still, though
rarely, be heard from the mouths of some antique gentle-
men who linger among us. It was the accent of a man of
culture and of social position, sonorous and severely accu-
rate in pronunciation ; the pronunciation, in fact, was
often that which was accepted by the purists of the stage,
and yet it had a breadth about it which, I will not say
betrayed — I will say rather which intentionally and
rejoicingly avowed its sturdy Lancashire origin. It was
an excellent speech to hear, polished, but not mincing.
His personal appearance was remarkable. Without any
total resemblance, there were points of similarity between
him and Swain, who was, as I knew him, and as we see
him in Bradley' s portrait, the very ideal of a poet. Both
had black hair and lustrous dark eyes, and both had that
withdrawn look so difficult to describe — that appearance
of being at the same time inwardly meditating and out-
wardly looking at some far off object which is so charac-
teristic of the emotional thinker. Harper's eyes were indeed

250 REMINISCENCES OF A MANCHESTER POET.

very remarkable. They sparkled with unnatural brilliancy,
and yet — and this is not usual with such eyes — they turned
themselves upon you with a tender light. He has been
dead for more than thirty years, but I see his eyes
clearly still, and they are the key by which the memory
now finds its way to the whole aspect of the man. My
connection with " Bennett Street " gave me at the time of
which I am writing the privilege of frequent entrance to
his house. He lived in Lever Street, near Piccadilly. The
quarter was then, as Mosley Street had been, occupied
principally by what was called " the gentry." The house-
hold was a large one, and included, besides his aged father
and mother, several sisters, one of whom, I remember, had
eyes which sparkled like his, but with menace and without
any kindness. Besides these there resided with the Harpers
another "Bennett Street" worthy, the whilom well-known
Benjamin Braidley, a boroughreeve of Manchester, and
once a candidate for the borough in Parliament against
William Cobbett. Braidley, whose memoir Harper wrote,
was a person of considerable mark and of many accomplish-
ments ; a ready writer both in prose and verse, an able man
of affairs, an eloquent and effective public speaker, and a
capital teller of stories. The house in Lever Street
was a type of its class — sombre, heavy, so to speak,
but eminently comfortable with its rosewood and
mahogany, its voluminous upholstering, and its pictures
.and mirrors framed in massive gold. But the room
which interested me most was a little sanctum at the
back, where the poet sat. It was understood to look out
upon an unlovely enclosure, but one of the sisters had
frosted the windows and decorated them with bits of floral
ornament cut from printed calicoes of the period. In this
room there were books which I never dared to take down
from the shelves, and on the walls were fine portraits of

REMINISCENCES OF A MANCHESTER POET. 251

Dante, Petrarch, Tasso, and Ariosto. It was here that I
first saw the picture of the " world- worn " creator of the
Divine Comedy, smiling its grim smile. It was a new
world to me, and I remember thinking that these portraits
were part of the poet's appropriate and necessary stock-in
trade. I imagined the dark-eyed man catching inspiration
from those laurel-crowned heads, and I repeated the names
of them so often to myself that they began to sound, even
to me, like a charm to conjure with — " Dante, Petrarch,
Tasso, Ariosto."

But I must turn to another aspect of Harper's life. As
I have already hinted, he was a man of business as well as
a poet. It is coming a long way down from Dante and the
rest to say that he was a yarn agent. His warehouse was
on the western side of Pall Mall and at the corner of Chapel
Walks. Underneath it there was a curious little hollow
into which passengers along Pall Mall were prevented from
tumbling by a wooden hand-railing. There were steps
descending into the hollow from the street, and when
you got to the bottom you found yourself in front of
a cosy hostel known as the Gibraltar Hotel, and more
familiarly as " The Old Gib." In those days business men
dined heavily soon after noon, and the " Gib " had a well-
earned reputation for good substantial dinners. Egress
from this hollow was gained in the direction of Cross Street,
along that tortuous passage, or cleft, which still exists, and
which is known as Back Pool Fold. In this warehouse, which
was a rambling and somewhat dilapidated building, Harper
carried on his business, wrote some of his poems, and week
after week, for many years, produced the trade article of
the Manchester Courier. I knew this warehouse well, and
with the poet himself I always associated in my mind a
young lad who was in his service. Being about my own
age I came to know this youth intimately, and learned all

252 REMINISCENCES OF A MANCHESTER POET.

about his history. He had been in a Market Street bookshop,
kept by a certain Charles Ambery, who had treated him with
much harshness. This shop was one of Harper's haunts,
and out of kindness to the lad he had taken him into his
own service. The Manchester trade was much more easy
in its flow then than it is now, and I found that my young
friend constituted the whole "staff" of the concern. The
Poet and the Boy discharged all the functions. The boy
called each morning in Lever Street at an early hour for the
keys. He opened the dim warehouse, which in the twilight
had a haunted look. He sprinkled the dusty floors with a
watering can, and swept them. He kept certain books of
entry, and executed notes of delivery. He even acted as
a porter, and when the carts came down on market days
from the country laden with ten-pound bundles of yarn
wrapped in brown paper covers, he went through the severe
exercise of receiving the said bundles as they were pitched
into his hands by the brawny carters, who often showed such
superfluity of sinew that they nearly knocked him over with
the blow. For all that, the carters and he were good friends.
They told him stories of the country, and what they saw
in their long night journeys to and from the town. They
allowed him to ride in the carts, and even sometimes
trusted him to drive the horses. But what amused me
most was a little story which he one day confided to me.
"You know what a poet is?" he said. "Yes." "Well,
my master's a poet." "Yes, I know that." "And so
am I," he said, proudly. " The dickens you are ! " " Yes;
when there's nothing going on in the warehouse he writes
poetry in the counting-house, and I write poetry in the
back office. I can see him through a chink in the door;
and when he writes quickly, so do I ; and when he turns
up his eyes and waits for something, so do I." This was
" like master like man " with a vengeance.

REMINISCENCES OF A MANCHESTER POET. 253

Harper's poems are contained in two small volumes,
"The Genius, and other Poems," which was published in
1840, and " Cain and Abel : a Dramatic Poem ; and Minor
Pieces," published four years later. " The Genius," although
fragmentary in conception and unequal in execution, con-
tains some fine passages, such as the following : —

While the bright-robed Dian slept,
Dreaming by the mountain cone,
Desolate and all alone,
O'er the barren hills I wept,
And I cried, " Reveal to me,
Stars and worlds, the mystery
Of the works and ways of God !

" Cain and Abel " was dedicated to the Hon. William
Herbert, the first Dean of Manchester. It was, as may be
supposed, not intended for the stage. The blank verse, in
which it is written, is remarkably good, and the treatment
shows, for so well worn a subject, considerable originality.

Harper's genius leaned to the side of religion, and among
our local writers he should take rank as the best of our
sacred poets. He died on the 30th of January, 1857, so
quietly that the moment of his departure was scarcely
known.

The following poem, entitled "The Vanished Star," is a
good example of his style : —

The night was dark, the wind was loud,

The ghostly clouds went fleeting by,
When, turning on my couch, I saw

A single star was in the sky.

And thus methought — My Mary, thou

Wast e'er to me, in sorrow's night,
When loud the storm and dark the clouds,

A ruling star, a guiding light.

But thou art gone — the night is dark,

On cloudy wings the tempests fly,
There is no light within my heart,

The star has faded from the sky.

ON THE CULTIVATION OF THE APPRECIATIVE
FACULTY.

BY WILLIAM ROBINSON.

ff^HERE are two mental positions from which subjects
JL or objects may be approached, viz., unreservedly,
and with a willingness to appreciate ; or suspiciously and
with an inclination to disparage. Looking at things from
either of these attitudes, we must necessarily be mentally
affected by them. A state of absolute indifference does
not approach them at all, and is totally unmoved by them.
The mind of man, as well as his body, only grows by
means of that which is appropriated or imbibed. Hence
the ingenuousness, the state of open-eyed receptivity of
infancy and childhood is most favourable for its growth.
All the senses are ever ready to receive and convey to the
mind new facts and impressions. But the untoward
nature of many things which are presented to the child
checks the outflowing of his sympathies, and arouses in him
a state of cautiousness and latent suspicion. This marks
the beginning of the criticising powers. Still the thirst
for knowledge and for new acquisitions is the dominantly
active principle. The critical faculty is only exercised
for the sake of avoiding the false and the hurtful in this
pursuit of the new, the true, and the beautiful. This
I believe, is the attitude of mind which it is wisest to
preserve, as far as possible, through life, since it con-

CUL TIVA TION OP THE A PPREC1ATI VE FA CULTY. 255

tributes to our happiness and capabilities of usefulness by
a continual increase of our sources of interest; and
the appreciation of new ideas of truth, or an additional
phase of truth or beauty in that which is already
loved and esteemed, adds to our ever-increasing stores of
mental wealth, for it is well to remember that whatever
is negatived or rejected by the mind cannot in any sense
add to its growth, although the struggle to retain its
opposing principle may add to its stability ; but the faculty
of appreciating the good, the true and the beautiful,
necessarily grows with every new acquisition, and keeps
the mental attitude and outlook ever fresh and active.
This is the position which every true learner must occupy, or
progress in any branch of art, science or literature is impos-
sible. And every teacher who ceases to be a learner, very soon
becomes unfit to teach. The great Michael Angelo, at the
age of more than eighty years, was seen examining, with
studious care, the statues in the Gardens of the Medici, where
his early studies had been pursued — and when surprise was
expressed at this he said — " I go still to school, that I may
continue to learn." But, though he went with the same
purpose as that of his early days — his judgment must have
been much more profound and correct, and his powers of
appreciation vastly increased. For our judgment becomes
more just and reliable by the acquisition of every new
truth; since it is only by the light of perceived truths
that we are able to judge wisely and well.

But the active inclination to suspect or depreciate what-
ever may be approached, inevitably leads to the love of
searching for, and ultimate delight in finding that which is
false or bad. And there is great danger in making this
the dominant principle in our investigations. It will in-
evitably check our growth. In these days, when so much
that is offered for our acceptance or approval is untrue, or

256 CULTIVATION OF THE APPRECIATIVE FACULTY.

bad or fraudulent, it is difficult to avoid a cynical, doubting,
or suspicious frame of mind. But, on the other hand, we
have an inexhaustible store of the beautiful and true
awaiting our acceptance. And the object of this short
paper is to point to the value and importance of making
these things the unswerving objects of our search. Every-
thing, however, which, in accordance with the knowledge
we possess, may be honestly approved by us, is not, there-
fore, absolutely true or beautiful. Our perceptions, as they
become clearer and more extensive, will be able to correct
our previous estimate of the relative nature and value of
things.

From the Alps of our maturer years, to which we may
have climbed, we can smile at those childish ideas of the
greatness of things obtained from those little mounds which
our tiny feet ascended.

But a real appreciation of a very limited phase of
truth or beauty is infinitely preferable to an affected
appreciation of even the grandest realities. This affec-
tation of appreciation or pretending to understand and
admire what others may admire, and tell us is the
right thing to believe in, is perhaps the worst state
of all, since it leads us to disparage or reject even
the possibly lower standard of truth or beauty which
we may be able to appreciate, and leaves us in the
blackness of darkness. This certainly is not the way to
cultivate the appreciative faculty. Nevertheless, from this
state of mind springs a great deal of the blind taste or
judgment of the present day, which is largely a judgment
according to name or repute. But I would not underrate
the value of name or reputation, much as I would condemn
the blind worship of them. A well-earned reputation for
the possession of a clear and extensive knowledge of the
true and beautiful enables others, to regard their teaching

CULTIVATION OF THE APPRECIATIVE FACULTY. 257

or productions with more of reverent respect. Still I
-cannot claim for, nor accord to, any human mind either
infallibility of judgment or finality of thought. When
Beethoven wrote something which infringed the rules then
laid down for musical composition it was objected to as
" wrong — contrary to all the rules of composition." " Who
made the rules of composition?" retorted the great com-
poser ; " I say it is right ! " And the result justified his
words. With a more gifted sense of harmony he could
Appreciate in those wonderful realms of sound combinations
of symphonic harmonies which, though real to him, were
not even as a far-off vision to many of his fellows. But
should they then deny the existence of strains which their
duller hearing heard not ? It is a great mistake, this utter
denial of that which we do not understand. The " seat of
the scornful" is not an enviable judgment seat. Yet how
many of the world's foremost seers of the wonderful and
beautiful in every path of human progress have been so
judged! Nevertheless, the position of a true critic is a
noble one. But how few are prepared to fill it nobly. It
requires wonderful keenness and breadth of perception —
appreciative of almost every variety of excellence. Not
concerned with the "writing up" or "writing down" of
any personal reputation, but solicitous always to unfold
and display the genuinely good or true, and help
others to cultivate, not pretend to, an appreciation
of a larger sense of the true or beautiful than they
had previously possessed. Some years ago a professor
of music told me that he had met a certain critic for one
•of the journals at that time, who said to him, " Well, what
did you think of X.'s singing the other night ? " "I thought
he sang very well," said the professor. " You did ? " " Cer-
tainly, and he did sing well." " Why, I wrote him down !"
the critic exclaimed. " I don't care whether you wrote him

258 CULTIVATION OP THE APPRECIATIVE FACULTY.

down or up," responded the musician, " he SANG well." He
was determined not to be deprived of the delight of appre-
ciating what his judgment had approved. And when any
one seeks to destroy our sense of appreciative pleasure in
anything, without at the same time leading us to the
appreciation of something higher, he —

Robs us of that which not enriches him
And makes us poor indeed.

For appreciation, after all, is our only real possession.
What is a splendid collection of pictures, however costly,
to him that is blind ? Washington Allston, the painter,
speaking of Coleridge and his conversations 'with him when
in Rome, says : " When I recall some of our walks under
the pines of the Villa Borghese, I am almost tempted to
dream that I had once listened to Plato in the groves of
the Academy. It was there he taught me this golden rule,
'never to judge a work of art by its defects' — a rule as
wise as benevolent, and one which, while it has spared me
much pain, has widened my sphere of pleasure." The
value of a mine consists not in the absence of any particular
form of dross, but in the presence of the precious ore. And
it is surely wiser and more delightful to bring to light, and
display the beauty of the valuable metal, than to count
with grovelling care the grains of earth and sand, and tell
of the rubbish which surrounded it. But I know it is much
easier with some minds to look down from an imaginary
height of self-conceit, and mark and judge defects, and be
smart in cutting condemnation, than thoughtfully to appre-
ciate what may, perhaps, be a new revelation to us, and to lead
others to a perception of its higher truth. And so we may
sometimes have more of smartness than of wisdom, and
more of judging than of expounding the meaning and
character of the subjects commented upon. This will
doubtless be the case until there is a more general cultiva-
tion of the appreciative faculty, and less of the craving for

CULTIVATION OF THE APPRECIATIVE FACULTY. 259

mere smartness, which often passes current for real clever-
ness. An illustration was given in Punch, some years ago,
of two gentlemen on horseback, one of whom — a country
gentleman with agricultural proclivities — is saying to the
other, who is wrapped in the conscious dignity of self-impor-
tance, "It is fine growing weather," to which the other
replies, "Aw — yes; but / have done growing." The words
have a depth and sadness of meaning far beyond the inten-
tion or perception of the shallow mind that is supposed to
have uttered them. The end of growth only precedes the
beginning of decay. But to the man who is earnestly
cultivating his appreciative powers, how many opportunities
are found for extending his knowledge and increasing his
usefulness and happiness ; while to him who is blase* with
a surfeit of scornful self-conceit, they are only sources of
weariness and disgust. The commonplace remark of the
agriculturist indicated a desire for friendly intercourse on
their way. It might have been the prelude to profitable
conversation, since between two minds open to give and
receive, an interchange of thought can never be barren of
results ; and the thoughts and ideas which furnish even a
bucolic mind are by no means worthless to minds of other
mould. You will, no doubt, remember, but may pardon
my repeating, the story of George Stephenson and his
fellow-traveller on their way to London, whither the great
engineer was proceeding, in order to give evidence before a
Committee of the House of Lords. Stephenson, an honest,
farmer-like-looking man, made the incontrovertible observa-
tion that it was " a fine day." Now these and similar remarks
often proceed from a desire for conversation, and so a com-
mon ground of acquiescence is first laid as a friendly basis.
Stephenson's fellow-traveller, however, at once concluded
that the remark was a prelude to " weather and the crops."
So not being desirous of listening to this, he put a stop to
all further communication by a curt, and by no means

260 CULTIVATION OF THE APPRECIATIVE FACULTY,

amiable, rejoinder. The journey was, therefore, silently
completed, when, at the terminus, an important-looking
personage, on the look-out for Stephenson, at once recog-
nised him and greeted him by name. The fellow-traveller
heard it with astonishment and chagrin. An opportunity
for a long and friendly conversation with the great engineer
he would have given much to obtain, and he had thrown it
rudely and wilfully away through the indulgence of his own
self-satisfied conceit. Had his mental attitude been an
appreciative one, such a thing would not have occurred. Is
it not wisest then to cultivate, under all circumstances, the
appreciative faculty ? For it is possible we may get or give
something worth having from even " the weather and the
crops." Although I have treated the subject of this short
article mainly in reference to the intellectual and
artistic senses, still I believe it applies with equal force to
every phase of human life, the higher and nobler powers,
of course, directing and controlling the lower and meaner
in their appreciation of whatever is human and ennobling —
serious and amusing — humorous or sublime. By cultivating
an appreciation for whatever is noble or good, life itself will
expand in interest and meaning. The rills and rivulets of
childhood's dreams, flowing onward as an everwidening
stream of thought and feeling, broadening and deepening
with every tributary thought of truth into the impetuous
river of ardent youth, opens out into the vast ocean of
responsible human life. But the lofty and appreciative
mind does not gaze upon the broad expanse of the possi-
bilities of manhood, as upon an aimless and hopeless waste,
but beholds that vast sea stored with countless wonders in
its unfathomable depths, stretching out into an almost
limitless expanse of interest and beauty, and o'erarched
with heavens of immortal splendour, radiant with unfading
glory.

THE LIFE AND WOEKS OF EDWAED
WILLIAMS (IOLO MOEGANWG), THE
BAED OF GLAMOEGAN.

BY A. EMRYS-JONES, M.D.

WELSHMEN, and lovers of Welsh literature, will always
gratefully acknowledge their great indebtedness to
an English writer, Elijah Waring, for preserving in his
recollections and anecdotes of Edward Williams, many
interesting facts that would otherwise have long ago sunk
into oblivion.

I have looked in vain through the Welsh periodicals of
the period contemporary with him for details of his life,
but regretfully admit that for half a page of reference,
even to his death, there are innumerable treatises on the
apparently insoluble questions of theology. The Puritan
revolution in Wales, by reiterating the all-importance of
the other world, played havoc with its every-day literature,
at the time now under consideration. It is to be feared
that writers of books not strictly religious, were classified
with actors as emissaries of the devil !

The Welsh are, however, rapidly recovering from this

262 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

shock, and a fair mixture of "saints and sinners" may be
found even in the Principality, and literature is now looked
upon as being quite respectable.

Edward Williams was born at Penon, or Penmon, in
Glamorganshire, in 1746, and, being a weakly child, he was
never allowed to go to school, but learnt his alphabet and
how to read by watching his industrious father inscribing
gravestones, which was his avocation. He was indebted
to his mother for teaching him the elements of grammar
and arithmetic, and many happy hours were spent over
his favourite book, the " Vocal Miscellany."

In addition to the " Vocal Miscellany," the only other
works that were available to him were the Bible, "Lintott's
Miscellany," " Randolph's Poems," " Milton's Poetical
Works," some volumes of the " Spectator," " The Whole
Duty of Man," Browne's " Religio Medici," and Golding's
translation of Ovid's "Metamorphoses."

Although English was the language of the poet's family,
he preferred Welsh, and his earliest compositions are all in
that language.

He was blessed with a prodigious memory, and acquired
and remembered facts with wonderful facility, so that his
deep and extensive scholastic attainments are not to be so
much wondered at.

Antiquarian lore and poetry were his favourite studies
from early life, and although he was an excellent workman
as a common mason, which was his trade, he showed power
as a marble sculptor, but his zeal and love for learning
were undoubtably hindrances to his worldly success, or the
vulgar prizes of life. Waring mentions one good story
illustrating the studious bent of his mind. He was
employed, along with his father and others, on some addi-
tions to a parsonage. During the dinner hour his father
told Neddy, " Now, my boy, will you be sure to take care

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS. 263

of the house, and keep the pigs and poultry out, as the
servants are gone away to dinner, and have left this in
charge with us ? "

" Neddy gave his word to perform due watch and ward,
but proved a faithless sentinel ; for his fellow workmen
found him, on their return, sitting on the green before the
house, absorbed in his books and unmindful of all other
things. Pigs, geese, ducks, and fowls were disporting them-
selves in all parts of the house ; a calf had possession of the
kitchen, and a donkey was taking his ease in the library !
The unguarded parsonage was converted into a menagerie
of unclean birds and beasts, whilst the studious young
mason sat, locked up in the inner chamber of his own
thoughts, communing with some bard or sage of old, or,
perad venture composing verses of his own."

It was the rebuke administered to him by his father that
caused him to quit his native country and seek for work in
the famed metropolis. It was in 1770 that he went to
London, and in the first letter sent home from there he
acquainted his father that he was engaged as a mason in
building Blackfriars Bridge. His spare time was given
entirely to study and the muse, and he soon published
one of his first poetical effusions, " The Learned Ignorants."
His literary powers and abilities secured for him the
acquaintance and friendship of the most celebrated savants
of that day, and, among others, Prince Talleyrand, Southey,
Lord Stanhope, Dr. Benjamin Franklin, Dr. Aikin, Bishop
Percy, Francis Douce, Home Tooke, and Tom Paine, not
a bad company for a poor mason, it must be admitted, but
literature knows no difference in rank and social status, it
unites in a common bond of unswerving devotion, men
and women of all ranks, creeds and classes. There was a
well-known bookseller and publisher, a namesake of the
bard, in the Strand, .whose store was frequented by the

264 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

celebrities of London, and it was here that lolo one day
came across the great Dr. Samuel Johnson. lolo was in
search of a grammar, and on being bold that the portly
person on the other side of the shop was the great Johnson,,
he at once picked up three grammars, and with all humility
ventured to ask the Doctor which of the three was the
best for a young Welshman, anxious to learn English, to
buy. Johnson took them up and looked at the title-pager
and in a very sharp and surly manner, answered, " Either
of them is good enough for you, young man," to which
lolo angrily retorted that to make sure he would buy the
three !

One evening, at the house of a friend, Samuel Rose, Esq.,
of Chancery Lane, he met William Cowper. lolo rarely
excelled the wonderful conversational powers which he
exhibited on this occasion, but his eloquence was more
than once checked by looking at one of the guests who sat,
morose, melancholy, and silent by the chimney corner, yet
still so intently listening that lolo feared he might be a
government spy on the watch for an unguarded statement
from his democratic lips. Great was the bard's surprise
when introduced at the close of the evening to the inno-
cent and genial Cowper.

During his stay in London he had two interviews at least
with Pitt. The fact was communicated by a friend to
lolo that Pitt had expressed a desire to see him. lolo at
once proceeded the same evening to gratify that desire,
and he rung the bell at Pitt's door. The servant announced
to Pitt, that a man poorly clad, with a white wallet across
his shoulder, desired to see him, to which Pitt replied that,
as he was engaged he could not see the stranger. The
stranger, however, was so persistent that he refused to go
away, and said he must see Pitt, at which Pitt, irritated,
seized a whip and went to the door. When lolo noticed
him, he said —

THE LIFE AND WORKS OP EDWARD WILLIAMS. 265

Strike a Welshman if you dare,
Ancient Britons as we are ;
We were men of great renown,
Ere a Saxon wore a crown !

Pitt said, " Are you the Welsh Bard ? Come in ; come in
at once," and he joined the party at dinner, and surprised
them with his conversational abilities and wide range of
knowledge.

lolo sympathised with much that was good in the
demands of the leaders of the French revolution, and he
expressed himself freely on these topics. On one occasion
his manuscripts were seized on account of a supposition
that they contained some treasonable statements. He
was again summoned before Pitt, and was told that after
close examination they could find nothing wrong, and
that he might take back the papers. " Oh," said lolo,
" you brought them here against my wish and much to
my inconvenience, the least you can do is to restore them
where you found them," and his demand was considered
quite reasonable.

At this period a Mr. Winterbottom, a Baptist minister,
was imprisoned for certain harmless political allusions he
made in a sermon delivered to his congregation. lolo
heard of this, and being a ready sympathiser, at once
determined to visit him in Newgate prison. Conforming to
the prison rules, he wrote his name in the visitors' book : —
Edward Williams, " The Bard of Liberty." The gaoler, on
his next visit, recognised him, and, according to official
request, told him he could not be admitted — he must clear
out at once — at which lolo replied, " So be it, Mr. Gaoler,
I am quite willing ; may no ' bard of liberty ' meet with a
worse fate than to be ordered out of prison."

After going home he composed The Newgate Stanzas to
Kirby the gaoler.

266 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

Dear Liberty ! Thy sacred name,
0 let me to the world proclaim,

Tby dauntless ardour sing ;
Known as thy son, nor knaves of State,
Nor spies I fear, nor placemen's hate,

Nor mobs of Church and King.

No jails I dread, no venal Court,
And where belorded fools resort,

I scare them with a frown ;
John Reeves and all his gang defeat,
And if a tyrant King I meet,

Clench fist and knock him down.

Of late as at the close of day,
To Newgate cells I bent my way,

Where truth is held in thrall ;
It was to scorn a tyrant's claim,
Wrote "Bard of Liberty " my name,

And terror seized them all.

Poor Kirby trembled, struck with fear,
A form uncouth like shaggy bear,

On Russia's frozen plain ;
Nor would he for one moment's space,
The Bard of Liberty's bold race

Within his walls detain.

•Of such queer phiz and idiot mien,
No stupid ass was ever seen,

Whilst oddly muttered he ;
"Dmgers immense to Church and State,
We dare not trust within the gate

A Bard of Liberty."

Should I be doom'd o'er burning sands
To traverse Africa's desert strands,

Where hungry tigers war ;
"Then, Liberty, shalt thou the muse
.Bless with thy soft refreshing dews,

Thee that the world adore.

•Or am I to the pole exil'd,

To gloom where nature never smil'd

Since Earth or Heaven began ;
Warm'd by thy flame, bright Liberty,
With fervent soul I'll sing to thee,

And sing " The Rights of Man."

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS. 267

He knew Southey rather intimately, and was evidently
much appreciated by him, for in one letter Southey says :
"Bard Williams communicated to me some fine arcana of
bardic mythology quite new to me, and to the world, which
you will find in Madoc," and in "Madoc" he refers to
lolo thus: —

" lolo, old lolo, he who knows
The virtues of all herbs of mount or vale,
Or greenwood shade, or quiet brooklet's bed ;
Whatever lore of science or of song
Sages and bards of old have handed down."

In another letter Southey speaks of him as " a man
whom I most highly esteemed both for his moral and intel-
lectual worth. Mrs. Southey in a letter says : " Bard
Williams is in town, so I shall shake one honest man by
the hand whom I did not expect to see." Southey was
interested in Wales and Welsh subjects for several reasons.
He probably heard something of them from one of his early
schoolmasters, a certain William Williams, described as a
kindly, irascible, little, bewigged old Welshman. One of
his acquaintances, and afterwards his best friend made at
Westminster, C. W. W. Wynn, of Llangedwin, a great
patron of Welsh literature, through his generosity enabled
Southey to pursue literature as his profession. He also at
one period was enthusiastically contemplating a life-long
residence at Maes Gwyn, in the Vale of Neath.

In 1773 lolo left London for Dartford, in Kent, to follow
his occupation, and here amidst beautiful rural scenery his
poetical faculties were once more re-awakened, and he
composed many sonnets which afterwards appeared in his
volume of English poems. During this period he was a
frequent contributor to the Town and Country Magazine,
to the Monthly Magazine, The Gentleman's Magazine,
and others, and the money received from these contri-
butions was always expended in the extension of his library.

268 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

In 1777 he returned to London, but only tarried there a
short time and returned home, when he sang —

No more of London's hateful noise,

Ye madden'd crowds, adieu ;
Detesting arts, ungenial joys,

I dwell no more with you.
Hail, dear Glamorgan, let me greet

Once more the favour'd plain ;
I fly with gladden'd soul to meet

My native cot again.

The next four years he followed his occupation, devoted
his spare time to study, and remained a bachelor. Several
poems written at this time prove, at any rate, his thorough
acquaintance with, and his love of farming, e.g. : —

I live on my farm in a beautiful vale,
Ye lovers of nature attend to my tale ;
No pride or ambition find room in my breast,
These venomous foes of contentment and rest ;
From sound healthy sleep, I rise up every morn,
To toil in my field, with my cattle and corn ;
And prefer, whilst of rural enjoyments I sing,
The life of a farmer to that of a king.

And again : —

Pleas'd with my little flock of sheep,
That on my native downs I keep ;
Mine are the joys of peace and health.
And sure I want no greater wealth ;
No vain desires my soul infest,
Nor dwells ambition in my breast,
Heaven, all such follies to prevent,
Train'd all my thoughts to soft content.

Again : —

In wealthful autumn's evening fair,

When all the corn is gathered in,
I to the rustic rout repair,

And help to swell the cheerful din ;
We that in rural toils have joined,

Now at the farmer's board regale,
The feast enjoy with gleeful mind,

And push about the nut brown ale.

THE LIFE AND WORKS OP EDWARD WILLIAMS. 269

In 1781 he was married, and as the issue of that mar-
riage he had five children, one son, Taliesin, proving a
worthy son of a worthy sire.

Bad health and bad trade told upon his slender frame,
but in spite of all he worked incessantly, and with the view
of enabling him to study more, he opened a shop — a kind
of country village store of all sorts and conditions of
things, but he refused to sell any but East India sugar,
because, as he said, it was the only sugar uncontaminated
with human blood (i.e. produced by slavery). He had
three brothers in affluence in Jamaica, and they proffered
old lolo monetary help, but he would have none of it,
because the wealth was acquired in a country where slaves
were employed, and when his brothers died, he could not
be persuaded to utilise the money left, although he was in
very straitened circumstances. He visited Bristol about
this period, and on entering the town he heard that the
merry peal of bells were ringing to commemorate the
defeat of Wilberforce's Anti-Slavery Bill, and he was so
disgusted that he walked home all the way from Bristol to
Flemingstone, a distance of ninety-four miles.

One amusing incident of his shop-keeping days may be
cited. lolo was looked upon as a revolutionary character,
because he was acquainted with Tom Paine, whose books
were considered seditious, and their sale forbidden. The
" Rights of Man" being one of these forbidden books, lolo
put a card in his window — " ' The Rights of Man ' sold
here"! One day two local magnates, "the defenders of
law and order," came to buy copies, but on looking over
their purchases they found they had been provided with
a Bible apiece, at which they began to scold poor old lolo
who replied "The Bible was the best exponent of the
Rights of Man, and he was proud to be the humble means
of providing them with such a valuable guide ! "

270 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

He was always a friend to the oppressed, and when he
heard that a dissenting minister, the Rev. T. Evans, of
Brechfa, had been put into the pillory and imprisoned for
some sentiments considered seditious, he left everything,
visited him in prison, and sympathised with him.

He had met Joseph Priestley, and was an ardent
admirer of that philosopher. He heard with painful
interest of the destruction of Priestley's house, goods
and chapel by the infuriated " Church and King " mob
in 1791, and when Priestley left for America, in 1794,
among the few that went to bid him good bye and God
speed was our liberty-loving Welsh bard.

His friend, the Rev. Walter Davies, M.A., Vicar of
Llanrhaiadr, better known in Welsh literary circles as
Gwallter Mechain, was entrusted by the Government to-
inquire into the state of agriculture in South Wales, and
lolo was engaged in the inquiry to such an extent that in
the report issued in two vols. octavo Mr. Davies publicly
acknowledges his great indebtedness to lolo, and always
writes in the plural We. He showed in this work an
excellent knowledge of topical geography and geology,
and the maps accompanying the volumes are by him. He
also prepared a Mineral and Geological Map of Glamorgan-
shire.

A striking story of lolo's great humanity is related as
having occurred during the agricultural inquiry. He had
settled for the night in a remote Cardiganshire inn, on
account of the fearful stormy night, and the impossibility
of reaching a friend's house. A pedlar shortly came in,
worn out with fatigue and exposure, and humbly asked for
a night's lodging, although he could only offer payment
from his wares, as he was devoid of money. The innkeeper
flatly refused, and was proceeding to turn him out when
lolo, hot with sacred wrath, accused the innkeeper of being

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS. 271

a most hard-hearted wretch and villain, and parted with the
scanty contents of his purse to the pedlar to pay for his
night's lodging. Tired and penniless himself, he walked
through the fearful storm miles and miles to a friend's house,
and when he reached it he was so fatigued and cold that he
was laid up for weeks with inflammation of the lungs. To
the end of his days, however, this act of self-sacrifice was
a source of real pleasure to him.

The next event in his life was to him peculiarly satisfac-
tory and congenial. His friend, Dr. William Owen Pughe,
the Welsh lexicographer and antiquarian, in 1799 secured
lolo's services in searching all through Wales for MSS.,
with a view of collecting them for publication, which
was afterwards done in a volume entitled " Myvyrian
Archaiology." Many interesting details of these itineraries
are given; how the natives thought this weird, strange-
looking man an evil spirit, as he spent hours meditating
upon and copying old inscriptions on tombstones in some
remote and lonely parish churchyard. At other times he
diligently searched the parish registers, or asked permis-
sion of patrons of Welsh literature to copy MSS. in their
possession.

This book, the " Myvyrian Archaiology," is simply indis-
pensable to every student of Welsh literature, as in it are
preserved specimens of the ancient poetry of the Britons,
from the earliest times to the fourteenth, fifteenth, and
sixteenth centuries. It contains, also, specimens of prose,
through the same periods, relating to the origin of the
race; "various parts of learning and science; amongst
other matters, maxims of social economy and morality ; a
splendid collection of proverbs ; institutes of grammar and
poetry."

The excellent " Short Review on the Present State of
Welsh Manuscripts," at the commencement, is entirely

272 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

from the pen of lolo, and it is the best proof of how
enthusiastic and devoted he was to the subject, and what
a deep grasp he possessed of the great importance of
rescuing these MSS. and rendering them available for
students of the Cymric branch of the Celtic languages.

In this review he says, " About the time when Wales
was incorporated with England, government seems to have
entertained an idea that it was not safe or politic to suffer
the Welsh language to live ; the use of it was discouraged,
and all that could be done decently, and with saving
appearances, was attempted, to suppress and annihilate
it." Further on he says, "That it has been once in com-
templation to banish the Welsh language out of Wales,
admits of no positive proofs ; but such as are strongly
presumptive, forcibly obtrude themselves upon us ; other-
wise how is it that our literature has never experienced
that degree of patronage and encouragement that would
have enabled some individuals to usher it into the world ?
. . . The printing of our ancient manuscripts has long
been anxiously, but despairingly looked for, and many
persons of learning and every other necessary qualification
have at various times appeared in Wales. Attempts were
made by them to bring those manuscripts out of their long
and deep seclusions, but without any success. How far
the absurd politics that would (had it been known how)
have laid violent hands on the Welsh language, had suc-
ceeded in engaging the first and leading families of the
Principality, to act on such an idea, admits of no proof now,
beyond that of a strong presumption ; as, if a few exceptions
existed, which we will not deny, they were not numerous
or powerful enough to give energy and effect to such an
undertaking."

All that has been done hitherto has been done by loyal
and enthusiastic Welshmen, actuated simply by the amor

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS. 273

patrice. Most valuable MSS. still exist in the Wynnstay
and other libraries in Wales, in the Bodleian Library, and
in the Record Office in London. My friend, Gwenogvryn
Evans, out of sheer love for the work, has, in conjunction
with Professor Rhys, undertaken to bring out a series of
Welsh texts, two of which—" The Red Book of Hergest,"
and "The Black Book of Carmarthen," the oldest Welsh
MSS. extant — have already appeared. The University of
Oxford, for the first time in its history, conferred the
honorary degree of M.A. on Mr. Gwenogvryn Evans as an
acknowledgment of his great services to Celtic literature.
How deeply Mr. Evans feels the neglect of these MSS. may
be inferred from the well-deserved rebuke he administers
in the preface to the " Black Book of Carmarthen." He
writes, " We have been supplied with careful calendars of
the manuscripts of Scotland and England at the expense
of the State ; but those of the Principality have been neg-
lected, notwithstanding the assurance that 'poor little
Wales ' enjoys 'the same laws and privileges as England.'
Surely it is high time that the Government should appoint
a Commissioner qualified by a knowledge of palaeography
and of the language of the manuscripts, to calendar them
fully and thoroughly."

The justice of this demand will be readily acknowledged.

The following quotations, from this review, will prove to
you that lolo's literary aims and ideas were good and pure,
if too patriotic. He writes : " ... a taste for books,
in their own language, is now reviving, and gains con-
siderably among the Welsh, than which nothing can
more effectually secure their morals, and consequently
their happiness, especially as there are not, and we hope
never will be, in our language, any such immoral and other-
wise pernicious publications, as in most other countries are
the bane of morality and social happiness. From this

274 THE LIFE AND WORKS OP EDWARD WILLIAMS.

circumstance we claim some honour due, and justly so, to
our humbler classes, in whose hands, and at whose mercy,
our literature has for ages been ; and yet, never consider-
ably abused or perverted from its proper ends of genuinely
civilising our successive generations. It is hoped that the
publication of our ancient literary remains will in some
degree re-animate the genius of our country, enrich and
purify the language of our writers, afford them models of
writing in verse, and even in some instances in prose, that
are natural and truly beautiful."

The Athenaeum, reviewing the "Myvyrian Archaiology,"
truly said : " It was a work that might have been done by
a king, an institution, or a society of the noble and learned;
but it was accomplished, and scrupulously accomplished,
by a poor Welsh peasant."

There is no doubt that lolo's co-editors, Dr. W. Owen
Pughe, the lexicographer, and Owen Jones (Myvyr) must
be credited with their share, especially the latter, who,
unassisted by patronage, devoted his life to the literature
of his country.

The first edition, published in three volumes, still fetches
from £7 to £8 10s., and used to sell for £12 12s. until the
second edition was published 1861-70 by Mr. Gee, of Den-
bigh. In this edition there are additional notes on the
Gododin, an English translation of the laws of Howel the
Good, and a Chapter on Ancient British Music, by John
Thomas, the world-renowned harpist.

About the year 1790, lolo's "Lyric Poems," in two
volumes, were published and dedicated by permission to
the then Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV., and
among a list of very eminent subscribers he prints in
capital letters Humanity Wilberforce and General
Washington.

He was greatly annoyed at the assertion, in a Bath news-

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS. 275

paper, that his poems were not in print, and that he had
taken the subscribers' money under false pretences, and in
explaining this delay he refers to an incident which beauti-
fully shows his tender-heartedness : " Everything would
have been well by now and my poems would have ap-
peared, had I not heard of the death of one of my dear
children, a sweet young girl, with whom more of my life's
joy has departed than I shall be able to recoup in this
world. I went home and there tarried for eight or nine
months. I will forgive my enemies everything but that
they kept me from home when my charming and beautiful
daughter craved for me in the hour of death." In addition to
the MSS. in the " Myvyrian Archaiology," he collected about
a hundred more volumes of valuable Welsh MSS., many of
which were reprinted in a handsome volume, called "lolo
MSS.." by the Welsh MSS. Society, a new edition of which
is about to be issued by a Liverpool Welsh publisher, Mr.
Isaac Ffoulkes. It was designed to be a continuation of
the " Myvyrian Archaiology," and was afterwards proposed
to be used as material for a New History of Wales. It
was edited originally by his son Taliesin ap lolo, and has
now become very rare and expensive.

He was on intimate terms with Bishop Burgess (Bishop
of St. David's), to whom he once lent, entirely against his-
usual wont, some valuable MSS. The bishop lent these to
another friend, who died, and whose books, &c., the MSS,
included, were sold. Poor lolo heard of this, and in his.
73rd year set out on foot, determined to reclaim the
missing treasures. He secured the catalogue, guessed
who might be interested enough to buy these MSS., and
tramped through three counties — Cardigan, Carmar-
then, and Pembroke, securing all the MSS. but one. On
this occasion his son provided him with a horse, which,,
however, our eccentric bard would not ride; he walked

276 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

side by side with the horse as far as Carmarthen, a
distance of fifty miles, and then sent the horse to grass
until his return. This little incident alone is sufficient to
convince us of lolo's great earnestness and enthusiastic
devotion to the literary treasures of his country. He had
also written a great part of his autobiography, principally
relating to ancient and modern Welsh literature and
Welsh dialects.

He collected materials for a History of Dunraven Castle,
a History of Glamorganshire, and translated many old
MSS. which have never been published. He had a faculty,
like many others, of forming too many plans and schemes
to be accomplished during a short life-time, but I think
I have given a sufficient list to justify his claim to be
considered a great literary benefactor.

And it must not be forgotten, that all his work was
accomplished in spite of great poverty ; during the latter
years of his life a few friends sent him a small annual
allowance, which, with his frugal habits, was just sufficient
for him, and in addition to poverty, he was a confirmed
invalid. For twenty-six years before his death, his asthma-
tic condition prevented him from ever going to bed, and he
always slept in a chair, with his back in nearly a vertical
position.

One of his last literary efforts was to bring out a second
volume of " Hymns for the Church in the Wilderness," in
Welsh, and it may be added that as a Hymnologist he
ranks very high ; some of his hymns evincing deep philo-
sophic insight, and a sublime spiritual strain. They are
still used by the various religious denominations in Wales.

On the 18th of December, 1826, in his 80th year, when all
pain had left him, the transition from natural sleep to eternal
rest took place without a groan or a stir while resting in
his old familiar chair. He was buried inside the little

THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS. 277

church of the remote hamlet of Flemingstone, near Cow-
bridge in Glamorganshire, and for nearly thirty years there
was no inscription to perpetuate his memory. At last,
however, in 1855, a handsome monument was erected, with
the following epitaph engraved on it : —

In
Memory

of

EDWARD WILLIAMS,

(lolo Morganwg),

of this village,

Stone Mason, Bard, and Antiquary, born at Penon, in the
adjoining parish of Lancarvan, on the 10th day of March,
A.D. 1746. Died on the 18th day of December, 1826.

" His remains are deposited near this spot. His mind was
stored with the histories and traditions of Wales. He
studied Nature, too, in all her works. His mortal part was
weak, and rendered him little liable to ply trade, but God
endowed him with mental faculties — patience of research
and vigour of intellect — which were not clouded by his
humble occupation. He was never at school, yet he
became a large contributor of acknowledged authority to
Bardic and Historic literature. His simple manners,
cheerful habits, and varied knowledge made him a welcome
visitor within the mansions of the rich as well as the
cottages of the poor, and many there are who still have
kindly recollections of him. By these and others who
appreciate his genius this tablet was erected A.D. 1855.
He feared God, and walked meekly and uprightly with his
fellow-men."

My task is done — it has been a real pleasure to me

278 THE LIFE AND WORKS OF EDWARD WILLIAMS.

to study the old bard's life; his diligence, his trans-
parent sincerity, the purity of his life, his love of his
country, and his zeal and devotion for its literature have
all served to endear him to me, and at the same time serve
as appeals to emulate him in the good work he has accom-
plished, and to stimulate me not to rest satisfied until
every fragment of the manuscripts of the past has
been secured as the proud possession of all students of
literature.

THE PHILOBIBLON OF EICHARD DE BURY.

THE publication of this edition of the " Philobiblon "*
will be greeted with pleasure by book-lovers. It is a
dainty, scholarly, charming volume, in which justice has
at length been rendered to the memory of a famous
Englishman, a mighty book-hunter, and our earliest writer
on the love of books.

The book itself is ample excuse for a notice in the
Manchester Quarterly, but there is additional reason
in that the learned editor is a Manchester man, the son of
of a respected citizen, and a student of the Manchester
Grammar School.

The editor's introduction is divided into two parts —
biographical and bibliographical. In the former he gives
an admirable account of the author, who was the son of Sir
Richard Aungervile, and was born near Bury St. Edmunds,
Suffolk, in 1287, and became Chamberlain of Chester,
Treasurer and Chancellor to King Edward III., and Bishop
of the great diocese of Durham. He died in 1345. The
story of his busy life, and of the various ways in which he
exercised his passion for book collecting, are told again

* " The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, Treasurer and Chancellor
of Edward III." Edited and Translated by Ernest C. Thomas, Barrister-at-Law, late
Scholar of Trinity College, Oxford, and Librarian of the Oxford Union. London : Kegan
Paul, Trench, and Co. 1888. 8vo.

280 THE PII1LOBTBLON OF RICHARD DE BURY.

with fresh details, gathered with diligence and learning,
and used with skill and modesty ; and the question whether
the "Philobiblon" was written by Bury himself or by Holkot,
another notable ecclesiastic, is discussed dispassionately.

The bibliographical portion of the introduction is of
great value. Thirty-five manuscript copies of the work
are known to be in existence and are here described, all
of which have been examined, and many of them have
been collated textually page by page for the purposes of
this edition. The first printed edition was published at
Cologne in 1473, and the first English translation, an im-
perfect one, came out in 1832, but, as Mr. Thomas
remarks : —

" Although more than five centuries have passed away
since Kichard de Bury wrote the last words of the ' Philo-
biblon,' in his manor at Auckland, on the 24th of January,
1345, this is only the second occasion on which the origi-
nal text of his little treatise has been printed in his native
country. The editions printed abroad were based upon
inferior manuscripts, and even the edition published by
Thomas James, Bodley's first librarian, left much to be
done, with more pains and the aid of better manuscripts.
The French editor Cocheris, in 1856, though he made use
of three new manuscripts, printed an even less correct
text than those of the earliest editions, yet, owing to the
scarcity of the earlier copies, this edition is the only one
that can be said to be generally accessible. The text now
printed, after a careful examination of twenty-eight manu-
scripts and of the various printed editions, may claim to
give for the first time a representation of the ' Philobiblon'
as it left its writer's hands."

The text in this volume is followed by a translation of
terseness and vigour, from which a passage or two may be
quoted.

