Seventy-Third Year. Tros Tyriusque mihi nullo discrimine agetur. Vol. 145: No. 1. THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. EDITED BY ALLEN THORNDIKE RICE. JULY, 1887. I. The New Party ............................................................ HENRY GEORGE. II. Why am I a Free Religionist ? ....... REV. O. B. FROTHINGHAM. III. Land-Stealing in New Mexico ..................... GEORGE W. JULIAN. IV. The Decline and Fall of the Press ..................DION BOUCICAULT. V. My Personal Finances ...................................PRESIDENT GARFIELD. VI. Letters to Prominent Persons ................... ARTHUR RICHMOND. No. 6, Part 2d.—To Hon. James Russell Lowell. VII. The Shakespeare Myth ................................ IGNATIUS DONNELLY. Part 2d.—The Bacon Cipher. VIII. Johnson, Grant, Seward, Sumner ................... GIDEON WELLES. With Comments by .......................................................... GEORGE BABER. IX. English Women as a Political Force ................ LADY BORTHWICK. X. The Inter-State Railway Solvent .......................... JOHN C. WELCH. XI. Authorship of the Glacial Theory .................. PROF. E. P. EVANS. XII. Irish Aid in the American Revolution ........ DUFFIELD OSBORNE. XIII. the Sister of the Drama ............................................... S. G. PRATT. XIV. Morley on Emerson ............................................... A. M. GANNETT. XV. "The Court of Public Opinion." ............. WALLACE F. CAMPBELL. XVI. Current American Literature. NEW YORK: No. 3 EAST FOURTEENTH STREET. LONDON: THE AMERICAN EXCHANGE, PARIS: THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY. BERLIN: A. ASHER & CO. GENEVA: J. CHERBULIEZ. ROME: LOESCHER & CO. MELBOURNE: W. ROBERTSON. YOKOHAMA AND SHANGHAI: KELLY & WALSH. Single Numbers, 50c. Published Monthly. Per Annum, $5. THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. VOL. 144. JANUARY TO JUNE. 1887. JANUARY NUMBER. The Renaissance of Nationalism, by Judge Tourgee; Socialism, Its Fallacies and Dangers, by Charles Bradlaugh; Progress of Minnesota, by The Governor; Future of the National Banking System, by John Jay Knox; Good Works of False Faiths, by Gail Hamilton; The Anthracite Coal Pool, by James F. Hudson; Some War Memorand, by Walt Whitman; Why am I a New Churchman by Rev. James Reed; The Constitutional Amendments, by Chief Justice Chase; What shall be Done with the Surplus by W. M. Grosvenor; Labor in Pennsylvanie, by Henry George; Burnside's Controversies with Lincoln; Religion by George Sand; Henry Georges Land Tax, by Edward Gordon Clark; Are the Heathen our Inferiors by Joseph Hewes; Defense of the President, by Donn Platt. FEBRUARY NUMBER. Political Economy in America by Prof. Richard T. Ely; Our King in Dress Coat, by Moncure D. Conway; Future Probation, by Gail Hamilton; Specialists in Medicine, by Morris H. Henry, M.D.; Vulgarity, by Ouida; "The New South"--Financially Reviewed, by Marion J. Verdery; The Condition of the American Stage, by Julian Magnus; The Conspiracies of the Rebellion, by Leonard Swett; Life Among the Insane, by Adriana P. Brinckle; Literary Backbiting, by George Parsons Lathrop; Assumption and Pretension by George Sand; Scientific Taxation, by Edward Gordon Clark; Should Women be Hanged? by Helen Mar Wilks. CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE--1. McClellan's Own Story ; 2. History of the Second Army Corps, by Francis A. Walker ; 3. Persia and the Persians, by S. G. W. Benjamin ; 4. The Making of New England, by S. A. Drake. _________________ MARCH NUMBER Some Interrogation Points, by Robert G. Ingersoll ; Why Am I a Baptist, by Rev. Thomas Armitage, D.D., LL.D. ; Drury's Bluff and Petersburg, by Gen. G. T. Beauregard ; Our King in Dress Coat, by Moncure D. Conway ; A Letter on Prayer, by The Duke of Argyll, with Comments by Cora Linn Daniels ; Modern Feudalism, by James F. Hudson ; Some Unpublished War Letters, by Secretary Chase, Generals Grant, Halleck, F. P. Blair, and Admiral Porter, addressed to Gen. W. T. Sherman ; Our Inequalities of Suffrage, by J. Chester Lyman ; Constitutional Reform in New New York, by George Bliss ; A Rejoinder to Gen. Beauregard, by Rear-Admiral W. R. Taylor ; Working Women, by Ida M. Van Etten ; "The South in the Union Army," by A. P. Morey ; Mr. Conway's Dress-Coat King, by C. H. T. Collis ; The Best Works of False Faiths, by A. C. Bowen. CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE. APRIL NUMBER. Open Nominations and Free Elections, by David Dudley Field ; Why Am I a Congregationalist ? by Gail Hamilton ; Opera, by Dion Boucicault ; Grant and Matthew Arnold "An Estimate." by Gen. James B. Fry ; Letter to Prominent Persons, by Arthur Richmond : No. 6. To Hon. James Russell Lowell ; Some More War Letters, by Gen. Braxton Bragg. Generals Grant, Garfield, and Ord, addressed to Gen. W. T. Sherman ; Destruction of Art in America, by Rush C. Hawkins ; Profit Sharing, by N. O. Nelson ; Meteorological Predictions, by Felix L. Oswald ; The Transporation Problem, by John C. Welch ; A Chaplain's Record, Henry Ward Beecher, with Comments by Col. David E. Austen ; Economic Optimism by Datus C. Smith ; Storm Effects on Mentality, by George Sand ; Uniform Marriage and Divorce Laws, by Thomas M. North ; Donn Platt on Arthur Richmond, by L. J. Allen. CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE. _________ MAY NUMBER. Grant, Thomas, Lee, by Gen. W. T. Sherman ; My Public LIfe, by President Garfield ; Commercial Education, by the Mayor of Baltimore ; Our Hand in Maximilian's Fate, by George S. Boutwell; That Everlasting Andover Controversy, by Gail Hamilton; Beecher's Person- ality, by His Physician; High License, by Ernest H. Crosby; Heroes to Order, by C. Chaille Long; Practical Penology, by Henry J.W. Dam; Trial by Newspaper, by Roger Foster; The Coercion Bill, by John Boyle O'Reilly; Economic Pessimism, by Edward Atkinson; Mr. Boucicault on Opera, by Julian Magnus; Rip Van Winkle's Manual, by M. H. H. Caldwell; Un-American Americans, by Washington Messinger. CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE. ___________ JUNE NUMBER parties and Independents by Dorman B. Eaton; My Experience as a lawyer, President Garfield ; The Shakespeare Myth, by Ignacio’s Donnelly: Some Legacies of the Civil War, by General John Pope; Why Am I a Jew by Dr. H. Pereira Mendes; Parnell as a Leader, By Alexander Sullivan; The Court of Public Opinion, by Lemuel Ely Quigg; The Lodging-House Vote in New York, by Henry A, Gumbleton; The American Vedas, by Gail Hamilton; Parnell and the "Times," by Dion Boucicault; The Telephone of 1665, by Charles Rolling Brainard; Boucicault and Wagner, by Edgar J. Levey; Courage, George Sand. 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Penelope's Suitors. By Edwin Lassetter Bynner. With antique cover, 50 cents. Prose Pastorals. By Herbert M. Sylvester. 12mo, gilt top, $1.50. Letters of Horatio Greenough. Edited by Frances Booth Greenough. 12mo, with portrait, $1.25. Dr. Breen's Practice. By W. D. Howells. One vol., 12mo paper covers, 50 cents. Reminiscences of Abraham Lincoln. For Price-List, see Page 6. "One of the most valuable collections, if indeed not the most valuable collection, of American historical ana that ever saw the light, has been collected and edited by Mr. Allen Thorndike Rice and issued by the North American Publishing Company, under the title of 'Reminiscences of Abraham Lincoln by Distinguished men of His Time.' * * * * The variety, interest, and value, of these Reminiscences are not to be described except by superlatives, the selection of which will draw largely upon the vocabulary of the readers of this entertaining volume, which is absolutely unique in American letters. Every American should read it as in duty bound, and leave it as a legacy to his children."-N. Y. Mail and Express, June 14. "The natural inference on reading the above list (of contributors) is that a book composed of the personal reminiscences of the great man, whose virtues and peculiarities are discussed, cannot but be interesting, and the inference is borne out by an examination of the volume."-N. Y. Graphic, June 26. " ' Reminiscences of Abraham Lincoln by Distinguished Men of His Time,' present some invaluable side-lights upon the character of the central figure of the greatest period in American history. Each of the contributors was more or less intimately acquainted with Mr. Lincoln, and what is said of him is in every instance the fruit of personal association and observations, * * * * The result of their labor of love, under the judicious editing of Mr. Allen Thorndike Rice, is a handsomely printed, elegantly bound volume of over six hundred pages, which will find a place in every collection of literature of the late rebellion."- Philadelphia News, June 19. "The articles are both entertaining and instructive in presenting Lincoln as he really was, and when he is thus presented truthfully, he ever appears at his best as the central figure of the most momentous period of the Republic. * * * * The book gives the best connected presentation of the personal qualities of Lincoln that has yet been given to the public, and as such it is an invaluable contribution to history." Philadelphia Times, July 3. "The most valuable collection of American historical ana that has ever been made is, by general consent, the 'Reminiscence of Abraham Lincoln,' the work of that industrious genius, Allen Thorndike Rice. It consists of the personal recollections of thirty-three distinguished men, including Grant, Washburn, Boutwell, Colfax, Butler, Beecher, Kelly, Ingersoll, McCollough, and others. It is a remarkable performance to yoke up such a tremendous team, and drive it in one direction so effectively. The great volume of six hundred and fifty pages is full of new stories of Mr. Lincoln, and of little-known facts that will be a mine of wealth to the future historian. Some of the most memorable letters and documents of the war time are given in fac-simile. An introduction of over fifty pages by Mr. Rice throws valuable side-lights upon the war, and its tall central figure."- Washington Post, July 11. 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THE era in American politics which began with the candidacy of Fremont closed with the defeat of Blaine. When in a time of strong feeling and clashing interests no man can state a principle which will be a test question between the great political parties, and a Presidential contest, fought on questions of personal character, is decided by the foolish utterance of an irresponsible speaker, it needs not even the son of a prophet to tell that the time for the drawing of new political lines has come, and that essentially new political parties must soon appear. The Republican party died at heart some time ago--with the second administration of Grant or, at least, with the early part of the administration of Hayes ; but partly for reasons similar to those that make the days of the autumnal equinox warmer than those of the vernal equinox, and partly because of the weakness of its opponent, it still held its place. If the great party that fought the war and abolished slavery had become but a party of the ins, the great party that claimed political descent from Jefferson had become but a party of the outs. It needed only that the ins should take the place of the outs to destroy both. And this, thanks finally to the Rev. Dr. Burchard, the election VOL. CXLV.--NO. 368. 2 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. of 1884 accomplished. Now that the Republican party has lost control of the National Executive and no disaster has occurred, and the Democratic party has gained it and no particular good been done, the old prejudices, old fears, old hopes, old habits of thought and touch, are so broken down that new issues can readily come to the front and new alignments of political forces take place. The process of disintegration and reconstruction is now going on. The growth of the Prohibition party on the one side and of a labor party on the other, and the readiness with which Republicans and Democrats have united in some of the recent municipal elections when threatened with what seemed to them a common danger show how rapidly. The prohibition movement, a natural effort to bring into politics, in the absence of larger questions, a matter on which a great body of men and women feel strongly, is in itself a significant evidence of the disposition to turn to social questions, but the great movement now beginning in the rise of the Labor party takes hold of these questions lower down, and whatever importance prohibition may for some time retain in local politics, the drawing of political lines on a wider and deeper issue must throw its supporters to one side or the other of the larger question. The deepest of all issues is now beginning to force its way into our politics, and in the nature of things it must produce a change that will compel men to take their stand on one side or the other, irrespective of their views on smaller questions. Of all social adjustments, that which fixes the relation between men and the land they live on is the most important, and it is that which is coming up now. It has been, of course, for a long time evident that American politics, in the future, must turn upon the social or industrial questions, and while the questions growing out of the slavery struggle have been losing importance, these questions have been engaging more and more thought, and arousing stronger and stronger feeling. What men are thinking about, and feeling about, and disputing about, must, ere long, become the burning question of politics, and the organization of labor, the massing of capital, the increasing intensity of the struggle for existence, and the increasing bitterness under it, have for years made it clear that in one shape or another the great labor question must succeed the THE NEW PARTY. 3 slavery question in our politics. In farmers' granges and alliances, and anti-monopoly associations, in trades unions and federations, and notably in the enormous growth of the Knights of Labor, a vague, but giant power has been arising, which could only reach its ends through political action. What has delayed the crystallization of these forces into a political party has been the indefiniteness of thought on such subjects. Discontent with existing conditions there has been enough, but when it came to the improvement of these conditions by political action there was no agreement. In short, up to this time, Labor has not gone into politics, because it did not really know what to do in politics. This great vague power has been like a vast body of unorganized men anxious to go somewhere, but uterly ignorant of the road and without leaders whom they have learned to trust. And while one has called "This way!" and another "That way!" and constant efforts have been made by little parties starting out in this or that direction to get the great mass to follow them, the main body has refused to move. The Greenback Labor party was a protest against the wasteful and unjust financial management which has enriched the few at the expense of the many, and it appealed with great strength to the debtor class; but the issue that it tried to raise was not large enough to move the great body. So with the various anti-monopoly movements, and with the local labor parties which have here and there from time to time carried a municipal or county election, and sometimes by combining forces with one or the other of the two great parties have carried a State. With all such movements the fatal weakness has been that they could formulate no large vital issue on which they could agree. Political parties cannot be manufactured, they must grow. No matter how much the existing political parties may have ceased to represent vital principles and real distinctions, it is not possible for any set of men to collect together incongruous elements of discontent and by compromising differences and pooling demands create a live party. The initiative must be a movement of thought. The formation of a real party follows the progress of an idea. When some fundamental issue, that involves large principles and includes smaller questions, and that will on the one hand command support and on the other compel opposition, begins to come to the front in thought and discussion, then a new party, or 4 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. rather two new parties, must begin to form, though of course one or both may retain old names and develop from old organizations. That now is the situation. Gradually yet rapidly the land question has been forcing itself upon attention; and that process of education that has been going on in Central Labor Unions, in Assemblies of the Knights of Labor and in the movements, abortive though they may have been in themselves, by which it has been attempted to unite the political power of the discontented classes, has been steadily directing thought toward the relation between men and the land on which they live, as the key to social difficulties and labor troubles. And this process has been powerfully aided by the interest and feeling that the Irish movement has aroused in the United States. Here, in fact, the tendencies of that movement have been more openly radical than in Ireland. Shut out of Ireland the Irish World has freely circulated here, and in the beginning of the Irish movement sowed broadcast among a most important section of our people the doctrine of the natural right to land; and while the influential editors and politicians and clergymen who have been so ready to assert or to assent to the truth that God made Ireland for the Irish people and not for the landlords, have been careful to avoid any insinuation that this continent was also made by the same power and for an equally impartial purpose, they too have been unwittingly aiding in the same work. I was originally of the opinion that the first large steps to the solution of the labor question by the recognition of equal rights to land would be taken on the other side of the Atlantic, and in what I have done to help in arousing sentiment there have always had in mind the reflex action on this country, where, as I have told our friends on the other side, I believed the movement would be quicker when it did fairly start. But although I have known better perhaps than any one else, how widely and how deeply the ideas that I among others have been striving to propagate have been taking root in the United States, they have reached the stage of political action quicker than the most sanguine among us would have dared to imagine. In going into the municipal contest in New York last fall on the principle of abolishing taxation on improvements and putting taxes on land values irrespective of improvements, the United Labor party of New York City raised an issue, which by the opposition it aroused and THE NEW PARTY. 5 the strength it evoked showed the line along which the coming cleavage of parties must run. We did not win that election - few among us really cared for winning, for we were not struggling for offices. But we did more than win an election. We brought the labor question - or what is the same thing, the land question - into practical politics. And it is there to stay. The coming party is not yet fairly organized, nor is the name it will be known by probably yet adopted. But it has an idea, and that an idea that is growing in strength every day, and that from the opposition it provokes, no less than from the enthusiasm it arouses, must gain support with accelerating rapidity. For so monstrous is the notion that some men must pay other men for the use of this planet, -so repugnant to all ideas of justice and all dictates of public policy is it that the values created by social growth and social improvement shall go but to swell the incomes of a class; so opposed to the first and strongest of all perceptions is it that the rights of individual ownership which properly attach to the products of human labor should attach to natural elements that no man made; and so clearly does the simple means by which the common right to land can be secured, the taking of land values (i.e., the value which attaches to land by reason of social growth and improvement, and irrespective of the improvements made by the individual user) for public purposes harmonize with all other desirable reforms, - that our present treatment of land as individual property can only be acquiesced in where it is not questioned or discussed. As this discussion goes on, and it is now going on all over the United States, the principle of common rights in the land, brought to a definite issue in the proposition to abolish all other taxes in favor of a tax on land values irrespective of improvements, must win adherents, and permeate and bring in line under its standard those associations and organizations whose existence is a proof of widely-existing discontent, but which have lacked the definiteness of purpose necessary to successful political action. As yet the United Labor party of New York is the strongest organization on the new lines, and the convention which it will hold in Syracuse on the 11th of August will probably give an impetus to organization throughout the country, the way for which is now being prepared by the formation of land and labor clubs. What is known as the Union Labor party formed at Cincinnati 6 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Cincinnati in February by a gathering composed of some delegates from the Farmers' Alliances of the West, Greenbackers, and Knights of Labor, with self-appointed representatives of all sorts of opinions and crotchets, was one of those attempts to manufacture a political party which are foredoomed to failure. Sooner or later its components must fall on one side or the other of the issue raised by the more definitive movement. On which side the majority of them will fall there can be little doubt. While the new party aims at the emancipation of labor, and in its beginnings derives from the organization of labor that has been going on the strength which wherever it has yet appeared has made it at once a respectable factor in politics, -it aims at the improvement of the conditions of labor, not by doing anything special for laborers, but by securing the equal rights of all men. It will not be a labor party in any narrow sense, and in the name which it will finally assume the word labor, if not dropped, will at least be freed from narrow connotations. But questions of name and questions of organization, are to us who see the coming of the new party, and who know its power, matters of comparatively unimportant detail. We have faith in the idea, and as that moves forward we know all else will follow. We can form no combinations and will make no compromises. How our progress may affect the political equilibrium, and give temporary success, locally or nationally, to either of the old parties, we care nothing at all. Even whether our own candidates, when we put them up, are elected or defeated, makes little difference, -the contest will stimulate discussion and promote the cause. We follow a principle that through defeat must go on to final triumph. And because the new party that is forming is clustering round a great principle, we have no fear that it can be captured or betrayed. The "politicians" who would anywhere get hold of its organization, would get but an empty shell, unless they, too, bent themselves to serve the principle. What is the deep strength of the new movement is shown no less by the manner in which the Catholic masses have rallied around Dr. McGlynn than by the political power it has exhibited when its standard has been fairly raised. Whoever has witnessed one of those great meetings which the Anti-Poverty Society is holding on Sunday evenings in New York, must see that an idea THE NEW PARTY. 