THE PHILOBIBLON OF RICHARD DE BURY. 281

In Chapter I., "That the Treasure of Wisdom is chiefly
contained in Books," Bury says : —

"In books I find the dead as if they were alive; in
books I foresee things to come ; in books warlike affairs
are set forth ; from books come forth the laws of peace.
All things are corrupted and decay in time ; Saturn ceases
not to devour the children that he generates : all the glory
of the world would be buried in oblivion unless God had
provided mortals with the remedy of books. Alexander,
the conqueror of the earth ; Julius, the invader of Rome
and of the world, who, the first in war and arts, assumed
universal empire under his single rule ; faithful Fabricius
and stern Cato would now have been unknown to fame if
the aid of books had been wanting. Towers have been
razed to the ground ; cities have been overthrown ; trium-
phal arches have perished from decay ; nor can either
pope or king find any means of more easily conferring the
privilege of perpetuity than by books. The book that he
has made renders its author this service in return, that so
long as the book survives its author remains immortal and
cannot die, as Ptolemy declares in the Prologue to his
' Almagest ' : ' He is not dead,' he says, ' who has given life
to science.' Who, therefore, will limit by anything of
another kind the price of the infinite treasure of books,
from which the scribe who is instructed bringeth forth
things new and old ? Truth — that triumphs over all
things ; which overcomes the King, wine, and women ;
which it is reckoned holy to honour before friendship ;
which is the way without turning and the life without
end ; which holy Boethius considers to be threefold in
thought, speech, and writing — seems to remain more use-
fully and to fructify to greater profit in books. For the
meaning of the voice perishes with the sound ; truth latent
in the mind is wisdom that is hid and treasure that is not

T

282 THE PHILOBIBLON OP RICHARD DE BURY.

seen ; but truth which shines forth in books desires to
manifest itself to every impressionable sense. It com-
mends itself to the sight when it is read ; to the hearing
when it is heard ; and, moreover, in a manner to the touch,
when it suffers itself to be transcribed, bound, corrected,
and preserved. The undisclosed truth of the mind,
although it is the possession of the noble soul, yet, because
it lacks a companion, is not certainly known to be delight-
ful, while neither sight nor hearing takes account of it.
Further, the truth of the voice is patent only to the ear,
and eludes the sight, which reveals to us more of the
qualities of things, and, linked with the subtlest of motions,
begins and perishes as it were in a breath. But the written
truth of books, not transient but permanent, plainly offers
itself to be observed, and, by means of the pervious sphe-
rules of the eyes, passing through the vestibule of percep-
tion and the courts of imagination, enters the chamber of
intellect, taking its place in the couch of memory, where
it engenders the eternal truth of the mind.

" Finally, we must consider what pleasantness of teach-
ing there is in books — how easy ; how secret ! How safely
we lay bare the poverty of human ignorance to books
without feeling any shame ! They are masters who in-
struct us without rod or ferule, without angry words, with-
out clothes or money. If you come to them they are not
asleep ; if you ask and inquire of them, they do not with-
draw themselves ; they do not chide if you make mistakes ;
they do not laugh at you if you are ignorant. O, books —
who alone are liberal and free ; who give to all who ask of
you, and enfranchise all who serve you faithfully — by how
many thousand types are ye commended to learned men
in the Scriptures given us by inspiration of God ? "

Chapter 17, " Of showing due propriety in the custody
of Books," has often been quoted, but will bear it once
more : —

THE PHILOBIBLON OF RICHARD DE BURY. 283

" We are not only rendering service to God in preparing
volumes of new books, but also exercising an office of sacred
piety when we treat books carefully ; and, again, when we
restore them to their proper places and commend them to
inviolable custody ; that they may rejoice in purity while
we have them in our hands, and rest securely when they
are put back in their repositories. And surely, next to
the vestments and vessels dedicated to the Lord's body,
holy books deserve to be rightly treated by the clergy, to
which great injury is done so often as they are touched by
unclean hands. Wherefore we deem it expedient to warn
our students of various negligences, which might always be
easily avoided, and do wonderful harm to books.

" And, in the first place, as to the opening and closing
of books, let there be due moderation, that they be not
unclasped in precipitate haste ; nor, when we have finished
our inspection, be put away without being duly closed.
For it behoves us to guard a book much more carefully
than a boot.

" But the race of scholars is commonly badly brought
up, and, unless they are bridled in by the rules of their
elders, they indulge in infinite puerilities. They behave
with petulance, and are puffed up with presumption ; judg-
ing of everything as if they were certain, though they are
altogether inexperienced.

" You may happen to see some headstrong youth lazily
lounging over his studies, and when the winter's frost is
sharp, his nose, running from the nipping cold, drips down,
nor does he think of wiping it with his pocket-handker-
chief until he has bedewed the book before him with the
ugly moisture. Would that he had before him no book,
but a cobbler's apron ! His nails are stuffed with fetid
filth as black as jet, with which he marks any passage that
pleases him. He distributes a multitude of straws, which

284 THE PIIILOB1BLON OF RICHARD DE BURY.

he inserts to stick out in different places, so that the halm
may remind him of what his memory cannot retain. These
straws, because the book has no stomach to digest them,
and no one takes them out, first distend the book from
its wonted closing, and, at length, being carelessly aban-
doned to oblivion, go to decay. He does not fear to eat
fruit or cheese over an open book, or carelessly to carry a
•cup to and from his mouth ; and, because he has no wallet
at hand, he drops into books the fragments that are left.
•Continually chattering, he is never weary of disputing
with his companions, and while he alleges a crowd of
senseless arguments, he wets the book lying half open in
his lap with sputtering showers. Aye, and then hastily
folding his arms, he leans forward on the book, and, by a
brief spell of study, invites a prolonged nap ; and then, by
way of mending the wrinkles, he folds back the margin of
the leaves, to the no small injury of the book. Now, the
rain is over and gone, and the flowers have appeared in
our land. Then the scholar we are speaking of, a neglec-
ter rather than an inspector of books, will stuff his volume
with violets and primroses, with roses and quatrefoil.
Then he will use his wet and perspiring hands to turn
over the volumes ; then he will thump the white vellum
with gloves covered with all kinds of dust, and, with his
finger clad in long-used leather, will hunt, line by line,
through the page ; then, at the sting of the biting flea,
the sacred book is flung aside, and is hardly shut for
another month, until it is so full of the dust that has found
its way within, that it resists the effort to close it.

" But the handling of books is specially to be forbidden
to those shameless youths who, as soon as they have
learned to form the shapes of letters, straightway, if they
have the opportunity, become unhappy commentators, and
wherever they find an extra margin about the text, furnish

THE PHILOBIBLON OF RICHARD DE BURY. 285

it with monstrous alphabets, or, if any other frivolity
strikes their fancy, at once their pen begins to write it.
There the Latinist and sophister and every unlearned
writer tries the fitness of his pen — a practice that we have
frequently seen injuring the usefulness and value of the
most beautiful books.

" Again, there is a class of thieves shamefully mutilating
books, who cut away the margins from the sides to use as
material for letters, leaving only the text, or employ the
leaves from the ends, inserted for the protection of the
book, for various uses and abuses — a kind of sacrilege
which should be prohibited by the threat of anathema.

" Again, it is part of the decency of scholars that, when-
ever they return from meals to their study, washing should
invariably precede reading, and that no grease-stained
finger should unfasten the clasps or turn the leaves of a
book. Nor let a crying child admire the pictures in the
capital letters, lest he soil the parchment with wet fingers —
for a child instantly touches whatever he sees. Moreover,
the laity, who look at a book turned upside down, just as
if it were open in the right way, are utterly unworthy of
any communion with books. Let the clerk take care also
that the smutty scullion, reeking from his stewpots, does
not touch the lily leaves of books, all unwashed ; but he
who walketh without blemish shall minister to the precious
volumes. And, again, the cleanliness of decent hands
would be of great benefit to books as well as scholars, if it
were not that the itch and pimples are characteristic of
the clergy."

Although we cannot claim for this little book that it
belongs to the first rank in literature, it is a treatise which
we may be permitted to regard with affection, and to be
glad that it has been so well edited, and that the editor is-
a townsman of our own.

A NOTE OF PESSIMISM IN POETRY.

BY JOHN MORTIMER.

IN the February number of the Nineteenth Century Mr.
Frederick Harrison has drawn attention to a dainty
little volume of "Lyrics," written by Mrs. Margaret L.
Woods, the wife of the President of Trinity College,
Oxford. The book has been printed for private circulation,
and as through the kindness of a friend I have been
favoured with the loan of a copy, I have thought it might
not be uninteresting to bring it briefly under notice.

The poems are the expression of a delicate, graceful,
and highly cultivated mind, and as such have a special
attraction ; but the most interesting feature of them is a
certain note of pessimism pervading them, to which Mr.
Frederic Harrison has drawn attention, and which, it seems
to me, is worth consideration. The authoress of the
"Lyrics" has evidently dwelt much upon the problem of
existence, and has embodied in her verses that sense of
warring against fate, the end of which is to take one's
place, it may be, among the forgotten dead. These
forgotten ones, as from a goblet of life, she pledges
thus —

JTNOTE OP PESSIMISM IN POETRY. 237

To the forgotten dead !
Come letjus drink in silence ere we part,
To every fervent yet resolved heart
That brought its tameless passion and its tears,
Renunciation and laborious years,
To lay the deep foundations of our race ;
To rear its stately fabric overhead,
And light its pinnacles with golden grace,
To the unhonoured dead.

To the forgotten dead,

Whose dauntless hands were stretched to grasp the rein
Of Fate, and hurl into the void again,
Her thunder-hoofed horses, rushing blind
Earthward along the courses of the wind,
Among the stars, along the wind in vain
Their souls were scattered and their blood was shed,
And nothing, nothing of them doth remain.

To the thrice perished dead.

The poems display a deep love of Nature, expressed in
one instance thus —

Sweetest earth, I love and love thee,
Seas above thee, skies above thee,
Sun and storms,
Hues and forms

Of the clouds with fleeting shadows,
On thy mountains and thy meadows.

Earth, there's none that can enslave thee,
Not thy lords it is that have thee ;

Not for gold

Art thou sold,

But thy lovers at their pleasure
Take thy beauty and thy treasure.

The singer is one of these lovers who will leave her love
with regret that she has wasted her opportunities.

When at length the grasses cover
Me, the world's unwearied lover,

If regret

Haunt me yefr,
It shall be for joys untasted.
Nature lent and folly wasted

288 A NOTE OF PESSIMISM IN POETRY.

The most restful thing in the world is —

To spend the long warm day,

Silent beside the silent-stealing streams,
To see and gaze,

To hear, not listen, thoughts exchanged for dreams.

To hear the breezes sigh,

Cool in the silver leaves like falling rain,
Pause and go by,

Tired wanderers o'er the solitary plain.

Thus lost to human things,

To blend at last with Nature, and to hear
What songs she sings

Low to herself when there is no one near.

But there is, even in this restfulness, the sense of all the
pain and anguish that has gone before in the earth's history,
so that when she apostrophises the beloved Earth Angel,
she says —

'Twas out of time thou earnest to be ours,
And dead men made thee in the darkling years,
Thy tenderness they bought for thee with tears,
Pity with pain that nothing could requite,
And all thy sweetness springs like later flowers,
Thick on the field of some forgotten fight.

Yet these dead, honoured or unhonoured, are beyond
reach or recall. The singer says —

I dreamed a dream within a dream,

An angel cinctured with the gleam

Of topaz and of chrysoprase,

And circled with the lambent rays

That lightened from his sheathless sword,

Leapt into heaven's deserted ways,

And cried "The message of the Lord."

At the cry men look with anxious faces for the result,
but though the earth trembles at the visitation, and there
is a quiver as of the stirring dead, we are told that though

The great Angel girt with flame
Cried till the heavens were rent around —
" Come forth, ye dead !" Yet no man came.

It is but a mockery, this cry for a resurrection, and there
is left but this reflection —

A NOTE OP PESSIMISM IN POETRY. 28&

0 seed of blood ! 0 eeed of tears,
Thick sown through all our human years !
What harvest do the days return ?
Newk thorns to break, new tares to bum,
New angels sent on earth to reap.
This is the recompense we earn —
Lie still, ye dead, lie still^and sleep.

Then, again reverting to that love of the earth so
strongly expressed, we find the singer in a later strain
mourning the difference between this brief human life
and that enduring one of the great mother, despairing
also of gaining any adequate knowledge of her secrets,
or any reciprocation of love. She says —

Once like a lover I heard,
Once like a lover I pressed
Kiss after kiss on thy breast ;
Once all the rapture that stirred
Streamed from the south and the west,
Flamed from the field and the sky,
Seemed for my heart to exult, seemed to my soul to reply.

But to no life is given the power to penetrate one of
earth's mysteries, or more than taste the ecstacy that flows
from her life. Before that unattainable mystery and
beauty the tired seeker falls, as of old the worn-out
messengers fell at the Delphian's gate. There is none to
interpret, none to comfort. The mother earth rejoices in
a life of her own,. but her offspring are sad in the sense of
the insufficiency of theirs —

Well mayst thou, mother, be glad,
Great in a quenchless belief ;
Well may we grow in our brief
Journey indifferent, or sad*
Witnessing often the leaf
Broaden and wither, we see
Never the full up-shoot and branching growth of the tree.

Thou hearest the giant heart
Of a forest beating low
In the seeds that faint winds sow
On an island far apart ;
And thou canst measure the slow
Lapse of the glittering sea,
When it falls and clings round the land like a robe at a bather's knee.

290 A NOTE OF PESSIMISM IN POETRY.

From the singer there comes an ever recurring sigh,
expressive of that undertone of sadness, a sigh over the
ineffectual sowing of seed. This sense of sowing where
we may not reap finds frequent expression, as in "A
Ballad of the Night," which ends thus —

Sigh, watcher for a dawn remote and gray,
Mourn, journeyer to an undesired deep,
Eternal sower, thou that shalt not reap,
Immortal, whom the plagues of God devour,
Mourn — 'tis the hour when thou wast wont to pray ;
Sigh in the silence of the midnight hour.

Or again —

Woe to the seed

The winds carry
O'er fallow and mead !

They do not tarry.

They seek the sea,

The barren strand,
Where foam -flakes flee,

O'er the salt land.

Where the sharp spray

And sand are blown,
In the wind's play

The seed is sown.

There is a sigh, too, for the ineffectual power of love to
reach the loved one —

With thoughts too lovely to be true,
With thousand, thousand, dreams I strew
The path that you must come ; and you
r Will find but dew.

I set an image in the grass,
A shape to smile on you ; alas !
It is a shadow in a glass —
And so will pass.

I break my heart here, love, to dower,

With all its inmost sweet your bower ;

What scent will greet you in an hour ?

The gorse in flower.

A NOTE OF PESSIMISM IN POETRY. 291

These lines remind one, in a certain echoing way, that
the singer of these lyrics has taken a note from Mrs.
Browning's "Vision of Poets "as the key to her music,
and says —

If what is true is sweet
In something I may compass it

I have said that the pessimism running through many
of these lyrics is the most interesting feature of them.
There is, however, very much of sweetness and grace of
thought and expression, which gives to them a charm
independent of this psychological consideration. Pessimism
is not a new note in poetry. Every one who reads these
lyrics will, as Mr. Frederic Harrison has, be reminded of
Omar Khayyam and the spirit of his Rubdiydt. Writers,
somewhat pessimistic themselves, like Ruskin, have drawn
attention to a certain lack of faith among the poets and
thinkers of this later time. It is a spirit, he says, which
leads us to " seek for wild and lonely places because we
have no heart for the garden." In these lyrics will be
found a " Nocturne," in which the singer says —

The desolate heath
Over the sea
Is the place for me,
When a wind upleaps
Seaward and sweeps
The horizon clear,
Widening beneath
Darkens the heath.

0 but for me,

Purple of pine

In a sandy clime,

Where the night-wind's breath

Will bare us soon

The wan young moon.

A desolate heath

Over the sea,

Is the place for me

292 A NOTE OF PESSIMISM IN POETRY.

In estimating the place of this pessimism in art, it
should be remembered that poetry is as multitudinous and
varied in its forms of expression as Nature. Its province
is wide and illimitable, and, like other forms of art, there
is in it no finality. As one principal end of it is to produce
a mood of mind, room is found within it for the reflection
of every possible mood. The productive mood and that
induced by it may be but transitory things, like the
changing light on a landscape, or their sources and effects
may be of a more serious and permanent kind. The
poetical expression may represent either a passing emotion
or a settled conviction. It is, therefore, desirable that we
should be careful to discriminate between these possi-
bilities. Injustice is sometimes done to a poet by
attributing to him as an abiding conviction what was only
the artistic reflection of a passing mood. We should
remember, too, that an artist may be distinct from the
expression of his art, may, in fact, like Lucretius, be
"nobler than his mood." Whether this pessimism, with
its despairing note, so beautifully and gracefully expressed,
or the optimism which holds that —

Good shall fall
At last, far off at last to all,

is the correct view of life it is not for the literary critic to
decide ; but though it may have no value in philosophy,
the poetical expression of a pessimistic mood is a psycho-
logical manifestation that may well occupy our attention.

THE CHURCH OF THE LITTLE FAWN.

BY WILLIAM E. A. AXON.

[THE following is a modern reading of the traditional account of the foundation
by St. Patrick of the Cathedral of Armagh, as given in the life of the Saint in
the " Book of Armagh."]

GLAD was the heart of Patrick on that day
When Daire came in brotherhood to him.
Thus said the chieftain to that holy man :
" When first thou cam'st, I churlishly refus'd
To give the Hill of Willows for thy church ;
And when I gave a lowly plot of ground
(So taking back part of my gift to God),
Turned into it my noble steed to graze.
My heart was filled with murder when it died,
And I sent forth to slay thee where thou stood.
Eut scarcely had the vengeful vassal left,
When I fell down as one that is stone dead.
But my true wife, who knew the punishment
Came from my sin against the Christian folk,
Straight sent to stop thy slaying, and to beg
Thy holy blessing for a sinful man.
Thy prayers restored to life my steed and me,
And I was grateful, but my wayward heart
Betrays me into many sudden sins.

294 THE CHURCH OF THE LITTLE FAWN.

In gratitude unfeigned I sent to thee

The wondrous cauldron sent me from afar,

The work of some great artist's mighty hand ;

But yet my foolish heart was vexed to hear

1 1 thank you ' from thy lips, and nothing more ;

No words of praising for that goodly gift.

And then I took it from thee, and again

' I thank you ' were the only words provoked.

Since loss and gain are both alike to thee,

God must be with thee, and thou art His man.

Thy soul is steadfast as thy Maker's laws.

Lo, now my vassals bring again to thee

The brazen vessel from beyond the main.

Keep it in Dairy's name, and for his sake

Whose soul thou hast subdued to better things."

" I thank you " came from Patrick's lips again,

And sweetly fell the words on Dairy's ear.

" But not alone the cauldron shalt thou have,

But the high Hill of Willows for thy church.

No longer in the vale, but on the heights,

As is befitting for the Church of God.

And, as there is a force within my soul

That sometimes plucks me from the good I'd do,

Let us go forth and settle where to place

The church where thou and thine in prayer and praise

Shall worship God, who works His will with all."

" I thank you," Patrick said, " and I thank God

That in your heart hath put this pious thought."

Then they went forth, the chieftain and the saint,

And with them white robed singers, fighting men,

And Dairy's vassals, rough and rude of speech.

On the hillside, and to the upland plain

The glad procession moved, and Patrick's face

Shone with prophetic peace and gentleness ;

THE CHURCH OF THE LITTLE FA WN. 295

Then came they to a field wherein there lay

A milk-white fawn beside its milk-white dam.

The startled doe fled swift away ; the fawn,

With piteous bleat, was caught by Daire's men.

" Let it be slain," they said, " and let its blood

Mark the high altar of thy holy church."

" Not so," said Patrick, "give the fawn to me."

And whilst they wondered, raised it in his arms

As tenderly as mother holds her babe :

" Here shall the altar be, but not with blood,

And not with slaughter shall its stones be marked.

God loveth all His creatures, man and beast."

Then came the doe back to St. Patrick's side,

And rubbed against his robes as though she knew

Her fawn was safe within those pitying arms.

The chieftain marvelled much to see this sight,

For life was little sacred in his eyes,

Either of man, or of God's poorer sort.

St. Patrick gently placed the little fawn

Upon the tender grass beside the doe,

And watched them gambol in secure delight.

" Here will we build an altar to our God

Who loveth all His creatures, man and beast ;

In Paradise He placed them girt with love,

No bloodshed marked its stainless flowers and fruits,

And all were happy in the Father's love.

Here will we preach glad tidings of great joy

To bring again the Paradise of old ;

When love shall rule, and bloodshed pass away.

In all the holy mountain of the Lord

They shall not kill nor slay, but perfect peace

Shall reign among all creatures God hath made."

Heard with awe red Daire' and his train

These saintly words, but they were men of blood,

£96 THE CHURCH OF THE LITTLE FA WN.

Whose kindly hearts were choked by evil use ;
A world of peace was far beyond their dream.
To them, mankind was not one brotherhood,
But angry tribes, the rightful spoil of war.
Yet in their midst the Armagh Church was built-
Church of the Little Fawn St. Patrick spared —
Symbol that all of living kind are kin ;
Bidding the good in every age to seek
The binding of the earth in links of love —
Not humankind alone — but bird and beast,
That all may live their life and have God's joy
Till all creation rest in perfect peace.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

BY PKOF. FRANCIS WILLIAM NEWMAN.

INTRODUCTION.

IT is impossible to defend in few words the marks here
used, though all are familiar. If one too busy to read
a half grammatical tract be enticed by Virgil's name to
read this specimen, he will see how little marks and small
changes alter the aspect of the text.

With two dots above a vowel, a, e, i, o, ii express the
.ZVame-sounds of our five vowels, viz., the vowel-sounds of
our Hay, He, High, Ho, Hew.

With the grave accent, a is as in Car, Cast, Pass, Father,
Grasp ; 6, as in Broad, Cross, Loss, Off, Short, and u (Italian
short u), as in Bull, Full, Put, Pull (in the South).

With the circumflex, a = aw, au, as in All, Hall ; e = a,
only in Break, Fete, Great, Steak ; i (French) in Marine,
Machine; 6 = 60, in Do, Who, Shoe, Tomb; u, as in Rue,
Blue, Fruit.

THE MANCHESTER QUARTERLY. No. XXXII., OCTOBER, 1889.

298 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "

Thus 6 and u have the same sound. So You, Your,
Youth, Soup.

After W or Qu peculiarly, a has the sound of short o.

In many words o is sounded as English u in rmud ; as
Honey, Comfort, Touch.

In a few words the Scottish utterance of ear seems true,
as in Pearl, Earl, Heart (which we confound with Hart) ;
then I mark the e grave.

I borrow c?, w?, sir?, from printers of the last century.
Gould for Cound, is a blunder.

The introduction of these marks, being voluntary, will
never give embarrassment. But I also distinguish thin
th, by 0, hard g as in gird, gimlet ; hard ch (Greek), as in
echo, chaos ; soft (French) ch, as in Chaise with cedilla ;
French j by inverted j, as in vifion. Grammatical rule
often bids us sound z as s, but sometimes we need a mark
to contrast Absent with Present (Present), Loose with
Lose, Grease (subst.) with Grease (Greaze) verb.

A dot under s to give the sound of z is seldom needful?
yet sometimes urgently ; as in (his), lose, cheese, raise,
present.

I undertake only half of Isaac Pitman's problem, i.e.,
" to enable a child or a foreigner to read correctly a given
text." The other half, " to enable a stranger, on hearing
English, to write down correctly what he hears," not only
needs a total present revolution, but perhaps a change
again and again recurring in that which ought to be per-
manent.

If our school books and placards on school walls were
duly marked, it would be half the battle. Will English-
men delay Reform till it comes as Revolution ?

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "^NEID." 299

THE ".ENEID" OF VIRGIL, BOOK I.
Arms sing I, and the man by Fate outdriv'n,
Who first on Italy from strand of Troy
Debark'd beside Lavinum. Much did he
From force supernal bear, on field and flood
5 T6st by fell Juno's unforgetting ire.

Much too in war endiir'd, striving the while
A city to uprear and plant his gods
On Latian border : whence the Latin race
And Alban sires and walls of 16fty Rome.

10 Oh Muse ! acquaint me, — for what deed profane
Or what resenting, did the Queen of Hev'n
To many a toil on many a wheel of chance
A man of signal piety constrain 1
In hev'nly souls can wra# so deep abide 1

15 An anQient city, colony from Tyre,

Stood up confronting Italy afar

And mouths of Tiber ; affluent of we!0,

Yet fierce in battle's disciplin'd array, —

Garbage ; which Juno more than other lands
20 Cherish't (they say) peculiar ; Samos' self
dear accounting. Here her armory,

1 The man, Aineiaa or Aeneas.

4 Flood, blood, soot, are often in the north sounded with the vowel of southern
book, stood, perhaps correctly.

19 Carthage, Modern Tunis.

300 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

Here stood her car. The goddess e'en of yore
Purpos'd, and nurs'd the hope (did Fate allow)
That o'er the peeples Carnage sh? be queen.

25 Yet had she heard, " a folk from Troian blood
Springe^, which wide of sway and proud in arms
Shall march to Libya's utter overcrow
And 'one day raze the Tyrian citadels :
Thus spin the Sisters 0ree." — The spell appall'd

30 Saturnia, Troy's old war remembering,

Which, for dear Argos, foremost she had wag'd.
Nor from her soul were yet the goads of wra#
And fierce resentment dropt. Deep in her brest
Recorded lay the hated dynasty ;

35 Th' award of Paris and her sl'ihted charms
And favor shown to Ganymedes rapt.
Stung by such 06ht, afar from Latium
She on the tossing flood those Troians kept,
Poor remnant, which from Danai had scap't

40 And from Achilles rancor. Many a year

Hunted by Fate, the seas around they roam'd.

So stark the toil Rome's families to plant.
Scarce had they lost the siht of Sicily,
Joyful, with sail outspred, — their copper keels
45 Cleaving the foamy brine ; when Juno, still

29 The Three Fates.

30 Juno, daughter of Saturn.

39 Dstiiai, poetical name of the early Greeks.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "sENEID." 301

Nursing within her brest th' eternal w6und

Thus ponder'd : " Shall I, baffled in my aim,

Desist defeated, helpless to avert

Troy's king from Italy ?— Ay ! Fate forbids.
50 Miht Pallas burn the Argive fleet, and whelm

Its warriors on the deep, all for the guilt

And frenzy of 'one man, Oileus' son ?

She, lanching from the cloud Jove's vivid fires

Their navy scatter'd, harried all the seas,
55 And him, with brest transpierc'd, outbreathing flame,

She cauht in whirl of wind, and stak'd on pointed crag.

While I, who m6ve majestic, Queen of gods,

Sister and wife of Jove, with 'one sole race

From year to rolling year wage fruitless war.
60 Henceforfl to Juno's pow'r will any bow,

And supplicant with gifts her altars crown V

Such wrongs uprolling in her kindled heart,
Quick to Ai6lia, home of massy cloud,
Birth-issues of mad blast, the goddess came.

65 Here Aiolus, the king, in cavern vast

The struggling winds and hooting storms controls
And curbs with chains and prison. Wraflful they,
With mihty rumbling of the mountain, growl,
Their bars disdaining. He, with sceptred hand,

70 A16ft upon a pinnacle en0ron'd,

50 Argives and Archains— portions of the Greeks— frequently used for the whole.
52 The lesser " Ajax" or Alas of Homer.

302 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "JtNEID."

Softens their mettle, moderates their ire,

Else w? ear#, seas, and the profound of Hev'n,

Cauht in their rapid fliht, be swept away.

Fearing such wrack, the Sire omnipotent
75 Wall'd them in gloomy caverns, and abov

Brute masses overlaid and mountains hih,

And nam'd a king, who as Himself mint bid,

Sh5J by fixt law the reins hold tiht or loose.

Him Juno thus entreated : " Aiolus !
80 To thee the Sire of Hev'n and King of Ear6>

Ha0 giv'n to soothe or rouse the billowy main.

A race in feud with me on Tuscan flood

Now sailed, bearing to Italia's shore

Troy and her household train of vanquish'd gods.
85 Enforce thy gales ; scatter or sink the fleet,

And with men's carcases bestud the sea.

Twice sev'n briht nymfs are mine : fairest of these,

Deiopeia, paragon of form,

To thee in wedlock firm will I unite
90 And consecrate as thine. For such deserts

She shall with thee the circling years wear out
And by a beuteus 6ffspring make thee sire."

To her thus Aiolus : " Thy task it is,
0 Queen, thy wishes to unravel ; mine
95 Is, duly to obey, aware that thou
Winnest for me the heart of Jupiter
And sceptred miht and all my royalty,

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "MNEID." 303

Thou to the feast of gods admittest me
And sway bestowest over cloud and storm."

100 He spake, and with his spear-staff struck amain
The hollow mountain-side. 0roh bursten gate
As soldiers rush in column, so the gales
Pour whirling o'er the ghampain. On the sea
Next settling, — Eurus, Notus, and the force

105 Of squally Africus, the lowest deep

Upturn, and roll huge billows to the shore.
Forflwith the strain'd ropes creak : man shouts to man.
Clouds from the Troian eyes snatch hev'n and day
Sadden, and o'er the flood Niht gloomy broods.

110 Hih hev'n Sunders, lihtning flashes fast :
All things around to men bode speedy de#.
At 'once cold drills unnerve Aineias' lims,
He moans, and raising open palms to hev'n, —
" Happy, 0rice happy ye " (he cries) " who earn'd

115 A warrior's de# before your parents' eyes
Beneafl Troy's 16fty walls ! 0 bravest chief
Of Danai, — Tydides ! what forbad
Me by thy mihty arm on Iliac plains.
To fall, and there to breathe this spirit away,

120 Where by the spear of Peleus' child o'erflrown

104 Eurus (in poetry) prevalently the East Wind, or nearly so ; Notus, the South
Africus, South West.

118 The Plains of Ilion; as the City of Troas is named in Homer.
120 Achilles, son of Peleus.

304 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "J1NEID:

Fierce Hector lie#, and where huge of bulk
Sarpedon ; where our natal Simo'is
Inmimerus adown his current rolls
Bucklers and helms and corpses of the brave."

125 Amid such outcry stormy Aquilo

Smites on his sail and lifts the billows h'ih.
The oars ar snapt : the vessel sideway turns
Within the surges : then upon her falls,
Precipitate, a mountain-heap of wave.

130 These on the billow's verge hang pois'd; to those
The yawning brine shows the hard bottom, vext
By boiling tide. Notus o'erhending drives
0ree ships on rocks, — rocks ambush'd in mid sea,-
Altars th' Italians name them, — ridge immense,

135 Scarce rising o'er the summit of the flood.
0ree into shallows hurried (pite'us siht),
Eurus enwraps in quagmire, there on reefs
Stranded, and with a wall of sand begirt.
From 'one, which Lycians and Orontes bare,

140 Their fai$ful leader, — in Aiueias' view

A monster sea down-plunging on the stern
Washes the master off, hedlong ; but she,
0rice by the seething waters twisted round
Founders ; in mid abyss quick swallowed up.
145 Few, few ar seen, swimming in vasty deep.

125 Aquilo, in Greek, Boreas, North East wind.
132 Overtaking, catching.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "JENEID." 305

Bucklers of war and planks and costly wares
Float on the billows. Next, the storm o'erpow'rs
Ilioneus' stout bark and those which hold
Abas, Achates brave, Alethes old,
150 And each 0r6h yielding junctures of the ribs

And trecherus chinks, lets in th' unfrendly gush.

Neptune meanwhile heard from the wurried sea

Murmurs confus'd, and felt the storm let loose,

And currents up-ward suck'd from nether pools.
155 Sorely displeas'd, abov the surge he rear'd

His placid hed to overlook the deep.

O'er all the main wide-scatter'd, he beholds

Aineias' navy, and Troy's sons o'erborne

By waves and downfal of the lofty sky.
160 Nor from her brother were the wiles and wra#

Of Juno hid. He summons to his side

Eurus and Zefyrus, then thus rebukes :

" Doth hev'nly bir#, ye winds ! such pride instil 1

Dare ye, without my bidding, to up-heave
165 Such mass of waters, mingling Ear# and Sky?

Whom I — but first the billows must I quell :

For guilt here-after dearer shall ye pay.

Hasten your fliht, and to your king report

This mandate. Not to him the trident dred
170 And empire of the deep abyss ar giv'n,

162 East and West winds.

306 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "J1NEID."

But fall by lot to me. Huge rocks he holds,
Thy mansions, Eurus ! there let Aiolus
In his own hall disport him gldrius,
And in the winds' close prison reyn supreme."

175. He spake ; then, quicker than the wurd, allays
The swollen waters, drives to flint the train
Of clouds embattled, and brings back the sun.
Thereat Kym6#oe and Triton strain
And from sharp reef the vessels heave. Himself

180 Uplifting with the trident, cleaves a way
6roh the vast quicksands, pacifies the sea,
And with liht wheels glides o'er the topmost wave.
As when sedition 6ft in crowded town
Ha# blaz'd abroad, and senseless hate drives-6n

185 Th' ignoble folk; now stones, now torches fly,
(For, fury tools supplies), then, if perchance
Som man for piety and wur# esteem'd
Com into view, at 'once with ears attent
They stand in silence. He, by wurd sedate,

190 Softens their bosom, curbs their insolence;
So fell th' upr6ar of waters, while the Sire
O'erlooks his briny relms and rides abr6ad
Under clear sky, and from auspigius car
Guides with loose rein his coursers' happy speed.

195 Aineias' mariners outwearied strive

The nearest land to reach, and bend their aim

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "sENEID." 307

To Libya's border. Here in deep recess

A harbor find they, where, with rocky sides,

A sheltering iland hurls back every wave,
200 And drives to secret creeks the broken surf.

On either side huge cliffs : twin peaks to Hev'n

Shoot up, and under them the waters safe

Ar hush'd. The landscape waves with forest bouhs

Al6ft, and casts a gloomy shade below.
205 Fronting hereto, by beetling crags is fram'd

A grotto haunted by the Nymfs, wherein

Sweet water rills, and seats of solid rock

Ar nativ. There no leaky vessels need

Mooring, nor hooked bite of ancorage.
210 Hither Aineias leads, with seven ships

From all his number gather' d. Then the crews

Outleaping joyful from their vessels, gain

The land with longings vehement desir'd,

And on the sand their lims brine-sodden stow.
215 First from a flint Achates struck the spark,

In dry leaves catching it, and plenteus gave

Fuel around and snatch'd the waking flame.

The gifts of Ceres by the waters marr'd,

Tools too of Ceres next, the toil-worn men
220 Hand for# alert, and quick the rescued grain

Scorch in the fire and crush with massy stone.

198 The harbor of Garbage was celebrated of Old, but is too shallow for our modern
ships.

308 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "

Meanwhile Aineias climbs aloft and scans
The mihty deep wide-stretching, if perchance
An$eus with Phrygian barges tost he see,

225 Or Capys and Caicus' lofty poops.

No sail in view ! but on the shore Oree stags
Roving appear : behind them long in train
Follows the herd and browses o'er the vale.
Here halted he : then the swift shafts and bow, —

230 Arms which Achates trusty bare, — he seiz'd
And first the leaders, bearing hih their heds
With branchy antlers, low on ear# he lays.
Next on the meaner crowd his arrows fly,
Which rout them scudding #roh the leafy groves.

235 Nor stays he, till benea# his conquering hand
Sev'n mihty bodies fall upon the soil,
Equal in number to his galleys' tale.
Thereon the harbour seeks he, and imparts
This booty to his comrades. Next, the wines,

240 Which on Trinacrian shore in well-fill'd jars
The good Akestis gave as parting boon,
He shares, — and soothes with wurds their doleful hearts.

" Comrades ! no strangers to calamity !
Wurse in the past ye suffer'd : so again
245 To new disasters God shall giv an end.
Ye ni'h to Skulla's outrages hav past

240 Trinacrian, i.e. triangular. Poetical epithet for Sicilian.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "JtNEID." 309

Beside her vaults deep-echoing. Trial ye

Of Cyclopean rocky dens hav made.

Recal your courage ; banish fell dismay.
250 Haply hereafter these distresses too

In memory may please. Persistent we,

0r6h varius chances, dangers manifold,

To Latin soil press onward, where the Fates

Tranquil abodes hold for#. There may at length
255 Troy's royalty revive. Then firm endure,

And save yourselves for glad prosperity."

Thus spake he, s6rely care-worn : while his face
Glistens with hope, his heart hides grief profound.
His men bestir them for the dainty food.

260 Stripping the hides, they lay the inwards bare.

The flesh, chopt small for roast, some pierce with spits ;

Others benea# big cauldrons kindle flame.

Then strengfl recruit they by the viands rich,

And, lounging on the grass, with mellow wine ar fill'd.

265 Hunger thus banish' d and the trays remov'd,
In long discourse for comrades lost they s'ih,
Doubtful 'twixt hope and fear, whether to deem
They liv, or meet the wurst, nor longer hear
Call of their frends. But good Aineias chief

270 Mourns for Orontes keen ; next too the loss
Of Amycus, and Lycus' cruel fate,
And Gyas and Cloanflus, valiant both.

310 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

But sorrow found its close, when Jupiter
From hihest se#er looking o'er the deep
275 Sail-fluttering, and on lands beneafl him laid
And shores and peoples wide ; in hev'n supreme
Paus'd, fixing on the Libyan relms his gaze
And while such cares his bosom occupy,
Venus, with tears bedimming her briht eyes
280 Sadly accosted him : "0 thou, whdse rule,
O'er gods alike and men, eternal sways,
Fierce with the Imtning ! what to anger thee
C4 my Aineias or his Troians do,
By deO sore ravag'd? men to whom is clos'd
285 Because of Italy the wurld entire.

Surely 'twas thy behest, my Sire, that hence,
As years roll'd on, from Teucer's blood recall'd
Romans hereafter, an imperial race,
Were bound to rise, whose dverswaying grasp
290 All seas, all lands sh? compass. What resolve
Changes thee now 1 To me thy promis sooth'd
The fall of Troy and dire calamity,
If fate revers'd w^ evil fates repay.
Yet the same doom relentless now pursues
295 Men misery-driv'n. Miihty King ! what end'
Of toils allot test thou 1 From Troy of late
Antenor, slipping #roh Achaian foes,

283. Any very handsome hero was admired by the phrase, " His mother must have
been a goddess." See Homer's II. viii. 305. The Greek poets turn'd metaphor into fact.
Thus Achilles and Aineias each has a goddess mother.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIROWS "J2NEID." 311

Safe refuge found beyond Liburnian relms

In inmost corner of Illyric bay.
300 Him n6ht forbad Timavus' fount to stem,

Whence 0r6h nine mouths with rumbling of the hill

A sea of water bursts in wall abrupt

And whelms the champain in its sounding tide.

Here he the city Padova c* found,
305 Abodes of Teucri. To the race of Troy

A name he gave, and Troian arms fixt hih.

Now tranquil in the lap of peace he rests.

But we, thy offspring, destin'd by thy nod

To mount hi'h hev'n, — our fleet destroy'd (dire tale)
310 6r6h spleen of 'One — betray'd ar we, and kept

Far from Italia's coast. Is this the meed

Of piety ? Dost thus our throne restore 1 "

Smiling on her with countenance that calms

The sky and storms, the Sire of men and gods
315 First sipp'd his dauhter's lip, then thus replied :

" 0 Kuflereia, spare thy fears : unchang'd

Abide to thee thy children's destinies.

The promis't city, wall'd Lavi'nium,

Thine eyes shall see, and to the stars al6ft
320 Magnanimus Aineias shalt thou bear,

Peer of the gods : unalter'd my resolve. —

He — for to Thee, by care tormented sore,

298 Liburnia, now Croatia.
310 'One, i.e, Juno.

312 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "JJNEID."

Fate's deeper secrets further will I stir, —

By mihty war in Italy shall crush
325 Fierce nativ peeples and establish law

By walls encastled ; till in Latium

Gree summers view his reyn, and winters #ree

Pass o'er Rutulians to his sway submiss.

Ascanius, his boy, who now acquires
330 lulus as surname ('twas Ilus 'once,

While royal fortune stood in Ilion) —

Shall flirty years grand-circling reyn supreme,

Then from Lavinium transfer his #rone

And with hih miht Long Alba fortify.
335 Here for flree hundred years complete shall kings

Of Hector's race preside, till Ilia,

Priestess and Queen, to Mars, her secret mate,

Shall yield twin offspring at a single bir#.

Then, proud in tawny wolf's hide, Romulus,
340 By she-wolf suckled, shall to pow'r succeed,

Raise martial walls, and found the Roman name.

To them no me Cure and no time I fix ;

Sway without bound I grant. Yea, Juno's self,

Who now in wra# Sea, Earfl, and Hev'n alarms,
345 Shall better her resolves, and nurse with me

Romans, the gowned folk, lords paramount.

Such my decree. In register of Time

On-gliding, shall an era com, wherein

Chieftains from old Assaracus deriv'd

349-351 Assaracus (an ancient king of Troy) carries the mind to Chaldea and Assyria,
F#'ia city of Achilles ; Myceiie, city of Agamemnon : Argos, city of Diomedes.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "^ENEID." 313

350 Shall make of F0ia and Mycene briht

Vassals, and over Argos domineer.

From Troy, fair source ! shall Troian Kaisar spring,

Whdse sway the Ogean, fame the Stars, shall bound,

From gre"at lulus titled Julius.
355 Him, laden with the spoils of Eastern relms,

Thou, free from care, shalt welcome to the sky,

Som day : he too by vows shall be invok'cl.

Wars laid aside,, the age shall milder grow.

Antique Fidelity and Vesta then, —
360 Quirinus to his brother Remus join'd,

Shall rihts award. The dredful gates of War

With clamps of iron tihtly shall be shut.

Within brute Rage, on savage wepon 0ron'd,

Knotted by hundred links of brass behind,
365 In vain from gory mou# will horrid growl."

This utter'd, Maia's son from hi'h he sends
Kind welcome to prepare for Teucrian folk
In Carflaginian lands and rising tow'rs,
Lest Dido, witless of the Fates, forbid
370 Admission. — 0roh the vast expanse he flies,
Oar'd by his wings, and quick on Libyan soil
Ali'hts, nor fails his mission to fulfil.
At 'once the Piines, concordant with the God,

354 The poet means Augustus Caesar, then alive, who had been adopted from the Octa-
vian to the Julian family.

3C6 Maia's son, Mercury.

373 Piines (i.e., Phoenicians) was the Roman name for the whole Carflaginian confederacy.
V

314 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "J2NEID."

Harsh 06hts renounce ; and chief, herself the Queen,

375 Kind feeling to the sea-worn men admits.
But good Aineias, #6htful all the ni'ht,
So soon as balmy liht is giv'n, goes for0
Strange places to explore. Fain wd he learn
Whither the winds hav borne him ; what abodes

380 Of beasts or men they be (for all is wild),
And to his comrades tidings siire report.
The fleet beneafl a hollow cliff he hides,
Within a leafy nook, enclos'd around
With trees and awful shadows. For0 he steps,

385 Achates only by his side. Two wands

Arm'd with broad iron, quiver in his hand.
Him in mid forest did his mother dear
Confront ; in dress and arms and countenance
Like Spartan maid or Gracian Amazon,

390 Whdse steeds in gallop swift the wind outstrip.
For from her shoulders hung a handy bow
In huntress' fashion : by the breeze her hair
Was freely tost. Naked her knee, beneafl
Her flowing lappets gathered in a knot.

395 " Ho ! youfls !" — commencing talk, she cries — " impart,
If of my sisters any ye hav seen
This way or that way roving, girded each
With quiver and with hide of spotted lynx ;
Haply in hot pursuit of foaming boar."

400 So Venus spake, and Venus' son replied :

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "jENElD." 315

None of thy sisters hav by me been seen,

Or heard, 0 — h6w may I address thee 1 Maid ?

Not mortal is thy face, nor do0 thy voice

Proclaim thee human. Sure ! a Goddess thou,
405 Sister of Phoebus haply, or in race

A Nymf. Whate'er thou art, be blest,

And pity our distresses. Teach us first

Benea0 what sky, in what abodes of Ear0,

Alike of men' and places ignorant,
410 We wander, hither-t6st on mihty waves

And driv'n by winds. On altar hih to thee,

Slain by my hand, shall many a victim fall."

To him then Venus : " Surely not to me

Deem I such honor due. We maids of Tyre
415 Ar wont with quiver at the back to ride

While purple boots hih case the nether lims.

Tyre and Agenor's peeple here upraise

A Punic royalty. The lands' ar claim'd

By Libyans, a race untam'd in war.
420 But D'ido, Tyrian 6ffspring, holds the sway,

Shunning her brother. Lengfly were the tale,

Complex the maze of guilt The chief events

L'ihtly I touch. Her spouse Sychaius was,

In bread^ of acres richest of his peers
425 And lov'd intensely by the hapless wife.

To him her father by first auspices

426 First wedding with augurs in attendance.

316 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

Gave her as virgin bride. But over Tyre
Pygmalion her brother kingship held,
A man before all others hiige in guilt.

430 Betwixt the tw6 came Frenzy. Impius he,
Blinded by lust of gold, with stelfly blade
Before the altar stabs him unaware,
Eeckless to wound his sister's heart. The deed
Long he conceal'd ; and forging many a lie

435 With vain hope cheated he the love-sick wife.
But in her dreams the image of her lord
Unburied corns, raising its pallid face
Marvel of woe, and all the crime lays bare,
The murderus altar and the mangled brest.

440 Then urges he in sudden speed to quit
Her nativ land ; and, aidful to her flint,
Trefures of gold and silver, weiht untold,
Benea0 the soil deep buried, he reveals.
Then Dido, goaded by the vifion, plans

445 Voyage and comrades. Whomso keen alarm
Or fierce abhorrence of the tyrant moves,
These join her. Galleys they pick up, whate'er
Eedy is found, and lade with gold. The wel#,
For which Pygmalion hanker'd, o'er the deep

450 Is carried : such emprize a WOMAN leads.

The spot they reach'd, where mihty ramparts now
Of rising Carnage shall thine eyes behold.
Land too they b6ht, — how much a hide of bull

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "jENEID." 317

Miht compass : Bursa therefor cail'd they it.
455 But ye ! wh6 ar ye ? from what region com,

And whither tend ye 1 " . . . To such questions he

With sih and deepdrawn utterance replied :

"If from the first, 0 goddess ! I retrace

The annals of our toil, and thou to hear
460 Hav leifiire — surely o'er Olympus hih

The star of Eve will sooner close the day.

From ancient Troy (if haply to your ears

Rumor of Troy hav reach'd) o'er diverse seas

A random tempest cast us here adrift
465 On Libyan border. I Aineias am,

Hi'h of repute and pi'us, wh6 with me

My Lares carry, rescued from the foe.

My angient country Italy I seek :

My pedigree I trace to hihest Jove.
470 With twenty galleys on the Phrygian deep

I ventiir'd, trusting to responses hih,

My goddess mother guiding. Scarcely now

D6 sev'n remain by storm and billows torn.

He're all unknown and needy, doom'd am I
475 0r6h Libyan wilderness to roam at large,

From Europe and from Asia driv'ii aloof."

Such plaint no longer mint his mother bear,
But interposing, thus his grief assuaged.