7 is coming to the front that lays hold upon the strongest of political forces- the religious sentiment; and that the "God wills it! God wills it !" of a new crusade is indeed beginning to ring forth. Our progress will at first be quicker in the cities than in the agricultural districts, simply because the men of the country are harder to reach ; but whoever imagines that the foolish falsehood that we propose to put all taxes on farmers will long prevent the men who till the soil from rallying around banner lens on a broken reed. HENRY GEORGE. WHY AM I A FREE RELIGIONIST? IN the autumn of 1865, immediately after the war, when the idea of union was in all minds, the plan of combining all the so-called liberal sects into a single working fraternity occurred to a brilliant, energetic leader among the Unitarians, and led to the formation of the "National Conference." The invitation to the first formative meeting in New York was hearty and comprehensive; so broad, in fact, that many came who were not in sympathy with any sectarian aims whatever, and were drawn by the hope of a wider spiritual fellowship than the occasion warranted. No expectations then seemed extravagant. All shackles were falling off; all souls mounted on wings. These high anticipations were soon disappointed, as the men who called, managed, and organized the conference, did not propose to go beyond the lines of Unitarianism, as at that time defined. Thereupon, the Radicals protested, not being able to accept the phrase "Lord Jesus Christ," which had a conspicuous place in the preamble of the constitution. Vain were all arguments, persuasions, explanations, disclaimers of intention to exclude anybody by insisting on the binding force of a form of words, which each might interpret in a manner to suit his own conscience. The dissenters, without mutual agreement, seceded not so much because they objected to the symbol, as because they resented everything like an obligatory creed. This, however, was rather the occasion than the cause of the departure. For several years the gulf between the believers in tradition and the believers in reason had been growing wider, and the fact was disclosed now that it was impassable. Twenty years later such a split could not have happened, for the reason that the faith in tradition had greatly diminished, the temper of conciliation was larger, and the former issues were obsolete; but at that period division was inevitable. After some meetings, which proved to be preliminary, notably one at C. A. Bartol's, in WHY AM I A FREE RELIGIONIST? 9 Chestnut street, Boston, a call was issued for a public gathering at Horticultural Hall, Boston, on Thursday forenoon, at ten o'clock, "to consider the conditions, wants, and prospects of Free Religion in America." The room was full. The spirit was brave, inspiring, hopeful. The breadth of the expectation is shown by the circumstance that R. W. Emerson, John Weiss, R. D. Owen, W. H. Furness, Lucretia Mott, Henry Blanchard (Universalist minister), T. W. Higginson, D. A. Wasson, Isaac M. Wise (a Hebrew rabbi), Oliver Johnson (a well-known abolitionist), F. E. Abbot, and Max Lilienthal (another rabbi), were invited to speak. All responded kindly, and several made addresses. Mr. Emerson was present, a sympathetic participant, and said a few words of encouragement. This was the beginning of the Free Religious Association, and sufficiently explains its aim. The objects of the Association were, as its constitution declared, "to encourage the scientific study of religion and ethics, to advocate freedom in religion, to increase fellowship in spirit, and to emphasize the supremacy of practical morality in all the relations of life." It will be evident tha the first tendency of the Association was towards non-sectarianism. Its purpose was to throw down fences, even wire ones, erected to keep minds out, to allay anamosities, to promote a friendly feeling among inquirers after religious truth. It was inclusive; a "spiritual peace society," suggesting the wisdom of disarmament. Polemics were forbidden, adverse criticism was disallowed. The leaders were radical Unitarians, young men of strong, in some instances of explosive, convictions, and it would have been surprising if, now and then, they should not have given expression to their individual opinions. But all this was at variance with the principles of the organization. The single intention was to win confidence, to augment fellowship. At the outset cordial endeavors were made to include different classes of believers in Christendom, - orthodox, heterodox, Protestants of every name, Romanists, - to come together on one platform, amicably to hear each other's frank confession, to state freely the reasons for their own faith, and thus add to the sum of sympathy among disciples. Great efforts were made to draw into concert the most opposite parties. The society, as such, had no opinions; creedlessness was its creed. Not that it was indifferent, for it was just the reverse; catholic rather, standing above division, and appreciating all sincere endeavors to get at 10 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. the soul of truth. At this period it had hearty co-operation from eminent men and women of every Protestant denomination. Soon, however, the Association passed over the bounds of Christianity and welcomed other religions to its hospitalities. RELIGION was before RELIGIONS, faith above doctrine, the spirit of adoration, aspiration, sacrifice, superior to organizations, character pre-eminent over churches. Then Christianity itself became a gigantic sect, and other faiths, –Judaism, Brahmanism, Buddhism, Mohammedanism, and the rest, – were raised to the peerage. No attempt was made to depreciate our own belief; on the contrary, the President, in an essay, spoke of Christianity as "the queen of faiths," but the excellencies of foreign systems were celebrated, sometimes with exaggeration. There was not so much learning then as there is now. Neither did nice discrimination enter into the plans of an Association which tried to lift aspersion from despised beliefs. Any overstatement on this side may easily be pardoned. The Association was never less than national in its scope. Its membership and official representation covered many States. The first call was for a meeting to consider the conditions, wants, and prospects of Free Religion in America. Now it was world-wide. The managers wanted to introduce some prominent professor of Judaism. A real Brahmin, Buddhist, Parsee would have been an acquisition. A high-souled atheist would have been a "God send." The sole limit to sympathy was practical infidelity. Every aspiring soul was, in the best sense, "orthodox." The implications were exceedingly broad. It was assumed that all religions had the same substantial texture; that all enunciated the same moral principles; that all illustrated the same spiritual aspirations; that all had at heart the supreme welfare of men. And it was thought that all might be persuaded to join forces for the moral elevation of the race. This was the anticipation. This was the endeavor. The establishment merely of a free Parliament was a great thing; but here was a greater, namely, the re-enforcement of the spiritual powers of mankind. A hope of this kind lay very near the heart of the projectors. The chief reason why it was not more heavily emphasized was the immediate pressure of other points, less inspiring, but more imperative, previous also in time. Four of these were put forth in the original constitution, – the scientific study of religion and WHY AM I A FREE RELIGIONIST? 11 ethics as distinguished from the doctrinal, ecclesiastical, or sentimental method; the advocacy of rational freedom in religious inquiry; the increase of spiritual fellowship; the maintenance of the moral element as supreme over dogmatic prejudice. These were high aims, that well might be cherished by the most soaring minds; as, in fact, they were. William Henry Channing, one of the most lofty, pure, ardent, worshipful of men, was a firm friend of the Association to the end of his life, spoke on its platform whenever opportunity offered, and warmly entertained the ultimate hope it foretold. The noblest transcendentalists, – Weiss, Johnson, Emerson, Wasson, Alcott, Bartol,– adhered stanchly to its grandest affirmation, though they were unable, some of them, to join the organization, partly from an aversion to all grouping of sects, and partly through personal dislike of incidental utterances they chanced to hear. They were a company of idealists; many called them enthusiasts; a few applied to them a less complimentary name. The more practical men, those who were interested in the spread of denominationalism, the history of doctrines, the diffusion of opinions, the triumph of a sect, the moderate part played by existing organizations, of course, took no interest in the movement. These were simply of a different temperament, not necessarily hostile. Some joined the new Association while retaining their former connections with orthodox or liberal societies, for it was expressly declared in the beginning that membership in the Association should "affect in no degree one's relations to other associations," though in one or two instances it did. Indeed, the plan involved nothing that the most rigid believer could not accept, even "supernaturalism," as it was called then, being defined occasionally as a more sublimated kind of spiritualism, natural because coming in the order of the soul's development, the normal method of growth. Thus the four points mentioned – the scientific study of religion, the advocacy of rational freedom, fellowship in the spirit and not in the letter, the vital supremacy of character over belief - might be received, not by a formalist surely, but by an earnest Protestant, yes, by a devout Romanist. For such might well be convinced that his system rested on foundations of reason and science. That the Romanists did not come in was due rather to their anticipated primacy than to any logical objection. At least that was the reason assigned by a leader among them. 12 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Still, to the common mind, these four propositions went very far in the direction of naked rationalism. They implied a complete recasting of the ancient formularies, an entire abolition of wonted usages, the bestowal of the ugly name of prejudices on cherished opinions, the consecration of what seemed visionary experiences, the friendly offer of the open hand in place of the clenched fist. They were, in a word, revolutionary, just as Emerson's protest against the communion was revolutionary in reality though constructive; just as Quakerism was a repudiation of the form though in obedience to the idea. If the Free Religious Association had had a different origin it would have met with a more cordial welcome. At any rate, no opprobrium of suspicion would have been attached to it. The more reason for holding high the conception. It is not claimed that the design of the Association has been carried out, or will be in any definite time, though advances toward it have been made in the lapse of years; nor is it pretended that the society has accomplished all that has been done. Every organization is as much the creature as the creator of its period. The thought of the Free Religious Association was in the air of the epoch. The passion for scientific knowledge, the demand for liberty, the craving after union, the appreciation of goodness is characteristic of the age. But prepossessions yield slowly; the passage from dream to reality is long. The method of sentimentalism prevails when the method of science has vindicated its title to pre-eminence. The application of liberty is painful. Fellowship in the spirit is beautiful, but seems hardly feasible. The supremacy of character is noble, but far off. As to the sympathy, symphony, essential identity of religions, we have our own revelation, say the ordinary sectarians, and that is good enough for us, and every attempt to put Christianity on a level with other faiths must result in dragging it down, not in raising these up. In the interest, therefore, of an exalted, spirituality, the work of the Free Religious Association is more than justified. It has been a standing complaint that the Association did nothing, that it was merely speculative, that it consumed the hours in talk, and in somewhat metaphysical talk, too, that it llved in the air, keeping itself aloof from the organized interests of belief. This is, in a measure, true, but it only proves the design of the Association. It was purposely speculative. Therein lies the motive WHY AM I A FREE RELIGIONIST? 13 of its existence, and to this it steadily adheres, after twenty years of being. It was not a reform club, though eminent reformers spoke from its platform, and individual members held conspicuous positions in the ranks of reform. It was not a philanthropical society, though papers on charity were read at its conventions and were listened to with delight, as well as hearty approval, while beneficent work occupied much of the time of the managers. For several years the President was a well-known philanthropist, who exerted himself to raise money for charitable undertakings, and who resigned because the Association could not be committed to any plan of practical labor. When its speculative mission is completed, if it ever is, some form of beneficence will, undoubtedly, be adopted, but it will be comprehensive, human, inclusive, looking to the general elevation of man. Local, partial, spasmodic it could not be. Most consonant with its idea would be a congress of charities, at which each might present its contribution to the purification of human life, advancing its plea to consideration. This would be as original and unique as its first conception, and would supply the sole practical aspect this will admit of. A mere union, headquarters, clearing-house of charities, would not be sufficient. Something more than a convenience is required; a concert of sympathetic action is called for, and this can be obtained only by some such plan as is suggested. At present, an armed truce, based on mutual jealousy, is the utmost that has been projected in society, and so much has been obtained with difficulty. A hearty co-operation, founded upon the desire to diminish the evils under which human beings suffer and to multiply the chances for improvement, is still unattempted. Perhaps this achievement is reserved for the Free Religious Association. It is a curious comment on this criticism that the society does nothing but talk, whose history is one of "chatter," that the leader of practical religion at the West, the author of a spiritual movement founded upon a basis purely humane, without a speculative test of any sort, was for years a diligent worker among its advisers, a friend of its officers, a graduate from its school. He is but carrying out its resolution. I have said that the Free Religionist has no creed. He has none as a Free Religionist, though as an individual he may belong to the most stringent church in Christendom. But he must be a religious man; he must be a man of character, pure, honor- 14 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. able, devoted. He may define religion in his own way, may be a disbeliever in a personal God, as well as in conscious immortality; but he must be convinced of the necessity to reconcile his life to general laws, and to be faithful to moral principle. A large love of duty must be in him before he can think of joining this fraternity. Speculative freedom alone is not a recommendation. If it is associated with looseness of conduct, it may be the opposite of a recommendation. The freedom of religion is the aim, not freedom without religion. The supremacy of character is the object, not the absence of character; creedlessness, not unrighteousness; the abolition of doctrinal tests, not the abrogation of moral laws; the establishment of humanity, not the overthrow of goodness. No bitter words are spoken against belief, we simply demand the fruits of it, assuming the virtues of individual faith. One persuasion, however, seems to have exerted a fascination over leading minds, namely, the essential spirituality of man. This article has been interpreted differently by different orders of mind. The late D. A. Wasson, one of the speakers at the first meeting, maintained that religion was the expression of an infinite soul in man; that his earliest act was one of instinctive worship; that the primitive literature consisted of hymns, prayers, invocations; that aspiration is native and spontaneous; that the hope of immortality, the sense of deity, trust in Providence grow out of this tendency upwards, and that the dark, foolish, bewildered interpretations were due, in the main, to want of knowledge, crudity of feeling, or incoherence of language. W. H. Channing, on the other hand, thought there had been a primitive revelation from God; that every important truth was communicated from above; that the earliest religion had the same ideas as the later, and that the cardinal beliefs were covered up by various circumstances, prominent among which was the growth of speculative science. Both men were champions of mental freedom; both were students of history; both were confident that research would vindicate their theory; both welcomed foreign systems of faith. Mr. Channing, at his last visit to this country, in 1880, spoke fervently upon the platform of the Association in advocacy of his favorite opinion, assuring the managers that if they went far enough they would arrive at Christianity as the modern version of religion, the form in which the primitive revelation is presented to us. WHY AM I A FREE RELIGIONIST? 15 These are my reasons for being a Free Religionist, because so I secure absolute freedom of thought in the study of religious literature, perfect freedom of movement among all religious phenomena, a pure fellowship of religious intention and purpose, a frank confession of the superiority of practical morality to dogma even of the most liberal description, If it be urged that these principles are avowed by other bodies, the answer is, "So much the better." The wider the postulates are diffused, the stronger is the testimony to their felt importance. Their complete prevalence will attest the full attainment of the end sought. Twenty years ago they were not recognized. Twenty years hence they will be far from domesticated. Cordial books have been written, hearty words have been spoken for the ancient faiths of the world, but they represent the more advanced types of thought; they are still accounted bold, if not heretical. Not until it is easy to extend a friendly right hand to all believers and hail their co-operation in re-enforcing the highest sentiments of mankind, can the Association venture to disband. As a voice only, to express the conviction of the age, it is valuable. The re-enforcement of the highest sentiments of mankind; is not this a crying demand? Does not the age travail in pain till this be accomplished? The sigh of our generation is for unity in all the departments of life. The field of moral sentiment, of ideal principles is the most important. A "Spiritual Peace Society," for this our Association has been called, should be held in honor. It is not a sectarian or denominational question, not a question of Unitarianism or Presbyterianism, of Protestantism or Romanism, but of Religion itself in its wide human aspects. It is not a question of belief or disbelief, but of faith in its most vital, that is, its most life-giving sense. The idea is, in the highest degree, conservative. By a logical accident it was launched by radical Unitarians, for they were in the condition to see the beauty, to feel the necessity of it, and in their hands it must remain so long as its fundamental conception is unchanged, but it deeply concerns all who seek the spiritual harmony of men. Its origin should not be a stigma upon it, while its implications should be cordially cherished. Of course, the substantial identity of religion must be conceded, and to get at this one must go beneath forms and dogmas, down to the pure spiritual and ethical principles that lie at the foundation of all. He who does not admit this will 16 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. frown on any attempt to bring them together for purposes of mutual encouragement or support, but he who recognizes this as a truth will be glad of an opportunity to say so. Of course, too, he who devotes himself to this idea will be prepared to face honest criticism, to put away the spirit of contempt, to submit to a long discipline in patience, and to be educated in the charity that never fails. O. B. FROTHINGHAM. LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. IN a letter from President Cleveland, dated May 11, 1885, he asked me if I would accept the office of Governor or Surveyor-General of New Mexico, and co-operate with him in breaking up the "rings" of that Territory, stating that he considered the latter position the more important of the two. The question was a complete surprise to me, and my strong inclination was to return a prompt answer in the negative. In view of advancing years and failing health, I had no desire to venture so far out on the frontier, and engage in a vexatious struggle with the organized roguery that had so long afflicted New Mexico. On conferring with intelligent friends on the subject, however, my impressions were modified, and, after listening to their stories about the climate of Santa Fé and indulging in dreams of restored health, I finally answered the President in the affirmative. My appointment as Surveyor-General was made soon thereafter, and I entered upon the duties of the office on the 22d of July. All that I had heard about the climate was true, but the half had not been told me concerning the ravages of land-stealing. In dealing with this subject I shall confine myself in the present article to the single topic of Spanish and Mexican land grants. When New Mexico was ceded to the United States the estimated area of these grants was about twenty-four thousand square miles, or a little over fifteen million acres, being equal in extent to the land surface of the four States of Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Vermont. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo of 1848, and the Law of Nations, obliged the United States to respect the title of all these grants, so far as found valid under the laws of Spain and Mexico; and to this end the Act of Congress of July 22, 1854, was passed, creating the office of Surveyor-General for the Territory, and making it his duty to "ascertain the origin, nature, character, and extent" of these claims, VOL. CXLV. - NO. 368. 2 [*18 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW.*] and report his opinion thereon for the final action of Congress. This armed the Surveyor-General with very large and responsible powers. He was required to pass upon the title of hundreds of thousands of acres, while no court in the Union had any authority to review his opinions, which were final and absolute, subject only to the ultimate supervision of Congress. This legislation would have proved wise and salutary if the Surveyors-General had been first-rate lawyers, incorruptible men, and diligent in their work, and if Congress had promptly acted upon the cases reported for final decision. But the reverse of all this happened. Competent and fit men for so important a service would not accept it for the meagre salary provided by law. Official life in an old Mexican province, and in the midst of an alien race, offered few attractions to men of ambition and force. Moreover, the men who could be picked up for the work were exposed to very great trials. Their duties presupposed judicial training and an adequate knowledge of both Spanish and American law; but with one or two exceptions they were not lawyers at all, while they were clothed with the power to adjudicate the title to vast areas of land. Of course, the speculators who bought these grants at low rates from the grantees or their descendants, in the hope of large profits, comprehended the situation perfectly. They sought the good-will of the Surveyor-General because they desired on opinion favorable to their titles. In furtherance of this darling purpose they took note of his small salary and his natural love of thrift, while carefully taking his measure with the view of enlisting him in their service by controlling motives. It quite naturally happened that forged and fraudulent grants, covering very large tracts, were declared valid, and that the Surveyor-General's office very often became a mere bureau in the service of grant claimants, and not the agent and representative of the Government. Instead of construing these grants strictly against the grantee, and devolving upon him the burden of establishing his claim by affirmative proofs, the Surveyor-General acted upon the principle that Spanish and Mexican grants are to be presumed, and all doubts solved in the interest of the claimant. The details of this systematic robbery of the Government under the forms of law will be noticed as I proceed. But the wholesale plunder of the public domain was carried on with still more startling results through extravagant and fraudulent [*LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 19*] fraudulent surveys. The grant owners did not exhaust their resources on the Surveyor-General. Their dalliance with his deputies was still more shameful. At the date of these old grants, the Spanish and Mexican governments attached little value to their lands. They were abundant and cheap, and granted in the most lavish and extravagant quantities. Leagues, not acres, were the units of measurement, and no actual survey was thought of when a grant was made. A rude sketch-map was drawn by some uneducated herdsman, giving a general outline of the tract, with some of the prominent natural objects indicating its boundaries. These boundaries were necessarily vague and indefinite, while the natural objects which marked them often became obliterated by time. When New Mexico became the property of the United States, and the owners of these grants asked the Government for a preliminary survey in aid of their identification, and for the purpose of asserting title, there was no law providing for the judicial determination of the true boundaries, and the deputy surveyor, who was under no particular obligations to ascertain them, was interested in the length of his lines, being paid so many dollars per mile. He was nominally an officer of the Government, but really a mere contractor, and naturally in sympathy with the grant owner, rather than the United States. The latter was never represented in these surveys, while the owner of the grant was always present, in person or by his agent, and directed the deputy surveyor in his work. His controlling purpose was to make the area of his grant as large as possible, and his interpretation of its terms invariable conformed to this idea. If a given boundary of the tract was a mountain, the deputy surveyor went to the top of it, instead of stopping at the base. If there were several mountain ranges of the same name, at different distances, the farthest of them was selected as the boundary, instead of the nearest. If the phraseology of the grant was found equivocal, or uncertain in any respect, it was always construed in the interest of extension, rather than limitation. In doubtful cases, in which it was deemed wise to fortify the views of the claimant by oral testimony in the field, witnesses could readily be found who would serve his purpose. Perjury and subornation of perjury were by no means uncommon, while the questions propounded were usually printed, and suggested the answers to be given, and there was no cross-examination of the witnesses. It generally happened that they could neither 20 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. read nor write, and in quite a number of instances their pretended testimony was not attested by their signatures, nor authenticated by the officer referred to as officiating in the case ; while the deputy surveyor sometimes assumed the right to swear the witnesses before entering upon the farce of their examination. Such were the processes by which the titles to these grants were adjudicated, and their boundaries determined. It is easy to imagine the results which followed. Millions of acres of the public domain were thus appropriated to the uses of private greed. In dealing with this enormous theft of the national patrimony, I do not speak at random, but on the authority of ascertained facts. My attention was directed to this subject soon after entering upon my official work, and the result was an order from the Land Department instructing me to re-examine the cases acted on by my predecessors, wherever the public interest seemed to require it. In obedience to these instructions, I have overhauled the work of my office for the past thirty years, and made supplementary reports in many of the most important cases. The curtain has been lifted upon a very remarkable spectacle of maladministration, and I refer to the following illustrative facts : What is known as the Pedernales grant is dated in the year 1807. It was approved by the Surveyor-General, but no grant, in fact, was shown, nor any delivery of possession. The land asked for by the grantee was a narrow strip about a mile in length in the Cañon de Pedernales ; but the unauthenticated paper purporting to show the juridical delivery of possession, describes the tract as equal to twenty miles square, or 400 square miles, containing 256,000 acres. The title to all this, resting upon a void and fraudulent grant, is asserted by the present claimants, and the land reserved from actual settlement till Congress shall pass upon the validity of the claim. The Cañada Ancha tract was a grant to Salvador Gonzales, who simply asked the Governor of New Mexico for a spot of land on which "to plant a cornfield" for the support of his family. It was one of a group of small grants in the immediate vicinity of Santa Fé̩, and contains a fraction over 130 acres, with well defined and easily ascertained boundaries. The claimants of this grant, whose names were not given to the Surveyor-General, filed a sketch map representing an area of 240,000 acres, or 375 square miles. The deputy surveyor placed himself at the head of LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 21 a roving commission, in search of the boundaries, which he extended some twenty miles from Santa Fé, and made to include the highest mountain peaks of New Mexico, and 103,759 acres. A second survey was made afterwards, containing only 23,661 acres, including more than 20,000 acres of hills and mountains utterly unfit for cultivation, although the grantee only asked for land for "a cornfield." The land covered by the larger survey is reserved from settlement, and will so remain till Congress shall adjudicate the title ; but in the meanwhile the claimants of the land, having been made ashamed of their performances, have abandoned their case since the actual area and boundaries of the little tract have been determined by an authentic survey. The grant to what is known as the Cañon de Chama tract is claimed to have been made to Francisco Salazar and others in 1806. The present claimants, in their petition to the Surveyor-General, did not give their names, but claimed title to a hundred and eighty-four thousand acres. The Surveyor-General illustrated his genius in the art of measuring land by giving them 472,000. There is no proof that any valid grant was ever made, but if there was it was plainly confined to the Cañon de Chama, which is narrow, and would probably restrict the entire tract to 25,000 acres or less. The deputy surveyor gave no heed to these facts, but went outside of the cañon from ten to fifteen miles in search of the boundaries. The entire tract, as surveyed, is reserved from settlement under the Act of July 22d, 1854, and is enjoyed by a few monopolists ; and should Congress approve the recommendation of the Surveyor-General, the public domain will be defrauded of at least four hundred and fifty thousand acres. The grant to Antonio Sandoval, or Estancia grant, was made under the Mexican colonization law of 1824. It was void under that law, because neither the grant nor the record of it was found among the archives of the Mexican government. There is not even an equitable claim to the land, since it is not shown that the grantee ever occupied it, or exercised any acts of ownership over it. The grant, however, was approved by the Surveyor-General, and surveyed for 415,036 acres, or 648 square miles ; and this large area is reserved from settlement. The claim known as the grant to Ignacio Chaves covers about four leagues, or 17,712 acres. There was no evidence that the conditions of the grant were ever complied with, or of the existence 22 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. of any heirs or legal representatives of the grantee. The grant, however, was pronounced valid by the Surveyor-General, and the survey made the tract fifteen miles from north to south, and twenty-two from east to west, containing an area of 243,036 acres, or nearly 380 square miles. The land is reserved from settlement. The Socorro grant invites particular attention. It is alleged to have been made in 1815 or 1816, but its existence is not shown. The fragmentary papers relied on as proof utterly fail to establish it. An equitable claim may be asserted with some plausibility to a small portion of the tract, including a group of villages existing at the date of the alleged grant ; but the claim made covers 1,612,000 acres, and as surveyed it contains 843,259 acres, including very valuable minerals which are not excepted by the recommendation of the Surveyor-General, as they should have been. All of this land, amounting to 1,317 square miles, as surveyed, is reserved from settlement awaiting the action of Congress. The grant to Bernardo Miera y Pacheco and Pedro Padilla was one league of land, or 4,438 acres. The conditions of the grant were never complied with, and no title therefore vested in the grantees. The land, however, was surveyed fro 148,862 acres, and this area is unwarrantably reserved from settlement in the interest of the claimants. The Cañada de Cochiti grant is dated August 2d, 1728. The grantee petitioned for "a piece of land to plant thereon, and on said piece of land to cultivate ten fanegas of wheat and two of corn," being about 32 acres, and to pasture his "small stock and horse herd." The validity of the grant is not shown, nor is there even an equitable claim ; but it was approved by the Surveyor- General, and the survey covers a strip of land averaging from five to six miles in width, and from twenty-five to thirty in length, aggregating an area of 104,554 acres, or a little more than 163 square miles. The whole of this tract is reserved from settlement in behalf of the monopolists who claim it without right. The San Joaquin del Naainiento grant was made in 1769. It was genuine, but the conditions were never complied with, and the title, therefore, did not vest. It was approved, however, by the Surveyor-General, and surveyed for 131,725 acres. The land is reserved from settlement, and must so remain till the title is acted upon by Congress. The José Sutton grant was made for sixteen square leagues, LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 23 although it could not exceed eleven under the Mexican colonization law, which governs it. It was surveyed for 69,445 acres. The grant is believed to have been genuine, but it was made on fundamental conditions precedent, which were totally disregarded by the grantee, who left the Territory many years ago without having shown the slightest purpose to assert title. The land is valuable, but is reserved from settlement, and has been so reserved for twenty years. It is one of the most bare-faced frauds yet perpetrated through the machinery of the Surveyor-General's office. The grant of the Arroyo de Lorenzo tract was made in the year 1825, and the grantee took possession, but there is no evidence that he ever complied with the conditions of the royal laws under which such grants were made. As the grant must be governed by the Mexican colonization law of 1824, it could not exceed one square league, or a fraction over 4,438 acres ; but it was surveyed for 130,000 acres, and its confirmation to this extent recommended by the Surveyor-General. The land is reserved from settlement and the government defrauded. The Vallecito de Lovato grant was recommended for confirmation, but no grant was shown, nor any trustworthy evidence that possession of the land was ever delivered. The claimants were not named, and were unknown to the Surveyor-General. The survey of the pretended grant, however, was made for 114,400 acres. The land is reserved from settlement, and has been for a dozen years. The grant of Bernabé, M. Montaño and others was recommended for confirmation by the Surveyor-General for seven square leagues, or nearly 31,000 acres, and is believed to be valid to that extent ; but the tract, as surveyed, is nine miles from east to west, and twenty-two miles from north to south, covering 151,055 acres, or about 241 square miles. The whole of this tract is appropriated to the uses of private greed, and withheld from actual settlers. These illustrations of legalized spoliation and robbery could readily be multiplied, but it is unnecessary. They form a part only of a large group of claims now before Congress for final action, and they show that the General Land Office was amply justified in its effort to place before that body all available information looking to the rescue of the public domain from the clutches of roguery, and its restoration to actual settlement. The amount of lands which may thus be restored, added to the area 24 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. misappropriated under forged and fraudulent titles and unwarranted surveys in the original cases investigated by me since I came into office, will aggregate from four to five million acres. But I pass to the cases in which Congress has take final action, being forty-nine in all, of which two only have been rejected. Of the forty-seven confirmed cases, twenty-four have been patented, covering 6,176,857 acres, leaving twenty-three unpatented cases, covering an area of 2,498,108 acres. In the latter class of cases large areas may be restored to the public domain by a resurvey, fixing the true boundaries of the grants under the direction of the General Land Office. This will doubtless be done. A partial examination of these cases clearly indicates the same maladministration pointed out in the unconfirmed claims already noticed. In the survey of the Antoine Leroux grant, for example, more than 100,000 acres of the public domain are included. In the Las Vegas claim, which covers a small grant in fee of tillable land, with the right of pasturage over a much larger area, the survey is made to include 496,000 acres. In the Juana Lopez grant, which covers a small table-land of from ten to twelve thousand acres, with well-defined boundaries, the survey is made to include 42,000 acres. In all these and like cases resurveys are demanded. Judging from the facts disclosed by the records of the Surveyor-General's office, fully one-half the aggregate of these confirmed but unpatented lands is illegally included in the preliminary surveys already made, and may be restored to the public domain by an honest resurvey. In the patented grants the rights of the United States are foreclosed, unless the patents can be set aside on the ground of fraud or mistake. In the case of the Ortiz mine claim, no grant was ever made. It was conceived by the Surveyor-General and midwived by the act of Congress approving it ; but as that act refers to the boundaries mentioned in the papers, and thus seems to recognize them, the government has no redress. The survey of the Armendaris grant is largely excessive, and the patent should be set aside, as I trust it will be in due season. The Tierra Amarialla grant is surveyed for 596,515 acres, or 932 square miles. If any grant was made in this case it was restricted by the Mexican colonization law to eleven square leagues, or about 48,000 acres. There is nothing in the act of Congress confirming this grant to warrant the survey, and the Land Department, on my report of LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 25 the case, has recommended that proceedings be instituted to set aside the patent. The Mora grant is surveyed for 827,621 acres, or nearly 1,400 square miles. A good deal of the testimony in this case is not signed by the witnesses, nor are their statements accompanied by the usual affidavits. No grant was produced in evidence, and there was nothing to indicate a grant in fee, but only a distribution of the lands claimed, while there is no conclusive proof that the conditions of the grant were performed. A judicial examination of the whole case is called for. Of the patented and unpatented lands I have noticed, aggregating 8,674,965 acres, I think it will be safe to estimate that at least one-half, namely 4,337,482 acres, have been illegally devoted to private uses under invalid grants or unauthorized surveys. If to this sum I add the estimate before mentioned of from four to five million acres unlawfully appropriated in cases pending before Congress, an approximate estimate will be reached covering about 9,000,000 acres of the public domain which are now, and for many years past have been, in the grasp of men who have used and enjoyed the land for their own emolument, and whose earnest prayer is to be let alone in their ill-gotten possessions. But I have only partially exhibited the results of "earth-hunger" in New Mexico, and the power of these grant owners. It would be an extravagance to assume that they have not exercised a shaping influence over the action of Congress touching their claims. It will not do to lay all the blame upon Surveyors-General. The House Committee on Private Land Claims of the Thirty-sixth Congress, in its report recommending the approval of fourteen of these claims, emphasized the incompetency of these Surveyors-General for the adjudication of such cases, and frankly confessed the unfitness of Congress for the work ; yet Congress, as I have shown, has approved forty-seven out of forty-nine cases already examined. That the claimants in these cases have prowled around the committees of Congress, and utilized all the tactics of the lobby in furtherance of their purposes, is at least probable. The famous Maxwell grant deserves attention in this connection. It was limited by the law under which it was made to twenty-two square leagues, or about 96,000 acres ; but it has been surveyed and patented for 1,714,764 acres, or nearly 2,680 square miles. This was done in 1879, in violation of an express order of 26 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. the Secretary of the Interior made ten years before, and still in force, restricting it to twenty-two square leagues, and the patent for the larger area issued under circumstances indicating the remarkable readiness of the Commissioner of the General Land Office and the Surveyor-General to serve the claimants. But this astounding piracy of the public domain did not originate with these officials. It had an earlier genesis. Congress had been beguiled by the claimants in 1860 into the confirmation of the grant, with the exterior boundaries named in it, which covered the whole of this immense area, and thus vested the title thereto in the grantees, as the Supreme Court of the United States has recently decided. Congress laid the egg in 1860, which was kindly incubated by the Commissioner of the General Land Office and the Secretary of the Interior in 1879. It was inexcusable and shameful surrender to the rapacity of monopolists of 1,662,764 acres of the public domain, on which hundreds of poor men had settled in good faith, and made valuable improvements, while it has been as calamitous to New Mexico as it has been humiliating to the government. I have already referred to the Ortiz mine grant, in which Congress was induced to unite with the Surveyor-General in squandering upon private parties over 69,000 acres of exceedingly valuable mineral land which the Mexican government never granted. The careless action of Congress and the presumptive influence of claimants were further illustrated in the confirmation of the Tierra Amarilla and Mora grants, under color of which nearly a million and a half of acres have been segregated from the public domain and dedicated to the uses of monopolists, in consummation of the work of the Surveyor-General in these cases, as before stated. In the matter of the Las Vegas grant, which was claimed by the town of Las Vegas and also by the heirs of Luis Maria Baca, the land actually granted in fee was a tract of moderate size for agriculture purposes. The Surveyor-General decided that both claims were valid, which was simply impossible. Congress confirmed the claim of the town, and did it so unguardedly that the claimants managed to have it surveyed for 496,446 acres, covering probably 440,000 acres in excess of the grant; and then, yielding to the demands of the heirs of Baca, who certainly had no right to anything if the claim of the town was valid, gave them scrip in lieu of the lands thus unwarrantably asked for, covering the same area, and thus defrauded the public LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 27 domain to the extent of about 900,000 acres. But I will not multiply these examples. It is sufficient to say that of the whole number of cases submitted by Surveyors-General for final adjudication and passed upon by them in the reckless manner I have specified, Congress has rejected but two, and has thus criminally surrendered to monopolists not less than 5,000,000 acres which should have been reserved for the landless poor. I only add that the grant owners of New Mexico have not yet retired from their field of operations in Congress. They have their allies in both Houses. Distinguished Senators and Representatives from some of the great land States of the West are well understood to be in sympathy with S. W. Dorsey, S. B. Elkins, and their confederates, and nothing but the dread of antagonizing the President in his fight against land thieves restrains them from acting openly. The power of these grant owners over the General Land Office in past years is well known. Its most remarkable illustrations occurred under the administrations of Grant and Hayes, and among these I may specify the attempt to breathe life into the trumped-up Nolan grant in New Mexico, covering 575,968 acres ; the extension of the Eaton grant from 27,854 acres to 81,032 acres ; and the survey of the Ortiz mine grant for double the area it contained if valid. The case of the Una De Gato grant affords another illustration. The area of this grant, according to Mr. Dorsey, its claimant, was nearly 600,000 acres. It was reserved from settlement and is so reserved to-day by the Act of 1854 ; but when the forgery of the grant was demonstrated in 1879, and he thought it unsafe to rely upon that title, he determined to avail himself of the Homestead and Pre-emption laws. This he could not legally do, because the land was reserved ; but the Commissioner of the General Land Office was touched by his misfortune, and in defiance of law ordered the land to be surveyed and opened to settlement. Mr. Dorsey, who was already in possession of thousands of acres of the choicest lands in the tract, at once sent out his squads of henchmen, who availed themselves of the forms of the Pre-emption and Homestead laws, in acquiring pretended titles which were conveyed to him, according to arrangements previously agreed upon. No record of this unathorized action of the Commissioner is to be found in the Land Office. What was done was done verbally and in the dark, and nothing is now known of the transaction but the fact of its occurrence, and 28 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. the intimate relations then existing between Mr. Dorsey and the Commissioner and his chief of surveys. Of course, Mr. Dorsey and his associates in this business have no title to the lands thus acquired, and their entries should be cancelled, not only because the land was reserved from sale by Act of Congress, but because these entries were fraudulently made, as will be shown by investigations now in progress. The influence of these claimants over the fortunes of New Mexico is perfectly notorious. They have hovered over the territory like a pestilence. To a fearful extent they have dominated governors, judges, district attorneys, legislatures, surveyors-general and their deputies, marshals, treasurers, county commissioners, and the controlling business interests of the people. They have confounded political distinctions and subordinated everything to the greed for land. The continuous and unchecked ascendancy of one political party for a quarter of a century has wrought demoralization in the other. T. B. Catron is a leading Republican, and C. H. Gildersleeve, an equally prominent Democrat, but no political nomenclature fits them. They