454 Probably Busra, i.e., Bozra of our Hebrew,— a stronghold.
467 Lares, gods of the hearth or home.

318 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

" Whoe'er thou art, that now this Tyrian seat

480 Approachest, not unfavor'd by the gods,
Thou vital air inhalest. Forward go,
And on the royal #reshold show thyself.
Thy fleet and comrades by reverse of gale
Announce I wafted safe, unless in vain

485 My erring parents tauht me augury.

Lo ! yon twelve swans in troop exultant, whom
Jove's bird down-gliding from hih ae0er scar'd
In open sky ; but now in leng#y train
Som upon ear# ali'ht, som hover near.

490 As these, returning, sport with whirring wings,
Circle in flock and scream responsivly,
So of thy sailor-lads and galleys, som
The port have reach'd, and som sail proudly in.
Onward ! and follow where the pa0 may lead."

495 Speaking, she turn'd away, with rosy neck
Resplendent. From her crown ambrosial hair
Shed hev'nly odor : to the feet below
Her raiment stream'd, the while her gait reveal'd
The genuin goddess. He his mother knew,

500 And with remonstrance her departure plain'd.
" Ah ! why so 6ften mockest thou thy son
In false disguises *? Cruel too art thou.
Why thus forbiddest hand in hand to join,
And loving wurds to utter and receive 1 "

505 Thus chiding, tow'rd the walls he forward steps.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "JJNEID." 319

Them, as they mov'd, did Venus screen in mist,

Abundant shedd around, that non mint see

Or touch them, or delays contrive, or ask

What causes brbht them. SHE aloft departs
510 Joyful, to Paphos borne, her own abodes ;

Where stand her hundred altars, and her shrine

Reeks with Sabaean fumes and garlands fresh.

Meanwhile, directed by the pa#, they march. —

A hill's brbad mass abov the city hangs,
515 And overpeers the castles : this they climb.

The prince admires the buildings, whilom huts ;

Admires the gates, the noise, the streets well-pav'd.

Eager the Tyrians hasten. Ramparts som

Mark out, and plan a fortress ; massy stones
520 Up the ascent they heave. For men's abode

Som fix a spot and close it with a trench.

Som bisied ar, judges and magistrates

And senators august, by vote to choose ;

Docks som ar scooping : som for heaters
525 Lay deep foundations, and from cliffs hew out

Tall pillars, ornaments of future scenes.

As in new summer 0r6h the flowery field
The sun to earnest labor calls the bees,
When first the young brood swarms, or when they pack
530 The liquid honey and distend the cells ;

512 Frankincense of Sheba.

320 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

They burdens bear alternate, or in ranks
Serried expel the drones, ignoble folk ;
The wurk ferments ; fragrant the honey breathes :
" 0 happy ye, whose walls alredy rise,"
535 Aineias moans, and to the city's tops

His eye uplifts : then in 0ick haze begirt,
He passes (strange to tell) amid the folk.
Lost in the crowd ; seeing and yet unseen.

In the mid city rose a grove, of shade

540 Delihtful ; where, by gales and billows tost
The Piines on first arrival dug from ear# —
Omen of good, by royal Juno shown —
A horse's hed, token of brilliant wars,
And food #hroh ages to their race assiir'd.

545 Here Tyrian Dido w* to Juno rear

An ample shrine with gifts and statue rich.
Brazen the 0reshold-steps ; with brass the beams
Were clamp'd : on brazen hinges creak'd the doors.
First in this grove a novel siht allay'd

550 Aineias' fears and gave him bolder trust
Of safety, and good hope mid evil lot.
For while, the Queen awaiting, he surveys
Whate'er the temple holds, and wondering cons
The artist's skill, the city's future lot.

555 Pictiir'd he sees the feats at Ilion

In war now bruited 0roh the wurld entire.
Priam and Atreus' sons and fierce to b60

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "^NEID." 321

Achilles, here ar shown. Then tearful he

Says : " What abodes, Achates, under hev'n
560 Know not our toil 1 See Priam ! even he're

Is paid due meed to Virtue. Human woe

Toches the soul, and tears responsiv start.

Fear not ! som safety 0r6h our fame will com."

Thus speaking, he on empty colors feeds
565 His moaning heart, the while a flood of grief

Waters his cheek : for on the wall he sees

How, warring around Troy, th' Achaians fled

By Troians chas'd ; but these, repuls'd in turn,

Crested Achilles in his car pursues.
570 Hard by, — the tents of Rhesus snowy-white

Too well he knows, which, in first sleep betray'd,

Tydi'des stain'd with gory massacre,

And drives the coursers to his camp, before

Troy's pasture or Troy's river they may taste.
575 Another tablet pictures Troilus

111 match'd against Achilles. Hapless boy !

His shield is dropt : he hangs behind the car,

Borne by the fleeing steeds, yet hdlds the reins,

Face upward : hed and hair on ear# ar dragg'd :
580 A spear inverted writes upon the dust. —

Elsewhere to hostile Pallas' fane the dames

Of Ilion, with hair dishevell'd, bear

A veil foot-reaching. Supplicant and sad,

572 The text has vastabat, but the picture seems to need va.tta.rat.

322 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

They beat their brests for mercy ; but her eyes
585 Averse the goddess fixes on the ground. —

Achilles 0rice around the walls of Troy

Ha0 Hector's body dragg'd, and now for gold

Will sell it lifeless. Limn'd too faitffully,

The spoils, the car, the image of his frend
590 And Priam vainly stretching hands unarm'd,

O'ercame Aineias. Bitterly he groans.

Himself too sees he fihting in the van

And Eastern troops and dusky Memnon's arms.

Fierce in the #rong Penflesileia leads
595 The bands of Amazons with moony targe.

Gold belts one pap confine. The warrior maid

Dares ardent to conflict with warring men.

With blank amazement riveted, in gaze
Unchang'd, the Dardan chief admires the scene.

600 Meanwhile queen Dido, 0rong'd by youflful gards,
Fairest of wimen, to the temple mov'd.
Such on Eurotas' banks or Kyn0us' ridge
Diana mid her mountain nymfs is seen,
Training their dances. They, from every side

605 By hundreds clustering, her pa0 attend.
Upon her shoulder she the quiver bears,
And, as she steps, outpeers the hev'nly-band.
Joy 0roh Latona's silent bosom drills.

599 A Dardan and a Troian probably differed no more than a Yorkist and a Lancas-
trian prince.

608 Latona, mother of Dia'na.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "JSNEID." 323

Such then was Di'do : joyful in the crowd,
610 She guides her wurks and kingdoms yet to be.

Then in mid nave upon a 16fty 0rone

Within the portals, girt by arms, she sits.

Awards she givs and edicts ; duties just

In wurks assigns, or portions them by lot.
615 Sudden Aineias sees in-pronging com

An0eus, Sergestus and Cloanflus brave,

And other Troians, wh6m tornados dark

Had scatter'd, hurling them to shores afar. —

Awe-struck he stands : Ac'hates too is pierc'd
620 With joy and fear. But, longing hand with hand

To clasp, — 0roh strangeness of events they pause,

Dissembling. Hid in hollow mist, they guess,

What chances sav'd them1? Where the fleet they leave ?

Why hither com they ? for from every ship
625 Sped chosen men, offence to deprecate

Submissiv, and with hum the temple soht.

They enter, and when leave to speak is gain'd,

Calmly the tall Ilioueus began :

" 0 queen ! allow'd by Jove new relms to found
630 And curb by justice tribes untractable,

We, helpless Troians, victims of the sea,

Pray thee, — from fire inhuman save our ships.

Pity a plus band and learn our case

More closely. Not to ravage Libyan homes
635 Com we steel-arm'd, nor cattle to the shore

324 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "

Drive we as captur'd spoil. To vanquish'd men
Not such the spirit elate nor pride of miht,
An ancient land there is, by Graii' called
Hesperia, strong in arms and rich of soil.

640 Oenotrians were its tillers ; now (we hear)
Giv'n from som chief, its name is ITALY.
Hither our course was steer'd, when sudden rose
Stormful Orion o'er the swelling flood.
His squalls perverse and waves with hi'h-flung surf,

645 Driving to shoals unseen, mid bars of rock,
Our navy scatter'd 0r6hly. Now, behold !
We, scanty number, to your shores hav swum.
What race, what land the barbarous rule allows
Which warns us 6ff the hospitable sand ?

650 War #retens, if the outmost edge we toch.
If ye mankind despise and mortal arms,
Yet Gods (be sure ! ) remember Kiht and Wrong.
Our king Aineias was. Not 'one more just,
More pius know we, nor in arms more tried.

655 Him if the Fates preserve, — if still he feed
On breeze from hev'n, nor yet in cruel shades
Lie prostrate, never wilt thou rue the deed,
If foremost thou befriend him. Sicily
Ha0 cities on her soil with acres broad

646 I join penitus dispulit, till 1 learn somthing better.

647 Swum ; their only way of landing. See v. 650.

657 Yet rfte it she did ! This is the sad funereal incurable blot in the poem.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S
660 And famed Akestis, sprung of Troian blood.

Our shatter'd fleet allow^us up to haul,

Spars from the woods to hew and oars strap on.

If we recover king and comrades, then

For 9 with to Italy and Latium
665 Take we our course. If ruin'd ar our plans,

If thee, great Father of our tribe ! the deep

Of Libya holds, nor of lulus hope

Longer remains, then to Sicanian strand

Return we, whence we came. There safe abodes
670 Good King Akestis open holds to us."

He spake, and all his comrades buzz'd assent.

D'ido brief answer gave, with downcast eye :

" Troians ! from fear and care your hearts relieve.

Hard times, new royalty, compel of me
675 Stern orders and wide gard of my frontier.

Troy's city and Aineias' noble folk, —

Who knows them not ? The men, and their exploits,

And springs of war far-reaching ? Hearts so dull

Not in us Piines ar born, nor yokes the sun
680 His steeds so distant from our Tyrian town.

Whether ye seek Hesperia's wi'de domains

Or Eryx and Akestis' royal seat,

Garded and well provided shall ye go.

667 The Sicani were an Iberian (Basque) people, wh6 dwelt in Sicily earlier than the
Siculi.

682 Eryx, a mountain of Sicily overlooking Drepanum, now Trapani.

326 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S

Or wish ye rather here with me to stay ?

685 This city shall be yours. Haul up your ships :
Troian and Tyrian equal ri'hts shall hold.
Wd that your king Aineias here were com,
Driv'n by the same rufh wind ! Along the coast
Spies will I send, and bid them to explore

690 The furthest bounds of Libya, if perchance
In woods or town he wander, cast ashore."

Stirr'd by such wurds, alike Achates brave
And sire Aineias long the cloud to burst.
Achates earlier speaks : " 0 goddess-born !

695 What purpos in thy mind ar'isefl now?

All safe but 'One thou seest, — men and ships :
That 'One beheld we swallow'd in mid-sea :
The rest accords with all thy mother said."
Scarce had he utter'd this, when all around

700 The cloud is melted into liquid air.
Aineias stands, refulgent in pure li'ht,
God-li'ke of face and shape. With comely hair
Venus her son had deck'd, and o'er his eyes
Breath' d glory blithe, with roseate light of you#.

705 Such grace on 'ivory the skilful hand

May lavish ; such, where haply yellow gold
Silver enframes or Parian marble pure.
Addressing then the queen and all around,
He unexpected speaks : "The man ye seek,

707 Milk-white marble.

FROM THE OPENING OP VIRQIL'S "&NEID." 327

710 Behold him in your presence ; chief of Troy,

Aineias, rescued from ydur Libyan waves.

0 thou, from wh6ai alone is pity heard

For Troy's atrocius woes ! Queen ! wh6, with us

Of all bereft, — mere remnant sav'd from war, —
715 By sea and land in countless misery spent, —

Wiliest thy city and thy home to share ;

Dido ! just thanks to pay, no pow'r hav we,

Nor other Dardans scatter'd 0roh the wurld.

To thee may Gods who watch o'er Piety
720 Bring fit reward, if Justice anywhere

And upriht Conscience true existence hold.

What age so blessed gave thee to the wurld "?

With such a child what must the parents be 1

While rivers seek the sea ; while on the hills
725 The shadows play ; while stars the sether feeds ;

Alway thy honor, name and praise shall liv,

Whatever countries claim me." Thus he spake

Then with the riht hand clasps Ilioneus,

Sergestus with the left ; next Gyas brave
730 And brave Cloanflus, and the rest in turn.

The hero's presence struck queen Di'do mute,
Next, his disasters ; but at Ieng0 she spake :
" What fate calamitus pursues thee thus 1
What force has 0rust thee on our cruel shore ?
735 Art thou Aineias, whom, beside the wave
Of brilliant Simoi's, sweet Venus bare,

328 FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "^ENEID."

Dardan Anchises' child 1 so ran the tale.
In soo# remember I that Teucer came
Whilom to S'idon, from his father's home

740 Expell'd. By help of Belus new abodes
He hop'd to win. Belus, my si're, just then
Victorius held rich Cyprus in his pow'r.
From Teucer's mou# Troy's overcrow I learnt,
Thy name with others, and th' Achaian kings.

745 He, late your foe, hi'h praise to Troians gave,
And from a Troian Teucer claim'd descent.
Benea# our roofs then, young men ! refuge take
Me too, like Fortune wrack'd with many a toil,
Yet on this land ha# planted me at lengft

750 Not strange to woe, I learn the woe-beg6ne to aid."

After such wurds she to the palace leads
Aineias, and in sacred court commands
That honors to the gods be duly paid ;
Nor less meanwhile sends for his comrades' cheer

755 Gifts to the shore, joy of the festiv day,

Fat lams a hundred with their dams ; of sw'me
A hundred bristling chines, and twenty bulls.
The inner rooms are royally array'd
Splendid and dainty, fit for banquet hi'h.

760 C160 rich with crimson, artful wurk, is seen :
Huge silver on the board and carved gold
Where brave exploits of ancient sires are trac'd
In long succession from the nation's bir#.

FROM THE OPENING OF VIRGIL'S "^ENEID." 329

Aineiaa, anxius with paternal love,
765 Sends back in speed Achates to his son,

To tell the news and bring the boy himself :

On him is fix'd all the fond parent's care.

Gifts also, rescued from expiring Troy,

He bids him to bring up ; — a mantle stiff
770 With figur'd gold and veil with yellow leaves

Woven around, which Argive Helen wore,

Her mother Leda's gift riiht marvellus.

These Helen carried 6ff, when she to Troy

Voyage w* take for unpermitted lov.
775 Besides, a scepter, which Ilione,

King Priam's eldest dauhter, bare of old :

A necklace too of pearl, and diadem

Of gold, with jewels rich. Commission'd thus,

Achates sped him to the Troian ships.

RAMESES THE GREAT.

A fac-simile from the Temple at Karnac.

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

BY THOMAS KAY.

AMONG the many changes which the whirligig of time
produces on the face of the earth, the present century
has seen that migratory instinct, which characterises some
of our winged animals, extended unto man, the featherless
biped.

When the symposium of Yuletide and its consequent
festivities have passed away, and one has become tired even
of club dinners; when February opens with dull, damp,
depressing influences, and it is chronicled that for a whole
week not one ray of sunshine has gleamed to cheer the
hearts of the dwellers in this northern clime ; then it is
that instinct begins to assert its sway, and knowledge
beckons us towards the sun which has ceased to shine in
England ; and, throwing care to the winds, we speed on the

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 331

wings of a locomotive away through London, Brussels, and
Bale, and are deposited by "the margin of fair Zurich's
waters," where bright, crisp snow frosts the landscape and
a falling barometer presages an increase of clothing for the
earth, a double garment of virgin purity — snow upon the
land and mountains — Ossa piled on Pelion.

Afraid of being imprisoned in Switzerland's white swad-
dling clothes, we speed along the valley past the Rigi with
its empty hotels standing, like monuments on its Kulm
over the tombs of past feasts and of forgotten tourists.

We rush past frozen lakes and through dense forests of
pine trees; we plunge into the ravines, past desolate-
looking wooden villages, where the inhabitants hibernate
by the ingle nook, like bears torpid in their caves, living on
their accumulated autumnal fatness. We note that the
de'bris of avalanches, at the base of precipitous cliffs, is
already veiled by the covering of last night's snow ; gloomy
clouds hide the mountain tops and envelop the forest-clad
heights; little churches stand crested on islet knolls in the
valley, and the untrodden snow marks the snake-like line
of the almost disused highway. The Devil's Bridge,
immortalised by Turner, spans the torrent stream, now
blocked by ice and snow, and it is with a sense of relief
that we plunge into the stony heart of the mountain,
ascending the spiral line, which is even more wonderful
in the science of its construction than the St. Gothard
tunnel which we are approaching. A little church, stand-
ing in its own God's acre in the midst of the valley, disap-
pears from view as we enter, and as we emerge into day-
light, thinking ourselves at least three miles away, we see
again from the ledge on the cliff that same little church.
Once more we disappear and re-emerge, with a like result,
for the same view repeats itself; the little church, however,
has diminished proportionately to the distance we have

332 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

gained in altitude. As Goschenin comes into sight, the
sun gleams for the first time on the mountain top as on
molten silver, and the strong blue of the empyrean wel-
comes us with a smiling promise of sunshine in Italy.

We cross the Alps just in time, for avalanches fall the
next day, stopping the traffic, and occasioning the loss of
many lives. The storms which followed immediately
afterwards completely swept away the Devil's Bridge,
and utterly destroyed the structure erected with so much
skill and cunning by Abbot Giraldus, of Einsiedel, accord-
ing to the story told by Longfellow in the " Golden
Legend."

The sun-promise is realised. As we rush down by Airola
and Biasca, the landscape effects are marvellous, and the
light and shade of wonderful colour, varying at every turn,
continually brings before us pictures new in beauty and
form. These, so welcome to our jaded eyes, are absorbed
with the enthusiasm of slaves emancipated from the mono-
tony of our dark northern greys and the dull street
perspectives of Lancashire towns.

Leaving the rails, we coast in a steamer the northern
side of the Lake Lugano, and then cross to Lake Como.
In the evening we steam to Lecco, and take train to Ber-
gamo, where we spend a peaceful day about the old citadel
with its grand gateway, and from its height see the plains
of Lombardy lit up with sunshine, a sea of verdure sinking
miles away into the vague mists of the horizon. We next
proceed to Brescia and Verona. We perform a pilgrimage,
as in duty bound, to the House of the Capulets, in honour
of our great English dramatist and the luckless lovers,
Romeo and Juliet, whom he immortalised. It is yet a long
cry to Thebes and the Nile, so we pass Venice in carnival
time, and speed down the Adriatic, losing its white palaces
in the snow-covered Alps which bound the horizon.

RAMESES' GREAT TEMPLE, KARNAC.

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 333

We duly arrive at Alexandria, and proceed to Cairo.
The mixed Levantine population of Alexandria gives little
idea of the Haroun el Raschid element, which is the charm
of life in Cairo, and e'en of it I must lament. The glory of
Cairo is departing — the waves of the nineteenth century,
saturated with its so-called civilisation, are sweeping away
the light footprints left by Eastern poetry upon the sunny,
picturesque old city. Donkeys, as a means of locomotion
for passengers, are ceasing to be used in Alexandria, in
consequence of its newly-paved streets, and so is it likely
soon to be the case in Cairo. The pariah dogs — the
city scavengers — have succumbed to an edict by the
Khedive for their destruction ; the Nubian outrunner,
preceding the carriages of the nobility, is now seen before
the European parvenu or the wealthy tourist ; houses of
most quaint and picturesque architecture give way in their
decrepitude to widened streets with arcades, as much alike
to one another as the avenues of Paris, or, to degrade the
comparison, as a row of Lancashire cottages. But still in
the crowded dusty bazaars, with ragged screens floating in
mid-air, and partially veiling the brilliant sunshine, which
darts through the rent canvas and open spaces on to shim-
mering silver and gold and tawdry tinsel and glass, on
to the rude colouring of mosques and doorways, and the
many-complexioned people in many-tinted clothing, there
are quiet corners where quaint bits of architecture, carved
lintels, and curiously-wrought window screens, delight the
observer. The spacious mosques have fine interiors, with
interesting arabesques, and the courtyards of Saracenic
houses possess curious old wells, and portals closed by
embroidered curtains, or long, richly-wrought hangings,
from the northern frontiers of Persia.

It is difficult to walk through these long, narrow ways
without feeling dazed by such a wealth of artistic subjects;

334 PROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

the mind can neither grasp nor realise its surroundings. It
is as though one were intoxicated with the most tempting
and luscious wines. The clamour and movement seem
incessant. It is the clamour and movement of a people
who might have descended from another planet, so strangely
do they present themselves to English eyes. This is how it
may be seen to-day. How long it will take, so to say, to
" improve " its present picturesque beauty off the face of
the earth one knows not. We hope it will be long before
the few, but lovely, traces of a past artistic greatness will
succumb to the utilitarian haste of the transition stage,
which is now creating tree-planted boulevards, great squares,
and large mansions in its midst.

The journey to the Pyramids reminds one of the man
who proposed going to one of the Poles so as to be able to
translate himself into the far distant ages of the past by
the simple procoss of walking round it from west to
east, and thus goi ig back upon the footsteps of Time.
In a like manner I feel that the ascent to the base
of the great pyramid of Ghizeh takes one back to
the workmanship of a people who toiled at this enormous
edifice four or five thousand years ago. One can
feel the polished stones as finished by their hands,
and be in touch with their work. We stand at the base of
this enormous pile, on the north side, and descend into the
excavation which has been made into the crumbled debris
surrounding it, in order to see the portion of its smooth,
white surface, which formerly covered the whole, up to its
very pinnacle. With a geological instinct, one naturally
begins to pull out the broken pieces of rock which have
been slowly falling from its sides for thousands of years, and,
attracted by one piece of stone of a different colour to the
rest, it is found to be a fine museum specimen of the num-
rnilitic limestone. Now the other stones not being of the

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 335

same class, although, doubtless, of the same order, this
discovery points to the fact that this piece of stone must
have been brought to the place by some vendor of curiosi-
ties long before the debris had accumulated over it, and it
is worthy of attention, not simply as a geological curiosity,
but as showing that in very ancient times, perhaps when
Herodotus visited this place, a trade was carried on in
natural history specimens, even as it is now.

This pyramid, the first seen by the European traveller
on entering Egypt, is also the largest, and one of the most
ancient. We approach it from Cairo in a westerly direc-
tion, and if we could travel on past it, we should have a
journey before us of 3,000 miles of absolute desert, which
would be stayed only on the shores of the broad Atlantic
Ocean. The Great Pyramid of Ghizeh stands, then, a
monument, a mausoleum, or a tomb on the threshold of
the greatest desert on the face of the globe, on the imme-
diate confines of a vast solitude devoid both of water and
of life, and is a fit emblem of that eternity " from whose
bourne no traveller returns."

We descend to the Sphinx, which is still " gazing with
eternal eyes o'er the Egyptian plain " — inscrutable, impas-
sive, majestic — awful as destiny — the presiding spirit of
the tombs and the desert regions which lie beyond! It
faces the rising sun each morn, calmly seated at the entrance
to the great Cemetery of ancient Egypt, as if to teach the
one principle of religion — "out of corruption comes incor-
ruption," and out of death the resurrection from the dead
and life everlasting. Such is Kephra, the god of revivica-
tion. It is cut out of the living stone — a human-headed
lion, signifying strength and intellect. Deep in the abyss
between the paws of the lion is exposed the sculptured
stone containing the prayer of Kephra to Thotmes the
Fourth. Kephra appeared to the Pharaoh in a dream, as he

336 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

was sleeping in the shadow of the Sphinx, and asked that
" the sand of the desert in which he had his existence
should be removed from him," and to-day his prayer is
granted, for his outstretched limbs are bare to heaven.
The contemplation and sketching of this magnificent monu-
ment occupy us until the waning sun recalls us to Cairo.

Another day we spend at Saccara, the great necropolis
of ancient Memphis. We look in vain for its city amidst
the palm groves and mud huts of the fellaheen. Father
Nile has clay-washed the land for so many ages since
Memphis flourished, that one must dig deep into the earth
to find the foundations of its lost temples and palaces. Its
design is obliterated, as the carvings and frescoes of our
churches were by repeated whitewashings of Puritan zealots,
but the hand of old Nile has been longer at it. We have
great reason to value this activity of Father Nile, because
it has preserved many valuable and very important artistic
treasures from the iconoclastic spirit which has been as
strong in the Mohammedan as in the Vandals of old, and
in the Reformers of later ages. Everything approachable —
graven images of great kings, Pharaohs, high priests, gods
and goddesses — has been ruthlessly disfigured. There is
no bowing the knee to Baal, or the graving of images in the
likeness of any earthly thing, in the religion of the Moslem.
Two statues of Rameses the Second, nobly featured and
exquisitely wrought, which have been so preserved, are all
that we can see at Memphis.

We pass on donkeys along the raised dykes which border
the fruitful plain for about two miles from the station of
Badrisheen, until we come to the desert lands where water
is not, and ascend the bluff hillsides, past a deserted
village, of which the mud huts, crumbled into rich black
earth, are being conveyed on camels to fertilise the low-
lands. Approaching the great step pyramid of Saccara, a

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 337

deep pit yawns by the side of the path, and, gazing down
into it, we see a square hole like a pit shaft, about fifty feet
deep, cut out of the limestone rock, with openings in tiers
at the sides, where sarcophagi rested, the sepulchre of some
noble family of a far-off time. Around the great pyramid
are numerous smaller ones, and past these is the house
built by Marietta, the great explorer of this most ancient
cemetery, which, he says, is four miles long, and at places
nearly a mile wide. Isolated and 'remote, the house looks
over the vast desert, which is a rolling expanse of desolation
and of dread to the traveller. We descend to the Sera-
peum, the tombs of the Apis Bulls, where gigantic polished
and incised granite coffers, of 60 tons weight each, held the
sacred bulls of a past and gone superstition. We pass
through the maze of underground passages and recesses,
where they lie, and one cannot but think that if a priest-
hood could make people believe in the sacred character of
these beasts, and cause grown men to spend princely fortunes
in order to bury them, that it must be very easy, in the
name of religion, to make men believe any crude or coarse
idea which possesses a mystery above their comprehension.
The devolution of this religion, however, seems to teach us
many things, one of which is, that it commenced with the
idea of a god — the almighty, the invisible, Amen — with the
head of the State as his high priest and the head of the
house as his patriarch. Then were temples erected, and
an order of priesthood arose which invented symbols and
images, and initiated sacrifices and propitiations and oracles,
with the taking of perquisites, the instituting of claims,
the commanding of obedience, and so priestcraft debased
the beauty of holiness until it became the pernicious system
which stank in the nostrils of heaven and of earth, and so
was hurled to destruction. I feel that in the Apis Tombs
of ancient Memphis we are looking into the grave of its
rottenness.

338 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

A more pleasing tomb, however, is the one of Thi. Thi
was a grandee of ancient Egypt, who flourished more than
4,500 years ago, and whose sculptured image,' taken from
this very place, now stands in the Boulak Museum,
almost as perfect as when first carved from life out
of its native wood. Thi was Lord Chamberlain, privy
councillor, president of the gate of the palace, secret
counsellor for the execution of the Koyal commands,
president of the Royal works and the department of
writing to the Royal race of Memphis, of whom were
Ra-nefer-ar-Ka, Ra-en-aser, and Kaka, who were of the
fifth dynasty, and, roundly speaking, they flourished
a thousand years before Joseph was sold into Egyptian
bondage. This mausoleum was erected of beautiful white
limestone on the naked rock which covered the shaft of the
sepulchre. The sands of the desert have drifted over
it, as they have over many others, and so have kindly
preserved them for our inspection. The internal walls are
delicately and beautifully carved with illustrations of
all the arts, religious rites and ceremonies, sporting scenes
both by flood and field, agriculture in every phase,
shipbuilding, domestic employments, fowls of the air, fish
of the sea, beasts of the river, and denizens of the earth.
So carefully executed are they that they are comprehen-
sible to the meanest mind, and this we can hardly say is
the case with many of the new decorations of our grand
town halls, which require a guide book to explain them.
I say this without intending any disrespect to the artists of
to-day, and yet I believe that many of our nineteenth
century decorative painters might go to school to learn
faithfulness of drawing and accuracy of delineation, with
picturesqueness of grouping, from the men who designed,
chiselled, and painted for this patron of art, who dwelt in
the land of Egypt about the time that Abraham came from

FROM LONDON TO' LUXOR. 339

Ur of the Chaldees. Solomon wisely said, " There is no
new thing under the sun," and when I hear and read the
silly talk of artists and art writers at the present day upon
a simple subtle shade of colour, which is probably an acci-
dental production, and see their rhapsodies, and nocturnes,
and dreams, and things, I would say, " Go to your aunt, you
sluggard, or to your uncle, and pawn anything you may
have of value to obtain that which will take you to the
tomb of Thi, a few miles south of Cairo, that you may weep,
like Rachel, over what you have not, and lament that
modern art has led you to dismiss imperishable form, with
shadows in natural relief, for fading tones and perishable
colour."

There are various ways of ascending the Nile from Cairo.
One may go by Dahabeah, slowly and lazily, wasting days
and days in monotonous journeyings, which, by one to
whom time is of no object, is to be preferred; or he may
go by the steamers inaugurated by the great personal con-
ductor either from Cairo direct or, by taking the train, he
may join the steamer at Assiout. Either way, however,
has this defect, that it is very costly, and limits the freedom
of the traveller to the specified time of the excursion. The
way we adopt is to travel by rail to Assiout, the railway
terminus southwards, and thence proceed by the post boat,
which goes two or three times a week, stopping at any
place, at our own sweet will, for as long a time as we wish,
and at a very much less cost. Early in the morning we
drive from Cairo to the railway station, the landscape being
obscured by the thick mist of the morning dew as we cross
the Nile bridge into the open country along the raised
banks. These raised roads radiate to the western villages
across the fertile fields, which are enriched annually by the
Nile inundations, and which lie many feet below them.
The roads are lined on each side by many-branched acacias

340 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

with dense foliage, which form a canopy against the sun's
rays and admit the breezes which sweep across the plains.
Hundreds of camels and asses, laden with green fodder,
are met, wending their way towards Cairo.

The railway carriage is open end to end, and filled with
a motley crowd — a Frenchman, with attendants and dogs,
is out for a day's shooting — natives tell their beads in
lieu of prayer — dragomen talk incessantly to each other
and to the natives ; and off we go, with the Nile to the
left and the green fields stretching up to the desert hills
on our right. One cannot but feel ashamed of adopting
the means which nineteenth century science affords in this
classic domain, in the presence of the father of waters — old
Nile. He offers to us his buoyant breast and a smooth
carriage for our journey, with no noise but the songs of the
boatmen, no dust but from a raging wind sweeping across
the desert. Old Father Nile, however, is speedily revenged
upon us for our desecration of his land, for the dust rises
from the track and penetrates every crevice and cranny of
the carriage, our clothing and ourselves, and this we
endure the whole day through. Peer and peasant are alike
subject to the same infliction, and it is a case of simple
endurance for ten hours, beguiled by strange scenes at road-
side stations of blue-clad villagers, hideous beggars, and
boys who sell water and oranges. Black-veiled women
squat on their haunches and sell black-looking muffins,
baked with the curious fuel they employ, and very good we
find them ; young girls sell young pigeons, which are carried
by the wings, following the custom of 4,000 years ago, as
we saw in the tomb of Thi.

We are all the time speeding along the great alluvial
plain, the former garden of the world, and the granary of
ancient Rome, which has been fertilized by the ebbing
and flowing Nile for untold centuries, the mystery of

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 341

whose source, so long hidden, has been revealed to us only
in living memory. The government over this strip of land
has been contended for by master minds ever since histori-
cal facts were recorded, and from it many nations have
been dominated.

Within view of its every part, as we traverse the
country, and crowning the sand hills of the Lybian desert,
whose pathways are only marked by the blanched bones of
unfortunate wayfarers, the great pyramids of Egypt stand,
like sentinels of eternity on the horizon, with breaks and
interruptions, as though marking their progress and decay
— the lasting monuments of its rulers. From Ghizeh,
Abusir, Saccara, Lisht, Medun and Hanara into the broad
plain of the Fayoum, where Lake Mceris, the mother of
lakes, husbands the waters of the great Nile. As the
barrows and cairns of the chieftains of Britain were raised
on the high mountains, within sight of the clans, that the
funeral pyres could be seen from every hut, and the wail
of a people could ascend unto it, so the departed great ones
of Egypt were borne aloft to the elevated plateau on the
brink of the desert for their eternal rest, in a like manner
and with similar lamentations. The morning sun
illumines their peaks as the husbandman sets forth for his
toil in the fields, and when their shadows stretch over the
face of the land, they are signals for rest and home, as they
have also been for thousands of previous generations of
slaves, who have tilled the same fields, and slept under the
same baleful shadow as to-day — the shadow of the curse
of an autocratic government, which taxes them against
their will, and grinds great wealth for a few out of the
abject, unhoused, and half clad peasantry, who toil to
satisfy the rapacity of their tax-gatherers. The Pyramids
are beacons of their country's birth, monitors of its endur-
ance, and monuments of its past greatness; some have

342 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

crumbled into shapeless heaps of stone, but others still
rear their needle points sharp against the glowing sky, as
if to pierce the portals of heaven from the gates of death,
where they abide.

We pass cotton fields, the young plants just showing
above the earth, and palm groves, which surround each
village, and where the peasants are lopping the old leaves
from the base of the crown, climbing the palms by means
of their feet and a rope loosely looped around their waist
and the tree.

We pass plantations of sugar canes, with train lines to
bring the crop to the factory, and groups of labourers at
work gathering it, and so we go on and on, till darkness
spreads itself over the earth, and we arrive at Assiout,
climb down the crumbling bank on to the post boat, which
waits at anchor on the silvery Nile, with a moon just
rising in the east, and lighting us to the berths which have
been reserved for us.

The mosquito allows, for the first night on a throbbing
stern wheeler, only an unsatisfactory repose, but this is
partly due to the feeling of excitement consequent upon
finding oneself voyaging through the land of the Pharaohs,
on the most ancient waterway around which history centres
itself. Palm groves and mud banks, green fields and
dusky labourers, donkeys and camels, little towns and
mud villages line our course, while here and there men are
lifting water from the Nile up a series of steps to irrigate
the earth in the primitive fashion, which has existed from
time immemorial. Vultures and kites hover in the cloud-
less sky over the fields, and flights of doves cover the
mud-built villages. Floating barges are moored at the
landing places, and a motley crowd of peasants and beggars
is kept in loose order by a couple of mounted police. Our
arrival at each village is preceded by the hoarse and

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 343

repulsive clarion of a steam whistle, which is the delight
of the pilot, and although it outrages the placid scene, its
long drawn horrid tones are emitted thrice, as if to wake
up the St. Peters of the village. How this jars upon the
serenity ? and yet we have to accept it with the other so-
called benefits of modern civilization, or we should not be
here, gazing upon the desert mountains. These mountains
are honeycombed with tombs, whose .entrances dot the pre-
cipitous sides. There are deep fissures and caverns, and
what seem like excavated roads leading up to the gloomy
portals of a long past dead. We approach Denderah, and
although for convenience we visited its ancient Temple on
the return journey, I will describe it here. On landing
my greatest care is to secure a donkey which has least the
the appearance of having too violently or too frequently
saluted Mother Earth in too hurriedly a fashion. My good
easy-going friend, being a light weight, has a child-like
trust in the capacity of any of them to carry him in safety,
and it is only as we are galloping along the couple of miles
of plain to the temple, when the steed and its rider
bite the dust, that his carelessness is punished. He
afterwards observed that he should always respect, in
future, the man who never could be persuaded to ride
upon a donkey, and who gave as his reason that if he were
to be killed it would be too ignominious an end to a good
life, and too pitiable a spectacle for a coroner's jury.

Dust heaps and desert mounds, with a few gateways,
dot the landscape. We at length enter the finely-preserved
temple of Denderah. We descend into its court by a series
of steps, whose elevation marks, since it was built, the rise
of Egypt's land by the contributions of Old Nile ; because
at that time its base would be above the level of the tide.
We pass from the grand outer to the gloom of the inner
court, and thence to the sanctuary — we enter into secret

344 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

chambers — and pass above on to the wide roof. What evil
mysteries and obscure sacrifices has this place seen?
Here Cleopatra's name occurs on the outer walls and
inwardly down in the dungeon-like rooms, where myriads
of bats cling to the ceiling and walls ; every inch of stone
is carved in relief with allegories. Figures of most truthful
design are interspersed with signs and inscriptions of
voluminous extent, which appal one with their decision,
perfection and mysterious intention. A sketch made from
the outer court completes our visit, and we gallop back to
the boat. Days succeed one another with little to vary
the scenes, and we are only once interrupted, in the midst
of an evening meal, by a shock which sends the crockery
and glasses flying — we have run on to a shoal, but are
happily released by the combined efforts of the stream and
reversed engines, in about ten minutes.

Night, with its myriad stars and solitude on the cabin-
roof, feels inexpressibly pleasant when the fierce orb of
day has gone to rest, and the long lone shore and small
islands are dimly seen gliding past. Now the air is cool
and sweet and fragrant, and speech is not needed for
enjoyment ; contentment covers one as with a blanket, to
paraphrase Sancho Panza, and there are no clouds but of
our own making, and — need I confess it — these are blown
from the nicotian weed.

On the third night the sun goes down in a dull sky, and
a faint breath of wind arises, which increases in violence
as the night advances. It is a dark night, but the reflec-
tion of the sky in the river illumines our course, and
marks the shallows and banks as we approach with diffi-
culty El Shurafa.

Casting off from the landing-place we proceed up the
Nile. The wind has increased to a gale, and fine dust
from the plains smites us as we remain on deck. We

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 345

arrive at Luxor about ten p.m. By this time the wind
has increased furiously and blows a hurricane. The
landing-place is missed, engines are reversed, and turning
round in the stream we strive in vain to run back to the
mooring — the wind hurls us on the bank, and by its force
keeps us there. A plank is put ashore and ropes anchored
in the mud. We are fain to get there, happily finding
ourselves on the town side of the stream. Helping some
lady passengers up the bank — some 30 feet high — we find
the hotel messenger, to whom we have telegraphed,
waiting for us.

Our luggage is shouldered by a noisy crowd, and
struggling against the wind, smothered in the whirlwind
of dust which makes it impossible to see or to speak, we are
conveyed to our hotel, and right gladly close the door
against the force of the gale. We plunge our heads in cold
water to be released from the suffocating dust, which has
stopped perspiration and filled our hair, nose, eyes, and
mouth with gritty particles, having a taste of mummy, and
producing a sensation of that death which overcomes travel-
lers in a sand storm of the desert lands.

The sun shines brightly next morning, as if nothing had
happened, and strange-looking birds hop about the garden
where giant palms and a Bourganvillia copse, in full flower,
make a picture as lovely as the eye can look upon. A brace
of pelicans are being fed by the proprietor, and they ludic-
rously flop with cut wings down the garden path, flapping
with their broad feet the ground, like "Old Bob Ridley" in
the negro ditty. Some granite sphinxes decorate the place,
and white- robed dusky male servants stand about the doors.
On strolling out of the grounds we come at once upon the
Great Temple of Luxor, and people are digging away the
accumulated dust of centuries. Heads of giant monoliths
are exposed to view, and in some cases the excavations have
x

346 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

been carried so far as to uncover beautiful statues in their
entirety, thus mercifully preserved by the overflowings of
the bountiful Nile. Climbing up the dust heaps of decayed
dwellings which have risen inside the temple above the Nile
floods, and nigh to the tops of the pillars (being built amongst
them), we are introduced to the English Consul, who hands
us coffee and discourses pleasantly about the country. A
modern mosque is built also on centuries of accumulations,
some twenty or thirty feet above the original level, and
within the precincts of the noble pile. The great gateway,
with its magnificent obelisk, and buried statues, the latter
now seeing the light for the first time after ages of
oblivion, amaze one with their solidity, grandeur, and sim-
plicity. The sanctuary of the temple, with its inscriptions
and bas-reliefs plastered over and repicked out, bear traces
of its having been used as a Christian Church, and here I
spend a couple of mornings at a study of the Great Aisle,
looking East towards the Great Gate which leads to Karnac.
Flanking the temple are the remains of the Great Nile
steps, from which the Plains of Thebes and the mountains
of the Tombs, with the great Colossi, the vocal Memnons,
are visible, while all around are roofless mud dwellings,
sometimes thatched with a few reeds, of less value than
an English stye — for they are simply and roughly built of
Nile mud, which dries in the sun and serves for years in
that rainless country to shelter the inhabitants from the
wind and sun, their only natural enemies.

Gazing over the Theban plain from the steps which have
echoed to the tramp of countless generations of patriarchs,
warriors, priests and monarchs, of queens and royal dames,
peasants and slaves, of philosophers, historians, and travellers
from every nation of the old world, and seeing the golden
mountains rising over the verdant plain, laved by the
coursing Nile, and dotted with monuments as stupendous

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 347

in their conception as their history is triumphant, one feels
that one has arrived at that ultimate point where one can
touch the end of the first series of civilising influence
which the earth offers to our view. It is as if art and science
were likened to the life of man ; each has its period
of life and influence upon the spirit of mankind, and
then, having fulfilled its mission, it dies of old age ;
yet in its life, a thousand years are but as a day,
and it disappears for a time, only to rise again in
another form, perchance in Greece or Rome, or amongst the
Saracens and Goths, till we find feeble sparks of it glowing
still in Great Britain and across the great sea, in America.
But amidst the ruins of what is left of Thebes, Karnac, and
Luxor, one feels that never again through the same
means will such edifices be raised — never again will
strong men be bound as slaves to the will of mighty
conquerors — and we utter a fervent hope that if, in the
future, creations as stupendous in their execution as these
are wrought by the hand of man it will be in wise and
enlightened co-operation, and not in the agony of that
bondage of which these monuments; so awe-inspiring and
so useless, are, at once, the emblem and the condemnation.
When the children of Israel passed over the Red Sea, and
received the commandments from Sinai, amongst which
was one that forbade the making of graven images, or the
likeness of anything in the heaven above or in the earth
beneath, or in the water under the earth ; one can almost
hear the sigh of relief which went up to heaven at their
release from the toils of granite working, quarrying, polish-
ing, carrying, and fixing, when we look upon a statue of
Rameses the Second. This statue stood robust and smooth-
polished, full 56 feet high from the pedestal on which it
w.as fixed, in one solid block weighing 887 tons, which had
been transported to its position perhaps 100 miles. It lies

348 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

there across the plain, at the Kameseum, broken to pieces,
and from the face of the great conqueror and oppressor mill-
stones have been cut to grind corn for the present genera-
tion of men.

I started with you from London to Luxor; we have
arrived. You may wish to hear of the Great Temple of
Amen-Ra, at Karnac; I might take you to the sacred
pools and obelisks in its precincts ; I could introduce you
to the beggars, and the entourage of a personally-conducted
tourists' arrival, with camels and growlings, donkeys and
brayings, and fussings and frettings and noises indes-
cribable, but I am afraid you might say — " Gi'e me Black-
pool!" Only is it to be enjoyed when, in solitude and
peace, you trace the lines of its immense constructive form,
and draw the hieroglyphics on paper or canvas, with their
indications of phallic worship ; and you think to yourself —
" What fools these wise and great men were ! " and you
think again — " Would you have been any wiser and
greater than they ? " and you confess to yourself that you
would have been very little in the days when these things
were ; and so the world wags — vanitas vanitatum — all is
vanity. Let it be so. If the man has learnt he is a fool,
the day has not been lost.

It would take too much time to attempt to describe the
other side of the Nile, where " Thebes of the hundred
gates" formerly stood, the majestic capital of the land.
We see the Rameseum, the Yocal Memnons, the Palace of
Medinet Abou, and the long lone valley of desolation and
of death, which leads to the tombs of the kings of Ancient
Egypt. We go into these despoiled sepulchres, and
descend deep into the heart of the mountain to explore
them. They are full of enrichments and sculptures and
paintings. We return over the mountain tops, and descend
the steep precipices through the enormous cemetery areas,

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 349

where we see ghoul-like men busily engaged rifling the
graves of the lonesome dead. A battered skull lies by the
wayside, and a shrivelled mummified hand, the unmarket-
able refuse of these spoilers, is tossed away on the desert
sand to be gnawed by jackals and spurned by the passer
by. It is a hand with tapering fingers, and with a long
carefully-trimmed nail. A hand which may have com-
manded a kingdom, closed the eyes of a dead parent,
fondled a baby at the breast, fed the hungry and clad the
naked. A hand which has been kissed, and has clung to
a lost and dead love of thousands of years ago. Ay ! and
it may have scratched and fought in anger, or pleaded
before heaven and rent its garments in affliction. It may
have rescued a Hebrew child from the wrath of Pharaoh,
or belonged to a Jezebel and deserved its present fate — that
of being cast to the dogs at a time when even they will
have none of it.

" Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat,

Has hobnobbed with a Pharaoh, glass to glass ;

Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat,

Or doffed its own to let Queen Dido pass ;

Or held, by Solomon's own invitation,

A torch at the Great Temple's dedication." — Horace Smith.

One last scene dwells in my memory. The day has been
intensely hot, and in a shaded corner at the foot of one of
the massive pillars of Rameses' great temple, I add a few last
touches to a drawing of a scene which I may never revisit.
I have a feeling that one never re-sees a past effect. One

350 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

may look upon the same subject, but somehow nature
never repeats herself. It is either that some temporal,
bodily, or mental condition varies it in the same way as
that to-morrow can never be as to-day ; so it is that at
times one receives impressions it were unwise to desire
effaced ; and it is with this spirit that I attempt to pre-
serve it. All is calm and still; the declining sun has lifted
the shadows up to the painted capitals. The light shines
upon the figures and hieroglyphs of the beams and abacus,
throwing all in a strong relief of burnished gold against the
deep blue sky. The softening touch of time, the edax rerum
of other climes, has dealt kindly with this edifice. No rain,
frost, or snow comes with its withering influences, but per-
ennial summer gilds it ever. I walk down the Great Aisle,
and approaching the sanctuary — the holy of holies — I see
guarding it on each side two immense obelisks, one of which
lies prone to earth, the other, needle-like, pierces the sky ;
cubes of stone, in disorganised heaps, obscure its pristine
form, and the chaos of destruction reigns over man's inven-
tions and architectural skill. The sacred lake, which is
still reverenced for its phallic sanctity, lies smooth and un-
wholesome in the mud basin, from which the dignity of its
former colonnade and steps have fallen away. Headless
giants, and gigantic heads, lie beside the great gate. A
village stands amidst its precincts. Palms lift their crowned
heads amongst its ruins, and the feathery tamarisk stretches
its long lean arms, tipt with bushes of dark verdure, beside
the waters. A child is playing on the foot of a missing statue,
and using the curve of a single toe for a seat. The round
disc of the sun, the symbol of eternity, with added wings,
that of the resurrection, is conspicuous over each gateway ;
and the bullets of soldiers' rifles, in modern wars, have, by
using them as targets, chronicled passing history. The
long line of sphinxes, in mutilated decay, lies half buried

A FANTAZIA IN THE SMALL TEMPLE : KARNAC.

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 351

on the road side. The blind and the halt, the custodian
and player on the musical reeds, receive their last gratuity,
the idlers crowd round for a last backshish. We depart
along the Luxor road on donkeys. A thousand men are
resting after the day of forced labour, that of cutting a
new canal for irrigation. The husbandman is leaving his
reaping, and the thresher is unyoking his unmuzzled
oxen, which have been threshing out the corn. Young
girls are driving home small flocks of goats, with their kids,
and a dark skinned woman, dressed in brown camel' s-hair
clothing, is leading a solitary buffalo from its evening bath
in the Nile stream. Oxen are toiling at the groaning wheel,
which lifts the water to refresh the land, exhausted by the
heat of the day. The nude brickmaker is trampling chaff
with his naked feet into the clay slime, and the dogs, sitting
on the walls, give us an angry salute as we pass by. The
torn ! torn ! of a rude drum is heard at a fantazia in the
market, and we enter the hotel to finish the melancholy
duty of packing, for we are to leave to-night.

After dinner we overlook from the terrace the Nile,
which reflects the crescent moon bearing between its horns
the dusky orb, the symbol of Horus, the offspring of the sun
and the earth. A few clouds, like the wings which embrace
the round symbol of Egyptian eternity, throw wild shapes
across the sky. A solitary dahabeah, with its long sails
crossed, like the wings of a bird, comes floating by, and is
reflected like a St. Andrew's Cross in the river, so deep in
shade being the hull that only the points are visible. The
evening glow —

" Not as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light — "

is departing ; the sun has set over Thebes and the desert
beyond ; the golden light has waned and passed through
the chromatic scale to blue and purple, and all is peace.

352 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

Our host, an ancient Syrian, invites us to a last " stirrup
cup," and his Ganymede brings us an old bottle of ruby wine.
He garrulously laments the decline of his riches, which he
dates from the rise of Arabi Pasha. " The poor man," says
he, " comes to Egypt, having nothing to lose, and becomes
wealthy ; the rich man brings his means, and loses it all.
The Greek peasant arrives and carries parcels, becomes
waiter, then cook, and is plain Demetrie. He lends money
at thirty per cent per month, and becomes agent, as
Demetrius. He buys a stick, dresses a la mode, becomes
banker, and is Monsieur Demetrius, with the unpro-
nounceable name of his native village added thereto.
Such is Egyptian life of the present day.

" The people here ? There is not an honest man
amongst them ; all are liars and thieves. I associate with
none of them. Next month I go to Syria, on the slope of
Lebanon. I have a house with gardens, filled with all
kinds of fruits and vines. I buy ten pounds of ripe grapes
for one penny, and make wine. I have women who spin
silk, and pay them sixpence per day, but it avails me
nothing. If the Turkish Government sees a man prosperous,
it increases his taxes, and ruins or imprisons him " — and so
on, and so on. Omnia vanitas, and the song of the old
man is the same at Luxor as it was in Jerusalem.

We are led down the Nile slope, to the post boat, attended
by our host and all the servants of the hotel. We find
again the same steward who had brought us to Luxor, and
in the dining room, over the paddle-wheel, the odour of
" mountain dew," from Bonnie Scotland, brings the
thought of home to this distant land of Pharaoh and
fellaheen. The mummies and the Nile dust of a past
greatness are allied by science and machinery to the
inventions, commerce, and manufactures of the far-off
north.

FROM LONDON TO LUXOR. 353

We ourselves had once a Karnac, the university of
our ancestors, the ancient Britons, and one involuntarily
connects it with the Karnac of ancient Egypt by the
veneration begotten of the similarity in name, and the
sisterhood of a possibly contemporaneous history. Whilst
in the one we have rude and unsculptured monoliths
erected as mausoleums or meeting places for religious rites
or legal ceremonies ; in the other we have massive and
graceful temples for her hero, divine, or ancestor worship.
In one we have cairns and barrows, dolmens, and circular
earthworks occupying great areas ; in the other we have
giant statuary, immense obelisks and pyramids of enormous
dimensions. The one is of devotion and faith ; the other
of culture and slavery.

As this year has seen the migration of a strange bird*
from the steppes of the Caucasian range, so does there seem
to have been periods in the migrations of races. From the
Anglo-Saxon of the present day, who has populated a new
continent, to the great Hittite or other nomadic nation
which overran Egypt and founded the Hyksos dynasty
therein, of whom nothing is known but the names of a few
of their kings, we have a long period in which Egypt has
existed and flourished, in spite of wars and disruptions,
famines, plagues, pestilences, and slavery. It has been
overrun by the Nubians, the Assyrians, the Greeks, the
Romans, the Saracens and the Turks, the French and the
British. As nations rise and fall, so do dynasties soar and
droop. Since the days when the temples we have been
looking at were built, the great Aryan and Semitic races
have been constantly at war, as they are to-day ; the one,
impassive as the northern glaciers amidst which they dwell;
the other, fiery as the desert wind which inspires them.

Pallas' Sand Grouse.

354 FROM LONDON TO LUXOR.

It is from the consideration of the influences which have
been so long at work upon the human race, producing an
advancing or retrograde action, that we hope to be able to
preserve Great Britain from decay or deterioration in the
future, and this after all seems to be the main object of
travel. One may look upon a ruin and see its outward
beauty, but there is more in it than meets the eye. If a
nation, a dynasty, or a temple even, must live, it can only
be by the affection and gratitude of its people. Neglect,
ambition, selfishness, cruelty and oppression may reduce
the best and most stately edifice to a heap of ruins and
bring it at last to that which appears beautiful outwardly,
but inwardly, like the Pharisee of old, is "full of dead
men's bones and all uncleanness."

I think the Temanite, who visited the Patriarch Job,
must have had some such thought in his mind when he
said — "Hast thou marked the old way which wicked men
have trodden ? which were cut down out of time, and
whose foundation was overflown with a flood." — Job
xxii., 15.

SONGS AND SONG WRITEKS.

BY W. I. WILD.

GOOD songs are generally defined as being short compo-
sitions of metrical and poetic merit, set to expressive
and catching musical airs. All lyrical music which is
expressive, touches in some way the passions; exciting
alike the singer and the hearer ; and is essentially dramatic
as appealing to the emotional feelings. When well per-
formed, a song is a passionate discourse in most eloquent
music, and in language almost exclusively emotional.

" Yet songs," says an old writer, " may be said to have
been from the beginning of all things. They sprang from
the hearts of the people, and from age to age they made
music with the plash of fisherman's oars, or the hum of the
spinning wheel, and kept time with the step of the plough-
man as he drove his team."

The subject of national songs is one which admits of so
many phases that, at best, one half must remain unwritten.
From the earliest ages, in every clime, in every tongue, the
voice of the people has found expression in song. The
Ancient Jews, the Greeks, the Romans, all had their songs

356 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

of war, of victory, of rejoicing, of love, and of mourning.
In hopeless captivity the old songs were treasured and
remembered by the people, though, alas! the spirit or
opportunity to sing them was absent. The untutored
savage has his songs, expressive enough of all the stages of
the changeful life he leads; all his passionate emotions
find a vent in vocal sounds, which, although possessing
none of the elements of harmony, are to him the songs
most dear, as being the lays of his kindred and his tribe.
High and low, rich and poor, the noble or peasant, all alike
have been accustomed to hear the ditties warbled by a
mother's or a nurse's voice, the gentle lullabies which have
soothed them to sleep, or charmed away their childish
woes.

The stories told in song, are not all idle words,
They linger in the heart full oft, when all the lessons

of the past have flown ;

The hapless wanderer hears some well known strain
That takes him back to long forgotten days
When at his mother's knee he heard her sing
The low sweet songs he treasures in his heart,
A sacred memory, e'er he knew the world
For the base thing it is when hope and love are gone.

Poets and song writers of different epochs have often
enough recorded their opinions on songs. Dryden says : —

The bard that first adorned our native tongue
Tuned to the British lyre his^ancient song.

Milton says: —

This subject for heroic song pleased me.

Sir Thomas More grows facetious when he writes : —

Old song ! a trifle ; I do not care to be put off with an old song.

In our own day, Tennyson says : —

Great is song, used to great ends.

The songs of nations are so eminently characteristic,
that their influence may be traced through every phase
of national life. The Frenchman has his chansonettes,

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 357

his tender love songs, his ditties full of suggestiveness and
double meaning, rarely interspersed with lays of higher
worth or nobler thoughts, yet now and then rising to a
blood-stirring lyric, that can move the world with its story
of love, war, and liberty.

The Italian has his store of finer and more ambitious
music ; operatic in its lightness and fantastic play, its
skilful delineations of the master passions of the human
mind, its winsome loveliness, or its thrilling story of some
feud, which must be cherished and fought out unto the
bitter end.

Germany has its wealth of musical culture, ability, and
training; its never-ending phases of a national passion,
which finds expression in a thousand ways, whether in its
innumerable songs, or its geniuses known throughout the
musical world.

The Spaniard has his lays of chivalry long past, his
amorous verses, laden with the poesy to please a maiden's
ear, when told in all the dulcet strains that lovers only
know.

Poor Poland has her hopeless chants of regal splendours
lost, of hopeless struggles, where her patriots fell ; or
sadder strains, full of the longing for the liberty which
never comes.

In our own loved kingdom there has lived for long the
joys and pleasures of those songs which, national in their
character, have in them all the elements to stir the heart
and fire the brain; to call back to the aged the days of
youth, and to inspire true manhood with the love of
country and of home.

From the very earliest days, songs were given by the
English minstrels who obtained their livelihood by singing
to the harp verses composed by themselves to suit the
occasion that called them forth. Fostered and encouraged

358 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

by the kings, possibly every great and noble family had
its minstrel, who chronicled their deeds in words and
music for the delectation of their guests and retainers.
Uniting the arts of poetry and song, though most of these
wandering minstrels were of foreign origin, their talents
secured them a welcome everywhere ; even so late as the
days of Henry VIII. they found domicile in many a castle
and hall.

A graphic picture of the change in the condition of
these wandering musicians is given in the introduction to
Sir Walter Scott's "Lay of the Last Minstrel."

No more on prancing palfrey borne,
He caroll'd light as lark at morn ;
No longer courted, and caress'd,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest.

A wandering harper, scorned and poor,
He begged his bread from door to door.

Few of the lays of these minstrels have been preserved.
Probably there was little of interest about them beyond the
passing hour, and although it is quite possible that some of
the old English airs may have had their origin in some
wandering harper's fancy, this is only a matter of conjec-
ture. Various collections exist of songs and ballads, mostly
dedicated to the praises of love, wine, the chase, falconry
or war. In the time of Henry II., Walter Mapes, Arch-
deacon of Oxford, confesses his love of good food and
liquor in a song of a most jubilant character, and his
verses are a type of many songs, which were once popular,
but are now found only in the pages of books, wherein they
have been placed as curiosities of literature. Of such an-
cient origin, however, that the date of their first appear-
ance is unknown are — " The Leather Bottel," " There was a
jolly miller," " Wapping Old Stairs," " What hap had I to
marry a shrew," "Old King Cole," "Never love thee

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 359

more," "Come you not from Newcastle," " Cupid's Garden,"
"Philida flouts me," "Cease your funning," "Chevy-
Chase," "Early one morning," "The Bailiffs daughter of
Islington," " The Three Ravens," and numerous hunting
songs.

Edmund Spenser's lays are few : " Perigot's and
Cuddy's, Roundelays," and others. Shakespeare's songs
are as immortal as his works ; although his fanciful
songs are his best, yet the list of his lyrics, that have
stood the test of time, is lengthy enough. Such are
" Spring Time," " The power of music," " Hark, the
Lark," "Bid me discourse," "Blow! blow, thou wintry
wind," "Sigh no more, ladies," "What shall he have
that killed the deer," "Where the bee sucks," "Five
fathom deep thy father lies," " It was a lover and his
lass," "Lo! here the gentle lark," "Oh! Willow, wil-
low," "Should he upbraid," "Under the greenwood tree,"
" Come, live with me, and be my love," " Crabbed age
and youth," &c. Of Shakespeare's lyrics, many were
set to music by Dr. Arne and Henry Purcell ; and later,
others made popular by the genius of Sir H. R.
Bishop. Dryden had the inestimable boon of the
friendship of Henry Purcell, for whom he wrote the
libretto of "King Arthur" and "St. Cecilia's Day."
Since then, various musicians have used Dryden's work,
notably, Jeremiah Clarke, Handel, and numerous English
and foreign composers. Inheriting from his father a mu-
sical ability of a high order, Henry Purcell sang in the
Chapel Royal at the age of six, and at eighteen was appointed
copyist in Westminster Abbey. His first dramatic work
was produced in 1676, and until 1695 he continued to write
music for the works of Dryden, Shakespeare, Lee, Tate,
D'Urfey and others. In 1696 there was issued " Orpheus
Britannicus," a collection of all the choicest songs for one,

360 SONGS AND SONG WAITERS.

two, or three voices, " composed by Mr. H. Purcell, printed
by Wm. Pearson, and sold by John Young, at the Dolphin
and Crown, in St. Paul's Churchyard." This work contains
205 songs. A second edition was issued in 1706, and a third
in 1721. Many of the melodies from these songs have
been made use of by composers during the last century.
Purcell was, and is, justly held as being the greatest of
our English composers. He published 50 dramatic works,
anthems and instrumental pieces without end, and nine
different selections of song.

Following in the school of Purcell, Arne was in every
sense a thoroughly English composer of the first rank.
Besides his compositions of sacred music, he wrote the
scores of 39 plays, and published eight collections of
songs, some of them even now being still high in popular
favour. Born in 1710, he worked hard until his death in
1778.

Men of note as lyrists were Harrington and Fletcher.
Their songs are now difficult to meet with in any fashion
as set to music, although popular enough in their day.

Ben Jonson handed his name down to posterity when he
wrote " Drink to me only with thine eyes," and " From
Oberon in fairy land," almost the only songs of his now
remembered. Of all Herrick's songs of love and pleasure
" Cherry Ripe " alone is found in any modern collection,
although 19 songs by Herrick, Jonson, and Sedley have
been set to music by J. C. Hatton. Milton's works have
been a rich storehouse for musical composers, both ancient
and modern. "By the circling glass," and "By dimpled
brook," were ballads of his set to music by Dr. Arne.

Henry Fielding's fame as a lyrist is now based only on
" A hunting we will go," this being his best known song.

Throughout the seventeenth century there were scattered
innumerable productions of gifted geniuses in song; in

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 361

many cases the composers' names are unknown, yet their
productions survive. "Come lasses and lads," "Near
Woodstocktown," "The Queen of the May," "Vicar of
Bray," and many others, while the tender lyrics of gentle
George Herbert live throughout the years.

The Eighteenth Century is notable for the dawn of a
new era in song writing. In the early days of the Georges
Gay's operas and songs had become popular, and in 1740
" Rule Britannia," written by the poet Thomson, was set
to music by Dr. Arne. In 1712 George F. Handel settled in
London, and until his death in 1759, the musical world
was kept fully occupied with the productions of his master-
pieces; his 19 songs are nothing to compare with the
beauties of his greater works.

Braham was a voluminous song writer as well as a
composer, from 1774 for sixty years he rode on the full
tide of popular favour. Most of his work is now forgotten,
" The sea, the sea," and other nautical ditties lasting the
longest ; but his " Death of Nelson " will never die while
English tars have voices to sing. His rendering of Davy's
"Bay of Biscay," Dibdin's "Tom Bowling," and his own
" Death of Nelson" were among his best efforts. Braham
lived until 1856, when he died miserably poor, having lost
all his earnings through calamity and misfortune.

Incledon first appeared in London in 1790. One modern
writer, in noticing his life, says: — "Incledon's forte was
ballad singing, not the modern class of whining sentimen-
tality so called, but the manly and energetic strains of an
earlier and better age of English poetry and English song
writing." "Black Eyed Susan," "The Thorn," "The
Ploughboy," "The heaving of the lead," "The Wolf,"
"The Arethusa," "Old Towler," "The Post Captain,"
" My heart with love is beating," were all songs, most of
which were written for Incledon by Shield; some of them

Y

362 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

our greatest modern singers have frequently given to
delighted audiences, the others are now rarely heard,
although they are filled with the chaste simple beauty of
genuine English melody. Shield has often been called the
most original composer of his day. Whilst his melodies
charm with their natural grace, they appeal directly to the
heart. The list of his songs given comprises only a few of
the best known and most prominent. He wrote 40 operas,
musical farces, and pantomimes, besides sundry collections
of songs and works on harmony. Born in 1748, Shield
died in 1829. Before the days of Incledon and Dibdin
most of our national sea songs were of the rudest descrip-
tion. The efforts of the song writer and the singer
combined were successful in raising to a much higher
level the vocal efforts of our seamen, and often enough
now there may be heard from the forecastle of many a
gallant ship the songs in praise of a "sailor's life," of
" lovely Nan," or the delights of a night ashore. Dibdin
wrote and published over 1,500 songs; a selection of the
best of these, 300 in number, appeared in a re-issue of two
volumes in 1848, seven years after the death of the author.
The best known numbers now are, " The Anchorsmiths,"
" Blow high, blow low," " I lock'd up all my treasure,"
" Love has eyes," " The Jolly Young Waterman," " Lovely
Nan," "Then, farewell, my trim built wherry," "The
Token," " While the lads of the village," " When Vulcan
forged the bolts of Jove," and, to crown all, "Tom
Bowling," a ballad which for pathetic beauty has nothing
to surpass it in the English language.

Sheridan wrote ''Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen,"
wedding his words to an old English tune of the fifteenth
•century, as if to show that his versatile genius could com-
pete with others in the region of song.

Dibdin's songs were printed arid sold all over the country.

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 363

The sight of the old fashioned vendor of ballads is now a rare
spectacle, yet, occasionally, the long canvas structure, with
its store of lyrical matter, may still be seen displayed on
some convenient wall in inland country towns. The issue
of cheap music was as yet unknown ; the various books and
collections oi songs were unattainable by the masses ; hence
the songs and tunes were taught to thousands by some
wandering ballad singer as he tramped from town to town.
The Stuart rising, in 1745, and its suppression by the King's
forces, inspired Carey with the words and music of the
National Anthem, which was first sung in public at Drury
Lane Theatre in 1745. Carey was a musician and composer
of great merit ; he was a voluminous writer, but the bulk
of his work is forgotten, yet as the author of " Sally in our
Alley " and the " National Anthem," his name will live in
the history of song. Carey's claim to be the author of "God
Save the King" has often enough been disputed, many
claiming the production as the work of Jan Bull. There
is little to support this theory, nor is it likely that if the
tune was composed by Bull, for the glorification of a
Stuart king, it would ever be acceptable to his Hanoverian
successor.

The nineteenth century produced, in even its earliest
years, a number of song writers and song composers, whose
merits will compare with any of their predecessors. Sir
Henry Bishop lives in his numerous works, his glees, songs,
and smaller compositions being more attractive than his
greater efforts. His Shaksperean songs and glees are
familiar favourites; the melodies are clear, harmonious, and
charming. Next to Purcell, Sir Henry Bishop stands fore-
most amongst English composers. He wrote eighty-five
operas and musical dramas, eight volumes of glees, seven
collections of songs, and single songs in great numbers.
Among his part songs and glees, the best known are: "Blow,

364

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

gentle gales," " Where art thou, beam of light," " Up, quit
thy bower," "Sleep, gentle lady;" and in his ballads,
" Should he upbraid," " The pilgrim of love," " The bloom
is on the rye," " Come live with me, and be my love ;" and
the song now known wherever the English language is
spoken, John Howard Payne's words and Bishop's music,
namely, "Home, sweet home."

Sir Walter Scott's English lyrics are, " The minstrel's
request," " Huntsman, rest," and " County Guy."

Lord Byron wrote some pathetic stanzas, and the com-
posers who have used his lyrical pieces are without number,
among them being Schubert, Sullivan, Macfarren, Sir H.
Bishop, Schumann, and Mendelssohn.

Of Balfe's songs and works, there are many opinions. An
eminent musical critic says that " To speak of Balfe as an
artist, is either to misuse the word or to permit its meaning
to depend on temporary success, however acquired ; his
songs possess a trivial melodiousness, such as may be readily
accounted for by the composer's Irish nationality." Another
writer, of higher standing, says : " If lovely melodies, appro-
priate orchestration, and good dramatic illustration can
constitute a claim to be a musician, Balfe is then entitled to
all his popularity." The best criterion lies in the fact, that
so many of his operas and songs have increased in popu-
larity year by year. He wrote thirty dramatic pieces, sixty
songs, exclusive of the songs so popular in his operas, besides
glees and part songs. The best known are " Annabel Lee,"
" The day is done," " Killarney," " Come into the garden,
Maud," " The power of love," and " Good night, beloved."

Charles Mackay, although a Scotchman, has written
numerous English lyrics. To those who remember Henry
Russell in his concerts and entertainments the name of
Charles Mackay seems as a household word. Mackay 's
words and Russell's music are known throughout the world.

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 365

As musical compositions Russell's songs never attained a
high standard, but during the height of his popularity
they were sung in every home. Although descriptive of
America and American life, many of them sprang into
favour at once. Russell was born in 1815 at Sheerness in
Kent, and began his career as a concert giver at the age of
eighteen in New York. Returning to England in 1840,
he became wonderfully popular. Those who heard him
sing some of his lyrics, such as "The Maniac" and the
" Gambler's Wife," will not easily forget the realistic effect
produced on the mind. Russell composed over 700 songs,
the best known now are " Cheer, boys, cheer," " Brave old
oak," "I'm afloat," "Dream of the reveller," "Life on
the ocean wave," "There's a good time coming, boys,"
" To the West, to the West," " Tubal Cain," " Woodman,
spare that tree," "Old Sexton," "Ivy Green," this last
being one of the very few songs written by Charles
Dickens.

Although an American poet, Longfellow's songs have
been so freely used by English musical composers that his
name stands in the front rank among authors whose lyrics
have become to us national songs.. His verses are the
truest and purest forms of lyrical poetry, calling forth all
the highest feelings of our nature, elevating the mind to
sympathetic touch with the words. Longfellow's own
opinion of songs is well expressed where he says —

For songs have power to quiet
The restless pulse of care ;
They come like the benediction
That follows after prayer.

In most instances his words have been set to music of the
most popular character. No less than thirty of our best
musical composers have made use of Longfellow's verses.
Who is there that has not listened with delight to the

366 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

" Psalm of Life," "The Wreck of the Hesperus," "The old
clock on the stairs," " The arrow and the song," " It is not
always May," " Excelsior," " The Bridge," and that glorious
ballad " The Village Blacksmith " ?

Hullah's works will last, not only for his methods of
teaching, but for the intrinsic worth of many of his ballads,
notably "Oh! that we two were maying," "The Storm,"
" Three Fishers."

It would be impossible to enumerate the host of song
writers who have written during the last quarter of a
century.

Adelaide Procter, Eliza Cook, Hon. Mrs. Norton,
Claribel, Frances Ridley Havergal, Speranza, Hamilton
Aide, Charles Jeffrey, Barry Cornwall, Weatherly, one of
the best and most prolific lyrists of the day, Tennyson,
whose songs are wedded to music by our cleverest
musicians, and hundreds of other lyrists, whose words have
been set to tuneful melodies. J. L. Hatton has given us fifty-
four part songs, amongst them being " Come live with me,"
" The Belfry Tower," " Over hill, over dale," " Good night,
beloved," and eighty songs, such as " Good bye, sweetheart,"
" Simon the Cellarer," &c. Stephen Adams (Michael May-
brick) is responsible for " Nancy Lee," " The Midshipmite,"
" Blue Alsatian Mountains," " Good Company," and others.
Virginia Gabriel left us seventy-two songs of more or less
merit, "The Skipper and his Boy," "Tender and true,"
and others. Pinsuti has given us twenty-six part songs and
seventy-four ballads, of which " I fear no foe," " The
Raft," and " The Bugler," are best known. Blumenthal
shines with " My Queen " and " The Message." Molloy, in
his list of thirty-four songs, includes "The Vagabond,"
" London Bridge," " Will o' the Wisp." J. P. Knight wrote
" She wore a wreath of roses," " Rocked in the cradle of the
deep," and forty others. Henry Smart has twenty-five songs,

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 367

"The Lady of the Lea," "The Spinning Wheel," &c. George
Linley, forty songs, and various part songs and duetts.
George Lee, sixty-seven songs, many of them popular
favourites. Gatty, thirty-eight ballads, and numerous
comic songs. Glover, thirty-one, Macfarren, forty-
six ; and Claribel (Mrs. Barnard), fifty-three. Most of these
are popular, and although in many cases not works
of art, they are written for the people. Besides these,
there are Louisa Gray, Huchison, Blockley, Weiss, Miss
Lindsay, T. Hood, Arditi, John Barnett, Cotsford Dick,
F. H. Cowen (sixty songs since 1870), Clark Whitfield, with
his volume of songs and glees, and a legion of others. Sir
Arthur Sullivan may be justly regarded as one of the
brightest of our modern musical geniuses ; already over
twenty dramatic and operatic pieces have emanated from
his pen, as well as anthems, oratorios, and hymn tunes in
boundless profusion, whilst his seventy songs are not only
skilfully written, but many of them destined to live. The
most popular are " A weary lot is thine," " If doughty
deeds," " Lost Chord," " Let me dream again," " Once again,"
" Sweethearts," " Thou'rt passing hence," " Will he come ? "
and "Maid of Arcadee."

The growth of a taste for music has developed in this
country with astonishing rapidity, and there are now but
few persons who are not possessed of musical knowledge in
some form or other, which is fostered by the opportunities
afforded on all hands of hearing good music well rendered.
The change in the habits of the people has worked
wonders ; there is amongst us a constant craving in some
form or other for amusement, and the steady growth of
musical culture is of all things the most hopeful sign.

In 1838 there appeared in Stockholm a young girl who
was destined to inaugurate a new era in English ballad
singing. From the time of her first de'but in England, in

368 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

1847, she became a popular favourite, and her rendering
of the pathetic ballads of Bishop, Arne, and others will
never be forgotten. Unequalled in song, she was a failure
as an operatic singer, and it was more the perfection
with which she rendered the familiar songs of the people
than the possession of any other quality, that endeared
Jenny Lind to the bulk of English audiences. Sims
Eeeves began his career in 1839. It has been said of him
that as he was the greatest tenor Britain ever produced, so
he was one of the most successful. Like Jenny Lind, Sims
Reeves is best known for his ballad singing, the songs of
Shield, Carey, Bishop, and other old English composers
having been sung by him thousands of times.

Amongst the mass of songs issued by the music pub-
lishers every year for the supply of the never ceasing
demand, there may now and then be found jewels which
will shine undimmed, yet the bulk of modern songs and
ballads lacks the pure manliness and beauty which is
characteristic of the works of our earlier song writers.
Whilst John O'Keefe's words and Shield's music in the
"Thorn" assure the doubting maiden that the lover will
perish " if ever he plants in her bosom a thorn," the modern
lyrist is not so constituted. There must be an air of sickly
romance about the transaction, a maudlin sentimentality
which is utterly foreign to all genuine and manly feeling.
The author of "In the gloaming" makes the lover apologise
for having broken his troth, and left the maiden to pine
in single blessedness, finally assuring her that such a course
of conduct " was best for you and best for me," a truism
which if she is a woman of any spirit at all she has found
out for herself long ago. In other cases the song is a
mournful dirge over blighted hearts and shattered vows, or
too often a soul harrowing complaint that the idol of their
affections has wedded some other man whose gold has

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS 369

secured her hand if not her heart. We have few really
good humorous songs ; the bulk of so-called comic songs,
with their generally idiotic rhyme and chorus, all tell the
same story. They are the products of the day, their repu-
tation frequently expiring before the close of the career of
that gigantic intellect (?) the Lion Comique — the great
Jones, Smith, or Brown — who is responsible for their birth.
Tremendously funny these ditties seem to be to the listener
who hears them for the first time. If he hears them again
when years have gone by, he wonders to himself wherein
lay the wit he thought so much of. Nevertheless England
has a goodly store of songs essentially national, carried by
us and ours across the seas, and known and remembered
when the scenes wherein we heard them first have passed
away, and the heart of a true Englishman ever beats
responsive to the strains of the lays of his own loved land.
The harp of Erin was a true symbol of its use and popu-
larity in the Emerald Isle. Even in the earliest ages of the
Christian era its fame was known. In the twelfth cen-
tury John of Salisbury writes: "The attention of the
people to musical instruments I find worthy of commenda-
tion, in which their skill is beyond comparison superior to
that of any nation I have seen." Fuller says: "Yes, we
might well think that all the concert of Christendom in
this war [the crusade conducted by Godfrey of Boulogne]
would have made no music if the Irish harp had been
wanting." Equally glowing in their praises were the
monastic writers of the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth
centuries ; but from the fact that written music was then a
thing unknown, there remain no records of the musical airs
in use. In Chappell's " Popular Music of the Olden Time,"
three Irish airs extracted from Queen Elizabeth's virginal
book are given : The " Ho-hoane," " An Irish Dumpe," and
" Calline Costurame." Shakespeare alludes to the last air

370 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

in Henry V., act 4, scene 4, where Pistol addresses a French
soldier thus: " Quality? Calen o-costurame," an attempt
to spell as pronounced, " Colleen, oge astore" — young
girl, my treasure. The earliest published collections of
Irish music are by Burke Thumott, 1720, by Niell of Christ
Church Yard, Dublin, and one by the son of Carolan, the
harpist, in 1747. The Irish harp had many strings, com-
posed of brass and other metals; old harps are still in
existence containing 37 and 52 strings. In the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries the art of music almost decayed in the
island through the fierce and incessant wars which devas-
tated it from sea to sea. There had been many celebrated
harpers, and the national instrument appeared on the
coinage of Henry VIII., and was also affixed to the
seal of State papers ; but the powers of the law had been
strained to the utmost to put down the minstrels who sang
their lays of Ireland's departed freedom, and thus kept
alive the spirit of disaffection against the English power.
A list of the celebrated harpers of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries is given in Grove's "Dictionary of
Music and Musicians."

Several attempts were made to preserve the national
music, the latest meeting of bards being held in 1792.
Bunting published some hundred airs, as used by the old
harpers, and many of them were used by Moore and others,
and incorporated in their songs. On the cessation of the
wars of Elizabeth, Cromwell, and William III., the dis-
tracted country had peace for a while, and soon after the
Hanoverian succession foreign musicians visited Ireland,
and introduced the music of other countries, the Irish
melodies going out of fashion. The "Cronan," one of the
most ancient Irish songs, was softly sung by a chorus, whilst
the principal voice sustained the solo.

An interesting point in Irish melodies is, that they are

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 371

formed of four strains of equal length, the first soft and
subdued, the second bolder and more energetic, the third
a repetition of the second, and the fourth a repetition of
the first. There are some twenty collections of Irish music
published at various dates, from 1720 to 1877 ; amongst the
best and most reliable are those of Petrie and Bunting,
well-known names in the annals of Celtic Song. Beet-
hoven arranged many Irish airs for the piano, violin, and
cello ; some of them are found in Moore's collection, and
others are of doubtful authenticity. O'Carolan, the har-
pist, was likewise a poet and composer, who became blind at
16, yet was widely known as a minstrel, and composed a
large number of popular Irish tunes: — "Bumper Squire
Jones," "Bridget Cruise," "Liquor of Life," "Savourneen
Deelish," and many others.

On May 28th, 1779, there was born in Dublin, the genius
who was to elevate to their present standard the gems of
Irish song. One of our best musical critics says of Moore —
" The songs of Moore will always be models for cultivators
of lyric poetry, of which, speaking generally, they are the
most perfect specimens. By his felicitous use of expression,
Moore has freed his originality from that artifice or labour
which is fatal to a song, each individual song of this poet
displaying the exquisite union of poetical and musical ex-
pression, with which they all more or less abound." Gifted
with a power of impromptu song he stands without
parallel in the capacity of poet, singer, and musician. All
hearts were drawn to him as he sat and warbled out his
rippling melodies. To find a parallel to Moore, we must go
back to the palmy days of Provencal Song, where the old
troubadours secured a welcome everywhere they went.
"Fly not yet," "The Legacy/' "Drink to her," "Nora
Creina," "The minstrel boy," "The young May moon,"
"Nay, tell me not, dearest," "Farewell, but whenever,"

372 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

"Oh I blame not the bard," "The Vale of Avoca," are all
gems of equal merit, but when the list of some hundreds
of such like compositions is gone through, almost every
song lover has some special favourite of his own.

J. D. Brown, in his "Biographical Dictionary of
Musicians," says : " The only thing national about the ' Irish
Melodies ' is the music, the poetry, unlike that of Burns,
being illustrative of commonplace sentiments of general
application, which could as well be localised in France as
in Ireland." Sir Kobert Stewart, in Grove's " Dictionary of
Music and Musicians," calls Moore the "poet of all circles.
Probably no poet or man of letters has ever attained such
popularity, or such loving celebrity among his many rivals."
Whilst many of Moore's works have been translated into
French, Russian, and Polish, the greatest testimony to their
worth lies in the fact that his songs will for ever live in the
hearts of his countrymen.

In 1797 Samuel Lover was born in Dublin, and soon
after attaining his manhood he began to give to the
world the fruits of his labours. Lover was a painter,
poet, novelist, and composer, but in his capacity for song
writing he is best remembered. A complete collection
of these lyrics was issued in London in 1859, embracing
sixty compositions of more or less merit, many of them
destined to live. " The Angel's Whisper," " Bowld Soger
Boy," "Fairy Tempter," " Four Leaved Shamrock," "Land
of the West," " The Letter," " Molly Bawn," " Rory
O'More," " Macarthy's Grave," " That Rogue Riley,"
" Whistlin' Thief," " Widow Machree."

Sir John Stevenson was another composer of great
ability. In conjunction with Sir Henry Bishop, he brought
out editions of Moore's " Irish Melodies " in the years
1817, 1834, and a revised copy in 1858. He also composed
" See our oars with feather'd spray," " Welcome, friends of

SONGS AND SONG WXITEXS. 373

harmony," " Dublin cries," and various glees, songs, duetts,
and trios.

Edward Bunting was, above all things, an ardent admirer
of the music of his own people, and did more to popularise
Irish music than any other musician of his day. Occupy-
ing an eminent position as an organist, he displayed a
wonderful perseverance in collecting and arranging many
of the half-forgotten tunes and songs, which but for his
care would long since have been utterly lost.

Arthur O'Leary is another Irish composer of later date.
His songs, together with those written by his wife, form a
numerous contingent. John William Glover has been a
considerable contributor to Irish song literature. " Erin's
Native Song," composed in honour of the patriotic orators
of Ireland, was performed in 1873. "Ode to Thomas
Moore," and various songs of more or less merit. Molloy's
Irish songs are not numerous ; " Colleen," " Thady
O'Flynn," " Eily's reason," " Kerry dance," " Blue Eyes,"
and sundry others. The remainder of his songs are written
as much for English as Irish tastes. Amongst minor song
writers there come Lady Morgan, who wrote " Kate
Kearney," and Mahony,who wrote "The Bells of Shandon."
Thomas Campbell wrote that pathetic ballad, " The Exile
of Erin," and John Oxenford wrote to an old Irish melody,
" Around me, blest image, ever soar," and " 'Tis no time to
take a wife," with its refrain anent John O'Grady. Clarence
Mangan was an admirable translator of songs from the Irish.
"The lament for O'Neill and O'Donnell" is one of his best.
Callman and Ferguson were both clever versifiers and
adapters of native poetry, and produced " Willy Gilliland,"
"The Wicklow War Song," "Forging of the Anchor,"
" Pibroch of Domil Dhu," &c.

Humorous songs of popular repute by various composers
are "Willy Keilly," "Fair of Turloughmore," " Peggy

374 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

Bawn," " Blackbird," "Irish Molly/' "Drimin Dhu,"
" Croppy Boy," and others. Banim wrote the magni-
ficent song "Soggarth Aroon." Colonel Blacker gave
to the world the well-known Orange song " Keep your
powder dry," also two versions of " Boyne Water."
G. Griffin has a number of stirring lyrics, amongst
others " Gillie Machree," " Orange and Green," " Bridal of
Malahide." Duffy, of Dublin, published two books of
Irish lyrics, which are the truest collections extant of
the people's songs. Many of Walter Maynard's and Gerald
Griffin's ballads are found in the modern standard collec-
tions of songs.

Of ballads, old and new, may be enumerated " The Black
Joke," "Michael Hoy," "Irish Exile," "The Eose Tree,"
" The Fox Chase," "Garryowen," "Limerick Lamentation,"
"Lough Sheelin," "Kitty Tyrrell," "Cruiskeen Lawn,"
" Kitty of Coleraine," " Groves of Blarney," " The Pretty
Girl," " Pretty girl milking her cow."

The melodies of many of these old songs have been
utilised by Moore and others, until the original words are
almost forgotten.

'Many lyrists have written songs, and musicians the
music, full of genuine feeling, the subjects of which have
been scenes or incidents in the Emerald Isle. Examples
of this class are Lady Dufferin's exquisite songs " The Irish
Emigrant," " Bay of Dublin," and " Terence's Farewell," as
are also " Killarney," and " Kathleen Machree," by Balfe.
It would be an impossible task to enumerate half the songs
which are of a truth native to the soil, songs suited to all
occasions, yet difficult to trace in published works.

The humorous songs of Erin have a much higher tone
than have those of England. They are descriptive mostly
of nature and national pastimes, and there is nothing more
catching than some of the expressions used. Whether

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 375

seeking his colleen, or returning from market or fair ;
whether enjoying the country dance, or describing life in
the cabin, with the never failing pig brought into the
rhymes, the Irish singer uses lyrics that are racy of the soil,
and in all of which there is an endless vein of merriment,
brightened by his native wit.

Unlike other parts of Great Britain, Ireland has a
heritage of songs which are exclusively her own. The out-
pourings of the poetical genius of those patriots who have
felt cruelly the lack of liberty, the very oppression they
have suffered, has brought forth the gems of song, which
are now known as " National songs." Many of these lyrics
are born from the intense love of country possessed by
most Irishmen ; no matter where he may be, the heart of
the wanderer regards the home of his birth as the one
green spot round which his affections and interests are
centred from the cradle to the grave. The late R. D.
Williams gives beautiful expression to this sentiment in
his song called "Longing/* written in America shortly
before he was killed whilst fighting in the Federal Army.

I wish I was home in Ireland,

For the summer will soon be there,
And the fields of my darling sireland,

To my heart will be fresh and fair.

Down where the deep Blackwater

Glides on to its ocean rest,
And the hills with their green clad bosoms

Roll up from the river?s breast.

I wish I was home in Ireland,

For the flowers will soon be there ;
Clothing each vale and highland,

And loading the perfumed air.

For in spite of the seas that part us,

The land to my heart is dear ;
And to be but one day in Ireland

Were worth a whole liletime here.

376 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

Thousands of Williams' fellow-countrymen are animated
by the same sentiment ; hence it is little wonder there
should exist so many songs which are expressive of the
desires and longings of a race emulous of freedom, and
proud of their nationality. Collections of these songs have
appeared from time to time, a small volume being issued
in 1801. Barry published a collection in 1870. In 1866,
James Duffy, Dublin, published the poems and songs of
Thomas Davies. Thomas Davies may in truth be called
the best lyrist of national songs that Ireland ever possessed.
Born in 1814, it was not until 1842 that his works began to
be known, and from that year, until the end of his brief ex-
istence, he continued to produce the miscellaneous poetical
pieces now so widely known. Many of these have been set
to music, and passed into the region of popular songs.
"Tipperary," "The West's asleep," "Annie dear," "Bal-
lad of Freedom," " Boatman of Kinsale," " Fontenoy," " A
Nation Once Again," and some fifty others. In Davies'
essays there is one on "Irish Music and Poetry," and
another on " The Ballad Poetry of Ireland." Davies also
wrote the preface to Barry's collection of the " Songs of
Ireland," published in 1845. " The Memory of the Dead,"
and " The Hymn of Freedom," were amongst the first, as
they have been the best, of these songs which have appeared
from time to time in the Nation. The " Muster of the
North " was another stirring lyric, written by C. G. Duffy,
a notice of which appeared in the London Times. R. D.
Williams, besides "Longing," wrote "The Munster War
Song," "Adieu to Innisfail," "Patriot brave," and various
others. Dr. F. McCarthy, M. J. Barry, Hugh Harkin,
William Brennan, Rev. C. Meehan, Clarence Mangan, J. D.
Fraser, and many others, have written in similar strains,
whilst such songs as "The Wearing of the Green" and
" Shan-van- Voght " have achieved a world-wide fame. It

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 377

may be a matter of opinion as to whether the dreams and
desires of these patriots shall ever be realised, but none the
less their lays are part and parcel of Irish song.

From the days when Ossian warbled his songs of mighty
deeds and brilliant forays, through the successive centuries,
Scottish songs have ever held a high place. Fast dying
out before the brutal lust for boundless deer forests, the
old glens of the north are populous no more. How often
has the traveller in these peaceful scenes been struck by
the weird beauty of some lovely melody, sung maybe by
the village maiden at her lowly task, or by the fisherman
on the loch ; unprinted and unknown to the world at large,
the song and tune have been handed down from one
generation to another, long after the song writer has
mouldered into dust, yet soon will the old lays pass away,
with the people who have sung them.

In the thirteenth century the lyrical songs of Scotland
began to be known ; songs of love, of war and derision of
their foes, the English ; realistic in their description of the
simple manners and customs of the day. The kings and
queens of Scotland were not only skilled musicians, but
frequently song writers and composers of no mean order.
James I. was a master mind in poetry and music, James II.
and Mary Queen of Scots were equally proficient on
various instruments of music, and at least five songs
written by James V. have survived until now. Little was
known of Scotch Minstrelsy in England until the days of
the Stuarts. D'Urfey, then a Frenchman domiciled in
London, and a writer of numerous dramatic farces, also of
" Wit and Mirth," a somewhat obscene production, wrote
"Within a mile of Edinboro' town" and several other
songs, in imitation of the Scottish style. Gay in his
" Beggars Opera," exhibited his knowledge of border songs,
and Allan Kamsay, in 1724, published several lyrics of
z

378 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

more or less merit, and did much for Scottish minstrelsy.
Full of the spirit of Jacobitism, the songs of the latter half
of the last century were curious as exhibiting the depth
and intensity of attachment which had adhered for so many
decades to the unlucky, and alas! unworthy house of
Stuart. Over twenty collections of these songs have been
issued, and numerous ditties of the same class existed up
to the last twenty years. The curious minor key in which
many Scotch songs were written, made them unpleasing
and unfamiliar to English ears, whilst to a true Scotchman,
they are racy of the heather and the hills. Among old
Scottish songs are " Glenlogie," " 0, can you sew cushions "
(cradle song), " Helen of Kirkconnell," " Willie's gane to
Melville Castle," " How can ye gang, lassie," " Lizzie Lind-
say," "Aye waukin o," "The twa corbies," two verses of
this last exhibiting a keen insight into the foibles of human
nature. After asking his mate where dinner for the day
must be procured, the bird replies : —

In behint " yon " auld fail lyke,

I wot there lies a new slain knighte ;

An naebody kens that he lies there,

But his hawk and his hound and his ladye fair.

His hound is to the hunting gane,

His hawk to fetch the wild fowl hame ;

His lady's taen another mate,

So we may make our dinner sweet.

"Bonnie George Campbell," "The Blue bells of Scot-
land," "Weaving Song," "Gilderoy," "Bonnie Earl of
Moray," " He's owre the hills," " Bonnie house of Airlie,"
and many others are sung to music which has been used
for older songs of which the words have fallen into disuse.

"My dark haired maid," "Joy of my heart," "Fair
young Mary," " Health and joy be with you," " Ho, ro, my
nut brown maid," and many more are translations from

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS, 379

the Gaelic by the Macleods, Dr. Cowper, Rev. A. Stewart,
Professor Blackie, and others. Captain Ogilvy in 1705
wrote "A Jacobite lament" in answer to an anti- Jacobite
song popular in 1690, "The women are a' gane wud."

Often enough local only in their popularity, the old
Scottish songs were confined mostly to those who were to
the manner born.

Allen Ramsay is responsible for many lyrics which still
hold their own in the lays of Scotland. He did much to
preserve the old Scots melodies by suiting his verses to
tunes in such collections as " The Tea Table Miscellany,"
"The Evergreen/' &c. Hogg's songs may be found in
almost any collection of Scottish songs published during
the last half century. Sir Walter Scott wrote few songs
in his own native dialect. "Bonnie Dundee," "Blue
bonnets over the border," "Jock o' Hazeldean," &c., but
the number of composers is immense who have made use
of his lyrics.

The music of Scotland owes in a great measure its pre-
sent popularity to the inimitable genius of Burns, whose
lays are familiar songs to the whole world ; some of them
pathetic in their sadness, others inspiriting in their records
of friendships and passionate love, but all of them full of
the fire of his genuine humanity. Many of Burns's songs
were fitted to national airs, at once securing for themselves
a popularity that has never decreased with years, many of
his verses being still sung to their original setting, although
Sir H. Bishop, Howard Glover, Sir A. Sullivan, Sir W. S.
Bennett, Mendelssohn, Schumann, and numerous others
have all written music to Burns's poetry. By some
writers Burns is described as the first good song writer that
had up to then appeared. It is certain that he opened up
a new era in the region of song writing, and showed a true
sympathy with human nature. Knowing too well the sub-

380 SONGS AND SONG WRITERS.

jects whereon he wrote, he never indulged in high flown
sentimentality. His songs came direct from the heart,
gushing forth as from a mountain spring, and the Scottish
people were stirred as they never have been before or since
by any genius of song.

Lady Nairn wrote the three gems entitled " The land o'
the leal," "Caller Herrin'," "That lass o' Gowrie's," whilst
Lady Lindsay's name is linked with " Auld Kobin Gray."
The works of Thomas Campbell have been well illustrated
in song; his verses are chaste and melodious, and have
found favour with Bishop, Attwood, Callcott, and others.

Thomas Carter, although a Dublin organist, wrote
" 0 Nannie, wilt thou gang wi' me ? "

George Farquhar Graham was a well-known Scottish
composer ; his reputation rests chiefly on the issue of the
" Songs of Scotland," published in 1815, a work which is,
even now, the standard edition for modern purposes.

John Gunn wrote the history of the Scottish harp, from
the earliest times until its discontinuance in 1734.
Amongst modern Scottish composers, Alexander Campbell
Mackenzie has attained a high rank, his part songs, and
music exhibiting great ability. Peter Macleod's best
known songs are "Scotland Yet," "Yellow Locks,'*
"Charlie," "Flora's Lament," "My Bonnie Wife," and
various others.