are simply traffickers in land grants, and recognized captains of this controlling New Mexican industry. This tells the whole story. They have a diversity of gifts, but the same spirit. They are politicians "for revenue only," and have a formidable following. In the Democratic Territorial Convention, which met in August of last year, resolutions were unanimously adopted deprecating the agitation of the question of land frauds in New Mexico, and denying that such frauds exist to any considerable extent ; and this slap in the face of a Democratic administration went unrebuked. The leaders of the party in this convention well knew the extent to which these frauds were ramifying the whole territory, and scourging the people. They knew this from the records of the General-Land Office, the reports of its special agents, the action of courts and grand juries, and the startling developments of the Surveyor-General's office ; but no member of the convention dared say what all intelligent men in New Mexico knew to be the truth. The grant owners were the masters of the situation. They had no stomach for unpalatable facts, and, therefore, suppressed them. They believed in the gospel of "devil take the hindmost." To rob a man of his home is a crime, second only to murder ; and to rob the nation of its public domain, and thus LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 29 abridge the opportunity of landless men to acquire homes, is not only a crime against society, but a cruel mockery of the poor. If the convention had said this, it would have sounded the true keynote and battle-cry of reform in New Mexico, while rebuking the ravenous conclave of land-grabbers, whose hidden hand made it the foot-ball of their purposes, and led astray the honest and confiding rank and file of the convention, who would gladly have responded to a brave and honest leadership. What is the remedy for the evils I have endeavored to depict, and what the hope of New Mexico? The answer is already foreshadowed. In all the cases in which confirmed and unpatented grants have been extended by false and fraudulent surveys, a resurvey should be made under the direction of the General Land Office, fixing the true boundaries and area. In all the cases in which patents to confirmed grants have been procured by fraud, including lands not covered by the confirmatory act of Congress, suits to set aside such patents should be instituted under the direction of the Department of Justice. And the grinding oligarchy of land sharks, whose operations have so long been the blight and paralysis of the Territory, should be completely routed and overthrown. This can only be accomplished by the speedy and final adjudication of their pretended titles. How shall this adjudication be secured? The act of Congress of July 22d, 1854, expressly imposes this duty upon that body ; but Congress utterly refuses to take any further action and, as I have shown, is unfitted for such a service. The project of a Land Commission is equally futile. The act of Congress of 1851, providing such a commission for California, has been in operation for thirty-six years, and from thirty to forty cases of controverted title and survey are yet undisposed of, and now pending in the Surveyor-General's office, the General Land Office, or the courts. The Commission was composed of men of ability and character but under the malign influence of land-stealing experts the most shameful raids upon the public domain were made through fabricated grants and fraudulent surveys. What is known as Mr. Joseph's bill is a substantial copy of the California act, and the provision in it allowing an appeal from the Commission to the Territorial courts would, of itself, make the project utterly abortive, since the fact is well known that these courts are already loaded down with more work than they can accomplish, 30 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. and would be obliged to forego even an attempt to adjudicate these titles. To hope for their speedy settlement through such a project is simply preposterous, and its emphatic approval by the grant owners of the Territory is proof positive of the fact. Equally vain is the hope of relief through the machinery of what is known as the Edmunds bill, which has repeatedly passed the Senate, and as often been disowned by the House. It refers these claims for adjudication to the District Court of the territory in whose jurisdiction the lands are situated with the right of either party to appeal from its decision within six months to the Supreme Court of the territory, and from the decision of that court within one year to the Supreme Court of the United States, which is behind with its work four or five years. In all cases in which the judgment of the District Court shall be against the United States, an appeal must be taken to the Territorial Supreme Court, and also to the Supreme Court of the United States, unless the Attorney-General shall otherwise direct. The cases are thus to be tried in three several courts, and it is provided that in all of them oral evidence shall be heard, while in the two lower tribunals it would be practically impossible to try the cases at all, by reason of their overburdened territorial business. While such a measure would certainly breed litigation and be very acceptable to lawyers, it could not fail to prove a mere mockery of its professed purpose ; and it ought to be entitled "an act to postpone indefinitely the settlement of all titles to Spanish and Mexican grants, and secure to their claimants the unmolested occupancy and use of the same." In my judgment, what is obviously wanted is a simple enactment of Congress referring all these cases to the Secretary of the Interior for final decision. They are all on the files of the General Land Office, including duly certified copies of all the papers in each case, the evidence, both documentary and oral, the reports of the Surveyors-General, and the supplementary reports recently submitted. The questions of law and fact involved are by no means remarkably intricate or difficult, and they are such as the officials of the Interior Department are accustomed to examine and competent to decide. They involve no greater interests than those constantly adjudicated by the head of that department, with the help of his able legal advisers. Of course, mistakes might be made in deciding these cases. No in- LAND-STEALING IN NEW MEXICO. 31 fallible tribunal has yet been devised for the settlement of legal controversies. Even our higher courts sometimes go astray ; while I have already shown what a travesty of both justice and law was the action of the California Commision, and that Congress, by slipshod legislation in dealing with these grants, has surrendered to monopolists and thieves millions of acres of the public domain. No such results need be apprehended from the Department of the Interior. In any event, there would be a settlement of titles, which is the paramount desire of all good men. The authority of Congress to do what is proposed is as unquestionable as its authority to create a commission or to refer the cases to the courts. Should it be done, coupled with a statute of limitation fixing a time within which new claims shall be presented or thereafter be barred, the whole of these long pending contests can be disposed of within the limit of three or four years, and New Mexico will have a new birth in the restitution of her stolen domain and the settlement of her titles. The stream of settlers now crossing the Territory in search of homes on the Pacific will be arrested by the new order of things and poured into her valleys and plains. Small land-holdings, thrifty tillage, and compact settlements will supersede great monopolies, slovenly agriculture, and industrial stagnation. The influx of an intelligent and enterprising population will insure the development of the vast mineral wealth of the Territory, as well as the settlement of her lands ; while the men who have so long reveled in their triumphant plunder, and are already troubled with "a fearful looking to of judgment to come," will be obliged to take back seats in the temple of civilization which will be reared upon the ruins of the past. All this will come to pass if Congress will but open the way. GEORGE W. JULIAN. THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE PRESS. ABOUT one hundred years ago, during the period that stretched from 1770 to 1800, the human world suffered what may be termed seismic convulsion. Premonitory symptoms of the approaching trouble were not wanting during the preceding century, but it broke forth with the American revolution and culminated in the great French convulsion of 1789. Manquakes upheaved the social and political structures, overthrowing the ancient edifices, and shaking society to its bases. Mankind, from the earliest recorded time, had been trying upon itself experiments of various forms of government, including monarchies more or less absolute, hierarchies, military empires, oligarchies, republics of every fashion. One form alone had never been fairly tested upon an important scale. This was pure democracy. Every attempt to establish a pure and simple government by the people had been denounced as a dream of the philosopher ; it was accepted as a conclusion that Mobocracy might be practicable when applied to a small primitive community, but would inevitably expand into monarchy when that community grew into a great nation. The outcome of the convulsion of the last century was the experiments attempted in the United States and in France to establish the democratic form of government. These experiments are now proceeding. Here, in America, democracy has enjoyed exceptional advantages : we had a new country, with unbounded sources of wealth, no antecedent institutions, no historical prejudices, no vested rights to restrain or affect our progress, no powerful neighbors to dictate or to influence our acts and wishes. Our people were young, powerful in mind and body, sprung from the most manly blood in Europe, law-loving, industrious, level-headed. We had a clear course ; we began at the beginning, with every advantage. If democracy had failed in the United States, it was a failure forever. THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE PRESS. 33 France, on the other hand, had not one of these advantages. She had nothing but her passionate sympathy with, and her aspiration after, democratic principles and institutions. It is not strange, therefore, that her first effort degenerated into a military tyranny ; her second effort, in 1830, subsided promptly into a constitutional monarchy ; her third effort, in 1848, was countered by a conspiracy of adventurers. Her fourth effort, in 1870, is still an experiment. It was during this convulsive period that the newspaper press, as we now have it, was born. It was the inevitable creature produced by the social elements during their great disturbance. Liberty became a living thing, and its voice, the press, was an indispensable, and, therefore, a natural organ of its body. It was to arive at this birth that (at the risk of incurring the reproach of traveling over beaten ground) the direct parentage of this great institution has been recalled. Previously to 1770 there existed no newspaper press, properly so called. There were flying sheets, not more important than hand bills. There were pamphlets and essays. But the daily record of all affairs of interest and importance had never existed. Gradually this monstrous power began to assume the shape it now takes ; the Tribune where Public Opinion is supposed to express and declare the will and mind of the world. The divinity from whom few secrets are concealed, the tribunal to which public and private woes are amenable gradually came into existence. It exerts a consular power over all civilized nations, for all are subject to its decrees. The private and obscure citizen goes in fear of this inquisition. The Caesar is not secure from its right of search into his palace. The press, then, was the gift of God to the people--being a college of their great minds, exercising a ministry over public affairs and bringing together the human race into honest and grand communion. Is it utopian to consider, or to imagine, what this institution might have become had it been true to its vocation, and faithful to it palpable mission ? To what power and station it has every right to aspire ! The title of journalist, or pressman, should have been a patent of nobility, such as enjoyed by the mandarin in China ! Are the attachés of European and American newspapers so considered ? To what base uses has the press descended, and with it have descended its ministers and its staff ! How has this result come to pass ? How, in so short a life, not much more VOL. CXLV.--NO. 368. 3 34 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. than the life of a man, has this noble edifice come to desecration ? Can it be ascribed to any fault in the journalist ? Not so. The literary part of the press exhibits more skill and power than any other branch of literature ; hastily as the work must frequently be performed, it is excellent in substance and in style. This is more conspicuous in the critical notices of the Fine Arts and the Drama than in the treatment of political and social subjects, and apparently from the reason that the art critic is permitted to write from his own inspiration, while the political writer is fettered by the policy of the journal. It is only just to the press of the United States to confess that the writers of New York, Boston, Chicago, and San Francisco, are equal in talent and brilliancy to the best writers of Paris and London, Berlin or Vienna. The decline and fall of the newspaper press is due to corruption. It has three functions : First--The collection and circulation of useful and important news. Secondly--The perception of the subjects that are agitating the public mind, and the opinion of thoughtful minds thereupon. The great expenses attending the performance of these duties would not be covered by the sale of the journal if the third function--advertisement--did not come to its support. When it was apparent that the revenue arising from this source was enormous, the newspaper attracted the attention of capital as an important investment, and it soon became a commercial enterprise to which all other considerations were subordinated. As character and dignity did not pay, these were disregarded. The only business of the newspaper proprietor was to increase its circulation by any means, for on its circulation depended the value and number of its advertisements. In this sordid struggle the editor and his staff were instructed by the proprietor to pander to the degraded appetites of the reader. The most unsavory details of crime and domestic misfortunes were paraded in conspicuous fashion ; the literary and moral standard was hauled down to give place to these flags of abomination. Its emissaries were sent into the houses of private citizens to obtain the offal of society--the filthier the better. It became a ragpicker when the nation was engaged in any great political struggle. The journal shielding itself behind its impersonality and the cry of "the liberty of the press" would hurl accusations of the most infamous character against its opponents, to the sacrifice of all dignity, conscience, and truth. It carried THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE PRESS. 35 the craft of misrepresentation to the level of a fine art. This was the work of the commercial proprietor of the newspaper, to whose sordid objects this mighty engine was degraded. The journalist became his hired scribe, who waited on his will. Let us see how the Fine Arts and the Drama were affected by this state of things. Fortunately, the press gave little attention to these matters until about 1837. The public at that time still continued to think for itself, and formed its own opinions on painters, dramatists, actors, and singers. The corrupting power of advertisement had not reached this region. The first sign of its appearance was the association composed of Bulwer, Macready, Stone, John Forster, White, and others, to "work the oracle of public opinion." Albany Fonblanque lent the Examiner to the society, and Forster was the journalist. Each of the club bepraised his fellows, and, recruiting followers, instructed them in the worship. Idolatry is catching ; gradually the Examiner overflowed into other journals, and the "Macready craze," like the "Irving craze," set in with severity. It was not until 1844 that the leading morning papers of London began to admit the Drama and the Fine Arts to any prominent position in their columns. The Morning Post was the first that devoted a very important space to the Royal Academy and to the stage. The Times followed suit, but so carelessly, that this work was handed over to the department of the "city editor" of the paper, Mr. Alsager, who presided over the stock exchange and financial business of that great journal. It had previously been given to the reporter who attended public dinners and collected scraps of news. In Alsager's employ happened to be a clerk, his nephew, John Oxenford, and a supernumerary clerk, Charles Kenney--both men of fine critical perception. They were misplaced in the financial office to which they were attached. From this moment the London press generally commenced the manufacture of public opinion by critical notices of the Drama and the Fine Arts. The result was unfortunate ! The artist who had looked to the public across the footlights for appreciation, soon learned to look only to the columns of a newspaper. The audience are incorruptible. They will not laugh or shed tears, even to oblige their favorites. An actor can distinguish between the measured, perfunctory applause of a hired claque, and the hearty, impulsive enthusiasm of a public. By degrees, however, the action of the 36 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. press began to affect the audience ; they gradually lost their sense of independence, as they found the press usurped their function of appreciating a performance. They yielded their privilege of judgment, and waited to see "what the papers said." This would not have been very injurious, had it not affected the actor. He soon found that his art was infructuously employed in obtaining applause ; his reputation began to depend upon press notices. So he or she must, by any and every means, capture the critic. The conscientious and proud artist declined to turn press courtier, and he soon found that his more obsequious fellows were "written up." The painter turned his soul from the study of nature to the study of the art critic. There used to be amongst the public a critical phalanx of experienced, thoughtful experts, whose pleasure and pride it was to attend the first representation of new plays--the first appearance of artists. This crowd became leaders of public opinion. This body guard of the drama was dissolved and the press assumed its functions. One instance will serve to exhibit how they were performed. In 1860, Mr. Fechter made his first appearance on the London stage ; the bulk of the audience rejected the tragedian, but the upper classes of society received him with enthusiasm. The press followed the fashion, but one or two of the most distinguished critics declined to worship the new Hamlet in broken English. They were reprimanded by the proprietors, who had met Fechter socially at the tables of noble lords. Encouraged by his success in Hamlet, the French actor undertook to perform Othello and altered the text to suit his ideas--publishing his new version as "a book of the play." This proved too much for the critic on the Morning Chronicle, who dealt somewhat severely with this intrusion on sacred ground. Exasperated by the attack, the actor brought to bear on the proprietor of the journal all the influence of his friends, and Mr. Ottley, one of the most distinguished and conscientious writers of that period, was discharged. Since this state of things has existed, the Drama has declined in a deplorable manner. All the pride has gone out of the dramatist and out of the actor. The sources of inspiration seem to have become dry. During the last forty years not one important play has been produced that has survived. All the works which now serve the great actors for a répertoire are the produce of the stage THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE PRESS. 37 previously to 1847. Never before in the history of the Drama has there been such a barren period. No great actor, either in comedy or in tragedy, has appeared. If the record of other arts, and of literature be examined, it will be found to show a similar lack of important productions. Fiction has lost its masculine power, and that field is almost exclusively occupied by women. In musical composition of the galaxy containing Meyerbeer, Rossini, Mendelssohn, Bishop, Verdi, Donizetti, Balfe, Wallace, Barnett, Macfarren, Auber, Flotow, Bellini, and a score the reader will not fail to recollect--only Gounod remains, and he, like Verdi, belongs rather to the past than to the present, which has produced Offenbach, Strauss, Lecoq and Sullivan. These are the exponents of the Musical Age ! It is here and now contended that this deplorable condition of affairs has been brought about by the destructive agency of advertisement, by means of which impostors and quacks obtain the great rewards heretofore bestowed by the public upon merit. Notoriety has taken the place of fame. The people have lost their sense of appreciation from lack of exercising their powers of judgment. Many of our leading actors cultivate their social and press influences to the neglect of their art. The student of Shakspere poses in drawing rooms and creates a following, sending them forth as devotees to preach his artistic gospel and to magnify his name. He brings the gentlemen of the press around him by every means he can devise, who for the most part yielding sincerely to good fellowship, allow their better judgment to be misled, and are false to their ministry out of good nature. By these means impostors are helped to seats in the high places ; patient merit sees itself passed by, and genius turns aside in disgust, disdaining to occupy the throne to which it is entitled. Regarding the actors and actresses that have, during the last twenty-five years, lifted themselves into prominent notice, how many have any artistic titles to the position they occupy ? Then how came they there? A lady arrives from England or from France. She is paraded by the press as somebody of remark. Her photograph appears in the shop windows. Cablegrams are published recording her doings in Paris or London. It is not a question whether she has any merit--it may be she has none ; no matter ! If she appear in big type she becomes a great artistic feature. If she fail, it is because the type was not big enough. 38 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Again : Some enterprising speculator in "stars" unearths a likely looking wench in an obscure corner of the land. After a few months' training, he buys her a wardrobe, and announces the discovery of an Arkansas Juliet. You go to see this phenomenon, and you recognize a third-class novice, and, in mind and manners, a very commonplace person. You tell the speculator so ; but he replies, with a confident smile, "My good sir ! I mean to spend twenty thousand dollars upon her this season ! thirty next season ! fifty the third season ! I will pack the houses with admirers, and fill a page in the leading journals with mammoth advertisements, which will place her name above that of Pears, whose soap 'will pale its ineffectual fires' in the presence of my star. It will cost me a hundred thousand dollars in advertisements before she is a great attraction ; but then, sir, she will rake in forty thousand a year clear profit." If two-thirds of the successful artists and popular favorites owe their position and their fortunes to this management ; if it be well-known to the theatrical world that the public may be nose-led by these means, is it strange that the profession has lost heart and regards itself with contempt ? A comedy of some pretension was recently produced in London ; it was the work of a leading dramatic author. The London Times, in its notice of the play, recorded its opinion in these words, "There is no money in it." Mark the significance of the phrase ! it was not "there is no merit in it." Circumspection for one moment will reveal to any thoughtful mind the justice of the accusation that the condition of the Drama and the stage during the last generation has gone from bad to worse. The productions of the dramatist and composer of music have been trivial, and little above the entertainments offered by a booth at a fair or a music hall. Buffoonery had replaced Comedy, and scenic display has displaced Tragedy. It is not pretended that "Faust" is performed ; it is painted and grouped. Goethe is laid out in state, and we admire the robes in which the corpse is clothed. We are admitted to admire the parade, and to assure ourselves that the poet is very dead indeed. The newspaper press holds great power and high office. It has accepted the functions which the lovers of art once discharged. The public have transferred their confidence from the dilettanti to the press critic. He has been charged with betraying THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE PRESS. 