Like Balfe, William Wallace was successful in writing
operas that have outlived most of the works of his com-
petitors; his songs are more English than Scotch, and
comprise, amongst others — "The Bellringer," "Gipsy
Maid," &c.

In 1876, there was issued in Leeds, a Collection of Songs,
composed and part written by the late Rev. John Park, D.D.,
St. Andrews, a collection which is one of the best compila-
tions extant of thoroughly Scottish Music.

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 381

John Templeton was one of the most refined vocalists
that ever came from the North ; from the time of his de'but,
in 1828, until his retirement, in 1852, his success was un-
equivocal. Eobert Archibald Smith was a considerable
contributor to Scottish song ; besides numerous sacred com-
positions, he wrote many well-known songs, amongst others,
" Highlander's Farewell," " Jessie, the Flower of Dunblane,"
" The Harper of Mull," " On wi' the Tartan," " Maid of the
Sea." Scottish melody has often had most able interpre-
ters: John Wilson's "Nights wi' Burns" and Jacobite
songs did much to make known the class of songs wherein
he excelled. David Kennedy has sung Scottish songs all
over the world, and he, too, has made Burns's songs a
characteristic feature of Scotch melody.

The names of over fifty song-writers, besides those enu-
merated, are contained in a collection published in 1862. A
magnificent edition of Scottish songs is the Royal Edition,
issued by Field and Tuer, in 1880, and dedicated to the
Queen. Boosey's Royal Edition contains 190 of the best
examples of what are there called "The Songs of Scot-
land." This issue is remarkable for a very exhaustive and
comprehensive review of Scotland's songs, written by Charles
Mackay. He says — " Scotland has reason to be proud of her
songs and her music. The muse of Scotland is not a clas-
sical beauty, nor a crowned queen, nor a fine lady, but a
simple country lass ; fresh, buoyant, buxom, and healthy,
full of true affection and kindly charities ; a bare-footed
maiden, that scorns all false pretence, and speaks her
honest mind ; her laughter is as refreshing as her tears, and
her humour as genuine as her tenderness."

To the dwellers in the Welsh Principality belongs the
distinction of being the only people who, through all the
centuries, have fostered and preserved the use of the harp
in unbroken continuity up to the present day. Their

382 SONGS AND SONG WAITERS.

national Eistedfoddau can be traced from the Sixth Cen-
tury of the Christian era, and annually there are compe-
titions for the proud position of the Chief Bard and
Harper of Wales.

Most of these festivals are held in the Welsh language ;
their national songs are written in the same vernacular ;
hence they are unknown except to those who have been
born Welshmen, or have mastered the mysterious combi-
nations of consonants which are such utter stumbling blocks
to the stranger.

Although some of England's most gifted singers have
come from the Principality, there is small store of song
lore which is understandable by the general reader.

The most familiar Welsh songs are — " The Ash Grove/
"When morning is breaking," "Meegan's fair daughter,"
"One bright summer morning," "Bells of Aberdovey,"
"Men of Harlech," "Vale of Llangollen," "When I was
roaming," "Black Sir Harry," "The bard's love"; to
these airs English translations have been written by Mrs.
Hemans, Walter Maynard, Maria Hayes, Miss Lawrence,
John Oxenford, John Thomas, George Linley, and others.

One of the first collections of Welsh songs with English
airs was published by Miss Jane Williams in 1837, but
there are now several standard books of Welsh lyrics.
Without wishing to detract from the merits of Welsh
minstrelsy, it seems but fair to say that the confining of
all competitions to a language only known throughout a
limited area, has prevented the spread of Welsh music
throughout the musical world.

The United Kingdom may well be proud of its songs and
song writers. No other nation has such a mixture of lyrics
so diffuse in character, and yet so harmonious as a whole.
Whatever part of the country a man may come from, he
has always in his memory the remembrance of the songs

SONGS AND SONG WRITERS. 383

which have sounded in his ears : the refrain of the melodies
which have often enough cheered and inspired him with
new hope in the battle of life.

For much valuable information and many extracts, the
writer is indebted to Groves' "Dictionary of Music and
Musicians," Brown's "Biographical Dictionary of Musi-
cians," " Encyclopaedia Britannica," Chappell's " History
of Music," and Standard Song Books ; and various other
publications, old and new.

JAMES MONTGOMERY:

A LITERARY ESTIMATE.*
BY CHAS. T. TALLENT-BATEMAN.

TAMES MONTGOMERY'S fame suffers, and will per-
*J manently suffer, from three causes.

Firstly : The poet shared a grandiloquent surname with
a contemporary — I doubt, as many others have doubted,
whether the latter obtained his surname otherwise than
by assumption, for an ignoble purpose — whose, and
whose publishers' persistent and unscrupulous puffing of
some tawdry verses, advertized as " Montgomery's Latest
Poems," secured for his book a third edition, a cutting lash
from Macaulay, and a lasting obscurity. James Mont-
gomery has, by Mr. Davenport Adams and others, been
confounded with Macaulay's Robert Montgomery — some-
times known as " ' Satan ' Montgomery."

Secondly: The poet has gained (and will ever hold)
such eminence and popularity as a hymn writer, that
most of his admirers ignore or overlook his position
as a classic lyrist. It is true that Montgomery ridded us
of Sternhold and Hopkins, and of Tate and Brady, and of

* This paper forms the Introduction to a Bibliography of the poet, which is believed to
be the only complete one that has yet been compiled. The Bibliography -will be printed
in the " Papers " of the Manchester Literary Club for 1889.

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 385

a good slice (or rather a bad slice) of Isaac Watts: and
England owes him much for that: but English song is
more deeply indebted to him for, in the words of a
reviewer,* " some half dozen " of lyrics (" as his ex-
quisite 'Tribute to the Genius of Burns/ his 'Common
Lot/ his 'Night/ 'The Field Flower/ and 'The Grave'"),
which " are not inferior to anything of the same class in
the language."

Thirdly: The poet's editors and publishers, since his
death, have all been injudicious enough to print too much
of what Montgomery wrote. They have, in their desire to
make a "book," "mixed wheat with chaff" (generally,
little wheat with much chaff), and made it difficult, for
those occasional readers of the poet — in fact all those who
do not " know him off by heart " — to select, from his
works, what is worthy of perusal ; to separate really in-
spired and artistically turned lyrics, from " impromptus,"
written in albums, or hastily tossed off at a dinner, or
during a ramble, or on a Sunday school platform. In
enforcing the fact, that the journalist was a poet, these
editors were not duly reminded that the poet was a
journalist. He was a man who, while an active journalist,
was too much tempted to use his pen before his thoughts
or literary plans had had time to develop and mature,
and who, after his retirement from journalism (viz., during
the last thirty years of his life), insisted upon being a
busy man of leisure; fancying, apparently, that he was
expected to make some substantial annual return for his
Government pension. He was a man, who (though corre-
sponding with distinguished literary men) associated,
intimately and locally, only with mediocre people — fawn-
ing flatterers, ever ready to applaud, as perfect gems,

* J. Devey, M.A., in his " A Comparative Estimate of Modern English Poets," 1873.

386 JAMES MONTGOMERY.

efforts which, in his younger days, the author would have
treated simply as crude bases for polished work. Mont-
gomery's position would be better established in English
literature, if he were represented, as a poet, by (say) his
five principal poems, by one-tenth of his lyrics and other
minor pieces, and by perhaps a score out of his 400 hymns,
most of them certainly beautiful.

Montgomery's fame is, at present, suffering, and will,
probably for some time, continue to suffer, from two other
causes.

First, the poet has not been made known to general
readers, or to literary students, as a MAN — a man of
personal worth and of interesting feeling and expe-
rience; in other words, we have no good biography of
him. The chief reason for this is, that a couple of con-
ceited, self-asserting nobodies — whom some people within
the confines of Sheffield may be able to identify as a certain
John Holland and an uncertain James Everett — have
overwhelmed every second-hand bookstall with seven
pretentious volumes, padded with the commonplace
biographies and bibliographies, verses and correspondence,
of the uninteresting compilers themselves, as well as with
the most immaterial conversation and casual remarks
of the poet — volumes dreary and ill-arranged, impu-
dently labelled "Memoirs of the Life and Writings of
James Montgomery." This badly-written, patchwork speci-
men of bookinaking, while repelling us from studying in it
a really interesting and instructive life and character,
stands snarling, like the dog in the manger, at any other
attempt to pourtray in detail what was undeniably a lovable
nature — lovable in its simplicity, gentleness, unselfishness,
goodness — or to trace with certainty and directness, a
noble, and. therefore, useful and successful career.

Far better that the portrait of the modest, shrinking

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 387

poet had never been painted, than that his features and
form should have been trailed (with elaborate details and
prominent background, and provokingly trifling incidentals)
over seven unwieldy, showily-framed cartoons, covered with
a double layer of green-tinted bottle-glass — cartoons all the
more exasperating in that they afford to an artist no
material, only immaterial, from which to produce an accu-
rate miniature or an impressionist outline. Surely it is
better that a sitter's warts and freckles, his studs and
buttons, be less scrupulously reproduced, and that his
eyes and lips (seats of animation and expression) be traced
with some amount of carefulness and spirit! Surely,
it is right that the subject should hold the prominence,
even to the comparative effacement, or, if need be, the
utter exclusion of tolerated toadies and pestering para-
sites ! Holland and another ! professing, would-be friends
of his, ye are Montgomery's greatest enemies !

In the second place, the poet's fame is suffering from
the fact, that he sang principally of sacred things — that he
was the "Christian Poet" of the last generation. The
present generation differs from its predecessor in nothing
more than it does in its views of religious questions. We
are now experiencing the reaction from the influence of
that dogmatic school of pure, though, perhaps, occasionally
prudish — I do not say it was not the best — piety, repre-
sented by a Hannah More and a Rowland Hill. The
aversion the present generation entertains for all pub-
lications of a religious tendency dating between (say) 1810
and 1830, has led to the temporary neglect of a poet who
was a contemporary and friend of the once omnipotent
worthies above-named, but who was actually " head and
shoulders " above them (or any member of their school) in
either literary culture or artistic ability.

Judging critically and impartially, I believe that Mont-

388 JAMES MONTGOMERY.

gomery's popularity will revive ; the while acknowledging
that such a revival may, in its turn, experience a new declen-
sion or revulsion. Divine Truth is imperishable ; not so
every form of its expression. The Gospel is " for all ages " :
not so its^best paraphrase. The latter may, generally does,
suit, or please, only a century, a generation, or one school
in a generation. True that we — a century after the one,
and two centuries after the other — admire the paraphrases
of an Addison and of a Cowper ; and, perhaps, the next
century, or the century beyond that, may revel in the
paraphrases of a Montgomery. George Herbert, the
" Christian Poet " of three centuries ago, is only now
regaining the admiration (for his poetry, as distinguished
from his early English) which his contemporaries accorded
him. Montgomery was more graceful and musical, and
yet not less forcible, than Herbert. Herbert, Cowper, and
Montgomery must rank as England's sweetest cc singers of
the Church ; " Cowper standing pre-eminently among
the three as the man of letters and the man of profound
thought, Montgomery as the master of tuneful rhythm and
clear, precise expression.

In connection with Montgomery, two questions may
naturally arise — first, in what way is he essentially a
religious poet ? Second, making full allowance for his
religious pieces, what is his proper place in English
literature ?

To answer the first question, I will compare large things
with comparatively little things — a great man with a com-
paratively insignificant man — the master writer with his
modest editor. Milton is termed a " religious poet ;" but
Milton treated sacred subjects in a secular (though lofty)
strain. He was more a poet of divinity than a religious
poet. Montgomery was religious in his poetry ; Milton,
poetical in his religion. Montgomery nearly always dealt

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 389

with the phases and phenomena of Nature, as well as the
secular affairs of mankind, from a religious standpoint and
with a religious bias and purpose ; not so Milton. Milton
was a mighty and enthrallingly magnificent theologian,
ever in search of earthly similes and mundane representa-
tions for life in Heaven, and the attributes and dealings
of God. Montgomery was only an impressively earnest
exponent of practical every-day religion ; eager to trace in
earthly sights and experiences the presence and influence
of a Divine Father. Milton would bring God to earth ;
Montgomery would take earth heavenwards.

In answering the second question — Montgomery's place
in literature — I am reminded that our poet has been
described, on the one hand, as " the Cowper of the nine-
teenth century," and on the other, as "the Moore of
solemn themes."

I will not here attempt to compare Montgomery with
Cowper — between whom and the former there was much in
common, both in temperament and experience, in taste and
in creed. The subject will afford abundant material for a
separate paper. May I, however, suggest that Montgomery's
power and beauty lay in expressive solos and heart-
enchanting melodies; Cowper' s, in soul-stirring choruses,
and in chords, deep, full, and grand ?

To make a comparison between Montgomery and his
many contemporary poets; I should say that Campbell,
Rogers, and Moore (and perhaps in that same order) would
immediately precede Montgomery, while Felicia Hejnans
would rank just after him.

Moore (though so superficial) must be placed before
Montgomery, for a very simple reason. He sang to a wider
circle. "The World before the Flood" is as potent a
charmer, and as admirable a " transporting " magician as
is " Lalla Rookh," but not a tenth so entertaining. Each

390 JAMES MONTGOMERY.

poet was daringly original in having tried, and successfully
tried, something no other English writer had ever, to our
knowledge, even dreamed of attempting. Moore had
thoroughly steeped himself in the Oriental : Montgomery
had as thoroughly imbued himself with the Archaic. His
self-absorption gave each equal power : but the one who
showed the higher fancy and the freer romance was the
more attractive, and, therefore, secured the greater popu-
larity. The two poets were alike melodious and musical :
the difference between them being, that the most fitting ac-
companiment of the one was the drawing-room piano, that
of the other the statelier and more impressive organ. To
change the metaphor: Moore chose the mazurka, Mont-
gomery the sonata. In sentiment either was sweet and al-
luring ; but, surely, the sentiment and teaching of the one
were as immeasurably nobler than those of the other, as
his life was braver and purer and, consequently, happier
than that of his rival !

The subject of Montgomery's peculiar style of poetical,
much less prose, composition does not come within the
scope of this paper ; but we must take a flying glance over
his biography, and, out of the said seven volumes, distil
seven short paragraphs to represent the man's seven ages
His literary biography may be summed up in one line
Journalism first made him, then spoiled him.

Born in 1771, he survived till 1854. His parentage was
Irish, his birthplace Scottish, his breeding English. Edu-
cated at the Moravian Seminary, at Fulneck, near Leeds,
where he spent ten years, he (first placed out to trade, from
which he twice ran away) did not settle anywhere until, at
the age of 21, he found congenial employment under Mr.
Joseph Gales (the Registers editor and proprietor) on the
staff of the Sheffield Register newspaper, an organ of the
Reform movement. Here he first wrote clever paragraphs,

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 391

then clever leaders; and, when his employer (owing to
Government prosecution) had to relinquish the newspaper,
he edited and managed the paper itself, under a new name,
the Sheffield Iris — a name inseparable from the name of
James Montgomery. In 1795 and 1796 he was imprisoned —
the first time most unjustly, the second time most harshly —
in York Castle, for libelling, as was alleged, the Government
of the day, or its representatives or partisans. To these
imprisonments we owe his " Prison Amusements " — his first
publication of verse. His other poetical effusions generally
first saw light, anonymously, in the " Poet's Corner " of his
newspaper ; and, only when the public taste for his work
was guaged or tested, were the productions issued to the
world in separate form, and under his own name. Retiring
from business as a journalist in 1825, he lived a bachelor's
life, not of lettered ease but of busy philanthropy, and died
at the ripe age of 83, having well earned, as a public friend
and benefactor, the pension which a forgiving Government
readily accorded him.

Traces of the marring influence of his journalistic
employment are clearly discernible in many, if not most,
of Montgomery's stanzas — especially in his later poems,
and his longer hymns — several of which are but para-
graphs in verse, leaderettes in metre, or homilies in rhyme.
Make allowance for this marring influence, exclude the
many impromptus and trifles and slovenly pieces I have
alluded to, and you must, in studying James Montgomery's
poetical works, find that you commune with a man, high-
souled and brilliantly endowed : a poet whose productions
may yet have — and may long have — some share in
moulding the literary style, and developing the literary
taste, as well as gratifying the literary fancy, of even the
highest schools of English literature.

What we now need, however, is an edition — a small,

392 JAMES MONTGOMERY.

inexpensive edition — of Montgomery's better-class poems,
selected with true discrimination by an editor, who, while
heartily appreciating the author, fears not to use the
broad pen of excision, and does not quail at the sight of a
fast- filling waste-paper basket. When this want is supplied,
James Montgomery will again figure as one of the most
popular of British poets.

N

THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTL

BY JOHN WALKER.

0 authoress has a better right to the white chaplet of
modesty than this gifted woman. She has never
been foisted and drummed upon the public, and never by
any chance does she obtrude herself upon us. A dreary
London square is the scene of her labours, and there she
sees the years pass, one after another, snatching often a
loved one as they go. Despite the increasing care which
duty has commanded her to exercise towards relatives
committed to her charge, she has, of late years, given us
many sweet evidences of unextinguished hope and trust
in Him who ordereth all things wisely and for our good ;
and it is this beautiful optimism wedded to an exquisite
melancholy which gives to her lyrics such a peculiar charm.
Instead of the song of the lark, and the cool ripple and
rustle of the meadow grass, she must perforce content
herself with the sights and sounds of London life, but it is
quite evident that the ineffaceable recollections of her
childhood have proved to be a very sustaining manna to
her genius.

The softly-subdued pathos to be found in her lyrics
gives them a strong individuality. It is impossible to find

AA

394 THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI.

such continuously-clear sadness crystallized into song in the
works of any other poet or poetess. There is no degene-
ration into the cloudy abysms of pessimism, but a delicate
mistiness over fell and field, and a very blue sky beyond.

It may be conceded at once that a poet's duty does not
entirely consist of didactic trumpetings, warblings of
emulation, twitterings of calm and cloistral content, or the
production of songs intended to nerve, strengthen, or
sustain us in trouble or strife. There is another field for
his spontaneous efforts, namely, to interpret for us those
moments of transitory grief and sadness when the mind
hovers between regret and hope ; and I am sure no one
who has passed through such moments can deny that
there is a subtle pleasure even in sadness. At times such
as these a strain of hopeful melancholy has but little
difficulty in penetrating to the hearts of the susceptible,
affording them most likely a rich gratification, and letting
loose perchance the fountain of tears. At such moments
the mind drinks in, as it were, the antidote of bustle,
jar and strife — the fret and canker of our busy life — and
revels in the mazes of abandonment. And so, therefore,
it is good for us to be occasionally sad, and to be soothed
by melodies which have a chastening and purifying effect,
accentuating the vigorous joys of more expansive and
sunny hours.

It must not be supposed, however, that the whole of
Miss Rossetti's poetry is allied to sadness ; on the contrary
there are pieces which have all the charm of youth and
freshness and the bounding pulse ; there are exquisite
impressions of " emotions remembered in tranquillity," and
clear interpretations of thu joys of others. Still the most
noticeable feature of her work is the silent river of tears
flowing through the sanctity of broken hopes and joys
wherein her soul has found purification, and it is to this

THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI. 395

that I would chiefly draw attention in the hope that it may
not be without good and moral effect. We ought to do
homage to her who by force of circumstance is debarred
from constant communion with nature, and admire those
talents which have borne such magnificent blossom on
adverse soil.

There is an intense love of nature to be observed in her
lyrics, the expression of which has necessarily been placed
under the restraint of somewhat harsh limitations ; and it
is not difficult to discern where the shadow of the dark
wall of duty has fallen across the flowery path of youth.

I propose to examine a few of Miss Rossetti's poems as I
turn over the leaves of the book entitled " Goblin Market,
and other Poems," published by Macmillan and Co. I will
not attempt any exhaustive criticism or even a general
survey of her work ; let it suffice for me to display simply
a few of her lyrics, together with occasional felicitous
expressions that I may encounter as I proceed.

Let us turn to " Dreamland," which is a plaintive song
in the minor key : —

Where sunless rivers weep
Their waves into the deep,
She sleeps a charmed sleep :

Awake her not.
Led by a single star,
She came from very far
To seek where shadows are

Her pleasant lot.

She left the rosy morn,
She left the fields of corn,
For twilight cold and lorn

And water springs.
Through sleep, as through a veil,
She sees the sky look pale,
And hears the nightingale

That sadly slugs.

396 THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI.

Rest, rest, a perfect rest
Shed over brow and breast ;
Her face is toward the west

The purple land.
She cannot see the grain
Ripening on hill and plain ;
She cannot feel the rain

Upon her hand.

Rest, rest, for evermore

Upon a mossy shore ;

Rest, rest at the heart's core

Till time shall cease :
Sleep that no pain shall wake ;
Night that no morn shall break
Till joy shall overtake

Her perfect peace.

In these four stanzas we have a delicate yet forcible
picture of the last sleep — a chant of large-hearted con-
tent in the unknowable and the unsearchable which is
almost Buddhistic in its unquestioning reliance upon
the slumbrous peace of death after a righteous though
shortened life, but which is, however, placed immeasurably
above Buddhism by the fact of its having for its final
notes the sublime transfiguration of hope. No one who
studies these lines can fail to be struck by the felicity of
the suggestions : there is a perfect picture in each verse.

"At Home" is a powerful poem containing an amount
of concentrated pathos that is as true to the life as it is
deep and moving. The dead cannot place limitations
upon the pleasures of the living, and it is perhaps well
for us that such is the case. The object of Miss Rossetti's
poem is, however, a noble one, viz. : — the display of an
emotion not usually experienced, which calls our attention
to neglect and omission with respect to the payment of
the proper memorial tributes to those bygone friends
whose lives and acts towards us entitle them to a high
place in our remembrances : —

THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI. 397

When I was dead, my spirit turned

To seek the much- frequented house :
I passed the door, and saw my friends

Feasting beneath green orange boughs ;
From hand to hand they pushed the wine,

They sucked the pulp of plum and peach ;
They sang, they jested, and they laughed,

For each was loved of each

This fine stanza is conceived in a manner that convinces
us at once of the genius of the author. And what makes
it all so very strong and vital is the distinct possibility
which underlies it and whence it springs.

" To-morrow," said they, strong with hope,

And dwelt upon the pleasant way :
"To-morrow," cried they one and all,

While no one spoke of yesterday.
Their life stood full at blessed noon ;

I, only I, had passed away :
" To-morrow and to-day," they cried ;

I was of yesterday.

A very solemn and mournful stanza with abundant food
for reflection in every line. This appears to me the point
where the poem is at white heat. The last verse is,
however, very forcible, and the concluding couplet par-
ticularly fine : —

I shivered comfortless, but cast

No chill across the tablecloth ;
I all-forgotten shivered, sad

To stay and yet to part how loth :
I passed from the familiar room,

I who from love had passed away,
Like the remembrance of a guest

That tarrieth but a day.

We may safely assume that Miss Eossetti does not owe
much of her inspiration either to contemporary writers or
to those of a past age. She is both original and unique.
The two foregoing poems will sufficiently exemplify this
fact; the latter is certain to live as long as the English
language exists; it may be classed among achievements

398 THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI.

such as the perfect " Dante's Dream " of her gifted
brother. Instancing her large grasp of terrible situations
and great power of treatment — highly adequate, as all
will admit — I quote " To-day for Me " as the best of her
poems. In it France is apostrophized — France shamed
and bleeding after her last great war.

She sitteth still who used to dance,

She weepeth sore and more and more : —

Let us sit with thee weeping sore,

0 fair France.

She trembleth as the days advance
Who used to be so light of heart : —
We in thy trembling bear a part,

Sister France.

Her eyes shine tearful as they glance :
"Who shall give back my slaughtered sons ?
"Bind up," she saith, "my wounded ones." —

Alas, France !

She struggles'" in a deathly trance,
As in a dream her pulses stir,
She hears the nations calling her,

" France, France, France."

Surely, we may say that here we reach a very great
height of perfection : " She hears the nations calling
her " — a very simple line, yet containing the quintessence
of misery, shame, and suffering. Poor misguided France !

Thou people of the lifted lance,
Forbear her tears, forbear her blood :
Roll back, roll back, thy whelming flood,

Back from France.
Eye not her loveliness askance,
Forge not for her a galling chain ;
Leave her at peace to bloom again,

Vine-clad France.

A time there is for change and chance,
A time for passing of the cup :
And One abides can yet bind up

Broken France.

A time there is for change and chance :
Who next shall drink the trembling cup,
Wring out its dregs and suck them up

After France ?

THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI. 399

This is anything but a laboured effort, and its spon-
taneous flow of much-needed pity gives it a very beautiful
effect.

In ballads the poetess has also been successful. One
entitled "Noble Sisters " contains an expression of startling
lucidity : —

"... you have turned him from our door,
And stabbed him with a lie."

Another one, " Jessie Cameron," is an example of effec-
tive work in the narrative style. I quote two stanzas
illustrating the pictorial power of the authoress' pen : —

The sea swept in with moan and foam

Quickening the stretch of sand ;
They stood almost in sight of home ;

He strove to take her hand.
" Oh can't you take your answer then,

And won't you understand ?
For me you're not the man of men,

I've other plans are planned.
You're good for Madge, or good for Cis,

Or good for Kate, may be :
But what's to me the good of this

While you're not good for me ? "

Then the heart-broken lover begins to entreat : —

" Oh say but one kind word to me,

Jessie, Jessie Cameron." —
" I'd be too proud to beg," quoth she,

And pride was in her tone.

But the tide came up and he held her there till the
advancing waters hemmed them in with death : —

Jessie she comes home no more,

Comes home never ;
Her lover's step sounds at his door

No more for ever.
And boats may search upon the sea

And search along the river,
But none know where their bodies be :

Sea- winds that shiver,
Sea-birds that breast the blast,

Sea-waves swelling,
Keep the secret first and last

Of their dwelling.

400 THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI.

There is a nameless music in the last twelve lines which
is very touching.

As might be expected of such a poetess, her work is un-
equal ; but, speaking generally, the majority of her lyrics
are sure to live, having in them the elements of perfect
simplicity and profundity most happily blended. Such
inequality as exists arises more from variety of subject
than from treatment. True, there are many expressions
which cannot but be regarded as flaws, such as "vegetable
snow " and " blue-black beetles transact business," which
latter mars, in my opinion, the otherwise excellent lyric,
entitled " Summer."

Winter is cold-hearted,

Spring is yea and nay,
Autumn is a weather-cock

Blown every way :
Summer days for me

When every leaf is on its tree.

When Robin's not a beggar,

And Jenny Wren's a bride,
And larks hang singing, singing, singing,

Over the wheat-fields wide,
And anchored lilies ride,

And the pendulum spider
Swings from side to side. . . .

Such is the liquid flow of Miss Rossetti's little poem,
and I would point out in this connection how forcibly the
emphatic reiteration of "singing, singing, singing," con-
jures up the beautiful picture of the full- voiced lark
hovering in the blue, with an almost never-ending song
full of the passionate perfection of early summer. There
is great grace and strength in the line.

Coming back to the plaintive minor melodies, we find in
"Somewhere or Other "all the essentials of a finished
creation : —

THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTL 401

Somewhere or other there must surely be

The face not seen, the voice not heard,
The heart that not yet — never yet — ah me !

Made answer to my word.

Somewhere or other, may be near or far ;

Past land and sea, clean out of sight ;
Beyond the wandering moon, beyond the star

That tracks her night by night.

Somewhere or other, may be far or near ;

With just a wall, a hedge, between ;
With just the last leaves of the dying year

Fallen on a turf grown green.

Such poetry needs no interpretation, it is intensely clear
and impressive ; growing in clearness and strength until
the final lines close the poem with a wonderful touch of
inspiration. For indeed it is often the case that mortals
pass their lives friendless to the end, discovering perhaps
when it is too late that the grass is just beginning to
sprout mayhap over the graves of those who would have
been to them more than brothers.

As an example of perfect versification,^! give the fol-
lowing : —

SONG.
When I am dead, my dearest,

Sing no sad songs for me ;
Plant thou no roses at my head

Nor shady cypress tree :
Be the green grass above me

With showers and dewdrops wet ;
And if thou wilt, remember,

And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,

I shall not feel the rain ;
I shall not hear the nightingale

Sing on, as if in pain :
And dreaming through the twilight

That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,

And haply may forget.

This song, in the opinion of many, is one of the choicest

402 THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTL

productions of Miss Rossetti's pen, and I imagine that all
will agree that it possesses unusual melody and more than
graceful sentiment.

" A Farm Walk " is a picture of the simple Virgilian
country-life touched with a cunning worthy of the Roman;
lovers of Waugh will find something in this little idyl
very much to their taste. The following lines fulfil all the
requirements of the art: exquisitely simple yet all-
embracing: not a touch too many but all is there : they have
the satisfying completeness of a Greek cameo : —

She wore a kerchief on her neck,

Her bare arm showed its dimple,
Her apron spread without a speck,

Her air was frank and simple.

She milked into a wooden pail

And sang a country ditty,
An innocent fond lover's tale,

That was not wise nor witty,
Pathetically rustical,

Too pointless for the city.

This is the kind of poem that can be understood without
the penalty of a severe course of mental gymnastics. It is
infinitely above the cloudy effusions of those good folk
who delight to take an idea and involve it in a mesh of
their own simple garrulity, twisting and turning the idea
until it is spun and stretched out of its harmonious pro-
portions and it is difficult to discern anything but the
mists generated by their poetic perversity. In conclusion,
I will quote some portions of " Maiden-Song," a lyric in
which we are told how —

. . . . three maids were wooed and won
In a brief May-tide,
Long ago and long ago.

It is a piece that will recommend itself to all by reason of
its fine imagery and its faithful little vignettes of May
landscape : —

! THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI. 403

Sped a herdsman from the vale,

Mounting like a flame,

All on fire to hear and see,

With floating locks he came.
Looked neither north nor south,

Neither east nor west,
But sat him down at Meggan's feet

As love-bird on his nest,
And wooed her with a silent awe,

With trouble not expressed ;
She sang the tears into his eyes,

The heart out of his breast :
So he loved her, listening so.

Could Theocritus have sung more sweetly ? True there
is a palpable flaw in the stanza " As love-bird on his nest."
The idea is dissonant and weak, but when do we get a sky
all stars ? We should be silent and observe that the three
lines beginning " She sang the tears into his eyes," contain
an ample recompense for the loss previously sustained.

What a fine Grecian picture we have in this —

She sang the heart out of his breast,

The words out of his tongue :
Hand and foot and pulse he paused

Till her song was sung.

Further on we are greeted with another delicious stanza:

Trilled her song and swelled her song

With maiden coy caprice
In a labyrinth of throbs,

Pauses, cadences ;
Clear-noted as a dropping brook,

Soft-noted like the bees,
Wild-noted as the shivering wind

Forlorn through forest trees :
Love-noted like the wood-pigeon

Who hides herself for love,
Yet cannot keep her secret safe

But coos and coos thereof :
Thus the notes rang loud or low.

" Love-noted like the wood-pigeon Who hides herself for
love," etc. This is exceedingly felicitous, but we go on
to—

404 THE LYRICS OF MISS ROSSETTI.

The slope was lightened by her eyes

Like summer lightning fair,
Like rising of the haloed moon

Lightened her glimmering hair,
While her face lightened like the sun

Whose dawn is rosy white :
Thus crowned with maiden majesty

She peered into the night

Waiting thus in weariness

She marked the nightingale
Telling, if anyone would heed,

Its old complaining tale.
Then lifted she her voice and sang

Answering the bird :
Then lifted she her voice and sang,

Such notes were never heard
From any bird when Spring's in blow.

I hope that I have brought forward a sufficiently clear
presentment of Miss Rossetti's lyrical range, and I earnestly
trust that what has been quoted may lead to a still greater
recognition of her undoubted genius.

TRANSLATION FROM FRITZ REUTER.

BY H. GANNON.

DE BLINNE SCHAUSTERJUNG.
(TV Blind Cobbler's Lad.)

" Oh, mester ! mester ! help ! Oh, deary me !

Whativver's th' matter wi' these een o' moine ?

Awm sure theere's summat wrung, aw conno see,

Oh tell me, mester, am aw gooin' bloind ?"

His mester chucks his last awey,

And whangs his knee-strap awff his knee ;

Then up he jumps, and runs loike mad —

" Good lorjus days ! whativver hasta, lad ?"

" Awm feeart, mester, as my eyeseet's gone,

Aw cawn't see th' butter on this bread, by th' mon !"

His mester taes it in his hont,

And looks it o'er, booath back and front :

"Well, damn the divil, lad!" ses he,

" Aw conno see no moore nor thee,

But just the coait." Then awff he packs

To th' missus in a gradely wax —

" Looke here, owd lass, for heaven's sake !

Dost co this heere a butter cake ?"

406 TRANSLATION FROM FRITZ REUTER.

" A butter cake ? Aye, that aw do,

A buttercake ; and good enoo

For 'prentice lads like yon, tha foo !

Yo'd happen daub it finger thick,

And butter up again this wick !

It comin' to a bonny pass,

Yo'd eyt me out o' th' house, by th' mass !"

" Neaw, don't get vext, lass, draw it moild.

Hast happen a bit o' cheese for th' choilt ?"

And, look yo theere, hoo're noane so very bad,

Hoo goos and cuts a flimsy sloice for th' lad !

His mester taes it to young divilskin.

Wi', " Theere, my lad, neaw heaw art gerrin on ?

Cont see a bit, and is thy blindness gone ?

Dost think as that 'ill cure thy een ?"

" Aye, mester, aye ! But twur a sarious bout,

And neaw aw see agean as clear as owt ;

It's greadely wonderful ! bowt ony lees

Aw see thot theere bread reet bang through th' cheese!"

THE LIBEAEY TABLE.

J. TPewcfor^r. By H. OGRAM MATUCE. London : Kegan
Paul, Trench and Co., 1888.

OF making books there is literally no end in these favoured
days — and of no books, except perhaps novels, is the multi-
plication more striking than of books of travel. And yet how
little of that endless stream, inexhaustible, ever renewed,
which keeps circulating through the medium of Messrs.
Smith and Mudie, can be rightly accounted literature 1 To
this small, this very small class — to which belong "Eothen,"
"Lavengro," "The Bible in Spain," "Travels with a
Donkey in the Cevennes " — I do not hesitate to say that
" A Wanderer " is a genuine and delightful addition. Yet
to call it a book of travel is perhaps to convey an imperfect
idea of its character — so much does it contain of reflection,
criticism, natural history, humour, pathos, and what the
writer calls the Dichtung des Lebens, the poetry of life.
To me at least — for reasons which will presently appear — it
has appealed most powerfully. Would that I could be
certain it is in all respects the faithful record of a
genuine experience !

The writer, whose name is, or professes to be, H. Ogram
Matuce, was, or professes to have been, a London clerk,

408 THE LIBRA R Y TA BLE.

who "by the exercise of the strictest economy was enabled,
while still in the prime of life (nel mezzo del cammin di
nostra vita), to purchase his freedom from a servitude
which galled him. Having done so he resolves to give
himself a whole year's holiday-travel — a Wanderjahr, like
the young German workman's, after his long apprenticeship
to toil — " to travel about where the fancy takes him, and
in such a fashion as to know what travelling really is."
Leaving England about Midsummer he goes, first of all, to
Sweden, and the chapter describing some of his experiences
there is one of the most delightful in the book. " Some
sixty hours " (says he) " after leaving the smoke and roar
of London, where the morning train, the seat at your desk,
the luncheon hour, the bustle to finish before the end of
the day, seemed to succeed each other as if by the express
command of the Eternal Himself, you may find yourself in
some antique forest of Sweden, where the rare sounds of
human neighbourhood seem but a chance impertinence
amid the everlasting silence of Nature." It is beside the
Falls of Trollhatta (and well do I know how beautiful the
scene is on a bright June day) that he experiences what he
calls his second-birth, the full awakening of his spirit so
long enthralled to the unutterable mysterious loveliness of
Nature. Thence, shouldering his knapsack, he marches
on through that land of forest and lake, lake and forest — a
magical and soul-soothing land. One more quotation I must
give, in which he describes his walk in a Swedish forest on
one of those lovely northern nights, where — in Longfellow's
words — " morning and evening sit together, hand in hand,
beneath the starless sky of midnight."

" During my interval of rest the night seemed some-
how— I can scarce tell how — to have put on an enchanted
look. It rained no more ; and in the dusk of midnight a
few glow-worms had lighted their lamps upon the roadside,

THE LIBRARY TABLE. 409

and stood there at such regular intervals that you might
swear that Oberon and his rout were expected to come by.
I looked under the trees, and there, in the open spaces of
the wood, the elfin tufts of cotton-grass caught the light,
and in the light wind nodded their heads in unison. Once,
yes, I caught distinctly enough the notes of an accordion,
breathing far off in the night stillness. Presently, along a
glade of the wood where I had been walking for hours, and
where I felt awhile ago so utterly deserted, I came suddenly
upon two figures strolling quietly side by side. The Fates
did not please that they should be a boy and a girl, but
two youths. You could only have seen such a thing at
such a time — near one o'clock — on one night of the year,
even in Sweden ; and the whole spirit of ' A Midsummer
Night's Dream' seemed to awake at the sight. Here,
questionless, were a reconciled Demetrius and Lysander ;
Helena and Hermia, I doubt, were not far off."

From Sweden he passes into Norway ; and then, at the
approach of autumn (as if to gain as complete a contrast as
possible to his Scandinavian experiences), takes a steamer
on the Baltic to Konigsberg, in East Prussia, the birthplace
and the home of Kant. Walking one day along the
desolate shore, he comes to a primitive fishing village in
the sand-hills, and thus muses upon the scene — "These
little fires among the sand-dunes, glancing upon nothing
but pale-coloured reeds and sea-holly, will, I know, remain
for ever in my memory — a sort of symbol of earth's ending,
the beginning of a metaphysical world. What a thing it
were, forgetting the rushing torrents and moaning pines of
Norway, forgetting the carpeted hillsides and eternal
snows, to settle here in this far corner of the Baltic, to
find one's-self a cell, dug out of one of these sand-dunes,
looking seaward. Here should the gentle rain for ever fall
and make no noise. Here should the waves send up a
BB

410 THE LIBRARY TABLE.

dull voice out of the misty rain. In the ground you
should have an iron coffer, containing all Kant's works, all
Hegel's, all Schopenhauer's, what you please, surely matter
enough to occupy your thoughts for the rest of your little
life, for 'the little vigil of your senses that remains,' as
Dante says —

1 A questa tanto picciola vigilia

De' vostri sensi, ch'6 del rimanente.' "

Pursuing his course our wanderer visits the Marienburg,
the great convent fortress built by the Teutonic knights to
guard the Vistula, and walks up that river as far as Thorn ;
thence takes a southwestern course to Posen, and on
into the highlands of Silesia, and the Saxon Switzerland,
finally settling down for the winter, for purposes of study —
literary and social — in a quiet German university town.
With the advent of spring he walks through Bohemia into
Bavaria and Swabia; just as spring is ripening into summer
passes by the Lake of Constance into Switzerland, pays a
visit to the Tyrol, returns to Switzerland, and crosses one
of the Alpine passes into Italy. At Rome, where he arrives
about Midsummer — thus completing his Wanderjahr — he
is seized with typhoid fever, which brings him within an
inch of death. This last chapter — with its painfully vivid
pictures of the thoughts and feelings of a man who knows,
or thinks he knows, that death is certain and imminent —
strikes, to my mind, a somewhat jarring note, and damps
the spirit of holiday humour with which the writer has
infected his readers. Perhaps, however, he would have us
look upon the experiences of this one year (to use his own
phrase) as "a sort of epitome of life"; and from such a
record the darker — nay, the darkest experiences (especially
if true in the particular instance), must not be omitted.

This is but a bare, a bald outline of a delightful book.
Some, I hope, will be induced to fill it up for them-

THE LIBRARY TABLE. 411

selves. The writer is no mere diarist of travel ; he is
a thinker, a critic, a humourist, nay, a poet. He takes with
him, on his long tramp, two of the world's best books — a
thin " Faust," and a tiny Pickering copy of " Dante " ; and
his chapter on Dante's favourite similes is most striking
and beautiful. There are touches in his account of some of
his friends — who belonged to the great company of the

unsuccessful — not unworthy of Lamb, as, e.g., that of F ,

the metaphysician; "the only person who ever opened, or
tried to open for me the door of that strange region called

Metaphysics. F himself lived there perpetually. His

body, and a kind of outside mechanical mind of him, you
might discover any day sitting upon the highest of high
desks in the front office of Messrs. Brander and Hughs,
stock and share-brokers, Canon Court, Cornhill. You
entered the office, and were hailed by a voice from the
skies." In the chapter specially devoted to these friends,
the Rattfs, as he calls them — borrowing the phrase from
Daudet — the Episode of D may be specially com-
mended for its simple and unstudied pathos. On the other
hand, one finds here many a bit of loving and minute
observation of nature, which recalls to mind Thoreau,
the poet-naturalist. With one of these I shall close my
quotations. He is describing his autumn walk along a high
bank by the side of the Vistula : — " For ever across this
high bank came a constant succession of moving things, for
a strong west wind was blowing ; head after head of thistle-
down, innumerable white butterflies, and once what (if the
season had been different) one must have supposed a swarm
of bees. We are rather apt to look down upon white
butterflies ; but on a bright day like this, when hundreds
are moving over the grass, you see that they are by far the
most beautiful kind. The thistledown looked as much
alive as the butterflies, advancing in squadrons and armies,

412 THE LIBRARY TABLE.

covering a whole plain, sometimes creeping along the grass
as in an ambush, sometimes flying high in the air. Who
could but be gay in such a jocund company ? " But though
there is, as I have tried to show, much of nature in the
book, there is much of humanity too.

I return then to the question which I hinted at at start-
ing— Did the writer of this book, while devoting the greater
part of his time and energy to the meaningless and worry-
ing details which make up the monotonous round of a
city clerk's life, really acquire all this varied culture and
this admirable literary style ? I can only put the ques-
tion ; it is out of my power even to suggest the answer. If
he did not — if, while the experiences of travel are genuine,
the assumption of the previous experience is only a literary
trick, adopted in order to add greater piquancy to the
volume — the writer is practising on his readers what to
some of them can only appear a cruel fraud. Perhaps the
best piece of evidence that the writer, with all his literary
skill (though he occasionally stumbles even here), has had
no large experience as an author, is supplied by the fact of
the very great number of errors of the press. The few that
are corrected are but a tithe of those which require amend-
ing before the book attains, as it speedily deserves to do,

the honour of a second edition.

C. E. TYEER.

INDEX.

Appreciative Faculty, Cultivation of. By

W. Robinson. 254.
Ashe(T.). Tennyson Parallels. 97.
Ashe (T.). Two Sonnets. 200.
Axon (W. E. A.) On General Gordon's Copy

of Newman's Dream of Gerontius. 65.
Axon (W. E. A.). The Church of the Little

Fawn. 293.
Barber (Reginald). A Portrait (Illustration).

64.

Bateman (C. T. Tallent-). On James Mont-
gomery. 384.
Bunbury (Henry William). Memoir. By

H. Thornber. 153.

Bury (Richard de) his Philobiblon. 279.
By Bridie-Paths through "Las Tierras

Calientes." By J. G. Mandley. 161.
Christmas Symposium. 74.
Church of the Little Fawn. By W. E. A.

Axon. 293.
Clair (Aston). Notice of his Philaster, and

other Poems. By G. Milner. 95.
Credland (W. R.). A Portrait. 64.
Crofton (H. T.). The Poacher' t Gazette. 32.
Cultivation of the Appreciative Faculty.

By W. Robinson. 254.
Dialect Poem. By H. Gannon. 405.
Egypt : From London to Luxor. By T. Kay.

330.
Evening in the Woodlands. By John Page.

193.
Foard (James T.). The Genesis of Hamlet.

1, 122, 220.

Foard (J. T.). Speech at the Christmas

Symposium. 90.
Gannon (H.). Translation from Fritz Reuter.

405.
Gordon (General), his Copy of Newman's

Dream of Gerontius. By W. E. A. Axon.

65.
Hamlet, Genesis of. By J. T. Foard. 1, 122,

220.
Harper (William), A Manchester Poet. By

G. Milner. 248.

Hooke (Richard). A Sleepless Night. 39.
Hooke (Richard). Sir Thomas Lawrence,

P.R.A. 201.
lolo Morganwg, Life and Works of. By A.

Emrys- Jones. 261.

Italy, Industrial. By J. E. Phythian. 51.
Jones (A. Emrys). On the Life and Works

of lolo Morganwg. 261.
Kay (Thomas). From London to Luxor. 330.
Lawrence (Sir Thomas). By R. Hooke. 201.
Library Table. Aston Clair's Philaster. By

G. Milner. 95. Matuce's Wanderer. By

C. E. Tyrer. 407.

London to Luxor. By T. Kay. 330.
Manchester Poet— William Harper. By G-

Milner. 248.

Manchester, Reminiscences of. 74.
Mandley (J. G.). By Bridie-Paths throu h

" Las Tierras Calientes." 161.
Matuce (H. Ogram). Review of A Wanderer.

By C. E. Tyrer. 407.
Mexican Arrieros, Incidents of Travel with.

By J. G. Mandley. 161.

414

INDEX.

Milner (George). Speech at the Christmas

Symposium. 75.

Milner (George). Keminiscences of a Man-
chester Poet— William Harper. 248.
Montgomery (James), a Literary Estimate

By C. T. Tallent-Bateman. 384.
Mortimer (John). A Note of Pessimism in

Poetry. 286.
Newman's Dream of Gerontius. By W. E.

A. Axon. 65.
Newman (F. W.). Translation from the

Opening of Virgil's ^Eneid. 297.
Page (John). Evening in the Woodlands.

193.

Pessimism in Poetry. By J. Mortimer. 286.
Philobiblon of Richard de Bury. 279.
Phythian (J. Ernest). Industrial Italy. 51.
Poacher's Gazette. By H. T. Crof ton. 32.
Poetry, Pessimism in. By John Mortimer.

286.
Poetry. From the Opening of Virgil's ^Eneid.

By F. W. Newman. 297.
Poetry. Translation from Fritz Reuter. By

H. Gannon. 405.
Poetry. The Church of the Little Fawn. By

W. E. A. Axon. 293.
Poetry. See also Sonnets.
Reuter (Fritz), Translation from. By H.

Gannon. 405.
Robinson (William) On the Cultivation of the

Appreciative Faculty. 254.

Rossetti (Miss) on her Lyrics. By J. Walker.

393.

Sleepless Night. By R. Hooke. 39.
Songs and Song Writers. By W. I. Wild.

355.
Sonnets :

A Portrait. By W. R. Credland. 64.

A Photograph. By T. Ashe. 200.

Palingenesis. By T. Ashe. 200.
Tennyson Parallels. By T. Ashe. 97.
Thornber (Harry) on Henry William Bunbury.

153.

Thomas (E. C.). His Edition of the Philo-
biblon of Richard de Bury. 279.
Tyrer (C. E.). Review of H. Ogram Matuce's

Wanderer. 407.
Virgil's ^Eneid, Translation from the Opening

of. By F. W. Newman. 297.
Walker (John) on the Lyrics of Miss Rossetti.

393.
Waugh (Edwin). Speech at the Christmas

Symposium. 90.

Wild (W. I.). Songs and Song Writers. 355.
Wilkinson (T. R.). Reminiscences of Man-
chester. 74.
Williams (Edward), the Bard of Glamorgan.

By A. Emrys-Jones. 261.
Woodlands, Evening in the. By John Page,

193.
Woods (Margaret L.). Notice of her Lyrics.

By J. Mortimer. 286.

REPORT AND PROCEEDINGS

FOR THE SESSION 1888-9,

RULES AND LIST OF MEMBERS.

REPORT AND PROCEEDINGS

OF THE

Manchester Literary Club

FOR THE

SESSION 1888-9,

RULES AND LIST OF MEMBERS.

COUNCIL FOR 1889-90.

president :

GEORGE MILNER.

: JOHN H. NODAL.

WM. E. A. AXON. | ROBERT LANGTON.

BEN. BRIERLEY. JOHN MORTIMER.

H. H. HOWORTH, M.P. JOHN PAGE.

EDWIN WAUGH.

treasurer :

CHARLES WM. SUTTON.

•fconoratg Secretary -.

W. R. CREDLAND.

Ibonorarg Xtbrarian :

HARRY THORNBER.

©tbcc /l&embcrs of Council:

JOHN BRADBURY. I W. H. GUEST

J. F. L. CROSLAND. WARD KEYS.

J. T. FOARD. I J. B. OLDHAM, B.A.

C. E. TYRER, B.A.

Manchester Literary Club.

REPORT OF THE COUNCIL ON THE TWENTY-
SEVENTH SESSION.

THE Council of the Manchester Literary Club, in presenting to
the members this their Twenty-Seventh Annual Report, can
scarcely claim that the session just closed has been quite as
successful in every respect as its immediate predecessor. There
was a little slackness of effort and attendance shown in the early
part of the session ; but this was largely atoned for by the fulness
of the meetings and the quantity and excellence of the work in the
second half. The gratifying willingness of the newer members to
take an active part in the proceedings, so observable last session,
has been well maintained. The general standard of the work done
has been high, its diversity and range have been specially
remarkable, whilst a few of the papers read, notably in the
domain of criticism, were of exceptional literary merit. The
evenings devoted to the reception of reviews and short miscellaneous
papers have been unusually productive of good material. The
attendance at the meetings has been quite equal to the average,
and there is no lack of evidence that the popularity of the Club
is as great as ever it was.

422 COUNCIL'S ANNUAL REPORT.

Nineteen ordinary meetings have been held, at which nineteen
papers have been read, and forty-three short communications
made, being ten in excess of the previous year.

The following is a list of the papers : —

1888.
Oct. 8. Tennyson Parallels THOMAS ASHE.

,, 15. Sir Thomas Lawrence R. HOOKK.

,, 22. Some Blunders of Civilization J. WALKER.

Nov. 5. Features of Fact and Fancy in the Works of George

Eliot J. T. FOARD.

,, 12. A Grave Problem H. M. ACTON.

,, 19. Philosophers' Wives : A Word for Xautippe W. TOMLINSON.

Dec. 3. Buchanan's City of Dream J. B. OLDHAM.

„ 10. Life and Works of Edward Williams Dr. A. EMRYS- JONES.

,, 17. Christmas Supper. . The PRESIDENT, T. R. WILKINSON, EDWIN WAUGH, and others.

1889.
Jan. 7. On the Sacrifice of Education to Examinations J. ANGELL.

„ 14. Concerning Nature and some of her Lovers J. MORTIMER.

„ 21. Songs and Song Writers W. I. WILD.

„ 28. By Bridie-Paths in Las Tierras Calientes J. G. MANDLEY.

Feb. 4. From London to Luxor THOMAS KAY.

,, 11. Culture : A Criticism and a Forecast J. E. PHYTHIAN.

,, 24. Characteristics of Recent French Literature Dr. J. SCOTT.

March 4. Joseph Budworth FRED SCOTT

,, 11. Matthew Arnold C. E. TYRER.

„ 18. Lyrics of Miss C. Rossetti J. WALKER.

The short communications were as follows : —

1888.

Oct. 8. A Character Sketch by W. G. Baxter T. NEWBIGGING.

,, 15. Edward Eggleston T. CANN HUGHES.

„ 22. James Montgomery C. T. TALLENT-BATEMAN.

„ 29. A Poacher's Gazette H. T. CROFTON.

Poems of George Heath J. B. OLDHAM.

One Sunday Afternoon B. SAGAR.

Lakes in Literature J. OSCAR PARKER.

Philaster, and other Poems GEO. MILNER.

Poems J. B. OLDHAM, THOMAS ASHE, THOMAS DERBY.

Nov. 5. A Sleepless Night— Part II R. HOOKE.

,, 12. Newman's "Dream of Gerontius," as marked by

General Gordon W. E. A. AXON.

On an Ancient Bucket Found in Carnarvonshire J. B. SHAW.

Moon's " Ecclesiastical English" W. R. CREDLAND.

,, 19. Literature of the Boulevards Dr. J. SCOTT.

Misusages of the English Language J. OSCAR PARKER.

Dec. 10. Reminiscences of William Harper GEO. MILNER.

1889. .

Jan. 7. Christmas Poem A. O'NEIL.

Shakespeare's Alleged Forgery of a Coat of Arms J. T. FOARD.

Waugh's " In a May Morning Early " THOS. DERBY.

„ , 14. An Illustrious Plagiarist . BEN BRIERLEY.

,, 21. Thomas's Edition of Richard de Bury's Philobiblon C. W. BUTTON.

Some Designs by D. G. Rossetti E. E. MINTON.

COUNCILS ANNUAL REPORT. 423

Jan. 28. Evening in the Woodlands JOHN PAGE.

Feb. 4. Livres a vignettes du XIII. Siecle HARKT THORNBER.

„ 11. The Romance of Strathmore v. Bowes J. B. OLDHAM.

„ 25. R. S. Stanhope's " Eve Tempted " E. E. MINTON.

Cultivation of the Appreciative Faculty W. ROBINSON.

A Note of Pessimism in Poetry JOHN MORTIMER.

March 4. Manuscripts and Scrap Books of J. B. Rogerson W. E. A. AXON.

Translation of Book I. of Virgil's ^Eneid PROF. F. W. NEWMAN.

,, 11. Translations from Heine B. SAGAR.

Sonnet on Rossendale J. E. PHYTHIAN.

„ 18. Brierley's Humorous Poems JOHN MORTIMER.

Samuel Jefferson's Sonnets on Nature and Science H. H. SALES.

H. Ogram Matuce's ' ' Wanderer " C. E. TYRER.

Adah Isaacs Menken's " Infelicia " W. R. CREDLAND.

Reminiscences of Captain Gronow H. THORNBER.

Sonnets J. B. OLDHAM, E. MERCER, W. G. CADMAN.

The papers and short communications may be thus roughly
classified : — Art, 5 ; Bibliography, 5 ; Biography, 8 ; Criticism, 18 ;
History, 2; Humour, 3; Poetry, 12; Sociology, 3; Travel, 3;
Miscellaneous, 3.

LIBRARY.

The additions to the Library have been 70 volumes by gift and
8 volumes by purchase, making the total number of volumes in
the Library 1,268, classified as follows : —

Books by members 476

Other local books 557

General literature * 215

Albums and scrap books 20

1,268

Among the donations made during the year, the following may
be mentioned : — Mr. Joseph Hall's edition of " Minot's Poems,"
from the editor ; Mr. W. Robinson's " Sketches on the Mersey and
Irwell," from the author ; " Memoirs and Proceedings of the Man-
chester Literary and Philosophical Society," 1888, from the
Society ; " Proceedings of the Historic Society of Lancashire and
Cheshire," 34 volumes, from the Society (by exchange) ; " The
Assignment of Arms to Shakspere and Arden," from Mr. T. R.
Wilkinson ; " The Book- lover's Enchiridion," fifth edition, large
paper copy, from Mr. A. Ireland, the author; "Rambles round
Rossendale," from Rev. J. M. Mather, the author ; and " Bradshaw's
Railway Companion," 1844, from Mr. E. Mercer.

424 COUNCIL'S ANNUAL REPORT.

Members are earnestly desired to present copies of their own
publications to the Library, in order that the collection may form,
if possible, a complete record of the work of the Club.

PRESENTATIONS.

Among the gifts during the year have been an engraved
portrait of Mr. John Mitchell, of Clitheroe, also a portrait of one
of the oldest and most honoured members — Mr. Ben Brierley —
and an album containing photographs taken during the excursions
of the Club of the last few years, by Mr. T. R. Cobley.

EXCURSIONS.

On Saturday, June 16th, 1888, a large party of the members and
their friends made an excursion to Moreton Hall, Astbury Church,
and Brereton. At Astbury, the more interesting archaeological and
other features of the Church were pointed out by John Wilson,
LL.D., Town Clerk of Congleton, and much interest was mani-
fested in the recumbent statues in the churchyard. The suggestion
was made with regard to Little Moreton Hall, that this beautiful
specimen of old timber work should not be allowed to fall into
decay, as it is now doing, but should be preserved at the public
expense.

Mr. Thos. Heigh way and Mr. Joel Wainwright, members of the
Club, invited the Council to spend an afternoon in the vicinity of
Marple, on June 30th. Mr. Heighway's house was first visited,
and the party then walked to Mr. Wainwright's home through
some of the most delightful scenery in the district. The trip was
thoroughly enjoyed, and was made exceptionally pleasant and
memorable by the hearty hospitality and evident pleasure of
the hosts.

EDITORSHIP OF THE PAPERS.

Prior to the commencement of the session, Mr. Axon intimated
his desire, on account of his numerous engagements, and his wish
to limit his work to some extent, to be relieved of the task of
editing the Magazine and Papers of the Club, a duty which he had
then discharged for upwards of six years. It was not before every
effort had been made on the part of the Council to induce Mr.

COUNCIL'S ANNUAL REPORT. 425

Axon to reconsider his decision that his resignation was accepted
with much regret. Mr. Credland, at the request of the Council,
undertook the editorship of the " Quarterly."

THE BANKS TESTIMONIAL.

A fund having been started in London, with the object
of presenting a testimonial to Mrs. Isabella Banks, formerly
Miss Varley, of Manchester, it was thought desirable, on account
of her intimate connection with the literary history of the
city, to draw the attention of the Club to the proposed
testimonial. Accordingly an appeal was made, by circular, and
in response thereto the sum of £32 was collected and forwarded
to the London committee as the donation of the Manchester
Literary Club to the Fund. Apart from the Club's effort
the general response to the appeal was not a very liberal
one, and of the total amount raised nearly one-half was con-
tributed from Manchester. Amongst the subscribers were Mr.
John Bright, M.P., Mr. E. N. Philips, the late Charles Sever and
Alderman Grundy, Alderman Abel Heywood, Colonel Bridgford,
Mr. Frederick Bridgford, Mr. Henry Bridgford, Mrs. George Falk-
ner, Mr. Frank Falkner, Mr. Thomas Letherbrow, and Messrs. S.
and J. Watts. In the general list were the names of the Marquis of
Itipon, Mr. Henry Irving, Mr. Henry Betty, Mrs. Lynn Linton,
Mr. Rider Haggard, and Mr. Oscar Wilde. Mrs. Banks, who is
now in her sixty-eighth year, is in infirm health, and has been con-
fined to her bed many weeks during the past winter. It is only
right to add that a provision made for her declining years was
unfortunately lost, and she has to depend entirely upon her
pen. The following interesting letter of acknowledgment was
addressed by Mrs. Banks to Mr. J. C. Lockhart, the treasurer of
the Club :—

Dalston, London.

Dear Sir, — Will you have the kindness and courtesy to thank
most sincerely, in my name, those ladies and gentlemen, members
or otherwise, who through the medium of the Manchester Literary
Club have honoured me by their recognition of the Testimonial

426 COUNCIL'S ANNUAL REPORT.

Fund now being raised in my behalf? In the printed list which
the honorary secretary, Mr. George Bickerdike, will have forwarded
to you, I am proud to see names that carry my memory back over
half a century, to the days of my girlhood, though over one highly-
esteemed name, that of Mr. Charles Sever, a veil of crape has been
sadly drawn since it had place there.

It is close upon sixty-eight years since I first saw daylight in
Oldham-street (daylight that was threatened with speedy extinc-
tion). It is close upon fifty-two years since my first verses ap-
peared in the Manchester Guardian, forty-five since my first book
issued from the press of a Manchester printer. Two years later I
was married at the Collegiate Church, and when I left the town
finally, I left behind a little child with my father and grandfather,
in Rusholme Road Cemetery ; among the living, many dear rela-
tives and friends.

Early associations linger longest, and have the firmest grip of
the mind. Not all my wanderings, not even a residence in this
metropolis during a quarter of a century of busy literary life, have
had power to obliterate those early memories, or the ties that have
held me to my birthplace. I am — and my writings prove it, their
issue in cheap form in the street of my nativity asserts it — to all
intents and purposes a Manchester woman, heart and soul.

As such, I thank my Manchester friends of the Literary Club
and elsewhere, for their recognition of the fact, now that my years
are drawing to an end, as a tale that is told.

ISABELLA BANKS.

EXTRA SERIES OP PUBLICATIONS.

For some time past the Council have had under consideration
the publication of an extra series of volumes, which should largely
consist of papers reprinted from the proceedings of the Club, with
such additional matter as might be obtainable. Each volume
should, as far as practicable, be representative of the productions
of one writer, and it was thought desirable to begin the series with
some well-known member of the Club. It was also considered
quite possible that ultimately the undertaking might be so

COUNCIL'S ANNUAL REPORT. 427

extended as to include the work of certain selected Lancashire
authors, whose productions were not now obtainable in a collected
form.

It was not until recently that arrangements for the publication
of the projected volumes could be made, but they are happy to say
that Mr. J. E. Cornish has now undertaken to produce the first
volume on terms entirely satisfactory to the Council.

CONVERSAZIONI.

The session was commenced on Monday, October 1st, 1888,
with the usual conversazione in the Club Kooms. The President,
in addressing the members, alluded to the Church Congress which
was then taking place, and noted the changed aspect of the Church
towards the " things of the mind." He also made the customary
reference to the work which the Club was about to engage in, as
shown by the Syllabus. The evening was then given up to an
excellent programme of music, songs, and recitations. Some fine
specimens of the work of the artist members were shown on the
walls, and a number of photographs by members were also
exhibited.

The annual conversazione of the Club and the Academy of Fine
Arts was held in the City Art Gallery, on Tuesday, March 5th,
1889. The President addressed the gathering, and a report of his
speech is given in the Proceedings. The pictures forming the
Spring Exhibition of the Academy, as also those of the Permanent
Collection, were on view, and much pleasure was evidently derived
by the company from inspecting them and listening to the music,
songs, and recitations given under the direction of Mr. J. F. L.
Crosland. The session was brought to a close on Monday, April
1st, by a conversazione in the Grand Hotel.

In addition to these conversazioni, two musical nights were held,
the first on November 26th, 1888, and the second on February
18th, 1889. The first was a miscellaneous entertainment given
without special programme. The second was occupied by Mr.
John Bannister and friends, and was noticeable for the excellent
rendering of several glees, Mr. Westlake Perry, of the Prince's

428 COUNCIL'S ANNUAL REPORT.

Theatre, singing a new song written by Mr. J. Oscar Parker, a
member of the Club. A cordial vote of thanks to the singers
was passed.

CHRISTMAS SUPPER.

The Christmas gathering was held on Monday, Dec. 17th, 1888,
in the Club rooms. There was a large attendance of members and
friends. The chair was occupied by the President, and Mr. T. R.
Wilkinson was the special guest of the evening. The usual
Christmas observances, together with toasts and songs, pleasantly
filled the evening. A full report of the proceedings is given else-
where.

IN MEMORIAM.

The losses by death have been Mr. Wm. Hindshaw, Mr. J. E.
Bailey (who was not, however, a member at the time of his death,
he having resigned two years previously), and Mr. Joseph Stelfox,
one of the hon. members of the Club. A notice of Mr. Bailey is
given in the papers for 1888, page 297.

MEMBERSHIP AND FINANCE.

The Club has lost fifteen members during the year by death or
resignation, and seven new members have been elected. The
number now on the list is 231. The treasurer's balance-sheet
shows an income, including balance from last year, of £234 2s. 6d.,
and an expenditure of £222 10s. Id. ; balance in hand, £11 12s. 5d.

MR. J. C. LOCKHART.

The Council regret to report that the painful and prolonged
illness from which the Treasurer has been suffering has not yet
been overcome, and they suggest that this offers a fitting oppor-
tunity for the presentation to him of a testimonial in recognition
of his long and faithful services to the Club as its Treasurer.

J. C. LOCKHART, Treasurer, in Account with,
2)t» the Manchester Literary Club.

Cr.

INCOME. £ s. d.

PAYMENTS.

£ s.

d.

To Balance in hand March

By Rent

20 0

0

23rd, 1888 36 3 1

„ Postage, Carriage, and

„ Subscriptions 185 17 0

Stationery

19 14

0

„ Entrance Fees 10 10 0

„ Printing Circulars ...

11 3

0

„ Sales of Publications... 0 13 0

„ Advertising

4 18

0

„ Bank Interest 019 5

„ Conversazioni and

Musical Nights ...

32 5

8

„ Excursions

4 4

6

„ Sundries

0 5

0

„ Christmas Supper ...

5 15

2

„ Books for Library ...

7 8

2

„ Insurance

0 12

6

„ Annual Volume, with

Proceedings, Report,

and Authors' Copies,

binding and distri-

bution

109 15

6

„ Picture Frames

6 0

0

„ Bank Commission ...

0 8

7

„ Balance in Bank

11 12

5

£234 2 6

i

t

1234 2

i i

6

S5.

May llih, 1889.

Examined and found correct,

W. H. DEAN,
WM. W. MUNN.

Auditors.

Proceedings.

EXCURSIONS.

SATURDAY, JUNE 16, 1888. — An excursion to Moreton Hall,
Astbury, and Brereton was productive of much enjoyment. The
members were received at Holmes Chapel by Mr. Samuel Gradwell,
and spent some time in examining his garden and grounds. From
thence Congleton was visited, and afterwards Astbury Church,
Moreton Hall, and Brereton.

SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1888. — The Council of thelClub spent an
afternoon in the district of Marple, at the invitation of Mr. Thos.
Heighway and Mr. Joel Wainwright. The company walked from
Mr. Heighway's house to that of Mr. Wainwright, through some
of the most delightful scenery in the neighbourhood. They were
treated with great hospitality by Mr. Wainwright, and the evening
was spent in his garden and in listening to songs and recitations.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1888. — The first half of the new session
was opened by a conversazione at the Club Rooms, at the Grand
Hotel.

OPENING CONVERSAZIONE.

Mr. GEORGE MILNER, the president, after congratulating the
members once more on the commencement of their proceedings,
said they met that night almost under the shadow of a great
Church Congress. Things ecclesiastical were in the air. It was
not their custom to enter upon polemical questions, and his re-

OPENING CONVERSAZIONE. 431

marks would certainly form no exception to an excellent rule. He
only ventured to note the changed aspect of the Church — he might
say the Churches — with regard to what were somewhat affectedly
called " the things of the mind." Of late years the highest and
most powerful ecclesiastical voices had been frequently raised in
favour of the acknowledgment of the just and proper claims,
within their own spheres, of science, of philosophy, and of litera-
ture. It would be strange indeed if a Church which, in its best
days, owed so much to literature and gave back to it so much,
should now be oblivious of the great literary heritage of the
English people. It would be foolish indeed if that Church should
fail to reckon with, and allow for, the vast stream of teaching,
more or less literary, which flows with unceasing abundance
through the channels of the public press. How great the change
has been will be realised by those who remember the dark ages
which had not quite passed away even with the termination of the
first quarter of the present century. At that time most of the
finest English literature was regarded as " profane" by, at least, a
large section of the Church, and derided as the product of " mere
human learning," while an index expurgatorius, rigid enough, if
only implied, made the study of even Shakspere and Scott a thing
to be indulged in only by stealth, But then we were expected to
be consoled by the permission to revel in the pages of Mrs. Hannah
More and Charlotte Elizabeth. The Church was now tolerant
with regard to literature. It would be well if she were also absor-
bent. The character of the average parochial sermon would be
greatly altered for the better by a more liberal English culture on
the part of the clergy. He said " English," because he believed
that while in most modern congregations the old classical allusion
would be regarded only as vain pedantry, a free use of the living
literature of our own country would be taken as the natural out-
come of a broad and healthy scholarship. He then referred briefly
to the principal subjects of interest which would be brought under
the notice of the members, as shown by the syllabus for the first
half of the session, and concluded with a few words of sympathy
and regret for the loss both to the Club and to literature which
had been sustained by the early death of Mr. J. E. Bailey.

An enjoyable programme of music, songs, and recitations was
then gone through, the principal contributors to the entertainment
being Miss Percy and Mrs. Norbury, Messrs. Norbury, Hooke,
Darby, George Evans, and J. C. Lockhart.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1888. — Mr. GEOKGE MILNER presided.
Messrs. Thomas Gough, W. E. Rowcliffe, A. W. Longden, and C.
B. Stewart were elected members.

On the the motion of Mr. J. F. L. Crosland, seconded by Mr. J.
2 D

432 MR. W. Cf. BAXTER.

B. Oldham, a resolution empowering the Council to act as a ballot
committee for the election of new members, instead of the whole
Club, as was previously the rule, was carried unanimously.

Mr. ROBERT LANGTON laid on the table a number of drawings
by William Hull, being the original sketches for the illustrations
in his Childhood and Youth of Charles Dickens.

MR. W. G. BAXTER.

Mr. THOMAS NEWBIGGING read a short paper on a character
sketch by the late W. G. Baxter. It was the sketch, numbered 19,
which appeared in Momus on September 1, 1881, with the title
"They had been friends in youth." He had, he said, derived a
good deal of pleasure from the sketch. The picture told its own
story. The purse-proud merchant or banker and his seedy friend
of bygone days were an interesting study. Clearly the former
had thriven in business ; he had got plenty of wool on his back,
and would cut up well when the time came. As he glanced super-
ciliously at the friend of his youth the expression of his counte-
nance was, however, clearly suggestive of the recollection of by-
gone days in association with that friend, whom he now pretended
to have forgotten. The whole character of the other was sugges-
tive of woe-begoneness, and it was plain that in every way the
fates had been against him. Perhaps he was a poor poet with his
head in the clouds ; but whatever it was, there was no mistaking
his present impecunious condition. The correctness of the drawing
was remarkable. There was in the picture a happy blending of the
humorous and the pathetic, such as could only have been depicted
by a man of varied and extraordinary gifts. It was a sketch of
great power, and did credit to the artistic and imaginative faculty
possessed by its gifted and now— alas ! dead author.

Mr. GEORGE EVANS thought that the artistic world had suf-
fered a great loss in the early death of W. G. Baxter. His abilities
were really greater than his accomplished work now showed, and
had his life been spared that truth would have become ultimately
evident, for Baxter's lapse into the comic, which he believed was
only an aberration, would have righted itself, and his undoubted
genius would have been directed to a higher and nobler line of art.
In his humorous work it had been said that Leech was his model,
but if he could have been said to imitate anyone he thought that
Keene had had the greater influence over him.

The PRESIDENT, in the absence of Mr. Thomas Ashe, the author,
then read his paper entitled " Tennyson Parallels."

An animated discussion followed, in which several members took
part. The opinion that such minute criticism as that which Mr.
Ashe had given them was of little aid towards the elucidation
either of the art or mind of a great poet was maintained by some,
whilst others thought that the growth and working of the human

EDWARD EOOLESTON. 433

mind could not be too closely studied, and that careful examination
of the writings of great authors was not only of the highest value,
psychologically, but also of the greatest necessity, if we were desi-
rous to ascertain what were the laws of mental growth.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1888. — Mr. W. E. A. AXON in the chair.
Mr. E. E. Minton and Mr. David Whittle were elected members.

EDWARD BGGLESTON.

Mr. T. CANN HUGHES read a short paper on Edward Eggleston,
the American Novelist. Eggleston, he said, was born at Vevay,
in Indiana, on December 10, 1837, and entering the Methodist
Ministry, became pastor of a church " without a creed," in Brooklyn,
adjoining the district where Henry Ward Beecher preached. He
was immensely popular amongst his congregation. Side-by-side
with his clerical duties he devoted himself to literary work, and
most of his tales originally appeared in a serial form in the pages
the Century Magazine, to which he is still a contributor. The
field of his early ministry was in the then almost savage country
of Southern Indiana, and it is of the life in that state that the
majority of his books treat. Dr. Eggleston first attained popu-
larity as a writer of books for children, but soon he determined
to draw from the hitherto unworked mine, to which reference has
been made. In 1871 his first novel, "The Hoosier Schoolmaster,"
appeared, and was reprinted in England by Messrs. Routledge.
The reading world of America at once saw that here was a new and
charming author picturing a life until then unrepresented in fiction.
The book has never had the circulation in England that it fully
deserves. The story describes the life and struggles of a clever young
schoolmaster — Ralph Hartsook — in the raw material of the Flat
Creek District. Some of the characters are very finely drawn.
Ralph Hartsook himself; Old Means, the village potentate, and
his wife; their son, Bud Means; Hannah, their help, and her
brother Shocky, and even the bull-dog " Bull," are worthy of
notice. W. D. Howells, writing of this book in the Atlantic
Monthly of March, 1872, says:— "In Mr. Eggleston's 'Hoosier
Schoolmaster' we are made acquainted with the rudeness and
ugliness of the intermediate West after the days of pioneering
and before the days of civilization. The story is very well told in
a plain fashion without finely studied points. It is chiefly notice-
able as a picture of manners hitherto strange to literature. Mr.
Eggleston is the first to touch in fiction the kind of life he has
represented."

In 1872 was published another novel, " The End of the World,"
again drawing on Southern Indiana. This book is full of inte-
resting situations. It is based on the Millerite excitement of the

434 EDWARD EGGLESTON

approaching end — a religious craze which swept over America in
1843. The best characters in this book are Jonas and Cynthy
Ann ; Humphreys, the singing-master ; Ketchup, the steam-
doctor ; the young self-righteous cleric, who refuses his sanction to
the union of Jonas and Cynthy Ann because the former is a " New
Light " ; his kindly and wise superior, who reverses his decree ;
and last, but by no means least, Andrew Anderson, the " Backwoods
Philosopher," who inevitably draws the mind to Walden and Thoreau.
The episode of the gathering to await the " End of the World"
is sketched with considerable power. Some critics consider this
his best work. It was reprinted in England by Messrs. Koutledge,
but is not now obtainable. " I have a vague impression," writes
Eggleston, in the Preface to the English edition, "that English-
men are unhappy islanders who contrive to exist without the aid of
many of those comforts and luxuries which make life endurable.
They seem to be a people who have never tasted a hoe-cake or a
corn dodger, who know nothing of roasting-ears, and who have
never had the pleasure of attending so refined an entertainment as
a wood-chopping, or an apple-peeling, or corn-shucking, or a quilting.
They do not hang gamblers to lamp-posts, or punish men for being
Germans. To speak seriously, I have written of a rough state of
society. Out of this half-lawless boyhood bas come the manhood
of a rich and sturdy civilization. It is the best quality of our
Anglo-Saxon race that its tendency is to refine and civilize itself;
and it has another healthy trait — a good-natured disposition to
laugh at itself. Hence this story. For we Americans, on our
part, like nothing better than a book which ridicules our own
foibles, provided always the book is not written by an English-
man." In 1873 came "The Mystery of Metropolisville," which,
though its story is interesting, and though it contains several
fine conceptions, is rather disappointing as a whole. In 1874,
however, the lost ground was easily recovered by " The Circuit
Rider." It is thus spoken of in the Atlantic Monthly, June,
1874 : — "No American storyteller has of late years had greater
success of a good kind than Mr. Eggleston. His books have been
read by the hundred thousands, been respectfully considered by
the best critics, translated into French, reviewed in the Revue
des Deux Mondes, and reprinted in England. Mr. Eggleston
took Mr. Greeley's advice, and went West, to his native country of
Southern Indiana." In this book Kike is the finest character.
In 1874 appeared "School Master's Stories," which, so far as I
am aware, has never received English republication. In 1878
followed " Roxy," good, but certainly inferior to all predecessors
except the "Mystery." Its English publishers are Chatto and
Windus. Now Dr. Eggleston turned aside from fiction and
devoted himself to history and archaeology. In the pages of his
favourite Century, he has given us several instalments of "A

EDWARD EGGLESTON. 435

History of Life in the Thirteen Colonies." This (says an American
critic) will be his imperishable monument, and one of the most
important historical works America has produced. His researches
among the treasures of the British Museum have been rewarded
with very many important discoveries. In 1883 appeared "The
Hoosier Schoolboy " — a quaint little story in happy style, repub-
lished in England by Frederick Warne and Co., in their Columbia
Library. "The Graysons" — his last work — is only just con-
cluded in the Century. He has also made many contributions
to that periodical of a shorter nature, amongst which may be men-
tioned "Americans at Play" and "Forgotten Lessons" in 1883,
"Sister Tabea" (a very scholarly article) in April, 1886, and
" Churches and Meeting Houses before the Revolution " in April,
1887, illustrated (as many of his later works have been) by his
daughter, Miss Allegra Eggleston, an artist of considerable promise.

Mr. J. OSCAR PARKER testified to the popularity of Eggleston's
works in America, and expressed his surprise that a writer of so
much genuine humour and power was not better known and
appreciated in this country than he appeared to be.

Mr. RICHARD HOOKE read the paper of the evening, on Sir
Thomas Lawrence.

A conversation followed, in which Messrs. George Evans, William
Robinson, R. Barber, R. Pollitt, and others joined. It was gene-
rally agreed that Lawrence was one of the most gifted painters this
country had produced. His power of production was phenomenal,
and his feeling for grace and beauty almost unmatched. If his style
was tinged with artificiality and affectation, it was more owing to
the influence of his time and his surroundings than to any lack in
himself. He might be said to have created a type of beauty which
could never be forgotten and would always be highly prized so long
as the splendid engravings and mezzotints after his paintings by
Cousins and others were generally accessible. He owed much to
his engravers. It was even yet difficult to assign him his place in
art, but he would always be thought of in conjunction with Rey-
nolds and Gainsborough.

The paper was illustrated by an almost unique collection of
engravings after some of Lawrence's best-known paintings, which
were lent for this purpose by Messrs. Harry Thornber, George
Evans, and Alderman Bailey.

MONDAY, OCT. 22, 1888. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

Mr. C. T. TALLENT-BATEMAN read a short paper (printed earlier
in this volume) on James Montgomery, the poet. The paper was
illustrated by a unique collection of editions of Montgomery's writ-
ings, numbering nearly 150 volumes, a bibliographical account of
which is here given : —

436 JAMES MONTGOMERY.

[Note : * denotes not in Allibone's List.]

*I. (1791)— The Chimera ; or, a Tale of a Looking Glass. His maiden prose

essay,1 and first published production ; appeared anonymously in the

November, 1791, number of a then newly started periodical called

The Eee, printed at Edinburgh.

The tale, somewhat distorted, was afterwards printed in pamphlet form

by some purveyors of ballads and cheap literature.

*II. (1792-4)— Articles and Paragraphs in The Sheffield Register, edited by

Joseph Gales.

The earliest article traceable to Montgomery was one which, under the
initials " J. M.," appeared on Feb. 1, 1792. Early in 1793 appeared, under the
initials "J. M. G." (James Montgomery Gales), a humorous story entitled
" The History of a Church and a Warming Pan," afterwards a constant thorn in
the author's side. The last number (June 27, 1794) contained an intimation
that James Montgomery and Co. intended to publish, on the ensuing Friday,
a new Sheffield newspaper, to be entitled The Iris.

*IIL (1793)— The History of a Church and a Warming Pan. Written for the

benefit of the associators and reformers of the age.

This appears to be an unauthorised reprint, in tract form2 (no doubt by
political opponents of the Register's editor), of the above story, with the addition
of a mock dedication on the frontispiece, and of three satirical dedicatory
epistles. London : printed for H. D. Symonds. 8vo., pp. 56.

*IV. (1794-1825)— The Sheffield Iris. A newspaper which M. owned and
edited between these years. Its characteristic feature was a " Poetsr
Corner,"3 where many of his minor pieces first saw the light.
In the first year M. issued a series of essays under the title of " The
Enthusiast," which were never (though once intended to be) separately printed,
and in the years 1795-6, another series, under the designation of "The
Whisperer ; or, Hints and Speculations," reprinted in book form in 1798. In
June, 1796, were published the rhyming "Epistles to a Friend," or "The
Pleasures of Imprisonment," which formed the nucleus of his first book
(No. VI., infra). The editor's " Farewell Address " (27th Sept., 1825), of con-
siderable length, was reprinted, in great portion, in the general preface to
the subsequent principal editions of his poetical works.

*V. (1795) — The Trial of James Montgomery for a Libel on the War. Sheffield,
printed by J. Montgomery, pp. 44.

VI. (1797) — Prison Amusements, and other Trifles . . . (all in verse). By
Paul Positive. London : J. Johnson, 8vo, pp. 200. Printed at The
Iris office.

Several of the pieces in this volume have never since been reprinted. It
is the earliest book of Montgomery's mentioned by Allibone.

*VII. (1798)— The Whisperer; or, Hints and Speculations. By Gabriel
Silvertougue, gent. Prose. Published and printed as above. Five
hundred copies were printed, most of which were destroyed.

*VIII. (1800)— The Loss of the Locks : a Siberian Tale. Verse.

The whole edition of this book was (with the exception of two or three
copies) suppressed and destroyed by the author. There is probably not a copy

1 The editor (Dr. Anderson), in acknowledging (Aug., 1791) this tale, remarks that,
" though this piece has some very obvious defects, and is evidently written by a young
person whose style is not yet chastened, yet it discovers a fund of fancy and humour
which ought . . . abundantly to atone for these defects."

2 The Free Libraries of both Manchester and Sheffield possess copies of this tract.

*It was in The Iris, May 20, 1796, that first appeared Coleridge's well-known " Lines
[written at Sheffield] on observing a Blossom on the 1st of February, 1796."

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 437

of it now in existence. The opening lines appeared first in The Iris during
December, 1799. The whole poem is reprinted, as an appendix, at the end of
Vol. I. of Holland and Everett's Memoirs of the poet.

*IX. (1805).— Poems by Barbara Hoole.4 Sheffield : printed by J. Mont-
gomery at The Iris Office. 12mo, pp. 256 (with an exceedingly long
list of subscribers).

This book " was not only printed at Montgomery's press, but every article
in it had the benefit of his revision." — (Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 68).

[(1805).— The Ocean : A Poem.

This poem appeared, according to the Memoirs, in The Iris during this
year. Allibone treats it as having been separately published, with what
authority I cannot say. It is included among the miscellaneous poems in the
volume next to be mentioned.]

X. (Jan., 1806). — The Wanderer of Switzerland, and other Poems. First
edition, printed at The Iris office, 12mo, pp. 175. July, 1806,
the same ; 2nd edition. London : printed by Wood and Co., for
Longmans, pp. 175 ; Oct., 1806, 3rd edition ; 1808, 4th edition. London :
printed by Wood and Co., for Longmans ; 181-, 5th edition ; 1813,
6th edition ; 1815, 7th edition ; 1819, 8th edition ; 1823. 9th edition ;
1826, 10th edition ; 1841, 13th edition.

XL (1809).— Poems on the Abolition of the Slave Trade : written by James
Montgomery, James Grahame, and E. Benger. London : printed for
R. Bowyer, the proprietor, by Bensley ; 4to ; illustrated.5

XII. (1809).— The West Indies : a Poem. By James Montgomery.
Same as above, being M.'s contribution to the above work.

XIII. — (1810). — The West Indies, and other Poems. London : Longmans ;
12mo, pp. 160 ; May, 1810, the same, 2nd edition ; 1810, the same, 3rd
edition ; 1814, 4th edition ; 1818, 5th edition ; 1823, 6th edition ;
1831 (?), 7th edition.

XIV. 6 (Feb., 1813).— The World before the Flood : a Poem in Ten Cantos,
with other occasional pieces ; large 8vo, pp. 304 ; March, 1813, 2nd
edition, 12mo ; 1814, 3rd edition ; 1815, 4th edition ; 1819, 5th
edition ; 1822 (or 3), 6th edition ; 1826, 7th edition ; 1831 (?), 8th
edition.

*XV. (1816).— The Blind Man and His Son, with " The Swan and the Rabbit :
a Fable" (pointing to Montgomery as the Swan), and "The Four
Friends," &c., by Samuel Roberts of Sheffield ; dedicated, in a long
preface, to James Montgomery ; 12mo. London : Taylor and Hessey.
This book, which apparently owes its publication to the encouragement
given by the poet, the author's friend, contains some original verses by Mont-
gomery, entitled, " The Four Friends : a Fable, part 2, a sequel, a moral, and a
hint to the reader ;" pp. 87 to 94, signed " J. M."

XVI. Nov., 1816). — Verses to the Memory of the late Richard Reynolds, of

Bristol. London : Longmans. The first edition consisted of 1,000
copies ; Dec., 1816, 2nd and 3rd editions, 500 copies each.

XVII. (1817).— The State Lottery : a Dream. By Samuel Roberts ; also,

Thoughts on Wheels, pp. 32 (7) ; a poem, by James Montgomery.
Large 8vo. London : Sherwood and Co. Illustrated with a coloured
caricature, believed to be by Cruikshank.

4 nee Wreaks, afterwards better known as Mrs. Hofland.

° This was a very expensively compiled book, beau tifully printed, and finely illustrated.
Its cost is said to have been between £3,000 and £4,000.
• Not 1812, as per Allibone.
T This was one of the potent factors which led to the abolition of lotteries.

438 JAMES MONTGOMERY.

XVIII. (1818). — According to Allibone, the first issue of Montgomery's collected
poetical works. London : Longmans ; 3 vols., 12mo ; *1822 and 1825,
3 vols. ; 1826, 3 vols. (not 4 as in Allibone) ; 1828, 4 vols. ; *1836, 3
vols., the first edited collection8 ; 1841, 4 vols., illustrated, all 12mo,
1850, 1851, 1854 (Allibone), each 1 vol., demy 8vo., with portrait ;
1855 (Allibone), 4 vols., foolscap 8vo, illustrated like the 1841 edition ;
1858, same as 1850 ; all being London : Longmans.

XIX. (1819, April). — Greenland, and other Poems. 8vo, pp. 250. London :

Longmans. 1819, 2nd edition, 12mo ; 1825, 3rd edition ; 1831 (?),
4th edition.

XX. (1822) — Polyhymnia9: or, Select Airs of Celebrated Foreign Composers,

adapted to English Words, written expressly for the Work, by James
Montgomery : the Music arranged by C. F. Hasse".

XXI. (1822). — Songs of Zion : being Imitations of Psalms. 12mo, pp. 153.

London : Longmans. 1826 (?), 2nd edition ; 1828, 3rd edition.

XXII. (1824). — The Chimney Sweeper's Friend,10 and Climbing Boy's Album

(dedicated, by most gracious permission, to His Majesty), arranged
by James Montgomery, with illustrative designs by Cruickshauk.
8vo, pp. 428. London : Longmans.

Among the poet's contributions are the following : (1) An elaborate dedi-
cation to the King ; (2) a "circular" ; (3) an article, in prose, "A word with
myself " ; and (4) a poem, of 31 pp., "The Climbing Boy's Soliloquies." 1825,
2nd edition.

XXIII. (1824). — Prose by a Poet. Published anonymously. Two vols.
]2mo, pp. 285 and 294. London: Longmans.

(This book has been complimentarily referred to as a collection of " Poetry
in Prose.")

XXLV. (1825). — The Christian Psalmist : or Hymns selected and original . . .
with an Introductory Essay. 8vo, pp. 444. Glasgow : Chalmers and
Collins. 1826, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th editions ; 1828, 5th edition ; 1829,
6th edition. (Numerous later editions ; according to Allibone, the
last edition was in 1853.)

XXV. (1827, May). — The Christian Poet: or Selections in verse on Sacred

Subjects . . . with an Introductory Essay. 8vo, pp. 440. Glas-
gow : Collins. 1827, 2nd edition, 12mo ; 1828, 3rd edition. (Nume-
rous later editions.)

XXVI. (1827). — The Pelican Island, and other Poems. 12mo, pp. 264.
London : Longmans.

(The principal poem is in blank verse, and is Montgomery's only attempt
at any length in that form.) 1828, 2nd edition ; 1831 (?), 3rd edition.

*XXVII. (1828).— Memoirs of the late Mrs. Susan Huntington, of Boston,

Mass., by Benjamin B. Wigner, with an Introductory Essay (pp. 35),

and an Original Poem, by James Montgomery. 8vo. Glasgow :

Collins.

(This book ran quickly through numerous editions, the 7th being in 1832.)

8 The previous issues consisted merely of reprints, apparently from the same com-
posed type, of the then last edition of Books X., XIII., XIV., XIX., XXI., and XXVI., or
such of them as had been then issued.

9 This is, no doubt, the work referred to by Allibone as " Songs to Foreign Music."

1 ° This book and the other publications and work of its compilers formed the chief
aerent in securing the statutory enactments prohibiting the employment of boys as
chimney sweepers, and introducing mechanical contrivances for the cleaning of chimneys
and flues.

JAMES MONTGOMERY. 439

*XXVIII. (1828).— The Pilgrim's Progress, in two parts, by John Bunyan . . .
with an Introductory Essay (pp. 44) by James Montgomery. 8vo.
Glasgow : Collins.
(Of this there were numerous editions, one as late as 1853.)

*XXIX. (1828).— The Poetical Works of William Cowper . . . with an
Introductory Essay by James Montgomery. 8vo. Glasgow : Collins.

XXX. (1829, February). — The Olney Hymns . . , with an Introductory
Essay by James Montgomery. 8vo. Glasgow : Collins.

*XXXI. (1829). — Essay on the Phrenology of the Hindoos and Negroes.
[A copy of this tract is in the Sheffield Free Library."!

*XXXII. (1830). — Life of the Rev. David Brainerd . . . Revised and
abridged, with an Introductory Essay by James Montgomery. 8vo.
Glasgow : Collins.

XXXIII. (1831).— Journal of Voyages and Travels of the Rev. Daniel
Tyerman and George Bennet, Esq. . . . Compiled from original
documents by James Montgomery. 2 vols., 8vo., illustrated. London :
Wesley and Co. ; 1840, 2nd edition, revised and abridged by Mont-
gomery. London : Snow.

XXXIV. (1833).— Lectures on Poetry and General Literature, delivered at
the Royal Institution in 1830 and 1831, by James Montgomery. 8vo.
London : Longmans.

*XXXV. (1833). — On Man : his Motives, their rise, operations, opposition,
and results. By William Bagshawe, Clerk, M.A. 2 vols., 12mo.
London : Longmans.

This book was "revised and conducted through the press" by Mont-
gomery. (See Memoirs, vol. vii., p. 56.)

XXXVI. (1835).— The Poet's Portfolio: or, Minor Poems. In 3 books.
Small 8vo, pp. 297. London . Longmans.

*XXXVII. (1836).— A Commentary on the Book of Psalms, by George Home,
D.D. . . . With an Introductory Essay [pp. 59], by James
Montgomery. 3 vols., 12mo. London : Hatchard.

XXXVIII. (1837, February).— The Christian Correspondent: Letters,
private and confidential. . . . With a Preliminary Essay by
James Montgomery. 3 vols., 8vo. London : Ball ; 1837, ....
2nd edition.

XXXIX. (1837).— Original Hymns for the Opening of Christ Church,
Newark-on-Trent. [Allibone.]

*XL. (1837 [?]).— Memoirs, &c., of the Rev. F. R. Taylor, late Classical
Tutor at Airedale College. . . . With Introduction [pp. 36] and
Memorial Verses [6 stanzas] by James Montgomery. 8vo. London :
Jackson and Co. ; 1840, 2nd edition.

XLI. (1843). — The Poetical Works of John Milton, with a Memoir and
Critical Remarks on his Genius and Writings. ... By James
Montgomery. 2 vols., 8vo, illustrated. London : Tilt and Co.
This is probably the work which Allibone refers to as a Life of John Milton.

*XLII. (1849). — Liturgy and Hymns, for the Use of the Protestant Church of
the United Brethren, revised (and contributed to) by James Mont-
gomery. 8vo. London : Mallalieu.

XLIII. (1850).— Gleanings from Pious Authors. New edition, 8vo. [Allibone.]

*XLIV. (1853).— Doncaster Church, as it was, as it is, and as it shall be.
[Original verses written and printed for a Church Bazaar.]

440 GEORGE HEATH.

XLV. (1853).— Original Hymns [370], for Public, Private, and Social
Devotion. 8vo., pp. 378. London : Longmans.

*XLVI. (1854).— Sacred Poems and Hymns, for Public and Private Devotion,
by Jamea Montgomery, with the Author's latest Corrections, and an
Introduction by John Holland. 8vo., pp. 390. New York : Appleton
and Co. [1854, the poet died.]

Mr. JOHN WALKER (Bury) read the principal paper, which con-
sisted of a description and condemnation of a number of the
anomalies of modern civilisation. The paper aroused considerable
discussion, which was joined in by the President, and Messrs. H.
H. Sales, B. Sagar, J. F. L. Crosland, Richard Hooke, and others.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1888. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

REVIEW NIGHT.

The members had been requested to offer for that evening short
Reviews of Books, Original Tales, Sonnets, Poems, or Sketches.

Mr. H. T. CROFTON read the first paper. It was a notice of a
Poacher's Gazette, a literary curiosity, which had been lent by the
courtesy of Mr. J. F. HofFgaard, the Danish Consul in this city, for
exhibition to the Club. The gazette was published for about six
years, but only six odd numbers were shown, which were after-
wards given to the Chetham Library.

GEORGE HEATH.

Mr, J. B. OLDHAM read a short notice of the Poems of George
Heath, the Moorland Poet. He said : —

In the churchyard at Horton, in Staffordshire, there stands —
and has stood for nearly twenty years now — a beautiful Runic
cross erected over the grave of a poet. The inscription found on
the stone runs as follows : —

Erected in memory
Of GEORGE HEATH, of Gratton,

Who, with few aids,

Developed in these moorlands

Poetic powers of great promise,

But who, stricken by consumption,

After five years' suffering,

Fell a victim to that disease,

May 5, 1869, aged 25 years.