39 that trust from sordid motives. It may have been so, in a few instances, but the press does not quite deserve this direct reproach. It must be accused, however, of sins of omission. As guardian of the high places, and custodian of the Temple of Art and Literature, it was its duty to expel hucksters, mummers, and money-changers. It stood by and applauded the clown who put a fool's cap and bells on the shapely head of Thalia, and arrayed Melpomene in travesty. It has assisted in the deification of mockery. DION BOUCICAULT. MY PERSONAL FINANCES.* By his political enemies, General Garfield was accused of complicity in the Credit Mobilier fraud, and with profiting largely by lending his influence to other illegal transactions. It was conceived that a statement from him of his financial condition would be the best answer to these charges : therefore questions were asked of him that drew out the statement which follows, from which it appears that at the close of nearly twenty years of public life he was a comparatively poor man, and not a millionaire like some of his fellow members of Congress who had "served their country" for no longer a time, and had enjoyed no greater opportunities for honest accumulation. EDMUND KIRKE. By 1857 I was out of debt for college expenses, and even with the world. At the time of my marriage--November 11th, 1858--I had accumulated about twelve hundred dollars,--the result of my salary and of lecturing before some literary associations. We lived very economically and frugally, and--still continuing to teach and lecture--I was worth when I went into the army, in July, 1861, about three thousand dollars. After about a year's service in the army I returned home deadly sick, and, when sufficiently recovered, went on to Washington to serve on the Fitz John Porter court-martial. On my return home I was assigned to Rosecrans, who then commanded the army of the Cumberland. I was at home only one day and two nights, but during that time I bought the house at Hiram, for which I paid $1,200. While I was away with Rosecrans at this time my wife built an addition to the Hiram house, at a cost of a thousand dollars. When I returned from the war, in December, 1863, I was worth this house, costing $2,200, and nearly $3,000 besides ; that is, while in the army I had saved about $2,000. I had, when I went into the war, a wife and one child,--the *Autobiographical notes furnished by the late President Garfield to Edmund Kirke as materials for a life. MY PERSONAL FINANCES. 41 child that died. I left her grave-side the day I buried her, and started for Washington to take my seat in Congress. Just before she died our oldest son, now living, had been born. He is my boy Harry. At the time I went into Congress I was worth, as I have said, about three thousand dollars. If they propose to discuss the question of honesty, here is a point. During my army life, as the Chief of Rosencrans's staff, I was asked twenty times in a day to grant permits to go through the lines and trade in cotton. By doing this I could have made myself rich ; and yet I came out of my two and a half years' service, having saved, in all that time, only two thousand,--and my pay as brigadier had been three thousand a year, and for the last few months, as Major-General, five thousand. I had to pay for my own horse and uniform, though we have some few allowances. I had, of course, to live like a gentleman and to support my family, but neither my wife nor I spent money needlessly. I served in the army up to the 5th of December, 1863, resigned one day, and took my seat in Congress the next. I had not even time, coming direct form the field as I did with dispatches, to get a suit of civilian's clothes. I delivered my dispatches to Lincoln and Halleck from Rosecrans, went over the ground with them, and then took my seat in the House. I stayed in Washington alone the first winter, leaving my wife and our little Harry at Hiram. When I got home from that session, and we were sitting together in our little parlor, my wife slipped into my hand a little memorandum that she had made. In it she had figured out that we had been married four years and three-quarters, and had lived together only twenty weeks. I had been two winters in the Ohio Legislature, two years and a half in the army, and one winter in Washington. Then I said to myself, "If I am to be in public life I have to determine at once whether I shall live in a state of practical divorce from my family,--as most public men do, leaving their wives and children to grow apart from them in experience, culture, and knowledge of the world,--or whether we shall make it a matter of yoke-fellow life together. I then resolved that I would never again go to a session of Congress in Washington without my family. The second winter I went on ahead and rented rooms, and they came on and we boarded together. We had, I think, a couple of rooms for a hundred dollars a month, with additional 42 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. for board--war prices. We found that unsatisfactory, and the next winter I hired a furnished house for two hundred dollars a month, and we set up housekeeping. We had then two children --Harry and Jimmy. We occupied that house two years. We lived in rented houses until 1869, keeping house in Washington during the sessions, then breaking up, and moving back to Hiram in the spring. We moved twice a year for sixteen years. But I have kept my family with me all the time, and, so long as we have kept house, my mother. She was not with us while we were boarding, for then we could not make it comfortable for her. As soon as I commenced renting houses, so I had a home of my own, I took her with me. This ran along till May, 1869, when I made an estimate, and found that I had paid out about six thousand dollars for rent up to that time. Major Swaim, who had been my Chief of Staff, was then on duty in Washington, and he said to me : "Build yourself a house ; I will lend you enough money to pull you through, and take a mortgage as security." He is a man of some means. The Campbell will case, which I had just tried, had brought me in a fee of thirty-five hundred dollars, and by borrowing about sixty-five hundred from Swaim, I built my house in Washington. It cost about ten thousand, and I mortgaged it to Swaim for all it cost over my thirty-five hundred. Years afterwards I made some additions to it, which increased its value ; and I also bought an additional lot. I moved into that house in the winter of 1869. Now, right here is a point on that Credit Mobilier business. At the very time I was borrowing that money of Swaim to build my house, those people say there were three to four thousand dollars in dividends standing to my credit on Ames's books, which I had not called for. That could not very well have been without my knowing it ; and does any man of ordinary common sense borrow money when he has it in bank, or in his pocket ? As our family grew, our little house at Hiram became too small for us, and about 1872, instead of coming up here, and being overcrowded, we took quarters at Ocean Grove. We rented a cottage and spent the summer there. When I came here the next year, I found that a company of gentlemen were about starting a summer club up on Little Mountain. They invited me to join them, and I bought a share for a thousand dollars, and put up a little cottage that cost me about $300--just a cheap shell. We MY PERSONAL FINANCES. 43 spent three summers there, I think, and during that time I sold my house in Hiram to Hinsdale, now the president of the college. I got a little less than the house had cost me, but not much--the loss was trifling. While on Little Mountain, looking around and riding about, my love of farm life came back to me, and I said to myself, "I must either go tossing about in summer at watering places, at a heavy expense, or I must get some place where my boys can learn to work, and where I can myself have some exercise,--touch the earth and get some strength and magnetism from it. I saw this farm [at Mentor, Ohio], for sale, and late in the fall of 1876, just as I was about setting out for Washington, I bought it on five or six years' time. Question. Had you in the meanwhile paid the mortgage on your Washington house ? Not entirely. I made small payments from time to time, and within the last year,--soon after I tried a heavy railroad suit in Alabama, for which I got five thousand dollars,--I finished paying for it,--that is, I made so much of a payment that Swaim released the mortgage, though I still owe him about fifteen hundred dollars. Now, coming back to the Mentor house. I bought this place in 1876--118 acres for one hundred and fifteen dollars an acre, and subsequently I bought 40 acres adjoining at a hundred dollars an acre, because the owner had a right of way, that was an annoyance. For both of these places I gave my notes, secured by mortgage, paying five thousand dollars down on one, and one thousand on the other. In my first insurance case, where I was associated with Curtis, I was paid fifteen hundred dollars, and in the second case I got thirty-five hundred, just before I made the purchase on this larger tract,--those two amounts made the five thousand payment. I have been paying for the place along in installments, according to the contract, which was that it should be paid for from time to time during five years. The mortgage still stands against it uncancelled, but as I have paid I have taken up the notes. Then I spent about four thousand on the house and grounds. This was an old house, only a story and a half high. I have lifted it up to two stories, and I have repaired the fences, and put the farm generally into good order. I suppose that I have an equity here of about $10,000, another $10,000 in my Washington house, and, say, about $5,000 in my library and outside 44 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. traps, so that I may prudently say I am worth about $25,000--the result of all of twenty-five years reasonably hard work. I have a pretty valuable library. Outside of documents which have come to me from Congress, and have cost me nothing, I have about three thousand volumes of picked books, among them a complete set of U. S. Supreme Court Reports, worth of themselves five hundred dollars. The result of the whole is, as near as I can get at it, that my salary has just about supported my family, and that all the property I have has been the result of my legal practice, and of one or two small outside operations. My legal practice has been my principal resource for accumulation. But that has not been regular--it has varied much in different years, being some years not over a thousand dollars, and in others running up as high as seven and eight thousand. During my first years in Congress my family was small, and I not only lived within my salary, but saved a little every year. Subsequently, as my family grew larger, it just about consumed the whole of my salary. My salary for the first two or three Congresses was $3,000, then it was raised to $5,000, and, temporarily, to $7,500--but that increase I declined to take, and covered it back into the Treasury. I ought to say that for my first year in Congress I received only $750, for the reason that for the first nine months of that year I was in the field, and drawing pay as a brigadier-general. I did just as much service in Congress as anybody else ; but there was a question whether one could rightfully draw two salaries, so I solved the doubt for myself, and drew pay for only the actual time that I served in Congress. Now, as to my outside operations. They have been very small, and are scarcely worth mentioning ; but while we are on this subject I may as well tell you the whole. In 1865, during one of my vacations, I took an interest with a few gentlemen in some oil lands in Pennsylvania, out of which I realized a certain sum, I have forgotten what, but I got in payment some western lands, which I held for some time, selling portions of them along from time to time. Those sales helped my payments on my Washington house. Then, some years ago, I bought a little stock in one of the Bonanza silver mines. I held the stock for a couple years, and then sold it, making something upon it--not much. And about 1865 I bought 320 acres of land near Iowa City. That I held MY PERSONAL FINANCES. 45 about ten years, when I sold it, making about fifty per cent. These all were small matters, but they helped to meet my Washington house payments. As a general thing I have kept out of speculations. I have no taste for that sort of transaction. I think this is about the whole of my financial history. JAMES A. GARFIELD. LETTERS TO PROMINENT PERSONS. NO. 6, PART 2D.--TO HON. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. YOUR partisans noticeably do not share the extreme sensibility of him who fell beneath the tower of Thebez. Instead of displaying his virile antipathy to being a woman's trophy, they seem to think that if they can but persuade men to say of one, "A woman slew him," he need not be so very dead after all ! I shall perhaps be considered as lending myself to these humane efforts by adding what may be reckoned a postscript to my previous letter ; but a postscript which you were good enough to furnish and which it would be presumptuous in me to suppress. As if anxious to prove my conclusions not too severe, even before my letter had left the printers' hands, you gave so ample and so luminous a justification of its strictures, that I should be a mere spendthrift of demonstration not to present it as the latest, most characteristic and most impressive of your political achievements. The Union League Club, of Chicago, designing to inaugurate a revival of patriotism, and to stimulate a true and distinctive Americanism, determined to emphasize the birthday of Washington. To this end they resolved to establish a series of lectures to be delivered on the 22d of February of each year. It was assumed that an occasion so specifically marked, and so carefully prepared for, would be honored by an address, written with the motive of the Club or the central idea of the new movement in mind,--I am giving almost the very language of the Club itself. It was a noble purpose, and the mode of effecting it was nobly planned. The whole movement started on the highest level. Socially, morally, patriotically, it is fraught with promise to our country. The Club paid you the high honor of inviting you, as long ago as last October, to deliver the opening lecture of this series. You LETTERS TO PROMINENT PERSONS. 47 accepted, and named your subject--"Our Politics." You were invited to make your own terms, and you are reported to have made them five hundred dollars. Your theme and your terms were instantly agreed to. The programmes were prepared, the audience was assembled, and then, instead of delivering the speech which had been promised and paid for, you coolly substituted an altogether different and inapposite dissertation, which no one had demanded and which no one wanted ! I do not place this on a level of obligation or honor. On the ordinary plane of financial business, of mercantile traffic, I ask, is this fair dealing ? Certainly it is not considered fair dealing at the corner grocery whose introduction into politics you deplore. If the corner grocer should conduct his business in that way, it would not be long before he would find himself lodged in the county jail. And you had hardly found your tongue before you began to talk of your "conscience," which, you intimated, was so imperious that it would not let you alone, and so superior in delicacy to that of your countrymen that its voice is like the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Beyond doubt the Club will agree that your voice cannot be more appropriately engaged than in crying--crying loud and hard in a genuine and penitent wail, till you are ready to come out of the wilderness into Christian society and behave yourself like an honest corner-grocer, in or out of politics. What reason did you give fore the extraordinary liberty you took ? Simply that on arriving in Chicago you found that you were to address a mixed audience, an audience composed of both parties ! You professed that you "had been in the habit of speaking your mind pretty strongly, but you felt that here you stood in a very delicate position, where you could not express yourself with entire frankness." And then you walked into the dining-room, and rising among the little wax Cupids and Venuses and Apollos of boned turkey en Bellevue and aspic of foies gras, you announced boldly that "what is wanting in our politicians of the present day, more than anything else, is the one element of courage. To ME courage is the highest of the virtues, because it is the safeguard of every other virtue !" And you said it as blandly as if you had not just waved the white feather of retreat more palpably than ever the soldier King of Navarre wore the white plumes of onset. 48 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Every other American sees the grotesqueness of your attitude. Is it possible that you cannot be made to see it ? It is so simple that he who runs--and certainly you are he--may read. You are a man of letters. Learn the a b c of courage. You wrote your lecture and carried it to Chicago. When you got there you found so many who did not agree with you that you dared not deliver it, and you rushed to cover in the grave of Shakespeare ! This is all there is of it. You had not the courage of your convictions. You dared not face a disapproving audience. You had been quite resolved to "speak your mind pretty strongly," so long as you thought your audience were of the same mind ; but as soon as you saw opposition, you fancied six Richmonds in the field, and you turned and fled with Richard III. It is idle to talk of the "delicacy of your position." It was no merely private and social occasion ; it was a Club with a thousand members celebrating the birthday of Washington. You were invited to speak on politics. The object, you were fully informed, was to seek higher political education. There was no delicacy in your position, but there was danger,--danger of your audience disagreeing with you, since it was "a mixed audience, an audience composed of both parties." But that was the very thing you ought, as a man of patriotism and a man of nerve, to have welcomed. That was your opportunity ; that is what the politicians whose cowardice you deplore are constantly doing. Every man in Congress, every man in our State Legislature, every man on the stump, faces "a mixed audience,--an audience composed of both parties." It is because they face you and combat you, you and your faction, boldly, uncompromisingly, that they have earned your hostility. But you,--you who "place courage above all the other virtues because it is the safeguard of all the others," --when you found that you could not compliment the English Government as you wished, without offending the Irish who had but lately heard Justin McCarthy, or that the Union League Club of Chicago were not all Mugwumps, as the wrathful Club men variously and rather roughly put it, you threw down your manuscript, left all the other virtues to shift for themselves, and shambled after Richard III. as sorry a sight as the deformed King himself. The part of courage would have been to address the men who were not Mugwumps. What hindered you ? You LETTERS TO PROMINENT PERSONS. 49 "threw up your political discourse because you could not make it to your mind." Who forbade your making it to your mind ? No one had control over you, and you had months of notice. It was your own fears that dominated you, and make us conclude that you do not know what cowardice or courage is. You had so little comprehension of the situation that you summoned the prophet Nathan to your assistance ; but if Nathan had been of your kind, as soon as he found himself in the King's presence, and saw that David actually was the man and that David's eye was on him, he would have quietly smothered his little ewe lamb under his prophet's robe and delivered to the royal and formidable sinner a rambling dissertation on the question as to whether Moses or Miriam wrote the Song of the Red Sea ! Could the most practical politician of your despised corner grocery display more of childishness than you, when, after your own confession that you had come to Chicago to tell the truth, but, finding that you were likely to meet a good many who did not believe or did not like your truth, you had decided not to tell it ; having, that is, run away with your truth from the first men you met, you had the brazen or the infantile assurance to rise up in the evening and say, "The one thing that is more wanting than anything else is people who will tell the truth to the first man they meet, or to any number of men that they meet." Do you not see that your position is exactly that of the soldier of our war of the rebellion who declared that his head was "just as good a fighter as Grant's or Sherman's, but, damn it ! when the fighting begins my legs won't hold me." In the comparatively safe shelter of the banqueting hall, in the centre of a hollow square of Harvard graduates, behind a fortification of smilax and tulips, your courage rose to the valiant pronunciamento that "it is the business of us educated men, if we can but unite with anybody else--at any rate to unite with each other--to see if we cannot do something." You had already shown what you would do if you had to stand alone ; you would "stand edgeways ;" but, if we can unite with each other, it is the business of us educated men "to see if we cannot do something." You deplored--indirectly, to be sure, and "edgeways"--our lack of great men and our indisposition to send to the front the best we have, and you thought we "educated men" should "pay a VOL. CXLV.--NO. 368. 4 50 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. little more attention to politics, still more to other people's politics." Very well, The Union League Club determined to do something ; to pay more attention to their own and to other people's politics. They were already united with each other, and they were eager to unite with you. But you refused to unite. They brought our greatest man to the front, and you were so poor as not to do him reverence. You had been asked to take the chief part in celebrating the birthday of Washington ; to induce a revival of patriotism by emphasizing the observance of Washington's birthday. The very menu of your banquet was inscribed with Washington's wisdom and statesmanship. You never so much as mentioned him. You never referred to him, except in a parenthesis of a paragraph devoted to an English duke. You may well indulge lament, and it will be a long lament, over our lack of great men, if Washington is not great enough to inspire you with one uplifting word, aglow with his courage, his wisdom, and his patriotism. It may even be that you will follow in the path pointed out by your English compeer, General my Lord Wolseley, and presently place in your empty niche of greatness the rebel Lee as the hero of the nineteenth century. When the question was of great men, telling the truth, displaying courage, you ambled off into a superficial and fragmentary investigation of the stale old question as to whether Shakespeare was written by Shakespeare or by another man of the same name. The portieres and tapestries of the hall had been removed to make place for the flag of our country, and that nothing might be wanting to the lofty inspiration of the occasion, even the daffodils and Jacqueminots breathed the noble sentiment, "In proportion as the structure of a government gives force to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlightened." You responded by throwing no light, but rather darkness visible on the unimportant authorship of an insignificant character, whose only claim upon modern attention is that four centuries ago he sat for two bloody years upon the English throne. Is this the point upon which "we educated men" suppose the Chicago Club, in the spirit of Washington's Farewell Address, desire to enlighten public opinion ? You claim loftily to be a man of letters, but you have not learned the alphabet of Americanism if you think the purpose of cherish- LETTERS TO PROMINENT PERSONS. 