His life is a fragment — a broken clue, —

His harp had a musical string or two,

The tension was great, and they sprang and flew,

And a few brief strains — a scattered few —

Are all that remain to mortal view

Of the marvellous song the young man knew.

The poet who sleeps so quietly beneath this stone is another
example of the unaccountable blossoming forth of a purely peasant

GEORGE HEATH. 441

race into poetry, and poetry which we must consider of the highest
quality if we are allowed to neglect the necessary " accomplishment
of verse " which, after all, is more a matter of cultivation than is
usually admitted. Less fortunate than Burns in many other re-
spects, Heath shared with the more famous poet

The nobility of labour — the long pedigree of toil,

being born of very poor parentage, " in just such an humble, time-
worn cottage one loves to associate with the name of a lowly-born
poet." His father was a small farmer, upright and honest, worthy
and industrious, but his lot was one of the utmost difficulty and
toil. His family was numerous, and apparently not gifted with
good constitutions, and, as his capital was small, the struggle for
existence must have been somewhat acute at all times. As a con-
sequence of these res angustce domi, the poet, who was the eldest
son, could not be given any but the most elementary education,
and at a very early age he was taken away from school to assist in
the farm-work, at which he toiled early and late for several years.
After a while, however, he was apprenticed to a joiner and builder,
and it seems to have been in the leisure moments which he now
occasionally had that he awoke to

the sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.

However the chord may have been struck in the first instance,
it seems certain that he must have commenced writing at an early
age, and considering the circumstances by which he was sur-
rounded, the many difficulties with which he had to contend, his
want of the means of making himself acquainted with the great
outside world, and the very early age at which he died, the power
of poetic thought and intensity of inspiration displayed by this
obscure village singer, seem simply marvellous. We cannot help
wondering to what height might he not have climbed had he only
been allowed a sufficiently long life to have enabled him to work
himself free from those faults and weaknesses which are obviously
but the incidental effects of the condition of life into which he was
born, and not the result of qualities inherent in his genius. How-
ever, it was not to be, for, after years of suffering from consump
tion, he died on the 5th of May, 1869.

His poetry is almost free from fault up to a certain point,
although it does not reach a very exalted position. His strain is
often lofty, and always pure. As might be expected from one who,
though so young, had suffered so much, his most musical melodies
are those written in a minor key, and, in fact, Melancholy had
most assuredly marked him for her own. As Robert Buchanan,

442 GEORGE ELIOT.

the poet, says of him in Good Words for March, 1871, "These
were the lofty utterances of a lofty nature, capable of becoming a
poet sooner or later ; already a poet in soul, but lacking as yet the
poetic voice. That voice never came in full strength, but it was
gathering, and the world would have heard it if God had not chosen
to reserve it for his own ears. The stateliness of character shown
was, in itself, enough to awaken our deepest respect and sympathy."
Such was the subject of this paper, an obscure poet, obscure only
because he had not the opportunity of becoming greater, as he
would have become had his circumstances been more favourable,
and his life been prolonged.

Mr. B. SAGAR read a sketch of school life entitled " One Sunday
Afternoon."

Mr. J. 0. PARKER read a brief paper styled by him "Lakes in
Literature," which for the crispness of its humour and the good-
heartedness of its satire was much enjoyed by the members. It
was mainly addressed to editors, and dealt with their diagnosis and
their difficulties.

Mr. GEORGE MILNER reviewed a volume of verse entitled
" Philaster and other poems," by a local poet who writes under the
nom-de-plume of Aston Clare. Original poems by J. B. Oldham,
Thomas Ashe, and Thomas Derby were also read.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1888. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.
Mr. RICHARD HOOKE read a short paper in continuation of a
previous paper, entitled " A Sleepless Night."

GEORGE ELIOT.

Mr. JAMES T. FOARD read the paper of the evening, " Features
of Fact and Fancy in the Works of George Eliot." In treating
this theme the writer pointed out that all the earlier books of
Mary Ann Evans were, to a considerable extent, autobiographic ;
that, indeed, all her heroines, Maggie Tulliver, Esther, Romola,
Gwendoline Harleth, Dorothea, were varied and idealized portraits
of the authoress herself, reflecting different phases of her character,
aspirations, and spiritual beliefs, in altered attitudes, and that this
unconscious introspective character gave them great part of their
charm. Similarly he pointed out that although her first novel
was published when she was nearly thirty-seven, and when she
appeared to have drifted far away from her early associations, the
local scenery, characters, and incidents are all laid in and about
the neighbourhood of her childhood's early home. Some of these
incidents and of the personages in her first and best novels were
prosaically literal and accurate in their representation, and might
be described as local history rather than fiction. The aspects of

GEORGE ELIOT. 443

the neighbourhood of her home at Griff, Nuneaton, Astley, Attle-
borough (where she was at school) and Arbury, with its park, man-
sion, and grounds, disguised under slightly different names, are all
elaborately described and pourtrayed in " Felix Holt," the " Scenes
of Clerical Life," and even in "Deronda" and " Adam Bede." The
close analogy of pursuit, character, and incident in the imaginary
portraits of Adam and Seth Bede with those of Robert and Samuel
Evans, her father and uncle, and of the various characters in the
same book, with that of members of her own immediate family
was also shown. Mr. Foard expressed his opinion that the so-
called imaginative novels, " Romola " and " Daniel Deronda,"
written with a purpose and with ambitious aims, were relatively
failures. "Romola" read poorly compared with Guicciardini's
or Machiavelli's History, or Benvenuto Cellini's biography, and in
its poor and ineffective revivalism of the splendours and magnifi-
cence of mediaeval civic and artistic Italian life was a comparative
failure. " Deronda " was similarly considered much less real and
interesting than the Dutch painted first books, which might be
likened to the early pictures of Wilkie or the poetic narratives of
Crabbe. On the whole, summarizing his paper, Mr. Foard seemed
to think that we had recently passed through a very spasmodic
and exuberant epoch of indiscriminate and undiscriminating praise,
rhapsodic rather than respectful, but that her books contain among
them several " which the world will not willingly let die."

The PRESIDENT said that in Miss Evans we had unquestionably
a woman of extraordinary powers, a mind more masculine than that
of all but a few gifted men, a boldness in facing the difficulties and
problems of life, a great gift for delineating the things she had seen,
and in her earlier works at least she had shown herself to possess
also the saving salt of humour. We might freely admit that her
writings stood very high in the literature of England, and yet not
be able to concede to them all that had been demanded by some
critics. It seemed to him an invariable rule that all great artists
in the composition of their works started from the concrete and not
from the ideal. They took facts or living characters for their ground
work, and upon these built the ideal superstructure of their story,
and this must be the process with all truly great work, whether it
were expressed in prose, in poetry, or on canvas. This was un-
doubtedly the manner in which George Eliot had proceeded, her
descriptions being idealized reproductions of real places, her charac-
ters idealized descriptions of real people, and her ethics an idealized
version of her own feelings, opinions, and beliefs.

Mr. JOHN MORTIMER said he remembered how it came upon him
as a revelation that so charming a world as that described in
" Adam Bede " could have been evolved out of the uninteresting
surroundings of George Eliot's early life. Nuneaton seemed to him
one of the most unattractive places in the world, and if it had not

444 LITERATURE OF THE BOULEVARDS.

been for the glamour cast over it by the genius of George Eliot he
would have begrudged spending half an hour in the place. From
these homely scenes a beautiful picture had been evolved, and this
certainly could not have been done had not the authoress possessed
a large share of that idealizing imagination which some writers
seemed inclined to deny to her. It was no use bracketing her
with Shakspere or anyone else. In her sphere she stood alone, yet
there was in her a womanly tenderness and strength of feeling
which attached her to all humanity.

Mr. SAGAR and Mr. AXON also spoke, and the essayist replied.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1888. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the
Chair.

Mr. W. E. A. AXON read a short paper on a copy of Cardinal
Newman's "Dream of Gerontius."

Mr. J. B. SHAW exhibited some photographs of an ancient bucket
or vial found in Carnarvonshire. It was found while cutting some
peat fifteen feet below the surface level. The inside depth of the
vial is about six inches and diameter eight inches, the body being
of cedar wood and the handle of gold. Various opinions had been
offered as to the meaning of the inscriptions upon it, but no satis-
factory result had been arrived at. It was thought the relic was
at least 2,000 years old, and of Phoenician manufacture.

Mr. W. R. CREDLAND read a short review of Mr. G. W. Moon's
book entitled "Ecclesiastical English."

Mr. H. M. ACTON read the paper of the evening. It was a
humorous sketch, translated from the German, of Dettmold.
Dettmold was one of the men of 1848 who, having got himself
into political difficulties, wrote the sketch to enable him to defray
the fine imposed upon him. The sketch is descriptive of the diffi-
culties encountered by a literary and artistic club, when it suddenly
finds that one of its principal artistic possessions requires cleaning.
The piece is full of fun, and was much enjoyed.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1888. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the
chair.

LITERATURE OF THE BOULEVARDS.

Dr. JOHN SCOTT read a short paper on " The Literature of the
Boulevards." He thought all lovers of letters would regret if a
noble literature like the French were to degenerate and perish.
The surplus enjoyment which we derived from reading good French
literature was connected with the form in which ideas were put
more than the actual matter from which those ideas were drawn.
The language was an exquisite vehicle of thought. It was beauti-

LITERATURE OF THE BOULEVARDS. 445

fully clear, and was naturally repugnant to all that was vague.
Yet there was a canker in the literature of France. Matthew
Arnold regretted somewhere that the French seemed to have given
themselves over to the worship of the goddess Lubricity, and it
was from the enervation and enfeeblement of character consequent
upon excess in the direction of sensuality that many of the friends
of France foreboded the degradation and extinction of her literature
and her people. This feature of the French character had been a
characteristic of the literature of that country ever since that
literature began. Being on a visit this autumn to the South of
France he bethought himself of having a look at the literature
which was provided for the people in order to contrast it with the
equivalent pabulum of our masses. That led to his accumulating
the heterogeneous collection of specimens which he had laid on the
table. He was aware that from an inspection of those papers an
unfavourable conclusion might be drawn. But it might be urged
by the ingenious Max O'Rell, or other French apologists, that a
considerable proportion of that literature was for foreign consump-
tion, and that the domestic life of the French provincials, and for
the matter of that of the bourgeois of Paris, was as pure, respect-
able, and humdrum as that of similar classes anywhere in the
world. He might grant that. Still after all this literature was
French, and could exist nowhere else. The periodicals corresponding
to our London Journal and Family Reader differ in no material
respect from their English compeers in get-up, contrast, and price,
save, perhaps, that more space is given to weekly instalments of
novels, and less to articles of general information. The illustrated
satirical papers are distinguished by great vigour in their cartoons.
These cartoons in their drawing and voyant colouring remind one
more of Puck than of any of our corresponding English papers.
But once you are past the cover you find the literary matter clever
but thin, and the padding invariably consists of risky anecdotes
which no decent English journal would print. The universal
reading of the people is the daily newspapers. As regards the
characteristics of these reference may be made to an admirable
article in the first volume of the Fortnightly for 1883, and to two
rather scrappy notices which lately appeared in Time from the pen
of Mdlle. Blaze de Bury. In the illustrated journals the exquisite
taste of the French enables them to produce work which we are
fain to imitate. He concluded by referring to a class of prints
which have sprung up since the great war, and which are intended
to be the daily literary food of the rank and file. Those of them
who would look at these, "Les Reptiles Prussiens," "La Baionette,"
" Le Drapeau," and "L' Etoile du General Boulanger," would see how
unwholesome that food was. These " lean and flashy songs, grate on
their scrannel pipes of wretched straw." Strange that the French
writers who seek to stir up the worst passions of the people against

446 MUSICAL EVENING.

a victorious foe do not see that in vilifying him they degrade them-
selves. The unscrupulous perversion of the truth with regard to
the German character, and all the vapouring which these papers
contain about the doughty deeds of the franc-tireurs in 1870 are
certainly what we would not expect of the countrymen of Bayard
and Duguesclin, of Ney and Lannes.

Mr. J. 0. PARKER read some wonderful specimens of the use, or
rather misuse, from the English language, from a manuscript which
had come under his notice.

Mr. WALTER TOMLINSON read the principal paper entitled
"Philosophers' Wives: a Word for Xantippe." A discussion fol-
lowed, in which Messrs. Milner, Mandley, Foard, and Nodal took
part.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1888. — Mr. GEO. MILNER in the Chair.

MUSICAL EVENING.

The evening was devoted to musical and other entertainment
without a formal programme. Amongst the reciters were Mr.
Norbury (a portion of Macaulay's Boratius), Mr. Buckland (" The
Bewildered Frenchman "), Mr. George Evans (" Major Namby "),
Mr. Hooke (" Address of John M'Knock to his congregation "), and
Mr. George Milner told a Lancashire story. The singers were Mr.
Thomas Derby, the " Lullaby " from Cox and Box> and " Thou art
so near and yet so far"; Mr. Cutler two songs; Mr. Wylie a
humorous Welsh song ; and Mr. Dinsmore, Waugh/s " Come lads,
sit down to your porritch." Mr. Astley, of Oldham, rendered two
pieces on the concertina, " The Blue Bells of Scotland," and
" Home, Sweet Home," and was much applauded. Perhaps the
most highly enjoyable contributions to the programme were, how-
ever, the pianoforte solos of Mr. John Acton, Mus. Bach., one of
them, a " Caprice " by Raff, being received with great enthusiasm
and encored.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 3, 1888. — Mr. GEO. MILNER in the Chair.
BUCHANAN'S CITY OF DREAM.

Mr. J. B. OLDHAM read a paper on Mr. Robert Buchanan's " City
of Dream." He began by apologizing for being compelled to intro-
duce into his paper a discussion of matters which were usually
tabooed in the Club. It was, however, necessary, in order to under-
stand Mr. Buchanan's latest work, that something should be said
concerning the general tendency of thought at the present moment.
The essayist then went on to review briefly the intellectual spirit
of the age of which the "City of Dream" is the latest poetical

BUCHANAN'S CITY OF DREAM. 447

offspring. It is an age of peculiar richness, fulness, brilliance, and
even strength of thought ; but at the same time it is above all an
age of uncertain aims, of vague desires, of dumb aspirations, and
of blind gropings for a scientific and a satisfying creed, an age of
confusion and distress. We are moving from point to point along
the path of progress, only able to say of ourselves that we have
left one recognizable point behind and have not yet reached another.
We live in an age of pendulous transition, an age trembling
between two culminating epochs, and such an age, although it
may be able to produce a rich undergrowth, is usually unproductive
of any giants of the forest. As Matthew Arnold has said, we need
a culminating epoch for the production of mankind's greatest works.
In the "City of Dream" the essayist believed we might see the promise
of some such culminating epoch in the near future, the beginning
of the crystallization of this age of suspended elements round
some central idea, and as such we ought to receive it with the
greatest joy. After giving a condensed review of the story, and
showing how closely in many respects it had been modelled upon
the story of the Pilgrim's Progress, the essayist went on to treat of
the poem as a literary production. It could not be said to be a
great poem. The poet had felt too much the limitations of the
age in which he lived to be able to produce a sublime work. It
lacked to a great extent the all-sufficing quality of self-supporting
originality, and was more the mere echo of the present age than a
great work should be. It was, however, a distinct advance upon
the Tennysonian Idyll, the dramatic Hellenisms of Swinburne, and
the idle singing of William Morris. Written in smooth blank
verse, it fell somewhat short of ideal epic form, but was filled with
passages whose poetic merit there was no denying, and scattered
through the poem were a number of lyrics, each of which was
beautiful and musical. Finally, the essayist repeated the expression
of his opinion that the book would be welcome, not as a great
poem, but because it indicated an early culmination of the present
period of chaotic confusion.

A brief conversation followed, in which Mr. John Mortimer, Mr.
Axon, and Mr. Credland took part, and which was not favourable
to the essayist's views.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 10, 1888. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

The PRESIDENT read a short paper embodying some of his
reminiscences of William Harper, a Manchester poet.

A conversation followed, in which Mr. Page, Mr. James Collins,
and others took part.

An album containing photographs taken by Mr. T. R. Cobley
during the last few years' excursions of the Club was presented by
2 E

448 THE CHRISTMAS SUPPER.

him. It forms an interesting souvenir of many pleasant occasions.

Dr. A. EMRYS- JONES read the principal paper on the Life and
Works of Edward Williams.

A conversation followed, in which it was suggested that a
memorial in aid of those gentlemen who were endeavouring to
influence the Government to appoint a Commission similar to the
Historical Manuscripts Commission for the purpose of examining,
and printing if advisable, the ancient documents and literature of
Wales, should be forwarded by the Club to the proper authorities.

THE CHRISTMAS SUPPER.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1888. — The first half of the Session
was, as usual, brought to a close by holding the Christmas Supper
in the Club Rooms. Mr. T. R. Wilkinson was the principal guest.
Mr. GEORGE MILNER presided, and proposed the health of the guest,
to which Mr. Wilkinson responded. Mr. J. T. Foard proposed
"The Writers of Lancashire," which was replied to by Mr.
Edwin Waugh. A report of the proceedings appears in the
MANCHESTER QUARTERLY.

MONDAY, JANUARY 7, 1889. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

The PRESIDENT read a letter from Mr. Arthur O'Neil, in which
a poem was enclosed, which was meant to be read at the Christmas
Supper, but was sent too late for that occasion.

SHAKSPERE'S COAT OF ARMS.

Mr. JAMES T. FOARD read a short paper on Shakspere's alleged
forgery of a coat of arms. He said that he read a passage in the
New York World of August 28, 1887, to the effect that "Mr.
Donnelly brings good evidence to show that Shakspere was a
fornicator, an adulterer, a usurer, an oppressor of the poor, a liar,
a forger of pedigrees in order to obtain a coat of arms to which
he had no right, a poacher, a drunkard, an undutiful SOD, and a
negligent father." He would say nothing about this farrago of
rubbish, but the charge of forging a coat of arms was not an
American' invention, and as it presented some slight colour of
truth it deserved more attention than the rest. This lie was first
launched in Lardner's Cyclopaedia in 1837. Robert Bell, having
before him Reed's, Malone's, and Steeven's edition of Shakspere
containing the draft coat of arms of John Shakspere, the poet's
father, made the ridiculous and unfounded suggestion that it had

SHAKSPERES COAT OF ARMS. 449

been obtained by false representations, and further, that it was
" alike discreditable to the father and the son." What has been
obtained 1 Nothing, in fact. There were four entries, three being
rough drafts of a hypothetical or suggested coat of arms for Shak-
spere's father in the books of the Heralds' College. There was
nothing to explain their presence there, why they were drawn up,
at whose whim, upon what hint or suggestion, or for what purpose.
But there they were. Two of these rough drafts were of an assign-
ment of arms to John Shakspere, of the date 1596 ; a third, a
rough draft of an allowance of arms for John Shakspere and Mary
Arden of 1599 ; and the fourth entry, except for heraldic purposes,
was unimportant. There was not, there never had been, the
slightest spark of evidence that William Shakspere ever knew of
the existence of these drafts, ever saw them, or suggested that
they should be made ; ever applied for a grant ; or that such a
grant was ever concluded, or conceded to him. John Shakspere
appears on the face of the drafts the sole applicant, if applicant
there were, and the only person immediately interested. Mr. Foard
then showed that the rough draft of 1599 recited that John Shak-
spere, when acting as high bailiff for the town of Stratford in 1568,
had applied for and been granted arms, which he produced on his
renewed application to have them impaled with those of Arden.
This being so, it would show that the coat of arms which Shak-
spere is said to have "forged" was granted when the poet was only
four years of age. If any natural inference might be drawn from
the facts, it is that the heralds Dethick or Camden, in all pro-
bability close friends of the poet, proposed to grant a coat of arms
to him, which he, either because such gewgaws were not worth the
purchase or other motive, declined to take up. The vague want
of particularity in the two drafts of 1596 seemed to suggest that
the heralds were willing to supply sufficient reasons for the grant as
well as the grant itself. But the references were to the ancestry of
John and not William Shakspere. Briefly these were all the facts
connected with the imputed forgery, and it was a melancholy
reflection indeed that so much malevolence could be exerted against
a dead man merely on the ground of his intellectual supremacy
and approved virtue.

Mr. THOMAS DERBY read a short paper on a new song, or rather
new words to an old tune, by Edwin Waugh. The song is entitled
" In a May morning early." The tune delighted Mr. Waugh in his
youth, and he promised himself that some day he would write for
it words which would, he hoped, be more worthy of it than the
doggerel to which it was wedded. The song was sung by Mr.
Derby, and was received with much applause.

Mr. JOHN ANGELL read the principal paper on the Sacrifice of
Education to Examinations. He showed that in many ways the
present methods of teaching were radically wrong, and detailed the

450 NATURE AND SOME OF HER LOVERS.

principles which he thought should be substituted for them, but
owing to the lateness of the evening the special question of exami-
nations was not touched upon. An animated discussion, however,
on the points raised by the writer followed, in which Alderman
Bailey, Messrs. Chrystal, Wainwright, Crosland, Buckland, and
others took part.

MONDAY, JANUARY 14, 1889. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

Mr. BEN BRIERLEY read a short paper on the resemblance between
the plot of Tennyson's poem " Dora" and Miss Mitford's prose sketch
entitled " A Rustic Wreath." The resemblance is not only evident,
but Tennyson in the earlier editions of his poems stated that he
had used Miss Mitford's sketch, but this statement having been
dropped out of later editions, would, the essayist thought, probably
lead to unnecessary doubt and inquiry on the part of the modern
reader.

NATURE AND SOME OF HER LOVERS.

Mr. JOHN MORTIMER read the principal paper, entitled " Nature
and some of her lovers." The reader thought that most people
loved nature in some fashion and according to their several tastes.
This affection might go no deeper than a sense of pleasure at the
sight of green fields and the restfulness and beauty associated with
them. Flowers entered into all the conditions of life. They were
found in the hands of children, in household places, at marriage
feasts, and on the graves of the dead. But nature affected some
individuals deeply, making them truly her lovers. White, of Sel-
borne, was one of these. He was deeply interested in everything
that came under his notice, and there was a strain of tenderness
and affection in his nature, though he was not demonstrative, and
his love was marked by much practical common sense. As the
vision of the historian of Selborne faded there came up that of
another country clergyman, who also loved nature in his own way,
which was a typical one. Parson Herrick was a poet who sang in
pastorals the pleasures of country life, but it was very doubtful
whether there was not more than a suspicion of affectation in his
singing. Yet he must have loved the flowers, for he dealt with
them as a poet, allying to them all sorts of quaint conceits and
pathetic fallacies, toying with them in a playful way, grieving over
their withering, and never so happy as when associating their beauty,
sweetness, and perfume with some lady — some Julia, Carina, Althea,
or Sylvia. Keats was an example of the sensuous lover of nature,
one who for a long time lived in sensations, emotions, and tenden-
cies, that came to him from contact with the natural world with-
out any attempt on his part to crystallise his feelings with human
reference or moral interpretation. Wordsworth, on the other hand,
was a lover who was not content with sensuous enjoyment, but who

NATURE AND SOME OF HER LOVERS. 451

• %

realised the sense of the inner life of nature in a deeper degree, and
took upon himself the duty of interpreting it and giving it human
reference in the profoundest sense to the extent even of formula-
ting a religion from it. There were other nature lovers, such as
for instance the transcendental lover, of whom Emerson was the
purest type. These sought for the finer effluences of things, the
idea behind the material fact, and found all sorts of occult mean-
ings in nature. Then there was the lover of the hermit type, like
Thoreau, who went out of society and built himself a hut under
the pine trees by Walden Pond, and there cultivated the closest
relations with all living things. But there was a lover of later
time who touched us closer than Thoreau. No loiterer by field
path or woodland side in these days should be unacquainted with
Kichard Jefferies. If ever there was a passionate pilgrim-lover of
nature it was he. Like many other lovers of nature Jefferies did
not display a scientific attitude of mind. But Keats was not more
sensitive to grace and beauty, to all delightful sensations of sight
and sound and fragrance. His soul seemed literally to hunger and
thirst for all that was beautiful in the material world. Those who
would know how he loved nature should read his " Story of My
Heart."

The PRESIDENT knew we were not all of one mind with regard
to the idolising of nature. There were those who looked upon
nature as being made for man, and not man in any sense made
for nature. This was, he thought, almost unpardonable. We our-
selves were but a part of the great system of nature, and to neglect
it or pretend to ignore it was but to renounce our birthright or
express our ignorance. From Chaucer through the long list of our
poets down to the present time we saw this feeling for nature
gradually growing, until it seemed to culminate in the prose writers
of the present time. The most remarkable of these was certainly
Richard Jefferies. The artistic element perhaps was not so largely
developed in him as in some writers, but no man showed more
minute knowledge of the varying aspects of nature or expressed a
more passionate love for her than he.

Messrs. Brierley, Stansfield, Oscar Parker, and others also joined
in the discussion.

MONDAY, JANUARY 21, 1889. — Mr. GEO. MILNER in the Chair.
Mr. C. W. SUTTON read a short paper on the " Philobiblon of
Richard de Bury."

DESIGNS BY D. G. ROSSETTI.

Mr. E. E. MINTON read some notes on several designs by Dante
G. Rossetti. He thought that those who had taken the opportunity
of studying the works of Rossetti shown in the Manchester Jubilee

452 D. O. ROSSETTL

Exhibition had availed themselves of a chance such as might never
occur again. The small water-colours in the furthest gallery were
the most interesting to the student because they showed in a
remarkable degree Rossetti's powers as a designer. His first oil
painting, " The Girlhood of the Virgin Mary," painted in 1848,
though showing none of that radiant brilliancy of colour he after-
wards attained, was, in drawing, remarkably fine. The faces of the
two women were copied from those of his mother and sister. The
composition was fascinating and beautiful in a remarkable degree,
and doubly remarkable as being the work of a youth of twenty,
whose studies up to a short time previous had been more in
literature than painting. Great as was the work of his later period
it was to the small water-colours of the early and romantic period
of his career that we must turn if we would learn what powers of
dramatic invention were those which stamped him as a master of
poetic design. Who that had seen the Hesterna Rosa, the Borgia,
the Meeting of Dante and Beatrice, could forget the golden glory
of those small drawings 1 They had the richness of mediaeval glass.
Nothing like them had ever been done in the whole history of
easel painting. The reader then exhibited photographs of and
commented on the Hesterna Rosa, Hamlet and Ophelia (the model
for Ophelia being Miss Eleanor Siddall, afterwards Rossetti's wife),
the Anniversary of the Death of Beatrice, Cassandra, and others.
With due respect to the opinions of others to whom Rossetti's
form of art did not appeal, he submitted that his robust and
vigorous art was not a wilful return to an art which died in the
fifteenth century, but that it was an art possible only to the
nineteenth.

Mr. W. I. WILD read the principal paper on " Songs and Song
Writers." In illustration of the paper a number of songs were
sung by Messrs. Lewis and Smith in a manner which elicited
frequent and hearty applause.

At an early period of the evening Mr. JAMES COLLINS called
attention to the statement that the commission for the portrait of
his old friend Alderman Abel Hey wood had been given to a Bir-
mingham artist.

MONDAY, JANUARY 28, 1889. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

The PRESIDENT announced that among the donations to the
library there were a large paper copy of Mr. Ireland's "Book-
Lover's Enchiridion," the fifth and final edition, presented by the
author; and Tucker's "Assignment of Arms to Shakspere and
Ard en," 1096-9, given by Mr. T. R. Wilkinson.

Mr. JOHN PAGE ("Felix Folio") read a short paper on "An
Evening in the Woodlands."

Mr. J. G. MANDLEY read the principal paper, which was descrip-
tive of a journey in the Tierras Calientes of Mexico in 1858.

STRATHMORE v. BOWES. 453

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1889. — Mr. JOHN MORTIMER in the chair.

Mr. HARRY THORNBER showed a number of books illustrative of
the art of copper engraving in France during the last century. The
period from about 1720 to 1780 was marked by an extraordinary
development in the arts of design and engraving as applied to book
illustration, especially on a small scale, such books now being
generally known amongst the connoisseurs as "livres a vignettes."
Specimens of the principal designers were shown, the collection
including the " Heptameron," the "Decameron," La Fontaine's
" Fables," Ovid's " Metamorphoses," and other rare and beautiful
books, and brief explanations were given by Mr. Thornber.

Mr. THOMAS KAY read the principal paper, which consisted of
an account of a journey from London to Luxor. The paper was
illustrated by a number of water-colour drawings by the writer,
and several fine oil paintings by Mr. R. G. Somerset.

A conversation followed, in which Messrs. Somerset, Foard,
Robinson, Evans, and others took part.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1889.— Mr. W. E. A. AXON in the Chair.

STRATHMORE V. BOWES.

Mr. J. B. OLDHAM read a short account of the once famous legal
romance of " Strathmore v. Bowes." How one Storey, an Irish-
man, who afterwards assumed the name of Bowes, obtained, by
glibness of tongue and no little fraud, as his wife, a countesa,
whose husband was but ten months dead, and who was engaged
to marry another man ; how he fought a real or sham (doubtful
which) duel in defence of her honour ; how he cruelly illtreated
her, stripping her of her wealth, her happiness, and even her good
name, by means of sham "confessions ;" how, after her appeal to
the law for protection, he forcibly abducted her and kept her a
prisoner in a castle ; and how, finally, the law got the better of
him, and he was condemned to a heavy fine and long term of
imprisonment, were all re-told in a manner which made this old-
world story more absorbing than many a modern novel.

CULTURE, A CRITICISM AND A FORECAST.

Mr. J. E. PHYTHIAN read the principal paper, entitled " Culture,
a Criticism and a Forecast." He said the word " culture " had still
to make good its reputation. It was regarded in many quarters
much as anxious mothers fearful of their daughters' future regarded
dashing young men as having more of the idle beauty of the butter-
fly than the serviceableness of the busy bee. Culture was but as
a tool, capable of good or evil in the hands of good or evil people.
Its aim should be to perfect the individual mentally and physically
and in every moral and social relation. There was much in our

454 MUSICAL NIGHT.

present social and economical adjustments which was open to
criticism. Our aim was money, not man-making. Were our mills,
with their deafening noise and interlude of ill-built cottage in
narrow street or used-up brickfield, fit places for thousands of our
fellow-beings to live in 1 We ought to see how imperfect, ill-
managed, and ugly all this was, and confess ourselves pedants if
we professed to be cultured and yet remained unmoved in the
midst of it. Religion and culture should go hand in hand in the
bettering of the world. The field for the mental and practical
activity of the man of culture was widely extending. The connois-
seur, collector, cataloguer, and mere book and canvas worm were
being left behind. Criticism was not the same thing it was fifty
years ago, and anyone who wishes to earn the name of cultured in
the future will not only have to know the best that has been said
and written, but know it so thoroughly, appropriate it in such a
living manner, and understand so truly its relation to the destinies
of man that he shall be able to contribute towards making the
triumphs of the aesthetic faculty comprehended, and its activity in
some measure shared by all. And more than this. If the great
majority of men could become familiar with the imaginative view
of life, could understand how much meaning there is in Carlyle's
illustration of universal brotherhood, the folly of national jealousies,
the wastefulness of selfish competition, the absolute need for inter-
national co-operation, if we are to get the best out of life, would
be much sooner realised, and we should cease to count anything a
gain which was not a gain to all.

A discussion followed, in which Alderman Bailey, Messrs. Foard,
Mandley, Parker, Thomas Kay, Mortimer, Heighway, Gough, and
the chairman took part.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 1889. — Mr. JOHN MORTIMER in the Chair.

MUSICAL NIGHT.

The proceedings consisted of a musical entertainment provided
by Mr. John Bannister and friends, and consisting of glees, songs,
and pianoforte and violin solos. The glee " Comrades in Arms"
was rendered with great taste and finish, and formed the gem of
the evening. The programme was somewhat unexpectedly varied
by the introduction of Mr. Westlake Perry, of the Prince's
Theatre, who sang a new song by a member of the Club, Mr. J.
Oscar Parker. The song is entitled " The Haunted Keep," and
has been set to music by Mr. George W. Byng. With a little
simplification of the scoring it will probably form an acceptable
addition to the repertoire of the baritone. Other songs were also
obligingly sung by Mr. Perry, and on the motion of Mr. Crosland,
seconded by Mr. Joel Wainwright, a vote of thanks to the various
entertainers was passed with acclamation.

CHARACTERISTICS OF RECENT FRENCH LITERATURE. 455
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1889.— Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

SPENCER STANHOPE'S "EVE TEMPTED."

Mr. E. E. MINTON read a short paper on R. Spencer Stanhope's
picture, " Eve Tempted," which forms part of the permanent col-
lection belonging to the Corporation of Manchester. In this work,
he said, all had been subordinated to design. He was told that
exception had been taken to the absence of perspective, to the
rendering of the various details of the picture as not being like
Nature, and to the red wall in the background. It seemed to him
that a poetic and symbolic treatment was most adapted to the
theme chosen, and that perspective, however requisite in a purely
topographical picture, was not essential in a poetic design. For
perspective was equivalent to science, the difference between
science and art being that science sought to subordinate the mind
to things, whilst art subordinated things to the mind. With
regard to the wall, apart from the value of its colour to the general
scheme, in what other way could the idea of a garden have been
suggested ?

Mr. WILLIAM ROBINSON read a short paper on the "Cultivation
of the Appreciative Faculty."

Mr. JOHN MORTIMER read a short paper entitled, " A Note of
Pessimism in Poetry," being a review of a privately-printed volume
of lyrics by Mrs. Margaret L. Woods, the wife of the President of
Trinity College, Oxford.

CHARACTERISTICS OF RECENT FRENCH LITERATURE.

Dr. JOHN SCOTT read the principal paper on " Characteristics of
Recent French Literature." The paper was an able review of
some of the newest departures in the literary field amongst the
more prominent French authors, but especially those who have
become known as realists. An elaborate and instructive survey,
from the pen of Zola himself, of the rise and growth of the so-called
realistic school of novelists in France, and of his own methods of
composition was given, together with comparisons of the style and
matter of such authors as Daudet, the Goncourts, Messrs. Erckmann-
Chatrain, Gaboriau, Maupassant, Bouget, Gautier, and others.
The essayist concluded as follows : If we look merely casually at
the history of France, we shall see what disasters her rulers have
brought upon her, and how difficult it has been for a mercurial
temperament like the French to bear the test of such adversity.
The superficially brilliant age of Louis XIV., ended in humiliation,
disaster, and misery. The efforts of France to found colonies in
the East were frustrated by the genius of Clive, her efforts in the
West came to an end under the walls of Quebec, all the false glory
and unstable fabric of the First Empire were crumbled up at

456 CHARACTERISTICS OF RECENT FRENCH LITERATURE.

Leipsic and Waterloo, but nothing up to 1870 had ever equalled
the humiliation of her dismemberment and her relegation to the
second political rank. The idea that his country which since the
days of Richelieu had been the foremost power in Europe is now
helpless before a united Germany, and has to wait for the pre-
carious chance of foreign alliance to recover her lost provinces,
rankles in the Frenchman's mind. What has this to do with the
literature of the country? Simply this. The French character,
tried by fire, is in danger of emerging shrivelled of all its finer
qualities. Up to late years there was a generous, if somewhat
condescending, recognition of German literature. Although the
knowledge of the German, or indeed any other language, was not
generally diffused in the intellectual circles of France, yet there
were never wanting men who introduced the great German thinkers
to a French public. Now all that is changed. Adversity has
stripped off this veneer of polite recognition. From high to low-
levels of literature a kind of blind hatred of Germany reigns.
Refer to medicine and science. Even M. Renan, who might of all
men be supposed to live in Olympian heights where no breath of
passion stirs, gives way to it. And all through France the cheap
literature that is provided for the people is such rubbish as I showed
you when I last addressed you, such things as Les Reptiles
Prussiens, where a lying legend of the war of 1870 is growing up.
But the first thing to regenerate the country is for its writers to
cultivate a regard for truth. That alone would be an immense
gain for France, and if a strong public opinion were to grow up
against the authors and publishers of immoral works, which
sap the vigour of the people, there might yet be hope of a
healthier nation. It seems to me a good thing for us to stop
and take stock occasionally of great literary movements around
us. More than ever in the history of literature are action and
reaction of one literature on another rapid and strong. Race
hatreds will ultimately give way before "science, which is casting
down the barriers that separate nation from nation. Every student
of English knows how great has been the influence at different
times of our neighbours on our literature, and may, I hope, consider
that our intellectual equipment is not complete without a know-
ledge of some of the subtlest influences that permeate the world of
to-day. French literature is the most cosmopolitan in the world —
although our literature holds some names that tower high
above any French ones. Yet our language has neither the
lucidity nor the neatness, nor our literature the wit and daring
of the French. I can fancy with what sorrow Mr. Matthew Arnold
would notice the modern tendency of French literature to run into
quagmires of lubricity. He formed a style that for clear expression
is as near perfection as anything we have in our language, and his
charming grace of manner which disarms resentment, even if it

JOSEPH BUD WOR TB. 457

does not command intellectual adherence, is largely due to the
study of the great models of French prose.

A discussion followed, in which the President and Messrs.
Braune, Walker, and Mandley took part.

MONDAY, MARCH 4, 1889. — MR. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

ROGERSON'S MANUSCRIPTS.

Mr. W. E. A. AXON laid on the table, and gave a brief description
of, some manuscript volumes now in the possession of Mr. Charles
Roeder, and which formerly belonged to J. B. Rogerson, the poet.
They contained some of Rogerson's poetical productions, together
with copies made by him of poems which had pleased his fancy.
These, Mr. Axon thought, were at least indicative of Rogerson's
poetic taste and style, and were interesting on that account.
Another scrapbook, lent by Mr. Roeder, contained a number of
poems by William Rowlinson, a young local poet of great promise
and some achievement, who was drowned whilst bathing in the
Thames.

Mr. AXON also described, in the absence of the writer, a trans-
lation, by Professor F. W. Newman, of the greater portion of the
first book of " Virgil's ^Eneid."

JOSEPH BUDWORTH.

Mr. FRED SCOTT read the principal paper, which was on Joseph
Budworth, a Manchester Hero and Poet. Budworth was born
in Manchester about the year 1759, and at an early age he
joined the Seventy-second or Royal Manchester Volunteers as an
Ensign. He proceeded to Gibraltar in 1779, and remained there
during the whole period of the " great siege " by the combined
fleets of France and Spain. It was from the incidents of this
period of his career that his principal poem, •' The Siege of Gib-
raltar," was compiled. In 1783 he was retired on half-pay, but
was too fond of his profession to give it up, and accordingly
accepted a cadetship in the Bengal Artillery, but he did not remain
long in India. On his return home he offered his services as
captain in the North Hants Militia when the war caused by the
French Revolution broke out, but it did not appear that he suc-
ceeded in again obtaining military employment. His literary
faculty, which had frequently been exercised before, now had a
more favourable opportunity for development. He published a
small work entitled the " Lancashire Collier Girl," and followed
this up by " A Fortnight's Ramble to the Lakes," the first edition
of which appeared in 1792. This work was popular enough to run
to three editions, the last being published in 1810. " The Siege

458 JOINT CONVERSAZIONE.

of Gibraltar," "Half Pay," "Hampton from Moulsey Hurst,"
" Windermere " and other poems succeeded. He died at East-
bourne, September 4, 1815.
A conversation followed.

JOINT CONVERSAZIONE OP THE ACADEMY OF ARTS AND THE
LITERARY CLUB.

TUESDAY, MARCH 5, 1889. — The annual joint soiree of the Man-
chester Academy of Fine Arts and the Manchester Literary Club
was held in the rooms of the Art Gallery, Mosley Street. There
was a very large attendance of members of the two organisations
and their friends, with a number of invited guests. Mr. George
Milner, the President of the Club, presided. The President, in his
address, referred to those gatherings as being unique. There was a
perennial pleasure in finding their two kindred societies associated
on that common ground. Long might the happy conjunction
continue ! It would not be possible to bring together elsewhere
in Manchester so large a number of people under the same favour-
able conditions, and they were greatly indebted to the Academy
and to the Committee of the City Art Gallery for the opportunity
afforded them. To show that their friends the painters had not
been idle during the year, there was abundant testimony on the
walls, and he thought he would only be echoing the general senti-
ment if he said that the work exhibited, if considered as a whole,
was highly creditable to Manchester as a provincial art centre. In
the nature of things, it was not possible for the Literary Club to
place itself in evidence in the same manner. They had, however,
not been behind. The session, now near its close, had been dis-
tinguished by some papers of very exceptional excellence and of
permanent value. They had been able to continue the issue of
their Quarterly Journal, in which art joined with literature, until
it had reached its seventh year — a more prolonged life .than that
of any other similar periodical in Manchester — and their volume of
transactions for 1888, the 14th of the series, was certainly in bulk
and in interest equal to any of its predecessors. The Academy and
the Club had now each of them existed for more than a quarter of a
century. Their past success justified hope for the future. It was
worth while, it seemed to him, to make an effort to maintain them
as rallying points for all those who cared to spread in that hard-
working community the amelioriatiDg and humanising influences
of literature and art. In Manchester during the last few years
there had been seen a remarkable and most encouraging increase
of interest in all matters appertaining to education. For many
years a healthy dissatisfaction with regard to elementary education
had been going on, and curiously it had shown itself in two oppo-
site directions. We had come to the conclusion that our teaching
had not been practical enough, and, on the other hand, that it had

JOINT CONVERSAZIONE. 459

been wanting in some of those higher qualities which made the
real distinction between imparting knowledge to the young and
educating them in the true and proper sense — that, in short, our
education was so mechanical and perfunctory that it never touched
the region of culture at all, and at the same time was, singularly
enough, so imperfectly adapted to its purpose that it failed even
to fit the young for the ordinary business of life. The result of
this was two-fold — first, the cry for technical education ; and,
second, the demand for some reform in a system which appeared
to have been built on the foundation of endless examinations,
grinding for passes, and the reduction of all tests to money pay-
ment and cash value. In this question those who were connected
with the diffusion of literature and art had a deep interest. They
believed that elementary education would be improved by a more
liberal infusion of literature — of the best English literature — into
the curriculum, and by making the teaching of art a reality. Let
them not listen to those who told them that the unapproachable
treasures of our own tongue were not scientifically teachable, and
capable of being made the instrument of education just as were
the literatures of Greece and Rome. Let them not listen to those
who told them that art was not a subject for the elementary
school. Whether they were asking for technical education or for
culture, art was essential, and the best thing they could do was
to teach children from their earliest years, to draw, in a reasonable
manner, and accordingly set before them, on the walls of their schools,
reproductions of the best and most beautiful pictorial work. Good
taste was formed in that way, and in no other. They were all apt
in these pessimistic days to become hopeless about the condition of
the population in large towns. In Manchester they should take a
more cheerful view. There were noble and generous people among
them, few in number, perhaps, but full of enthusiasm, and so much
was being done on all sides and attempted in all sorts of ways that
surely advancement and amelioration would come. Who could say
but that some of them might yet see Manchester with a sky over
it, if not smokeless yet decently clear and bright, with a stream, if
not limpid, yet not foul, and with a people educated and morally
trained up to a point which should at least make brutality more
rare and sweet reasonableness more common. The inspection of
the works of art which were on view, with music and songs at
intervals, occupied the remainder of the evening.

MONDAY, MARCH 11. — Mr. GEORGE MILNER in the Chair.

MR. J. O. PARKER.

It was unanimously resolved that a letter be sent to Mr. J.
Oscar Parker, congratulating him on his improved prospects, but

460 MATTHEW ARNOLD.

expressing the sincere regret of the members of the Club that his
removal from Manchester would be necessitated thereby, and
indicating the keen sense of loss with which his absence from the
meetings would be felt.

Mr. E. MERCER presented a copy of Bradshaw's Railway
Companion for 1844.

Mr. B. SAGAR read some translations from Heine's lyrics, and a
vigorous rendering of his "Romance of Don Ramiro."

Mr. J. E. PHYTHIAN contributed a sonnet on Rossendale.

MATTHEW ARNOLD.

Mr. C. E. TYRER read the principal paper, on Matthew
Arnold. He said that buoyancy seemed to be the word best
descriptive of Arnold's temperament, a buoyancy which rose
superior to all outward circumstances and inward trials, and never
deserted him to the last. Probably no English poet save Words-
worth had found a deeper or more constant source of delight in
nature, few men of culture had reaped a richer harvest of enjoy-
ment from the best literature of the world, while he could find
even in the human scene which surrounded him and whose tragical
side he so keenly realised, food for flashes of gay humour and a not
uugenial sarcasm. He was pre-eminently, using the word as he
used it, the critic. Even in his poetry the critical faculty seemed
rarely if ever wholly dormant. But then the word criticism, in
his use of it, meant something of vastly greater significance than
it bears in the popular acceptance. This is how he defines it, "A
disinterested endeavour to learn and propagate the best that is
known and thought in the world," and, as he elsewhere adds,
"thus to establish a current of fresh and true ideas." There we
had the master thought which shaped and impelled the whole
course of his activity as a student and as a writer. He was then,
above all, the critic and the apostle of culture. Culture, with him
was " a study of perfection." It was a thing not for the few but
for the many, and it was towards this general diffusion of culture
that the true critic must aim. He was an enquirer after truth, not
its expounder or professor, an enquirer who sought to put others
in the right way to find it so far as it can be found. His " Essays
in Criticism " contained many of the best of his literary judgments,
as well as the germs of some of the developments, social, political,
and theological, afterwards taken by his critical faculty. This
book, perhaps, contained fewer of the writer's mannerisms than any
of the later ones, and he had certainly never since surpassed, if he
had equalled, the beauty, freshness, and transparent clearness of its
style. His social, political, and theological criticisms had excited
far more general attention than his literary ones. In his writings
on these subjects, and especially in his later works, he showed an
addiction to phrase-making which made them somewhat unsatisfac-

MATTHEW ARNOLD. 461

tory to serious thinkers. That by this habit he did less than jus-
tice to himself was certain. The air of flippancy often thus
acquired was only superficial ; he was always at bottom serious.
The most delightful, perhaps, of Arnold's contributions to the social
and political criticism of his countrymen was the work entitled
"Friendship's Garland." Here he displayed his happiest satirical
gifts, and this was the only one of his books which could properly
be called delicious. To his excursions in the region of theological
criticism it was impossible to give the praise which, in other fields,
he generally deserved. Many persons had felt a keen regret that
he should have embarked on an undertaking — the reconstruction of
religion — for which alike by his nature and his training he was
probably unfitted. If "Literature and Dogma" and "God and
the Bible " survived the wrecks of time, they would do so merely
as literary curiosities. It was sometimes questioned, even by intel-
ligent critics, not whether Arnold was a great poet, but whether he
was a poet at all. No attentive student of his prose writings could
fail to be struck by the great dissimilarity between them and his
poetical work. The cause of this difference appeared to be that in
his poetry there was an entire absence of his peculiar humour, his
occasional flippancy of manner, and his tricks of language. In it
he speaks not as from the calm height of intellectual superiority,
but as man to man. But for his verse we should have a very erro-
neous idea of a remarkable and fascinating personality. His verse
occupied in English poetry, and in all poetry, a place apart. We
might find analogies to it in Gray, in Wordsworth, and affinities in
some respects with Goethe and Virgil, but his total effect was dis-
tinct from that of any other poet. In him we saw more clearly
than in any other poet the blending of the classical and romantic
elements. He was gone, and to the places of pilgrimage to which
the people resort there had been added another shrine. With
Grasmere we should associate Laleham.