51 ing and stimulating a more exalted patriotism in the hearts of the American people on the day which of all days signifies the birth, the growth, and the genius of our institutions is to be subserved by your scrambling behind Robin Hood's barn and amusing yourself with shooting a few play-arrows at a home-made target, four hundred years off, on the other side of the ocean. If anything could reconcile us to your ignoble back-down at Music Hall it would be the political addresses which you were forced to stand and deliver at the banquets. It must have required something like nerve to enable you to confront the strong, impatient common sense of a Western audience with your complacent saws and your flat contradictions. Your amazing unconsciousness of the latter even spread a certain quaint grotesque flavor over the dreariness of the former. It must have been something akin to courage which permitted you who had so ignominously dropped the laboring oar, to address the gentlemen of the Club who had taken their magnificent pains to inaugurate a revival of exalted patriotism--"Now, gentlemen, you may be as indifferent as you like, but I say" thus and thus. Was it a mental obscuration so complete as to be indistinguishable from courage, that suffered you to lay down as a novel and self-evident proposition "that we ought in this country to be choice in our leaders ; that here, more than anywhere else, especially in the chief place in this Nation, it is the man who makes the place, and not the place that makes the man ?" Thinking it over afterwards, in the calm seclusion of Harvard, to you consider it a brilliant illustration of the good to be accomplished by the irruption of "us educated men" into politics that you have put a Sheriff, without collegiate, or political, or social education, into the chief place in the Nation, to make it after his own Buffalo fashion? You conceive of a higher plane of politics than "a matter of practical business"--"a kind of politics which studies the laws of cause and effect, and gradually formulates certain laws by which its judgment is guided ;" and this you call "statesmanship." And the President of your "educated" choice practices statesmanship by sitting at his desk fourteen hours a day writing away for dear life, like the veriest clerk, evidently under the impression that he was made President by the Pharisees in order to do the work of a Scribe. You discovered that "the city of Boston has joined the ring 52 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. of American cities, and has a governing board which enriches itself by utilizing the offices of government." Did you say this when you were banqueting at the Boston board ? That would have been the place to say it, rather than the banquet of the Chicago Club, a thousand miles away--not the safer place, perhaps, but the bolder and more effective place. You think that reform of or within the old parties is hopeless, and you do not wish to form a new party. You only desire that "good men and sensible men and honest men shall act together on certain points." What is that but a party ? Any number of men acting together on certain points is a party. This party of good, sensible, honest men is called the Democratic party, or the Republican party, according to the person speaking. A man must flock all by himself if we wants to stay outside of party. You take a leaf from Mr. Parnell's book, but you read it upside down. Mr. Parnell is perhaps the strongest party man on this earth. He holds a dictation more rigid than any American leader would venture to apply, and the cause of Ireland is strong because he holds it. You are inclined to make it a reproach to your country that the population of the Colonies, at the time of our Revolution, was on the whole better educated in the principles of English liberty than their descendants of to-day. Undoubtedly they were, and it was because our Colonial ancestors were so well educated in the principles of English liberty that they would have none of it. The English liberty to which they were treated is fully summed up in the Declaration of Independence--a document which, even to this day, is regarded in England as an atrocious insult to the Crown. It may be that you also regard it as one of those rash, outspoken arraignments which the educated taste of the Harvard of to-day should condemn. But an English liberty which imposed taxes without consent of the taxed, which quartered soldiers in private houses in time of peace, which dissolved representative assemblies that proclaimed liberal principles, which deprived the people of the right to elect legislatures, which constantly obstructed the administration of justice, and made trial by jury a farce or a mere form of subservient obedience to autocratic authority, is an English liberty of which our Colonial forefathers learned altogether too much. If you choose that type of English liberty, instead of the broad American liberty whereunto you were born, I am ready to believe what I have hitherto refused LETTERS TO PROMINENT PERSONS. 53 to believe, that on your way from Madrid to London, to assume the English Mission, you gleefully recalled with special gratification the fact that an ancestor of yours fought on the Royal side at Bunker Hill. I can believe what many of your countrymen have refused to believe, that more than once in Tory houses in England you have referred to this fact as matter of family pride. No one would restrain your right of free speech, or your free enjoyment of your ancestors, but you would have been a truer representative of your country if you had avowed this source of your family pride in America, to your own government, before you were appointed to the English Mission ; since in that case you would have been unanimously chosen to represent your cherished ancestral tombstone in the quiet shades of Harvard. Your idea of our Civil Service long ago passed the stage of analysis or argument, and merits now only to be dismissed--if ever the slang of your English may cross the threshold of a decent periodical, --as "beastly rot." What else is your discovery, on your return to your own country,--that "the one, and only one, source of all the ills is the condition of our Civil Service;" that "the evil in Spain was a civil service precisely like our own," which in Spain had gone so far as to "keep the people ready for revolution at any moment ?" Are our people ready, or getting ready, or developing a tendency to get ready for revolution at any moment ? In what respect was the civil service of Spain precisely like our own ? Was it it in collecting and disbursing the revenues of the country with scrupulous fidelity ? Was it in the personnel of the Civil Service-- a class of men averaging as high for integrity and intelligence as any profession or occupation in this country or in any country? You say the notion is spreading that every man who has a share in the government of the country ought to have a share in its funds. Spreading where ? I have had a wide acquaintance in this country, and beyond the salaries of officials, which are sometimes niggardly, and never generous, except perhaps in the highest office, the Presidency, I have not heard that sentiment so much as breathed. Designate any man or club, inside or outside our Civil Service, that ever publicly or privately uttered such a sentiment, or anything which could be construed into such a motive of action ; or that was ever known to act on such a sentiment without incurring the contumely of disgrace or the penalty of crime. If this robber-theory of our government is spreading anywhere, 54 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. it must be spreading where you have lived so long--in England. And it is spreading there, not by reason of any dishonesty or incompetency of our Civil Service, but because the faction of dissatisfaction to which you belong has never ceased its endeavor to build itself up by groundless and reckless slander of our common country. As a consequence of our defective Civil Service, you maintain, other countries are better represented in their Parliaments than we. What countries ? Is Ireland one--fighting tooth and nail for a hundred years, with famine and woe, with torch and bullet, and at last, and successfully, with rigid self-discipline and every device of Parliamentary skill and Constitutional right, for any representation at all ? Is Scotland better represented, that cannot build a railroad at Inverary without asking permission at London ? Is England one of these countries ? You certainly cannot mean that other countries are more equitably represented, for, as we give in our House of Commons a representation based impartially on the number of people, we present a fairness in that regard unknown in any other country. If you mean that we do not send as able men to the American Congress as are sent to European Parliaments, that would resolve itself into an odious comparison-- one in regard to which your own career has placed a disability upon you as judge. We are not familiar in this country with Continental Parliaments, knowing only the towering personalities like Bismarck in Germany, Cavour in Italy, Gambetta in France ; but if you seek a comparison in England, and confine it to the half century since you left Harvard, certainly the United States would not suffer. The era of Clay, Webster, Calhoun, and Benton ; the era of Douglas, Seward, Sumner, and Fessenden ; the era of Blaine, Hoar, Thurman, Sherman, Carlisle and Conkling,--will certainly compare favorably with the corresponding era of the British Parliament. Where has the United States intrusted leading positions in the House to such men as Hicks-Beach, Arthur Balfour, and W. H. Smith ? You are probably viewing the Congressmen chosen by the people in the light of your own little shy at selecting a popular representative for the head of the Nation ; but you will do well to remember the Prince's rejoinder when the tailor complained that the company was not sufficiently exclusive--"Does he expect it to be all tailors ?" With your invincible genius for unconscious contradiction and LETTERS TO PROMINENT PERSONS. 55 self-portrayal, you admit that "the worst part of the corruption of our Civil Service is that office is a reward for political service of any kind," with the result that "when a man has got experience we put another man in his place !" This maudlin stuff long ago fell below the level of argument, fortunately for both of "us educated men," since in point of this argument between you and me, honors will be easy. As your office was given you unquestionably in reward for political service, you hold the ace ; but since the same corruption put another man in your place, your country as unquestionably takes the trick. Mr. Lowell, when in the decisive moment you decided for the evil side, you seem to have lost your power of distinguishing good from evil. Your high political morality exhausts itself in sounding words. You declaim of courage ; then throw your musket over your shoulder and run. You denounce corruption, yourself mildewed all over with its fungi,--if corruption is, as you say, rewarding political service with office. You pause, out of breath with your swift rush from the defeated to the winning side, only long enough to condemn "the practical politician" for being "first on one side of the question and then turning suddenly to the other." You deplore our lack of greatness, and with all your strength you celebrate littleness. You summon "us educated men" to politics, and you show a solid political ignorance to the square inch, that, volatilized, would envelop the world in haze. While you have been dining and wining in England, you have lost the run of the United States. You stand outside, not only of party, but of that strong, subtle, mysterious current which is the soul of our real politics. Should we send our best to the convention of 1888, if it were to be held now, you ask, and looking around upon your Harvard Alumni,--you answer by implication, No ;-- and no doubt correctly for your part of Harvard, which would strike as it struck before on the level of an ex-sheriff and a creature of accident,--the "wooden idol" whom you bear aloft on your shoulders with the shrill outcry, "These by thy Gods, O, Israel !" But the West, for whom in Chicago you profess a livelier hope than for your own Massachusetts, the West from whose greater force and freshness, and vitality, and Americanism you gather trust for the future ; this great West of the keener insight and the stronger courage, is the same West, that, while you were dallying and shilly-shallying, bewailing our lack of great men and dropping finally 56 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. into the grasp of small men,--has built itself up year after year, in convention after convention, against your opposition and the opposition of all the sham and shoddy of your party ; built itself up, not of men who acted with it in convention, and acted against it outside of convention, but built itself up steadfastly like a well of adamant round that which is best and broadest in your cause ; made a stand for Americanism in its widest commercial sweep, in it loftiest attitude of continental dignity, in its ultimate purpose of the freedom, the happiness, the elevation of every human being. You announce that you have arrived at a time of life when you may fairly hang up your armor in the Temple of Janus. As you like. Your partiality to hanging cannot be more harmlessly indulged. But you must not stand in the doorway of the temple, and fire random shots, poisoned bullets, at your countrymen outside, who are still fighting in the thick of the battle. "But if anybody touches my shield," you say, "possibly I may answer." I await your answer, with the eager desire that you may yet show yourself to be what your countrymen would most gladly believe you--a Knight without fear and without reproach. ARTHUR RICHMOND. THE SHAKESPEARE MYTH. II. BACON knew that, sooner or later, some one would notice this concatenation of "FRANCIS," "BACON," "NICHOLAS," "BACONS," "BACON-fed," "FRANCIS," "FRANCIS," "FRANCIS," etc. ; "WILLIAM," "WILLIAM," "WILLIAM," etc. ; "SHAKES," "PEERE," "SHAKE" "SPEARE," and the infinite shakes, spurs, speares, and spheres scattered through every play in the Folio ; and would dove-tail all this into what Bacon had said in the "De Augmentis," in his essay therein upon Ciphers, about the best cipher of all, "where the writing infolding holdeth a quintuple relation to the writing infolded," and, having once started upon the scent, would never abandon the chase until he had dug out the cipher. Turn to that page, 53, of the Histories, in the fac-simile of the Folio, and count down from the top, counting the spoken words only, and not the stage directions, or names of characters, and the word "BACON" is the 371st word from the top. Now, the page is 53. There are seven italic words on that column. Multiply 53 by 7 and the product is 371--to wit, the word "BACON." The next page is 54 ; there are twelve italics upon the first column ; 54 multiplied by 12 makes 648. If you start to count at the same place, the top of the first column of 53, and omit to count the words in brackets, the 648th word is the 189th word on the second column--to wit, "NICHOLAS." If you turn to page 67 of the same play, on the first column, you will find the word "S. ALBONES" (Saint Albans), the name of Bacon's residence, from which he took the title, when knighted, of "Francis St. Albans." There are six italic words in that 58 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. column. Six times 67, the number of the page, are 402. Count from the top of the column, and "ST. ALBONES" is the 402d word ! I would ask the attention of the reader to the fac-similes of the Folio of 1623 which accompany this article. These are well worth studying ; that Folio is the greatest book ever published on earth since man invented the first hieroglyphic. I cannot at this time give the rule of the cipher ; I hope to have my book in the hands of the printer in two or three months, and satisfy fully the expectations of the world ; but I can give enough, I trust, to convince any one, not absolutely steeped to the lips in ignorance and prejudice, that the composition is artificial and not natural ; that it is gnarled, compressed, condensed, with its weight of compact thought ; and that it is twisted to conform to the requirements of a mathematical cipher. Observe the way in which the verse is loaded with significant words (col. 1, page 76) : "The lives of all your loving complices, Leane-on your health, the which if you give-o'er To stormy passion, must perforce decay." What will decay ? The lives of your complices ? Lives can end ; can they decay ? "You cast the event of war [my noble Lord], And summed the accompt of chance, before you said Let us make head." Why is "my noble Lord" in brackets ? Why are "lean" "on" united by a hyphen ? "Let us made head :"--was there no better expression for let us declare war ? "It was your presurmise That in the dole of blows your son might drop, You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get-o'er." "Dole of blows ?" "On an edge" of what ? Could the great master of language, if unrestrained, have done no better than this ? "And yet we ventured for the gain proposed, Choked the respect of likely peril feared." This may perhaps sound natural enough to the reader, but I, who know how almost every word has been forced in, to make up The First Part of King Henry the Fourth. And then the power of Scotland, and of Yorke To joyne with Morrimer, He. Wor. And so they shall. Hot. In faith it is exceedingly well aym’d. Wor. And ’tis no little reason bids us speed. To save our heads, by raising of a Head: For, beare our felues as even as we can, The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt, And thinke, we thinke our felues unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us honor. And see already, how he doth beginne to make us strangers to his lookes of love. Hot. He does, he does; wee’l be reveng’d on him. Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this, Then I by Letters shall direct your course When time is ripe, which will be sodainly: He steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer. Where you, and Douglas, and our powres at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meete, To beare our fortunes. In our owne strong armes, Which now we hold as much uncertainty. Nov. Farewell good Brother, we shall thrive, I trust. Hor. Uncle, adieu: O let the houres be short, Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport. exes Ætus Secundus. Scena Prima. Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand. 1. Car. Heigh-ho, and be not foure by the day, Ile be hang’d. Charlesmaine is over the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What Ostler? Ost. Anon, anon. 1. Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the point: the poore lade is wrung in the withers, out of all cesse. Enter another Carrier. 2. Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog. and this is the next way to give poore lades the Botes: This house is turned upside downe since Robin the Ostler dyed. 1. Car. Poore fellow never joy’d since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him. 2. Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench. 1. Car. Line a Tench? There is ne’re a King in Christendome, could be better bit, then I have beene since the first Cocke. 2. Car. Why, you will allow vs ne’re a jourden, and then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach. 1. Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd, come away. 2. Car. I have a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be delivered as farre as Charing-crosse. 1. Car. The Tarkies in my Pannier are quire starved. What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou never an eye in thy head? Can’st not heare? And t’were not as good a deed as drinke to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villaine. Come and be hang’d, hast no faith in thee? Enter Gads-hill. Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What’s a clocke? Car. I thinke it be two a clocke. Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding in the stable. 1. Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that Gad. I prethee lend me thine. 2. Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth a) marry Ile see thee hang’d first. Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London? 2. Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee’ll call up the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they have great charge. Exeums Enter Chamberlaine. Gad. What ho, Chamberlaine? Cham. At hand quoth Pick-purse. Gad. That’s even as faire, as at hand quoth the Chamberlaine: For thou varies no more from picking of Purses, then giving direction, doth from labouring. Thou lay’st the plot, how. Cham. Good morrow Master Gads-Hall, it holds currant that I told you yesternight. There’s a Franklin in the wilde of Kent hath brought three hundred Markes with him in gold: I heard him tell it to one of his company last night as Supper; a kinde of Auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too (God knowes what) they are up already, and call for Egges and Butter. They will away presently. Gad. Sirra, if they meete not with S. Nicholas Clarks, Ile give thee this necke. Cham. No, Ile none of it: I prythee keep that for the Hangman, for I know thou worshipst S. Nicholas as truly as a man of falshood may. Gad. What talkest thou to me of the Hangman? If I hand, Ile make a fat payre of Gallowes. For, If I hang, old Sir John hangs with mee, and thou know’st hee’s no Starveling. Tut, there are other Troians that y dream’s not of, the which (for sport take) are content to doe the Profession some grace; that would (if matters should bee look’d into) for their owne Credit sake, make all Whole, I am joyned with no Poor-land-Rakers, no Long-staffe six-penny strikers, none of these mad Mustachio-purple- hu’d Maltwormes, but with Nobility, and Tranquilitie; Bourgomasters, and great Oneyers, such as can helde in, such as will sinke sooner then speake; and speake sooner than drinke, and drinke sooner then pray; and yet I lye, for they pray continually, unto their Saint the Commonwealth; or rather, not to pray to her, but prey on her: for they ride up & downe on her, and make hir their Boots. Charm. What, the Commonwealth their Bootes? Will she hold out water in foule way? Gad. She will, she will; Justice hath liquor’d her. We steale as in a Castle, cocksure: we have the receit of Fernseede, we walke invisible. Charm. Nay, I thinke rather, you are more beholding to the Night, then to the Fernseed, for your walking invisible. Gad. Give me thy hand Thou shalt have a share in our purpose As I am a true man. Cham. Nay, rather let mee have it, as you are a false Theefe. Gad. Goetoo: Homo is a common name to all men. Bid the Ostler bring the Gelding out of the stable. Farewell, ye muddy Keave. Exeuent. e2 Scena 54 The First Part of King Henry the Fourth Scana Secunda. Enter Prince Poynes, and Peto. Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I have removed Falstafs Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet Prin. Stand close. Enter Falstaffe. Fal. Poines,Poines and be hang'd Poines. Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling dost thou keepe Fas. What Poines. Hal? Prin. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill, Ile go seek him. Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that Rascall hath removed my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travell but foure foot by the squire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing that Rogue, I have forsworne his company hourely any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rascall have not given me medicines to make me love him, Ile be hang'd;it could not be else: I have drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a Plague upon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starve ere I rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne True-man, and to leave these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that ever chewed with a Tooth Eight yards of uneven ground, Is threescore & ten miles afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it well enough. A plague upon't, when Theeues cannot be true to one another. They whistle. Whew: a plague light upon you all. Give my Horse you Rogues: give me my Horse, and be hang'd. Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of Travellers. Fal. Have you any Leauers to lift me up again being downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus? Prin. Thou ly'ft, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted, Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse. good Kings sonne. Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler? Fal. Go hang they selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I have not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote too, I hate it Enter Gadshill Gad. Stand. Fal. So I do against my will. Poin. O'tis our Setter, I know his voyce Bardolfe, what newes? Bar. Cafe ye, cafe ye; on with your Vizards, there's mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer. Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tavern. Gad. There's enough to make us all. Fal. To be hang'd. Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I, will weike lower; if they scape from your encounter, then they light on us. Peto. But how many be of them? Gad. Some eight or ten. Fal. Will they not rob us? Prin. What a Coward Sir John Paunch? Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather: but yet no Coward, Hal. Prin. Wee'l leave that to the proofe. Poin. Sirra lacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg, when thon need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell, and stand fast. Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd. Prin. Ned, where are our disguises? Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close. Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: every man to his businesse. Enter Travallers. Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges. Theoues. Stay. Tra. Iesu blesse us. Fal. Strike: down with them, cut the villains throates a whorson Caterpillars. Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate us youth; downe with them, fleece them. Tra. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever. Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you undone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. on Bacons on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are Grand lurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith. Here they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines. Prin. The Theeues have bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a Moneth, and a good iest for ever. Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming. Enter Theeues again. Fal. Come my Masters, let us share, and then to horsse before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand Cowards, there's no equity flitting. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke. Prin. Your money. Poin. Villaines As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set upon them. They all run away, leaving the booty behind them. Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse. The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweares to death, and Lards, the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him. Poin. How the Rogue roar'd. Exeunt. Scæna Tertia. Enter Hotspurre soltes, reading a Letter. But for mine owne part, my Lord, I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the love I beare your house. He THE SHAKESPEARE MYTH 59 part of a cipher sentence, can see the lines of the mortar in the awkward masonry. "What hath then befallen ? Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth More than this being which was like to be." Read that last line over, and read it slowly : "More than this being which was like to be." It sounds like an extract from Mark Twain's recent essay on "English as she is taught." Any one who will read that column will observe the forced and unnatural construction of the sentences, and the crowding in of significant words, with hardly enough of smaller words to bind them together. The necessities of the cipher sometimes constrain the writer to make the sentence ungrammatical, as in that "Or what hath this bold enterprize bring forth." See how the larger words are crowded together in these lines : "Turns insurrection to religion, Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts." Then turn to page 75, and observe how arbitrarily the words are bracketed. Note, on column one, this line : "I ran from Shrewsbury [my noble Lord]." Farther down we have : "But speak [Morton]. Tell thou thy Earle his Divination lies." Then take the last line on that column : "You are too great to be [by me] gainsaid. On the second column of 75 we have: "I cannot think [my Lord] your son is dead." "From whence [with life] he never more sprung up." No printer in the world would set up these sentences in that fashion unless he was especially directed to do so. But, it may be said, this, perhaps, was the custom of the time 60 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. or of the author. Turn to page 73, given here in fac-simile, and you will find but three words in brackets ; you will not find a single word in brackets on the whole of page 72 ; there is one on page 71, none on page 70, none on page 69, and one on page 68. Now, the two plays, "1st and 2d Henry IV.," are continuous ; the former ends with the battle of Shrewsbury, and the other begins with the bringing of the news of the battle to the Earl of Northumberland. The cipher narrative runs continuously from one to the other. And yet on the last six pages of "1st Henry IV." there are but five words in brackets, while on the first six pages of "2d Henry IV." there are two hundred and forty-two words in brackets. One of the most curious specimens of bracketing is on the second column of page 78, "2d Henry IV.," which is printed in the Folio as follows : "Much more, in this great worke [Which is [almost] to plucke a Kingdome downe And set another up], should we survey The plot of Situation." Here we have a bracket of one word inside of a bracket of eleven words. And here we see that same crowding together of incoherent words necessitated by the cipher, "Should we survey The plot of Situation." Now observe the way in which words are hyphenated in these fac-similes : "Well-known," "post-horse," and "peasant-towns" (column 1, page 74), are well enough ; but consider that combination near the bottom of the same column : "And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged stone." "Worm-eaten stone" is something out of the common order ; but why unite "worm-eaten-hole" in one word ? Then take the last lines on that column : "From Rumors Tongues; They bring smooth-Comforts-false, worse than True-wrongs." There is not a compositor in Christendom who would set up those words in that fashion unless he was absolutely ordered to do so. On the last six pages of "1st Henry IV." there are twenty-two THE SHAKESPEARE MYTH. 61 hyphenated words ; on the first six pages of "2d Henry IV." there are eighty-three. Think of printing "the horse he rode on," "the horse he rode-on," as it is on the first column of page 75. Now, must not all these facts go far to convince any reasonable mind that there is something strange and unusual in the construction of this text ? Consider now attentively the first column of page 74. There are on it ten words in brackets and twelve words in italics. But one of the words in brackets is the compound word "post-horse." If this is counted as two words, we have then eleven words in brackets ; so that the first column of page 74 will yield us three numbers, ten, eleven, and twelve. We have seen how the words "NICHOLAS," "BACON," and "ST. ALBANS" occupied the position on the column obtained by multiplying the number of the page by the number of italics on the column. Now, there are in scene one, of Act 1st, "2 Henry IV.," three pages, 74, 75, and 76. If we multiply these numbers by the three numbers we have found on the first column of page 74, to wit : 10, 11, and 12, we have the following numbers : 740, 750, 760, 814, 825, 836, 888, 900, and 912. Let us take the first number, 740. If the reader will count the words from the top of the first column of page 74, counting only the words of the text, omitting the stage directions and names of the characters, and also the words in brackets, and counting each compound word as one word, he will find that the 740th word is the word "volume." But if he will count, in the same way, and go up the first column of page 75, instead of down, he will find the 740th word to be the word "maske." These are surely very significant words. Let us make this plainer. There are 532 words on page 74. The count then stands : 10 x 74 = . . . . . . . . . . 740 Deduct the words on page 74 . . . . . . . . . . 532 208 = volume. 208 = mask. Now, if we commence at the beginning of column one, page 75, and count forward and down the column, we have as the 740th word the 293d word on the second column of page 75, to wit, "his ;" up the column it is the word "greatest." 62 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Now, begin again at the top of the second column of page 73, and count backwards and down the second column of page 72, and the 740th word is the word "therefore," the 334th word, while up the column it is the word "image." We saw that after deducting the words on page 74 from 740 there were 208 words left. Now, carry this remainder back to the beginning of the scene, on page 73, and count forward and down, and the 208th word is the 129th word on the second column of page 73, and it is the word "shown." Again, if you commence to count from the top of the second column of page 74 forward and down, the 740th word is "say," the 45th word on the second column of page 75, while up the column it is "upon," the 464th word. Again, if we commence to count at the top of the first column of page 74, and backwards, the 740th word down the second column of page 72 is the word "but," the 50th word ; while up the same column it is the word "own." But if I go much further I shall let out more of the cipher than my publishers will deem prudent. Here we have the words say, greatest, image, shown, upon, his volume, but, mask own ; each one of which is the 740th word from a well-defined starting point. They are the component parts of a sentence like this : "I was in the greatest fear that they would say that the image shown upon the title-leaf of his volume was but a mask to hide my own face." I will even be obliging enough to point out some of these words : "fear" is the 234th word, second column, page 75 ; "title-leaf" is the 201st word, column one, page 75 ; "hide" is the 54th word, second column, page 72 ; and "face" the 57th word on the same. Now, let the ingenious reader see if he can piece out the rest of the sentence with the aids I have given him. But it is a "volume" of plays ; and here we have the word "plays." Multiply 74 by 12, the number of italics on the column, and the result is 888:--three eights in a row, a quite unusual arrangement of figures. Now begin to count from the top of column one, page 72; the 888th word is the word "plays." If we count up the column the 888th word is the word "or," the 195th word ; the sentence is, "plays or shows," "shows" being the Elizabethan word for exhibitions. The "shows" will be found on page 76; it is the 272d word, and the 888th from a certain starting point, which the reader must find out--if he can. 72 The First Part of King Henry the Fourth So many of his shadowes thou hast met, And not the very King. I have two Boyes Seeke Percy and thy selfe about the Field. But seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, I will allay thee: so defend thy selfe. Dow. I fear thou art another counterfeit: And yet infaith thou bear'st thee like a King: But mine I am sure thou art, whoere thou be, And thus I win thee. They fight, the K. being in danger, Enter Prince Prin. Hold vp they head vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it vp againe : the Spirits of valiant Sherly, Stafford, Blvnt, are in my Armes; It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee, Who neuer promiseth, but he meanes to pay. They Fight, Douglas flyest. Cheerely My Lord: how fare's your Grace? Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, And so hath Clifton: Ile to Clifton straight. King. Stay, and breath awhile. Though hast redeem'd thy lost opinion, And shew'd thou mak'st some tender of my life In this faire rescue thou haft brought to mee. Prin. O heauen, they did me too much iniory, That euer said I hearkned to your death. If it were so, I might haue let alone The insulting hand of Dowglas ouer you, Which would haue bene as speedy in your end, As all the poysonous Potions in the world, And sau'd the Treacherous labour of your Sonne. K. Make vp to Clifton Ile to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. Exit. Enter Hotspur. Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. Prin. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name. Hot. My name is Harrie Percie. Prin. Why then I see a very valiant rebel of that name. I am the Prince of Wales, and thinke not Percy, To share with me in glory any more : Two Starres keepe not their motion in one Sphere, Nor can one England brook a double reigne, Of Harry Percy, and the Prince of Wales. Hot. Nor shall it Harry, for the houre is come To end the one of vs: and would to heauen, They name in Armes, were now as great as mine. Prin. He make it greater, ere I part from thee, And all the budding Honors on they Crest, Ile crop, to make a Garland for my head. Hot. I can no longer brooke thy Vanities. Fight. Enter Falstaffe. Fal. Well said Hal, to it Hal: Nay you shall finde no Boyes play heere, I can tell you. Enter Dowglas, he fights with Falstaffe, who fals down as if he were dead. The Prince killeth Persie. Hot. Oh Harry, thou hast rob'd me of my youth : I better brooke the losse of brittle life, Then those proud Titles thou hast wonne of me, They wound my thoghes worse, then the sword my flesh: But thought's the slaue of Life, and Life, Times foole: And Time, that takes suruey of all the world, Must haue a stop. O, I could Prophesie, But that the Earth, and the cold hand of death, Lyee on my Tongue : No Percy, thou art dust And food for ——— Prin. For Wormes, brave Percy Farewell great heart: Ill-weau'd Ambition, how much art thou shrunke? When that this bodie did containe a spirit, A Kingdome for it was too small a bound: But now two paces of the vilest Earth Is roome enough. This Earth that beares the dead, Beares not aliue so stout a Gentleman. If thou wer'e sensible of curtesie, I should not make so great a shew of Zeale, But let my fauours hide thy mangled face, And euen in thy behalfe, Ile thanke my selfe For doing these fayre Rites of Tendernesse. Adieu, and take they praise with thee to heauen, Thy ignomy sleepe with thee in the grave, But not remembred in thy Epitaph. What? Old Acquaintance? Could not all this flesh Keepe in a little life? Poore Iacke, farewell: I could haue better spar'd a better man. O, I should have a heauy misse of thee, If I were much in loue with Vanity. Death hath not strucke so fat a Deere to day, though many dearer in this bloody Fray : Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by, till then, in blood, by Noble Percie lye. Exit. Falstaffe riseth up. Falst. Imbowell'd? If thou imbowell mee to day, Ile giue you leaue to powder me, and eat me too to morow. 'Twastime to counterfet, or that hotte Termagant Scot, had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit; to dye, is to be a counterfeit, for hee is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man : But to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liueth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeede. The better part of Valour, is Discretion, in the which better part, I have saved my life. I am affraide of this Gun-powder Percy though he be dead. How if hee should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid hee would prove the better counterfeit: therefore Ile make him sure: yea, and Ile sweare I kill'd him. Why may not hee rise as well as I : Nothing confutes me but eyes, and no-bodie sees me. Therefore sirra, with a new wound in your thigh come you along me. Takes Hotspurre on his backe. Enter Prince and Iohn of Lancaster. Prin. Come Brother Iohn, full bravely hast though flesh'd thy Maiden sword. John. But soft, who haue we heere? Did you not tell me this Fat man was dead? Prin. I did, I saw him dead, Breathlesse, and bleeding on the ground: Art thou alive? Or is it fantasie that playes vpon our eye-sight? I prethee speake, we will not trust our eyes Without our eares. Thou art not what thou seem'st. Fal. No, that's certaine : I am not a double man: but if I be not Iacke Falstaffe, then am I a lacke : There is Percy, If your Father will do me any Honor, so: if not, let him kill the next Percie himselfe. I looke to be either Earle or Duke, I can assure you. Prin. Why, Percy I kill'd my selfe, and saw thee dead. Fal. Did'st thou? Lord, Lord, how the world is giuen to Lying? I graunt you I was downe, and out of Breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shrewsburie clocke. If I may bee beleeued, so : if not, let them that should reward Valour, beare the sinne upon their owne heads. Ile take't on my death I gaue him this wound in the Thigh : if the man vvere aliue, and would deny it, I would make him eate a pecce of my sword. Iohn. This is the strangest Tale that e're I heard. Prin. This is the strangest Fellow, Brother Iohn. Come The First Part of King Henry the Fourth. 73 Come bring your luggage Nobly on your back : For my part, if a lye may do thee grace, lle gil d is with happiest tearmes I have. A Retreat is sounded. The Trumpers sound Retreat, the day is ours: Come Brother, let's to the highest of the field, To see what Friends are liuing, who are dead. Exeunt Fal; Ile follow as they say, for Reward. Hee that rewards me, heauen reward him. If I do grow great again, Ile grow lesse? For Ile purge, and leaue Sacke, and live cleanly, as a Nobleman should do. Ex Scena Quarta. The Trumpets sound. Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord Iohn of Lancaste Earle of Westmerland; with Worcester & Vernon Prisoners. King: Thus ever did Rebellion finde Rebuke, Ill-spirited Worcester, did we not send Grace, Pardon, and tearmes of Loue to all of you? And would'st thou turne our offers contrary? Misuse the tenor of they Kinsmans trust? Three Knights vpon our party slaine to day, A Noble Earle, and many a creature else, Had beene aliue this houre. If like a Christian though had'st truly borne Betwin our Armies, true Intelligence. Wor. What I haue done, my safety vrg'd me to And I embrace this fortune patiently, Since not to be auoyded, it fals on mee. King. Beare Worcester to death and Vernon too: Other Offenders we will pause upon. Exit Worcester and Vernon. How goes the Field? Prin. The Noble Scot Lord Dowglas, when hee saw The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him, The Noble Percy slaine, and all his men, Upon the foot of feare, fled with the rest: And falling from a hill, he was so bruiz'd That the pursuers tooke him. At my Tent The Dowglas is, and I beseech your Grace. I may dispose of him. King. With all my heart. Prin. Then Brother Iohn of Lancaster, To you this honourable bounty shall belong: Go to the Dowglas, and deliuer him Up to his pleasure, ransomlesse and free: His Valour shewne vpon our Crests to day, Hath taught vs how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosome of our Aduersaries. King. Then this remaines: that we divide our Power. You Sonne Iohn, and my Cousin Westmerland Towards Yorke shall bend you, with your deerest speed To meet Northumberland, and the Prelate Scroope, Who (as we heare) are busily in Armes. My Selfe, and you Sonne Harry will towards Wales, To fight with Glendower, and the Earle of March, Rebellion in this Land shall lose his way, Meeting the Checke of such another day: And since this Businesse so faire is done, Let vs not leave till all our owne be wonne. Exeunt. FINIS. 74 The Second Part of Henry the Fourth, Containing his Death : and the Coronation of King Henry the Fift. Actus Primus. Scena Prima. INDUCTION. Enter Rumour. Open your Eares: For which of you will stop The vent of Hearing, when loud Rumour speakes? I, from the Orient, to the drooping West (Making the winde my Poste-horse) still vnfold The Acts commenced on this Ball of Earth. Vpon my Tongue, continuall Slanders ride, The which, in euery Language, I pronounce, Stuffing the Eares of them with false Reports. 50 I speak of Peace, while couert Enmitte (Vnder the smile of Safety) wounds the World: And who but Rumour, who but onely I Make fearful Musters, and prepar'd Defence, Whil'st the bigge yeare, swolne with some other griefes, Is thought with childe, by the sterne Tyrant, Warre, And no such matter? Rumour, is a Pipe 100 Blowne by Surmises, Ielousies, Coniectures; And of so easie, and so plaine a stop, That the blunt Monster, with vncounted heads, The still discordant, wauering Multitude, Can play vpon it. But what neede I thus My well knowne Body to Anathomize Among my housholde? Why is Rumour heere? 150 I run before King Harries victory, Who in a bloodie field by Shrewsburie Hath beaten downe yon Hotspurre, and his Troopes, Quenching the flame of bold Rebellion, Even with the Rebels blood. But what meane I To speake so true at first? My Office is To noyse abroad, that Harry Monmouth fell 200 Vnder the Wrath of Noble Hotspurres Sword: And that the King, before the Dowglas Rage Stoop'd his Annointed head, as low as death. This haue I rumour'd through the peasant-Townes, Betweene the Royall Field of Shrewsburie. And this Worme-eaten-Hole of ragged Stone, Where Hotspurres Father, old Northumberland, 250 Lyes crafty sicke. The Postes come tyring on, And not a man of them brings other newes Then they haue learn'd of Me. From Rumours Tongues, They bring smooth-Comforts-false, worse then True- wrongs. 284 Exit. [*In brackets 10 Hyphenated 7 ? in bracket 1 18*} Scena Secunda. Enter Lord Bardolfe, and the Porter. L. Bar. Who keepes the Gate heere bos? Where is the Earle? Por. What shall I say you are? Bar. Tell thou the Earle That the Lord Bardolfe doth attend him heere. Por. His Lordship is walk'd forth into the Orchard, Please it your Honor, knocke but at the Gate, And he himselfe will answer. 