A conversation followed, in which Messrs. Higginson and Gee,
visitors, took part, and also Mr. John Mortimer and the Chairman.

MONDAY, MARCH 18, 1889. — Mr. GEO. MILNER in the Chair.

REVIEW NIGHT.

On this evening a number of short papers, poems, etc., were
submitted.

Mr. JOHN MORTIMER read a notice of Mr. Ben Brierley's recently
issued volume of humorous poems.

Mr. H. H. SALES read a note on a volume by Samuel Jefferson,
entitled " Sonnets on Nature and Science."

Mr. C. E. TYRER reviewed a recently published volume of travel
experience, entitled " The Wanderer," by H. Ogram Matuce.

4G2 ANNUAL MEETING.

Mr. J. B. OLDHAM and Mr. E. MERCER contributed original
sonnets.

Mr. JOHN WALKER sent a paper on " The Lyrics of Miss Rossetti."

Mr. W. R. CREDLAND read a review of the poems of Adah Isaacs
Menken, and exhibited a copy of the rare original edition, together
with the reprint of last year.

Mr. HARRY THORNBER contributed a notice of the new edition of
the "Reminiscences of Captain Gronow." For some years past,
he said, none had published more tasteful or better printed books
than Mr. J. C. Nimmo. Not the least charming of these was the
book under notice. Captain Gronow lived in very stirring times,
and having, like the celebrated James Boswell, an excellent memory,
he was induced to give the public the benefit of it. The result
was this collection of racy, chatty, and agreeable anecdotes of
the camp, the court, the clubs, and the celebrities of London and
Paris. His book did not possess much literary merit, but for that
which it professed to be, a book of anecdote, it was excellent. The
most interesting portions were probably those which gave us an
insight into the manners and customs of our ancestors about the
time of the Battle of Waterloo and the occupation of Paris by the
allied armies. The work was illustrated by Mr. Grego.

ANNUAL MEETING.

MONDAY, MARCH 25, 1889. — Mr. GEO. MILNER in the Chair.
Two books, a reprint of " Virginia " and " Tewrdannckh," presented
by the Holbein Society, were laid on the table for the inspection
of members. The consideration of proposed alterations in the rules
occupied a large portion of the evening.

The PRESIDENT said the Council recommended that there should
be some alteration in the rule relating to corresponding members,
for, in its present form, it had been inoperative, there being no
corresponding members upon the books of the club.

Upon the motion of Councillor MANDLEY, seconded by Mr. H. H.
SALES, it was resolved that rule -two should read as follows : — " The
subscription for ordinary members shall be one guinea per annum,
and for corresponding members half a guinea per annum, payable
in advance on September 29, in each year, and shall be paid to the
treasurer. New members, ordinary or corresponding, shall also
pay an entrance fee of one guinea. The Council shall have power
to transfer the name of an ordinary member to the list of corres-
ponding members." An alteration in another rule providing that
the number of vice-presidents should not be limited to six as here-
tofore, was agreed to without discussion.

Mr. W. R. CREDLAND, the honorary secretary, read the twenty-
seventh annual report of the Council.

CLOSING CONVERSAZIONE. 463

The PRESIDENT, in moving the adoption of the report, said the
financial statement was unavoidably omitted at the meeting, in
consequence of the illness of their treasurer. But Mr. Lockhart
had gone over the accounts in a rough manner, and said that, as
far as he could see, there would, at any rate, be a balance on the
right side.

Mr. W. H. DEAN seconded the adoption of the report, which was
agreed to after some discussion.

The election of officers followed. Mr. George Milner vas re-
elected president, and the following were elected vice-presidents . —
Messrs. W. E. A. Axon, B. Brierley, George Evans, Charles Hard-
wick, H. H. Howorth, MR, Robert Langton, John Mortimer, John
Page, and Edwin Waugh. This is an addition of three to the
number of vice-presidents, namely, Messrs. Evans, Langton, and
Mortimer. Mr. J. C. Lockhart was re-appointed treasurer, Mr. W.
R. Credland honorary secretary, and Mr. Charles W. Sutton and
Mr. Harry Thornber librarians. The following were elected
members of the Council : — Messrs. John Bradbury, J. F. L. Cros-
land, J. T. Foard, W. H. Guest, J. B. Oldham, Ward Keys, and C.
E. Tyrer. Four of these are new to office, namely, Messrs. Foard,
Guest, Oldham, and Tyrer. They take the places of the three
new vice-presidents and of Mr. Thomas Heighway, who declined
re-election.

Messrs. W. Dean and W. W. Munn were appointed auditors for
the Session 1888-9.

THE CLOSING CONVERSAZIONE.

MONDAY, APRIL 1, 1889. — The closing conversazione of the Club
was held at the Grand Hotel Mr. George Milner presided, and
there was a large attendance. On the walls of the club room a
choice collection of prints and drawings, representative of the best
work in tint and engraving of the last century, had been arranged
by Mr. Harry Thornber, who had lent them for the occasion. It
would be difficult to find modern examples which could equal
the beauty, charm, and artistic excellence of many of these pro-
ductions of the brush and the graver of such artists as Morland,
Angelica Kaufmann, Rowlandson, Gillray, Bartolozzi, and others,
and they were examined with much pleasure by the company.
Recitations, music, and songs were given at intervals during the
evening. Mr. and Mrs. Norbury gave the closet scene from
Hamlet, and the quarrel scene from the School for Scandal. Mr.
Thomas Derby sang Beethoven's "Farewell" and "0! Fair Hebe!"
Mr. F. Smith recited " Gate's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the
Soul." Mr. Ben Brierley gave a humorous piece of his own,
2 F

464 MR. JOHN BRIGHT.

entitled "Qwd Pidgeon;" and Alderman Bailey gave an enter-
taining sketch of Mr. Sapsea, auctioneer, culled from Dickens's
" Edwin Drood." Miss Lilian Verkruzen sang " The Last Dream,"
by Co wen, and Kandegger's "Peacefully Slumber." Mr. J. H. E.
Partington sang Waugh's " Grindlestone." Mr. E. Mercer presided
at the piano.

The PRESIDENT, in welcoming the members, referred to the recent
death of Mr. John Bright. He said in that club they knew no politics,
but the great man whom they had just lost had lifted himself
by the long and disinterested service which he had given to his
country, and by his singular purity, fearlessness, and honesty, far
above the often demoralising level of party warfare. They
could look at him now, both here and elsewhere, as an Englishman
simply — the last great Englishman whose name they were per-
mitted to inscribe on that roll which contained only the best, the
most honoured, the most beloved. But they were not, he thought,
without a special interest in the great orator. He had done an
immense service for the English language and English literature.
He had always in theory, and in his practice, as one of the greatest
speakers of this or any other age, been on the side of what was
best — native force, unadorned strength, lucid brevity, fiery emotion
chastened by judgment; and against meretricious ornament,
complex verbosity, and the admixture with our English of foreign
characteristics and so-called classical allusions. It was to be hoped
that they might have a household edition of his best and most
catholic orations. In them our younger men would find, indeed,
a "well of English undefiled" — strong, nervous, idiomatic. He
believed that a comparison of Mr. Bright's addresses with those of
most other politicians would show that he was in the habit of saying
in ten words that for which most other men would need thirty.
And this supreme style of his, he could not help saying, was, in
his (Mr. Milner's) judgment, connected with and, indeed, springing
out of two things — intellectual clearness of conception and perfect
moral sincerity. The involved and round-about speaker was the
man who did not know what it was that he wanted to say, or who
wanted to say that which he did not wholly believe or think. Not
once or twice in our fair island story had they seen the path of
duty become the way to glory. Whatever glory fell on the name
of Bright came from his having been possessed by an overmastering
sense of duty. It was singular how much of what was written by
the Laureate with reference to Wellington in 1852 was applicable
to Bright. In their simplicity, honesty, and straightforwardness
they must have been alike —

0 good grey head which all men knew,

0 voice from which their omens all men draw,

0 iron nerve, to true occasion true,

We mourn for him to-day.

LOCKHART TESTIMONIAL. 465

The man of amplest influence,
Yet clearest of ambitious crime,
Our greatest, yet with least pretence,
Rich in saving common sense ;
And, as the greatest only are,
In his simplicity sublime.

LOCKHART TESTIMONIAL.

With regard to the suggestion by the Council in their Annual
Report that a testimonial should be presented to Mr. J. C. Lock-
hart, in acknowledgment of his services to the Club as their
Treasurer, it was reported at a meeting of the Council on May
13th, 1889, that nearly £120 had been subscribed towards the
proposed testimonial. It was resolved that the amount should be
made up to £120 from the funds of the Club, and that the money,
together with an illuminated address, should be presented to Mr.
Lockhart by the President, the Hon. Secretary, and Mr. George
Evans. The address, which was finely illuminated by the late Mr.
George Evans, together with a purse containing the money, was
accordingly presented early in July, and they were received with
much emotion by Mr. Lockhart. Mr. Lockhart died on July 24th,
and was buried in the churchyard of St. Paul's, Kersal, an
unusually large gathering of friends and members attending the
sad ceremony.

List of Members.

ABBOT, T. C., East Legh, Queen's Road, Altrincham.

ABERCROMBIE, William, Mansfield Chambers, St. Ann's Square.

ACTON, H. M., B.A., 21, South Hill Park, Hampstead.

ADSHEAD. Joseph, Peel Moat, Heatou Chapel.

ALLEN, Alfred, c/o W. H. Smith and Son, Blackfriars-street.

ALLEN, F. Howard, 79, King-street, Manchester.

ANDREW, James, Woodlea, Wellington Road, Alexandra Park, Manchester.

ANGELL, John, F.C.S., Ducie Grove, Oxford Road, Manchester.

ARNOLD, Clarence, 7, St. Ann's Square, Manchester.

ARNOLD, W. T., 75, Nelson-street, Oxford Road, Manchester.

ARTINGSTALL, William, Princess Road, Flixton.

ATTKINS, Edgar, 67, Camp-street, Lower Broughton.

AXON, William E. A., Murray-street, Higher Broughton.

BACKHOUSE, Thomas J., York Cliff, Langho, near Blackburn.

BAGOT, Richard, Crescent Road, Crumpsall.

BAILEY, William Henry, Summerfield House, Eccles New Road, Ecclee.

BANNISTER, John, 44, Broadway, Salford.

BARBER, Reginald, 7, Lome Terrace, Fallowfield.

BARLOW, Thomas, Moor House, Heaton Mersey, near Manchester.

BARLOW, Samuel, J.P... Stake Hill, Chadderton.

BAUGH, Jos., Edendale, Whalley Range.

BECKETT, Thomas, Whitefield, near Manchester.

BEHRENS, Gustav, Greenwood-street, Manchester.

BELLHOUSE, James, 38, Walnut-street, Cheetham.

BENNETT, Robert J., 17, Cooper-street, Manchester.

BENNIE, Andrew, District Bank, Manchester.

BERRY, James, 153, Moss Lane East.

BLACKLEY, Charles H., M.D., Arnside, Stretford Road, Old Traffbrd.

BLACKLOCK, Christopher, 2, St. James's Square.

BODDINGTON, Henry, Pownall Hall, Wilmslow.

MEMBERS. 467

BOWRING, George, M.D., Oxford-street.

BRADBURY, John, F.R.S.L., 2, St. James' Place, Old Trafford.

BRADLEY, F. E., 21, Chapman -street, Hulme.

BRAUNE, Adolf, 8, Ducie-street, Greenheys.

BRIERLEY, Benjamin, The Poplars, Church Lane, Harpurhey.

BRIERLEY, James, Droylsden.

BROOKES, Warwick, 350, Oxford-street, Chorlton-on-Medlock.

BUCKLAND, J. D., Free Library, Stockport.

BURTON, John Henry, Trafalgar Square, Ashton-under-Lyne.

BUTTERWORTH, J. H., Globe Mills, Hollingwood.

BUXTON, J. H., Guardian Office, Manchester.

CADMAN, Rev. W. G., Church Lane, Harpurhey.

CHADWICK, Robert, 39, Withington Road, Brook's Bar, Manchester.

CHATWOOD, Samuel, 11, Cross-street.

CHRISTIE, Richard Copley, M.A., Chancellor of the Diocese of Manchester,

The Elms, Roehampton, S.W.
CHRYSTAL, R. S., Market-street, Manchester.
CLARK, J. H., F.R.G.S., 157, York-street, Cheetham.
CLOUGH, William, Manchester and Salford Bank, Manchester.
COBLEY, T. R., Brook Villas, Churcli Lane, Harpurhey.
COCKS, John, Stockport Road, Bredbury.
COLLINS, James, King-street, Manchester.
COOPER, Joseph, Eaves Knowle, New Mills, Derbyshire.
COTTRELL, William F., 207, Eccles New Road, Salford.
CREDLAND, William Robert, Free Library, King-street, Manchester.
CROFTON, Henry T., 36, Brasenose-street, Manchester.
CROSLAND, J. F. L., Mem. Inst. M.E., 18, Woodlands Road, Cheetham Hill.

DARLING, William, Jun., B.A., F.C.S., 126, Oxford Road, Manchester.

DAVIES-COLLEY, Alfred Hugh, 60, King-street, Manchester.

DAWES, William, 2, Cooper- street, Manchester.

DKAN, W. H., Warehousemen and Clerks' Schools, 29, Princess-street,

Manchester.

DERBY, Thomas, 54a, Swan-street.
DINSMORE, William, 16, Chestnut-street, Hightown.
DIXON, John, Gilda Brook, Ecoies.

EASTWOOD, John Adam, Ashfield, Peel Moat Road, Heaton Moor, Stockport.

EDMESTON, Alfred, 224, Lower Broughton Road.

EDMONDS, Daniel, 7, Studley Terrace, Moss Lane East.

EMRYS- JONES, A., M.D., 10, St. John-street, Manchester.

ESTCOURT, Charles, F.C.S., F.I.C., St. Andrew's Chambers, Albert Square,

Manchester.
EVANS, Rev. W., Queen's Road, Oldham.

FIELDEN, David, 7, Winfield Terrace, Old Trafford. . • . •

FOARD, Jas. T., Victoria Park.

Fox, William J., 36, Bishop-street, Moss Side.

GANNON, Henry, Barlow Moor Road, Didsbury.

GILL, Richard, Examiner Office, 7, Pall Mall, Manchester.

GILLIBRAND, Thomas Walton, Holly House, Bowdon.

GILLOW, Joseph, Dudley House, Bowdon.

GOLDSMID, E. M., 30, Castle Terrace, Edinburgh.

GOODACRE, J. A., 7, Nicholas Croft, Manchester.

468 MEMBERS.

GOUGH, Thomas, Grenville-street, Stockport.
GRADWELL, Samuel, Holmes Chapel, Cheshire.
GRANTHAM, John, Rothsay Place, Old Trafford.
GRAY, George William, Fern Bank, Plymouth Grove.
GUEST, W. H., Arlington Place, Oxford-street, Manchester.

HADFIELD, Edward, Harrol Terrace, Manchester Road, Swinton.

HALL, John, Chorley Koad, Bolton.

HALL, Joseph, M.A., Hulme Grammar School, Alexandra Park.

HARDY, James Richard, 390, Oldham Road, Manchester.

HEALEY, George, F.R.M.S., Brantfield, Bowness.

HEIGHWAY, George, Elmwood, Fog Lane, Withtngton.

HEIGHWAY, Thomas, Beechmount, Marple, Cheshire.

HEYS, Ward, Blencathra, Stretford.

HEYWOOD, Abel, jun., Oldham-street, Manchester.

HILLS, A. E., 10, Belgrave Crescent, Eccles.

HINDLE, Edward Bruce, 4, Spring Gardens, Stockport.

HOLLINS, J. G., 4, Slade Lane, Longsight.

HOOKE, Richard, M.A.A., Kersal Dale, Higher Broughton, Manchester.

HOPWOOD, W. F., Staly bridge.

HORSFALL, T. C., Swanscoe Park. Macclesfield.

HOWORTH, Henry H., M.P., F.S.A., Bentcliff, Eccles.

HUGHES, Walter, B.A., Cheetwood House, Cheetwood, Manchester.

HUGHES, T. Cann, Town Hall, Manchester.

INGLEBY, Joseph, Ingleside, Marple Bridge.
IRELAND, Alexander, 9, Leicester Street, Southport.

JONES, William, Consolidated Bank, King Street,
KAY, Thomas, Moorfield, Stockport.

LAMBERT, James J., 20, Cross-street, Manchester.

LANGTON, Robert, Albert Chambers, Corporation-street, Manchester.

LAW, Edwin, 10, Shakespeare Crescent, Patricroft.

LAYCOCK, Samuel, High-street, Blackpool.

LEDWARD, H. D., South Bank, Rose Hill, Bowdon.

LEGGE, Alfred Owen, Levenshulme-street, Gorton.

LINGS, Thomas, Beech House, Northenden.

LITHGOW, R. A. Douglas, M.D., 27a, Lowndes-street, Belgrave Square,

London, S.W.
LONGDEN, A. W., Linwood. Marple.

MANDLEY, James George, 23, Wellington-street, Higher Broughton, Manchester,

M'CLBLLAND, Thomas, 6, Vernon Avenue, Eccles.

MELLOR, Zachary, Town Clerk, Rochdale.

MERCER, Edmond, 34, Brazennose-street.

MILNER, George, J.P., 59a, Mosley- street, Manchester.

MINTON, E. E., District Bank, Bury.

MITCHELL, John, J.P., Clitheroe.

MONKHOUSE, A. N., Knutsford.

MORTIMER, John, 96, Lloyd-street, Greenheys.

Moss, James, 79, Howard-street, Eccles New Road, Salford.

MUNN, W. W., 42, Johnson-street, Cheetham.

MURRAY, Solomon, Levenshulme.

MEMBERS. 469

NEWBIGGING, Thomas, Emberton Lodge, Eccles, Manchester.
NEWTON, Richard, 24, York Place, Oxford-street, Chorlton-on-Medlock.
NICHOLSON, Albert, 62, Fountain-street, Manchester.
NODAL, John H., The Grange, Heaton Moor, near Stockport.
NORBURT, Jonathan, The Firs, Bowdon.
NUTTER, Henry, Burnley.

OLDHAM, J. B., B.A., Wheatfield House, Heaton Norris, Stockport.
OLIVER, James, J.P., Parkfield, Higher Crumpsall, Manchester.

PACEY, G. F., General Post Office, Brown -street.

PAGE, John, Markets Office, Town Hall, Manchester.

PARKINSON, Richard, White House, Barr Hill, 154, Bolton Road, Pendleton.

PARTINQTON, J. H. E., School of Art, Stockport.

PEARSON, George, Southside, Wilmslow, near Manchester.

PEEL, Robert, Wilmslow.

PERCY, William, Monton-street, Greenheys.

PERKINS, George, 21, Kennedy-street, Manchester.

PETTY, Alfred M., 29. Brown-street, Manchester.

PHILLIPS, J. S. R., Higher Broughton.

PHYTHIAN, J. Ernest, 27, Brazennose-street, Manchester.

PICKELS, W. E., Adelaide, South Australia.

POTTER, Charles, Talybont, Conway.

PROVIS, Charles William, Chapel Walks, Manchester.

RAMSDEN, William F., M.D., Dobcross, Saddleworth.

REDFERN, B. A., Victoria Buildings, Piccadilly, Manchester.

ROBINSON, William, 26, King-street.

Ross, R. M., 81, Peter-street

ROWCLIFFE, W. E., Queen's Chambers, John Dalton-street.

ROYLE, William A., 17, Cooper-street, Manchester.

SAGAR, Benjamin, Willow Bank, Heaton Moor.

SALES, H. H., 68, Greame- street, Whalley Range.

SCOTT, John, M.A., M.B., Upper Brook-street, Chorlton-on-Medlock.

SCOTT, Fred, 44, John Dalton-street.

SHAW, J. B., Holly Bank, Chester Road.

SHEFFIELD, George, Douglas, Isle of Man.

SHEPHERD, Thos., Waverley Hotel, Eccles New Road.

SHIELDS, Frederick J., A.S.P.W., 7, Lodge Place, St. John's Wood, London.

SIMPSON, Edwin G., Rose Hill, Didsbury.

SINCLAIR, Dr. Wm. J., 268, Oxford Road, Manchester.

SLATTER, Henry R., J.P., Everton Road, Chorlton-on-Medlock.

SOMERSET, Henry, 61, Portland-street.

SOUTHERN, James W., J.P., Burnage Lodge, Burnage Lane, Levenshulme.

SOWERBUTTS, Eli, Market Place, Manchester.

STANSFIELD, Abraham, Kersal Moor, Manchester.

STERLING, Wm., Platt Lane, Rusholme.

STEVENS, Marshall, Ship Canal Office, Deansgate.

STOTT, C. H., 17, St. Ann's Square, Manchester.

SUTCLIFFE, John, Bacup.

BUTTON, Charles W., Free Library, Manchester.

TALBOT, Edward, B.A., 19, Woodlands Road, Cheetham HilL
TALLENT-BATEMAN, Charles T., 64, Cross-street.
TAYLOR, Alex., 18, St. Mary's Place, Bury.

470 MEMBERS.

TAYLOR, John Ellor, F.L.S., F.G.S., Museum, Ipswich.

THOMPSON, Jas., junior, Mitton Bank, Mitton, Blackburn.

THOMPSON, C. H., 20, Brazennose-street.

THORNBBB, H., Broad Road, Sale.

THORP, Wm., Moston Lane, Blackley.

TINKLER, J. E., Librarian, Chatham's College.

TOMLINSON, Walter, 39, Molyneux-street, Stockport Road.

TYRER, Cuthbert Evan, B.A., Manchester and Salford Bank, Mosley-street.

UDALL, R. J., 2, Lower Mosley-street.

VEEVERS, Harrison, M. Inst. C.E., The Lakes, Dukinfield.

WADE, Richard, 5, York Place, Oxford Road.

WAINWRIGHT, Joel, Finchwood, Compstall, near Stockporfc.

WALKER, John, Chamber Hall, Bury.

WALKER, Samuel, 62, Windsor Road, Oldham.

WARBURTON, Samuel, Sunny Hill, Crumpsall.

WARDEN, Henry, Brighton Grove, Rusholme.

WATKINSON, Henry, John Dal ton-street, Manchester.

WAUGH, Edwin, The Hollies, New Brighton.

WHILEY, Henry, Town Hall, Manchester.

WILD, W. I., 30, Market Place Stockport.

WILKINSON, T. R., Manchester and Salford Bank, Mosley-street, Manchester.

List of Members.

SHOWING THE YEAR OF ELECTION.

1862-Edwin Waugh, Manchester.

„ John Page, Old Trafford.

,, Benjamin Brier ley, Harpurhey.
1863-5— T. J. Backhouse, Blackburn.

„ Charles Potter, Talybont.

„ John Mitchell, J.P., Clitheroe.

,, Geo. Healey, Bowness, Windermere.

„ William Percy, Manchester.
1866— Zachary Mellor, Rochdale.
1867— W. F. Ramsden, M.D., Saddleworth.
1868— Harrison Veevers, Dukinfield.

„ T. Newbigging, Eccles.
1869— J. H. Nodal, Heaton Moor.
1872 — John Mortimer, Manchester.

„ George Milner, Moston.
1873— Samuel Gradwell, Manchester.

,, Joseph Cooper, New Mills.
1874 — James W. Southern, Levenshulme.

„ W. E. A. Axon, Manchester.

„ Walter Tomlinson, Manchester.

,, James Brierley, Droylsden.

,, John Adam Eastwood, Manchester.

,, Richard M. Newton, Moston.

,, Eli Sowerbutts, Manchester.

„ James Collins, Manchester.

,, Samuel Warburton, Crumpsall.
1875 — Albert Nicholson, Manchester.

„ Charles W. Button, Manchester.

„ Alfred Allen, Manchester.

,, Thomas Barlow, Heaton Mersey.

„ Benjamin A. Redfern, Manchester.

,, Abel Heywood, jun., Manchester.

„ James Richard Hardy, Manchester.

„ Henry Watkinson, Manchester.

,, Henry Thos. Crofton, Manchester.

„ Gustav Behrens, Manchester.
1876 — Warwick Brookes, Manchester.

„ William Henry Bailey, Salford.

„ Henry H. Howorth, F.S.A., Eccles.

,, John H. Burton, Ashton.
R. J. Udall, Manchester.
J. 8. R. Phillips, Manchester.
John H. E. Partington, Manchester.
Richard Gill. Manchester.
William Jones, Salford.
Richard Wade, Manchester.
Alfred Owen Legge, Manchester.

1877— Henry Nutter, Burnley.

„ John Hall, Bolton.

, , John Angell , F. C. S. , Manchester.

„ John Cocks, Bredbury.

„ William Dawes, Manchester.

,, David Fielden, Manchester.

,, R. M. Ross, Hulme.

„ Robert Langton, Manchester.

„ T. Read Wilkinson, Manchester.

„ Wm. Abercrombie, Manchester.

„ Solomon Murray, Levenshulme.

„ Henry Gannon, Didsbury.

,, Thomas C. Horsfall, Alderley Edge.

„ J. F. L. Crosland, M. Inst. M.E.,

Cheetham.
1878— Christopher Blacklock, Hulme.

„ Ward Heys, Stretford.

,, William Darling, jun., Manchester.

,, F. Howard Allen, Manchester.

,, Joseph Gillow, Bowdon.

, , R. Copley Christie, M. A. , Manchester.

„ Walter Hughes, B.A., Manchester.

„ Edwin Law, Salford.

„ J. H. Buxton, Manchester.

,, Richard Bagot, Manchester.
1879— R. A. Douglas-Lithgow, M.D.,
London.

,, James George Mandley, Salford.

„ James Andrew, Manchester.
1880 — Thomas Heighway, Manchester.

„ James Oliver, Manchester.

„ Alfred M. Petty, Manchester.

„ Abraham Stansfield, Kersal Moor.

„ William A. Royle, Manchester.

„ Robert J. Bennett, Manchester.

,, A. H. Davies-Colley, Manchester.

„ John Bradbury, F.R.S.L.,
Manchester.

„ H. D. Ledward, Manchester.

„ Wm. Robinson, Manchester.

,, Thomas Kay, Stockport.
1881— Henry Warden, Manchester.

, T. R. Cobley, Manchester.

„ Thomas Beckett, Manchester.
W. H. Dean, Manchester.

, W. E. Pickles, Australia.

„ C. E. Tyrer, Manchester.

472

MEMBERS.

1881 — John Grantham, Manchester.

,, Alexander Ireland, Southport.

,, James John Lambert, Manchester.
, T. W. Gilli brand, Manchester.

„ C. H. Blackley, M.D., Manchester.

„ W. H. Guest, Manchester.

,, Edgar Attkins, Manchester.

„ John Sutcliffe, Bacup.

„ George Pearson, Wilmslow.
1882— Edward Bruce Hindle, Stockport.
J A. Goodacre, Manchester.

„ E. M. G^ldsmid, Edinburgh.

,, Henry Whiley, Manchester.

,, Wm. Artingstall, Manchester.

,, Henry M. Ash worth, Manchester.
1883— William F. Cottrell, Salford.*

,, Wm. Robert Credland, Manchester.

„ Chas. T. Tallent-Bateman,

Manchester.
George Heighway, Manchester.

„ Wm. J. Sinclair, M.A., M.D.,

Manchester.
W. W. Mnnn, Cheetham.

„ Charles Estcourt, F.C.S., F.I.C.,
Manchester.

,, W. I. Wild, Stockport.

„ W. T. Arnold, Manchester.

,, John Bannister, Pendleton.

Richard Hooke, M.A.A., Manchester.
1884— John Scott, M.A., M.B., Chorlton-on-
Medlock.

,, F. E. Bradley, Hulme.

,, Alfred Edmeston, Lower Broughton.

,, James Bellhoase, Cheetham.

,, Thos. M'Clelland, Eccles.

„ Joel Wainwright, Compstall, near
Stockport.

„ Reginald Barber, FaUowfield.

„ J. B. Oldham, B.A., Heaton Norris.

,, Clarence Arnold, Manchester.

,, Adolf Braune, Greenheys.
1885— J. D. Buckland, Stockport.

,, H. Thornber, Sale.

,, Andrew Bennie, Manchester.

„ Charles Wm. Provis, Manchester.

, , Henry Boddington, jun. , Manchester.

„ J. H. Clark, F.R.G. So Cheetham.

,, James Moss, Salford.

„ Edward Talbor, B.A., Cheetham Hill.

,, H. M. Acton, B.A., Sale.

,, Samuel Barlow, J.P., Chadderton.

,, George Bo wring, M.D., Oxford Street.

,, Joseph Hall, M.A., Manchester.

,, Frederick Scott, Manchester.
1886— Geo. Wm. Gray, Plymouth Grove.

„ Rev. W. G. Cadman, Harpurhey.

1886— Henry R. Slatter, J.P., C.-on-M.

J. G. Hollins, Longsight.

Joseph Ingleby, Marple Bridge.

William Dinsmore, High town.

Samuel Walker, Oldham.

J. Ernest Phythian, Manchester.

Wm. Clough, Manchester.

T. C. Abbot, Altrincham.

A. Emrys-Jones, M.D., Manchester.

H. H. Sales, Whalley Range.
1887— Edward Hadfield, Swinton.

George Perkins, Manchester.

Benjamin Sagar, Heaton Moor.

Edwin G. Simpson, Manchester.

Henry Somerset, Manchester.

W. F. Hopwood, Stalybridge.

John Dixon, Eccles.

James Berry, Moss Lane East.

Marshall Stevens, Manchester.

Wm. J. Fox, Moss Side.

Samuel Wakefield, Stockport.

J. E. Tinkler, Chetham's College.

Sam. Chatwood, Manchester.

Thos. Lings, Beech House,
Northenden.

Alex. Taylor, Bury.

Jas. Thomson, jun., Mitton, Black-
burn.
1888 — Robert Chad wick, Brooks's Bar.

Daniel Edmonds, Moss Lane.

Jont. Norbury, Bowdon.

Jas. B. Shaw, Old Trafford.

Thos. Derby, Manchester.

Jas. T. Foard, Victoria Park.

Jos. Baugh, Whalley Range.

R. S. Chrystal, Market Street.

Rev. Wm. Evans, Oldham.

Thos. Gough, Stockport.

T. Cann Hughes, Manchester.

A. W. Longden, Stockport.

E. E. Minton, Bury.

A. N. Afonkhouse, Knutsford.

G. F. Pacey, Manchester.

Robert Peel, Wilmslow.

W. E. Rowcliffe, Manchester.

Thos. Shepherd, Eccles New Road.

Wm. Sterling, Rusholme.

C. H. Thompson, Brazennose Street.

Wm. Thorp, blackley.

John Walker, Bury..
1889— Edmond Mercer, Manchester.

J. H. Butterworth, B.A., Oldham.

Joseph Adshead, Heaton ChapeL

A. E. Hills, Eccles.

C. H. Stott, Manchester.

Members.

1866— John E. Taylor, F.L.S., Ipswich.

,, Samuel Laycock, Blackpool.
1875— Fred. J. Shields, A. S. P. W., London.

1882— George Sheffield, Douglas.
1889 — Benjamin Brierley.
„ Edwin Waugh.

Rules.

The objects of the Manchester Literary Club are : —

1. To encourage the pursuit of Literature and Art ; to pro-

mote research in the several departments of intellectual
work ; and to further the interests of Authors and
Artists in Lancashire. t

2. To publish from time to time works illustrating or eluci-

dating the art, literature, and history of the county.

3. To provide a place of meeting where persons interested in

the furtherance of these objects can associate together.

1.

MEMBERSHIP.

Membership of the Club shall be limited to authors, journalists,
men of letters, painters, sculptors, architects, engravers, musical
composers, members of the learned professions and of English and
Foreign universities, librarians, and generally persons engaged or
specially interested in literary or artistic pursuits.

The Club shall consist of ordinary, corresponding, and honorary
members. The nomination of a candidate for ordinary and cor-
responding membership must be entered in the candidates' book
and signed by two members, who shall state the qualifications of
the candidate. If the nominee for ordinary membership is resident
within ten miles of Manchester, he must have attended at least
one of the ordinary meetings of the Club before the ballot is taken.
It shall be competent for the Council to submit to the Club for
election as a corresponding member any person having the neces-
sary qualification, but being resident at a considerable distance
from the city of Manchester. Corresponding members shall be
entitled to receive a copy of the " Papers," and to all the privileges
of ordinary members when temporarily in Manchester. All nomi-

474 RULES.

nations shall be announced to the members, and the names posted
on the notice board. The ballot shall be taken by the Council
(acting as a Ballot Committee) at their next ordinary meeting. A
majority of two-thirds shall be requisite to secure election.

Nominations for honorary membership to be made by three sub-
scribing members, and entered in the candidates' book, stating the
grounds of the nomination. The voting to take place in the same
manner as for ordinary and corresponding members.

Each new member shall have his election notified to him by the
Honorary Secretary, and shall, at the same time, be furnished with
a copy of the Rules of the Club, and be required to remit to the
Treasurer, within one month, his entrance fee and subscription ;
and if the same be unpaid one month after his election, his name
shall be struck off the list of members, unless he can justify the
delay to the satisfaction of the Council. No new member (other
than honorary) shall participate in any of the advantages of the
Club until he has paid his entrance fee and subscription.

2.

SUBSCRIPTIONS.

The subscription for ordinary members shall be one guinea, and
for corresponding members half a guinea per annum, payable in
advance on the 29th of September in each year, and shall be paid
to the Treasurer. New members, ordinary or corresponding, shall
also pay an entrance fee of one guinea. The Council shall have
power to transfer the name of an ordinary member to the list of
corresponding members. No member whose subscription is unpaid
on the 1st of November shall be entitled to vote at any meeting.

Any member may resign on giving one month's notice to the
Honorary Secretary before the first Monday in October, otherwise
he shall pay his subscription for the following session. The name
of every member in arrear shall be placed conspicuously in the
room one month before the last meeting of the session is held, and
if the subscription be not paid within one month after such meet-
ing, he shall cease to be a member, unless he can justify the delay
to the satisfaction of the Council

All arrears may be sued for in the name of the President,
Treasurer, or Honorary Secretary for the time being, in the
Manchester County Court. See 17 and 18 Vic., cap. 112, sec. 25.

3.

MEETINGS.

The ordinary session shall commence on the first Monday in
October, and terminate on the last Monday in March, unless the
Council deem it desirable to hold further meetings in April
Special meetings may be held during the vacation at the discre-

RULES. 475

tion of the Council, or on the requisition of any six members
duly presented to the Honorary Secretary. The Club, during
the ordinary session, to meet on each Monday, and begin its
proceedings not later than seven o'clock in the evening, by the
Secretary reading the minutes of the previous weekly or other
meeting ; after which the time, until eight o'clock, shall be occu-
pied by the reception of short communications and notes and in
general conversation, and at eight o'clock prompt the paper or
other business of the evening as set down in the syllabus shall
be proceeded with. The subjects under discussion may be
adjourned from time to time. Each member shall have the
privilege of introducing a friend to the meetings ; but no person so
introduced shall take part in the proceedings, unless invited to
do so by the President, to whom the visitor's name shall be com-
municated on his, entrance into the room, and shall also be entered
in the Visitors' Book, with the name of the member introducing
such visitor.

4.

OFFICERS AND COUNCIL.

The business affairs of the Club shall be conducted by a Council,
to consist of a President, Vice-Presidents (whose names shall be
submitted by the Council for election at the annual meeting), a
Treasurer, two Librarians, a Secretary, and seven members, who
shall be elected, by ballot, at the last meeting of the session, and
hold office until the election of the Council in the following year.
A vacancy may be filled up at any ordinary meeting. The Council
to sit, each regular meeting night, at least one hour before the
assembling of the Club. The Council shall have power to erase
the name of any member from the books of the Club on due cause
being shown.

Two Auditors shall be appointed by the members at the
ordinary meeting next preceding the final meeting of the session,
bo audit the Treasurer's accounts. A nomination paper for the
selection of officers shall be placed on the table of the Club on
each of the last four meetings of the session prior to the annual
business meeting. No nominations shall be taken after the last
meeting but one of the session.

5.

DUTIES OF OFFICERS.

The duty of the President shall be to preside at the meetings of
the Club, and to maintain order. His decision in all questions of
precedence among speakers, and on all disputes which may arise
during the meeting shall be absolute. In the absence of the
President or Vice-Presidents at seven o'clock, it shall be competent
for the members present to elect a chairman.

470 RULES.

Tho Treasurer Hliall take charge of all moneys belonging to the
(Mul), pay all accounts signed by the President, and Hubmit bis
accounts and books for audit at tbo last mooting of tbo session.

Tho Auditors Hhull, at tho last mooting of tbo session, attend
at tbo Club-room and audit tbo accounts of tbo your, and, if
correct, sign tbo same.

Tbo Honorary Librarians sball bavo ohargo of all tbo books,
MSS., and scrap-books belonging to tbo Club. They sball keep a
register of all purchases and donations, shall acknowledge tbo gifts
to the (Hub, and shall present a report on the condition of tbo
library to the yearly business meeting at the end of each session.

Tbo duties of the Honorary Secretary shall bo to attend all
meetings of tbo Council and Club, to enter in detail, as far as
practicable, tho proceedings at each mooting; to conduct tbo
correspondence, file all letters received, and convene all meetings,
by circular, if necessary. He shall also prepare and present to tho
Council at the last meeting of the session in each year a report of
tho year's work, and, after confirmation by tho Council, shall road
the same to tho members.

6.

SECTIONS,

Sections for tho pursuit of special branches of literary or artistic
work may at any time bo formed by resolution of tho Club; and
the Council shall be empowered to frame bye-laws necessary for tbo
government of any such section.

7.

BYLLAHUH AND ANNUAL VOLUMK.

The syllabus of the session shall bo prepared in two sections —
one to be issued, if possible, a week before tbo commencement of
the session, vi/,., in the last week in September, and tbo other at
Christinas. A copy of each shall bo forwarded by tho Secretary to
every member. Tho report of tho year, together with tbo Papers
and Proceedings of tho Club, shall be bound up at tbo end of each
session, and a copy forwarded to every mombor. A list of the
ofuoors and members, with their full addresses, and tbo Treasurer's
balance sheet, shall bo appended to tho report.

8.

ALTKHATION 0V BULKS.

No now rulo, or alteration in these rules, or of tho place of
meeting, shall bo made without a special mooting of the Club
being convened for tho purpose, of which seven days' notice shall
bo given.

INDEX.

Acton (H. M.). A Grave Problem. 444.

Angell (J.)- Sacrifice of Education to Ex-
aminations. 449.

Annual Meeting. 462.

Appreciative Faculty, Cultivation of. By
W. Robinson. 254.

Arnold (Matthew), Notice of. ByTyrer. 460.
Ashe(T.). Tennyson Parallels. 97.
Ashe (T.). Two Sonnets. 200.

Axon (W. E. A.) On General Gordon's Copy
of Newman's Dream of Gerontius. 65.

The Church of the Little

Axon (W. E. A.).
Fawn. 293.

Banks (Mrs. Isabella) Testimonial. 425.

Barber (Reginald). A Portrait (Illustration).
64.

Bateman (C. T. Tallent-). On James Mont-
gomery 384.

Bateman (C. T. Tallent-). Montgomery
Bibliography. 436.

Baxter's " They had been Friends in Youth"
noticed. 432.

Buchanan's City of Dream. By J. B. Oldham.

446.
Budwerth (Joseph), Notice of. By Fred

Scott. 457.

Bunbury (Henry
H. Thornber.

William).
153.

Memoir. By

Bury (Richard de) his Philobiblon. 279.

By Bridie-Paths through "Las Tierras
Calientes." By J. G. Mandley. 161.

Christmas Symposium. 74.

Church of the Little Fawn. By W. E. A.
Axon. 293.

Clair (Aston). Notice of his Philaster, and
other Poems. By G. Milner. 95.

Conversazioni. 430, 458, 463.

Council Report. 421.

Credland (W. R.). A Portrait. 64.

Crofton (H. T.). The Poacher's Gazette. 82.

Cultivation of the Appreciative Faculty.
By W. Robinson. 254.

Culture. By J. E. Phythian. 453.
Dialect Poem. By H. Gannon. 405.

Eggleston (Edward), Notice of. By T. C.
Hughes. 433.

Egypt : From London to Luxor. By T. Kay.

Evening in the Woodlands.
193.

Foard (J. T.).
122, 220.

Foard (J. T.).

448.

By John Page.
The Genesis of Hamlet. 1,
Shakspere'e Coat of Arms,
the Christmas

Foard (J. T.). Speech at
Symposium. 90.

Foard (J. T.). Works of George Eliot. 442.

French Literature, Characteristics of. By
Dr. J. Scott. 455.

Gannon (H.). Translation from Fritz Reuter.

405.
George Eliot, Works of. By J. T. Foard.

442.
Gordon (General), his Copy of Newman's

Dream of Gerontius. By W. E. A. Axon.

65.
Hamlet, Genesis of.

220.

By J. T. Foard. 1, 122,
By

Harper (William), A Manchester Poet.
G. Milner. 248.

Heath (George), Notice of. By Oldham. 440.
Hooke (Richard). A Sleepless Night. 39.

Hooke (Richard). Sir Thomas Lawrence,
P.R.A. 201.

Hughes (T.). Notice of Edward Eggleston.

433.
lolo Morganwg, Life and Works of. By A.

Emrys- Jones. 261.

Italy, Industrial By J. E. Phythian. 51.

Jones (A. Emrys-). On the Life and Works
of lolo Morganwg. 261.

Kay (Thomas). From London to Luxor. 330.
Lawrence (Sir Thomas). By R. Hooke. 201.

Library Table. Aston Clair's Philaster. By

G. Milner. 95. Matuce's Wanderer. By

C. E. Tyrer. 407.
Literature of the Boulevards. By Dr. J.

Scott. 444.

Lockhart (J. C.) Testimonial. 465.
London to Luxor. By T. Kay. 330.
Manchester Poet— William Harper. By G.

Milner. 248.

478

INDEX.

Manchester, Reminiscences of. 74.

Mandley (J. G.). By Bridie-Paths through
" Las Tierras Calientes." 161.

Review of A Wanderer.
407.

Matuce (H. Ogram).
By C. E. Tyrer.

Members, List of. 466.

Mexican Arrieros, Incidents of Travel with.
By J. G. Mandley. 161.

Milner (George). Reminiscences of a Man-
chester Poet— William Harper. 248.

Milner (George).
other Poems.

Milner (George).
Symposium.

Minton (E. E.).
451.

Review of Philaster, and
95.

Speech at the Christmas
75.

Designs by P. G. Rossetti.

Minton (E. E.). Stanhope's "Eve Tempted."
455.

Montgomery (James), a Literary Estimate.
By C. T. Tallent-Bateman. 384.

Montgomery (James). Bibliography. ByC.

Mortimer (J.). Nature
Lovers. 450.

and Some of her
A Note of Pessimism in

Mortimer (John).
Poetry. 286.

Musical Evenings. 446, 454.

Nature and Some of her Lovers. By John
Mortimer. 450.

Newbigging (T). Baxter's " They had .been
Friends in Youth." 432.

Newman's Dream of Gerontius.
A. Axon. 65.

By W. E.

Newman (F. W ). Translation from the
Opening of Virgil's ^Eneid. 297.

Oldham (J.
446.

Oldham (J. B ).
440.

Page (John).
193.

B.). Buchanan's City of Dream.
Notice of George Heath.
Evening in the Woodlands.

Parker (J. O.). Resolution on his leaving
Manchester. 459.

Pessimism in Poetry. By J. Mortimer. 286.
Philaster, and other Poems, Reviewed. 95.
Philobiblon of Richard de Bury. 279.
Phythian (J. E.). Culture. 453.
Phythian (J. E.). Industrial Italy. 51.
Poacher's Gazette. By H. T. Crofton. 32.

Poetry, Pessimism in. By John Mortimer.
286.

Poetry. From the Opening of Virgil's ^Eneid.
By F. W. Newman. 297.

Poetry. Translation from Fritz Reuter. By
H. Gannon. 405.

Poetry. The Church of the Little Fawn. By
W. E. A. Axon. 293.

Poetry. See also Sonnets.

Reuter (Fritz), Translation from.
Gannon. 405.

By H.

Robinson (William) On the Cultivation of the
Appreciative Faculty. 254.

Rossetti (Miss C.).
Walker. 393.

Rossetti (D. G.), Designs by.
ton. 451.

Rules, Alteration of. 462.

Rules, List of. 473.

Scott (Fred). Joseph Budworth.

On her Lyrics. By J.
By E. E. Min

457.

Scott (Dr. J.). Characteristics of Recent
French Literature. 455.

Scott (Dr. J.). Literature of the Boulevards.
444.

Shakspere's Coat of Arms.

448.

By J. T. Foard.
Shaw (J. B.). A Roman Relic. 444.
Sleepless Night. By R. Hooke. 39.

Songs and Song Writers. By W. I. Wild.
355.

Sonnets :

A Portrait. By W. R. Credland. 64,
A Photograph. By T. Ashe. 200.
Palingenesis. By T. Ashe. 200.

Stanhope's "Eve Tempted." By E. E. Min-
ton. 455.

Tennyson Parallels. By T. Ashe. 97.

Thornber (H.). Gronow's "Reminiscences"
Noticed. 462.

Thornber (H.). Life of Henry William Bun-
bury. 153.

Thomas (E. C.). His Edition of the Philo-
biblon of Richard de Bury. 279.

Tyrer (C. B.). Matthew Arnold. 460.

Tyrer (C. E.). Review of H. Ogram Matuce's
Wanderer. 407.

Virgil's 2Eneid, Translation from the Opening
of. By F. W. Newman. 297.

Walker (John). On
Rossetti. 393.

the Lyrics of Miss

Waugh (Edwin). Speech at the Christmas
Symposium. 90.

Wild (W. I.). Songs and Song Writers. 355.

Wilkinson (T. R.). Reminiscences of Man-
chester. 74.

Williams (Edward), the Bard of Glamorgan.
By A. Emrys-Jones. 261.

Woodlands. Evening in the.
193.

Woods (Margaret L.).
By J. Mortimer.

By John Page,
Notice of her Lyrics.

JOHN HEYWOOD, Excelsior Printing and Bookbinding Works, Manchester.

PN Manchester Literary Club

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