50 Enter Northumberland. L. Bar. Heere comes the Earle. Nor. What newes Lord Bardolfe? Ev'ry minute now Should be the Father of some Stratagem; The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose, And beares downe all before him. L. Bar. Noble Earle, I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury Nor. Good, and heauen will. L. Bar. As good as heart can wish: 100 The King is almost wounded to the death: And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne, Prince Harrie slaine out-right: and both the Blunts Kill'd by the hand of Dowglas. Yong Prince Iohn, And Westmerland, and Stafford, fled the Field. And Harrie Monmouth's Brawne (The Hulke Sir Iohn) Is prisoner to your Sonne. O, such a Day, (So fought, so follow'd, and so fairely wonne) 150 Came not, till now, to dignifie the Times Since Cesars Fortunes. Nor. How is this deriu'd? Saw you the Field? Came you from Shrewsbury? L. Bar. I spake with one (my L.) that came fro thence, A Gentleman well bred, and of good name, That freely render'd me these newes for true. Nor. Heere comes my Seruant Trauers, whom I sent 200 On Tuesday last, to listen after Newes. Enter Travers. L. Bar. My Lord, I ouer-rod him on the way, And he is furnish'd with no certainties, More then he (haply) may retaile from me. Nor. Now Travers, what good tidings comes fro you? 248 Tra. [*In Brackets 22 Hyphenated 2 24*] The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth. Tra. My Lord, Sir Iohn Umfrevile turn'd me backe With joyfull rydings; and (being better hors'd) Out-rod me. After him, came spurriag head A Gentleman (almost fore-spent with speed) That stopp'd by me, to breath his bloodied horse. He ask'd the way to Chester: And of him I did demand what Newes from Shrewsbury: [*50*] He told me, that Rebellion had ill lucke, and that yong Harry Percies Spurre was cold. With that he gaue his able Horse the head, And bending forwards strocke his able heeles Against the panting sides of his poore Iade Vp to the Rowell head, and starting so, [*100*] He seem'd in running, to devoure the way, Staying no longer question. North. Ha? Againe: Said he yong Harrie Percyes Spurre was cold? (Of Hot-Spurre, cold-Spurre?) that Rebeliion, Had met ill lucke? L. B[?]. My Lord: Ile tell you what. If my yong Lord your Sonne, haue not the day, Vpon mine Honor, for a silken point [*150*] Ile giue my Barony. Neuer talke of it. Nor. Why should the Gentleman that rode by Travers Giue then such Instances of Losse? L. Bar. Who, he? He was some hielding Fellow, that had stolne The Horse he rode-on: and vpon my life Speake at aduenture. Looke, here comes more Newes. Enter Morton. [*200*] Nor. Yea; this mans brow, like to a Title-lease, Fore-tels the Nature of a Tragicke Volume: So lookes the Strond, when the Imperious Flood Hath left a witnest Vsurpation. Say Morton, did'st thou come from Shrewsbury? Mor. I ran from Shrewsbury (my Noble Lord) Where hatefull death put on his Vgliest Maske To fright our party. [*250*] North. How doth my Sonne, and Brother? Thou trembl'st: and the whitenesse in thy Cheeke Is apter then thy Tongue, to tell thy Errand, Euen such a man, so faint, so spiritlesse, So dull, so dead in looke, so woe-be-gone, Drew Priams Curtaine, in the dead of night [*300*] And would haue told him, Halfe his Troy was burn'd. But Priam round the Fire, ere he his Tongue. And I, my Percies death, ere thou report'st it This, thou would'st say: Your Sonne and thus, and thus: Your Brother, thus. So sought the Noble Dowglas, Stooping my greedy eare, with their bold deeds. But in the end (to stop mine Eare indeed) [*350*] Thou hast a Sigh, to blow away this Praise, Ending with Brother, Sonne, and all are dead. Mor. Dowglas is living, and your Brother, yet: But for my Lord, your Sonne. North. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue Suspition hath: [*400*] He that but feares the thing, he would not know, Hath by Instinct, knowledge from others Eyes. That what he feard, is chanc'd. Yet speake (Morton) Tell thou thy Earle, his Diuination Lies, And I will take it, as a sweet Disgrace. And make thee rich, for doing my such wrong. Mor. You are too great, to be (by me) gainsaid: [*st47*] [*M. Brackett 21*] [*Hyphenated 6*] [*a in brackets 3*] [* 30*] Your Spirit is too true, your Feares too certaine. North. Yet for all this, say not that Percies dead. I see a strange Confession in thine Eye: Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it Feare, or Sinne, To speake a truth. If he be slaine, say so : The Tongue offends not, that reports his death; And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead: Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue Yet the first bringer of vnwelcome Newes Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue, Sounds euer after as a sullen Bell Remembered, knolling a departing Friend. L. Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead. [*100*] Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to beleaue That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene. But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state, Rend'ring faint quittance (wearied, and out-breath'd) To Henrie Monmonth, whose swift wrath beate downe The neaer-deunted[?] Percie to the earth, [*150*] From whence (with life) he never more spung vp. In few, his death (whose spirit lent a fire, Even to the dullest Peazant in his Campe) Being bruised once, tooke fire and heate away From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes. For from his Mettle, was his Party steel'd; Which once, in him abated, all the rest Turn'd on themselues, like dull and heavy Lead: [*200*] And as the Thing, that's heavy in if selfe, Vpon enforcement, flyes with greatest speade, So did our Men; heavy in Hotspurres losse, Lend to this weight, such lightnesse with their Feare, That Arrowes fled not swifter toward their ayme, Then did our Soldiers (ayming at their safety) Fly from the field. Then was the Noble Worcester [*250*] Too soone ta'ne prisoner : and that furious Scot, (The bloody Dowglas) whose well-labouring sword Had three times slaine th'appearance of the King, Gan vaile his stomacke, and did grace the shame Of those that turn'd their backes: and in his flight, Stumbling in Feare, was tooke. The somme of all, [*300*] Is, that the King hath wonne: and hath sent out A speedy power, to encounter you my Lord, Vnder the Conduct of yong Lancaster And Westmerland. This is the Newes at full. North. For this, I shall have time enough to mourne, In Poyson, there is Physicke: and this newes- [*350*] (Hauing beene well) that would have made me sicke, Being sicke, haue in some measure, made me well. And as the Wretch, whose Feauer-weakned ioynts, Like strengthlesse Hindges, buckle vnder life, Impatient of his Fit, breakes like a fire Out of his keepers armes: Even so, my Limbes (Weak'ned with greefe) being now inrag'd with greefe [*400*] Are thrice themselues. Hence therefore than nice crutch A scalie Gauntlet now, with ioynts of Steele Must glove this hand. And hence thou sickly Quolfe, Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, Which Princes, flesh'd with Conquest ayme to hit. Now binde my Browes with Iron, and approach [*450*] The ragged'st hoare, that Time and Spight dare bring To frowne vpon th'enrag'd Northumberland. Let Heauen kisse Earth: now let not Natures hand Keepe the wilde Flood confin'd: Let Order And let the world no longer be a stage To feede Contention in a ling'ring act : [*500*] But let one spirit of the First-borne Cain [*B 508*] Reigne [*In brackets 33*] [*Hyphenated 4*] [*a in brackets 1*] [* 38 -*] THE SHAKESPEARE MYTH. 63 But the most conclusive proof that these plays are cipher-work, is found in an illustration which I have already given to the public, but which is so unique and conclusive that it will bear repetition. I have shown that page 75 multiplied by the 12 italics on first column of page 74 yielded 900 ; and that page 76, the last page of the scene, multiplied by 11, the words in brackets, counting "post-horse" as two words, made 836. Now what I have already shown indicates that Bacon is talking in the cipher narrative about the "plays or shows," and the fact that somebody's image, or picture, was but a mask for his own face. He was afraid of this being found-out. "Found out" was a very pregnant phrase for a man who lived and moved for years under such a perilous disguise. He was afraid that it would be "found out" that he wrote the plays with a treasonable intent ; for the playing of "King Richard II.," was one of the counts in the prosecution which eventually cost Essex his head. He was afraid that it would be "found-out" that he, a scion of the nobility, the son of a Lord Chancellor, and nephew of a Lord Treasurer, had eked out his miserable income by sharing with Shakespeare the proceeds of the plays ; the pence and shillings taken up from the dirty rabble of London at the gate of the playhouse. Hence we might naturally look for "found-out" in this narrative about plays and shows and volumes and masks. "Found-out" was probably engraved on Bacon's heart. And here we find it in the cipher : commence at the top of the first column of page 74, and count forward and down the first column of page 75, omitting to count the words in brackets, and counting the hyphenated words like "well-known," as one word, and the 836th word will be found to be the word "found," the 304th word on the first column of page 75. Now commence again at the top of the next page, and count in the same way , and the 836th word is the word "out," the 389th word on the second column of page 75. Thus we have the compound word "found-out." We saw that page 75, multiplied by the 12 italic words on the first column of page 74, yielded 900. Let us begin to count again from the same points, but counting in the words in brackets, and counting each of the hyphenated words separately, and the 900th word from the top of page 74 is that same 304th word, on the first column of page 75, the 64 The North American Review. word "Found." And if we commence at the top of page 75 and count the same way, the 900th word is that same 389th word, "out." In other words, the two words, "found" and "out," do double duty by two different modes of counting, from the same starting points ; and the number of bracket words and hyphens between the top of column one of page 74 and anterior to the word "found' is precisely the difference between 836 and 900 ! And again, the number of bracket words and hyphens between the top of column one, page 75, and the word "out" is precisely the difference between 836 and 900 ! Let me state the proposition like a sum in arithmetic : 11 x 76=............ ........... ............................. 836 12 x 75=............ ........... ............................. 900 Words on 1st column, p.74..................... .................... 284 Words on 2d column, p.74...................... .................... 248 Words down to the word "found"............ ................ 304 ------ 836 Again :-- Words on 1st column, page 75.............................447 Words down to the word "out"........................... 389 ------ 836 "Found" is the ............................................................ .... 836th word Now let us add the following : Bracket words, column 1, p.74................................... 10} Hyphenated words, column 1, p.74.......... . ............. 8} Bracket words, column 2, p. 74.................................... 22} Hyphenated words in column 2, p. 74...................... 2} Bracket words anterior to 304th word....................... 13} Hyphenated words anterior to 304th word............. 9} ---- 64 ----- Which added to 836 makes..................................................................... 900 "Out" is the .................................. ................................................................. 836th word. Let us add : Bracket words, column 1, p.75.......................................... 21} Hyphenated words, column 1, p. 75............................... 9} Bracket words anterior to the 389th word................... 30} Hyphenated words anterior to the 389th word.......... 4} --- 64 ------ Which added to 836 makes..................................................................... 900 THE SHAKESPEARE MYTH. Can any man believe that this is the result of accident? It could not occur by chance one time in a hundred millions. See how precisely the count matches ; there are exactly 64 bracket and hyphenated words between the top of the first column of page 74 and the word "found;" there are precisely 64 bracket and hyphenated words between the top of the first column of page 75 and the word "out." The man who can believe that this is the result of chance would, to use one of Bacon's comparisons, "believe that one could scatter the letters of the alphabet on the ground and they would accidentally arrange themselves into Homer's Iliad." And remember that if "smooth-comforts-false" and "worm-eaten-hole" had not been hyphenated, so that each combination could be counted as one word to make 836, and as three words to make 900, this beautiful piece of mathematical checker-work would have failed. If the line "You are too great to be [by me] gainsaid;" or, "I cannot think [my Lord] your son is dead," had been printed in the usual and natural fashion, as similar phrases are printed in "1st Henry IV.," the whole count would have failed. The dropping of a single hyphen would have brought the entire piece of delicate adjustment to nought. What does this prove? That the man who read the proof must have known of the cipher. And as William Shakspere had been dead seven years when this Folio was printed, he could not have read the proof. But, as one-half the words are cipher words, whoever wrote the cipher wrote the plays; ergo : Shakspere did not write the plays. I have no hesitation in saying that the publication of my book will convince the world that these plays are the most marvelous specimens of ingenuity, and mental suppleness, and adroitness, to say nothing of genius, power,and attainments, ever put together by the wit of man. There is no parallel for them on earth. There never will be. No such man can ever again be born. His coming marked an era in the history of the world. The scholar remembers the old play, now conceded to be Shakespeare's, "The Contention between York and Lancaster." VOL. CXLV. –NO. 368. 66 The North American Review. It is referred to half a dozen times in this cipher narrative. Let me point out the words here. See second col., page 74. “The times are wild: Contention [like a horse Full of high feeding] madly hath broke loose, And bears down all before him.” Here the “loose” is part of the name of Sir Thomas Lucy ( Loose-see), used in telling the story of Shakespeare’s youth. Turn to the 145th word on the second column of page 72, and you have the “deere” he killed. Then again, we have “Contention” in the line near the bottom of the second column of page 75. “Be a stage To feed contention in a lingering act.” Here we have “stage” and “act;” near the top of first column, of page 74, we have (29th word) the word “acts;” at the top of the first column of page 76 we have “the rude scene may end;” the 286th word, 1st column, page 75, is the name of the “Curtain” theatre; the 114th word on 2d column, page 74, is the name of the “Fortune” theatre. But to proceed with the name :—“ Contention between York and Lancaster.” We have “between” as the 236th word, 1st column, page 74; and “betwixt” the 156th word, column 1, page 73; we have “York,” the 167th word, 2d column, page 73; again the 242d word, 1st column, page 76; and “Lancaster” again the 327th word, 2d column, page 75. We have “Shake-speare” as follows. On the fourth line of the second column of page 75 we read: “Thou shak’st thy head; and hold’st it fear,” etc. This illustrates the exquisite cunning of the work; it is not “shakest” but “shak’st”; And “shak’st-spur” gives us the exact sound of “Shakesper.” We have the terminal syllable peppered over the top of 1st col., p. 75 “And that young Harry Percey’s Spurre was cold.” And again: “Said he young Harry Percey’s Spurre was cold? (Of Hot-Spurre, cold-Spurre!)” In the records of the town council of Stratford the name ends seventeen times in “per”; while many other times it terminates with “peyr,” “pere” and “spere.” And at word 291 of 1st col., p. 72, we have, “Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.” This was formerly pronounced as if spelled “spere.” The word “Jacke” does service in many cases for the first syllable of the name, tending to confirm the belief that the original name of the Stratford man was Jacques-Pierre, or Jack-Peter. And many of the plays are referred to herein. We have “King” “John” time and again. And “Richard the Third” is found on second column of page 78: “The glutton-bosom of the royal Richard.” (“2 Henry IV.,” I., 4.) And, on the same column: “ Perforce a third Must take up us.” (“2 Henry IV.,” I., 4.) The play of “ Measure for Measure” is referred to. Look at the lower part of 2d col., p. 75, and you have: “Being sick have in some measure made me well.” While near the top of the 2d col. of page 77 you have the rest of the name: “You measure the heat of our livers with the bitterness of your galls.” (“2 H. IV.,” I.,3.) But, if I run on, this article will turn into a book. There is no more doubt of the reality of the cipher than there is of the reality of the plays. My work has been delayed by the very immensity of the story. I cannot begin to work out now all the narrative there is even in the 1st and 2d “Henry IV. ;” it would take me a year longer. I will publish part of the story this year, and satisfy the incredulous of the truth of the discovery. What astonishes me is the fierce opposition which the English people show to the theory that Bacon wrote the plays. If one were attempting to prove that a Frenchman of a German produced 68 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. them I could understand it; but when it is proposed to take the mantle of immortality from the shoulders of one Englishman and place it on the shoulders of another Englishman, I cannot see where national feeling has any place in the discussion. Con- ceding, for the moment, all that has been said against him, and Francis Bacon the scholar, statesman, philanthropist, and founder of the school of philosophy which has done so much to produce our modern advancement and civilization, is certainly a nobier and more admirable figure on the canvass of time, than the guz- zling, beer-drinking, poaching, lying, play-actor, of whom tra- dition does not record a single generous expression, or a single lovable act. And as to Francis Bacon's real biography, it is yet to be written, when all the materials furnished by the cipher nar- rative are in the hands of the world. We know enough now to see that he was sacrificed by James I., that vile slobbering "sow," as Buckingham called him, to save his favorite from the fury of the Commons, and to appease the rising tempest which eventually swept the royal family from the throne, and the head of Charles I. from his shoulders. The world can afford to wait until all the evidence is in, before it passes final judgement on the grandest and most gifted of all the sons of men. I believe it will be made manifest, in the end, that the moral grandeur of Francis Bacon was as great as his intel- lectual power; and that he "Who died inshame Will live in death with endless fame." IGNATIUS DONNELLY. JOHNSON, GRANT, SEWARD, SUMNER. THE events that closely preceded and followed the resolution of the House of Representatives, February 24th, 1868, to impeach Andrew Johnson, President of the United States, for "high crimes and misdemeanors," are fraught wit perpetual interest. The occasion was unparalleled in America. It absorbed public attention. It awakened unprecedented bitterness. It aroused the extremist political rancor. Amid the fury of the hour, the impeachment trial lost the dignity of a judicial investigation ; the prominent figures therein were hailed, pro and con, as leaders in a fiery contest; and all the passions of the Civil War were brought into play. The scenes thus enacted embraced an epoch which the student of affairs must ever regard with profound concern. It was a solemn juncture in the progress of those measures which, between 1865 and 1870, underlaid the work of reconstruction by which the rebellious States were reorganized as members of the Union ; and all papers that bear an instructive relation to it must have an enduring value. Continuing the line of assault so boldly waged before and during the impeachment trial, the enemies of President Johnson have constantly charged that he was faithless to his pledges, and that his administration was a treasonable sedition against the liberties of the people, and the results of the war. In support of this charge, industrious partisans have printed so much since 1868, that impartial readers may fairly crave the relief which the extremest opposing view might now afford. Recalling Governor Boutwell's contributions to the history of the impeachment, and the reminiscences of the event that have flowed from the pen of General Badeau, it may be truly said that the surviving haters of Andrew Johnson have used every opportunity to "gibbet him in the face of the world, after death has disarmed him of the power of self-defense." In justice, now, to the calumniated President, it is deemed both timely and right to disclose here two posthumous letters 70 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. from Hon. Gideon Welles, who was Minister of Naval Affairs under Lincoln and Johnson, and a participant, therefore, in the scenes to which they refer. The letters were not written for publication. Addressed to Hon. Joseph S. Fowler, of Tennessee, one of the seven Republican Senators, who, on the memorable 16th of May, 1868, voted against impeachment, they were designed to portray from the stand of a Cabinet Officer the spirit of a great crisis, and confidentially to give important information to be publicly used by Mr. Fowler in correcting certain errors appertaining at once to the motives of the President, to the true significance of his policy, to his veto of the tenure-of-office law, to his removal of Edwin M. Stanton from the Department of War, to his appointment of Gen. Grant as Stanton's successor, with the purpose of testing in the Supreme Court an unconstitutional statute; to the nature and extent of the agreement between the President and Grant, and to the latter's betrayal of plighted faith in the famous controversy which ensued. The circumstance which caused this correspondence was that, shortly after President Johnson's death, Ex-Senator Fowler was chosen to deliver, in Tennessee, an oration on the character and public services of the dead statesman, whereupon, in reply to interrogatories, Ex-Secretary Welles wrote the following letter, the original of which, with the consent of Mr. Fowler, is in my possession, for the present use : EX-SECRETARY WELLES TO EX-SENATOR FOWLER. [COPY.] "HARTFORD, September 4, 1875. "HON. JOSEPH S. FOWLER : "DEAR SIR: I am glad to know that you, who knew Andrew Johnson well, and were familiar with his official acts while President, have been selected by his fellow citizens to deliver an address upon his character and public services. It will give me pleasure to reply to your interrogatories, and furnish any facts in my possession on the subject of your inquiry. "In regard to the reduction of the navy at the close of the war, I would refer you to the annual report of the Secretary of the Navy, in December, 1865, which will furnish you data and facts more full and complete than I could present in a letter. Immediately after hostilities ceased, a reduction of the naval force was commenced, and prosecuted as rapidly as circumstances would permit. The large number of vessels which had been purchased from the commercial marine, and otherwise obtained and fitted at no inconsiderable expense for war purposes, were, as soon as there was a demand from reviving commerce, without too great a sacrifice, as there would have been by crowding the market, promptly sold. Volunteer officers and enlisted men were discharged, mechanics and workmen in the JOHNSON, GRANT, SEWARD, SUMNER. 71 navy yards were dismissed, and expenses of every description reduced, so that Congress, in 1866, was informed that funds that had been appropriated for the vigorous prosecution of the war and placed at the disposal of the Navy Department would not be required, and that fifty millions of dollars of those appropriations, and of the avails from the sale of vessels and other property, might be relinquished and returned to the Treasury. Congress, however, neglected to take any action or notice of the suggestion, and the Secretary of the Navy, therefore, of his own accord, on the 30th of September, 1867, relinquished to the Treasury sixty- five millions of dollars. I am not aware that any other department of the government made return of funds to the Treasury. "The naval force, which, at the close of the war, consisted of about 51,500 men in the service, was forthwith reduced to 15,000, and thereafter still further reduced as the terms of enlistment expired and vessels were put out of commission. "No chief magistrate, no officer of the government whom I have ever known --and I have been somewhat familiar with most of them from the days of John Quincy Adams--was more attentive and devoted to his duties than President Johnson. Though possessed of a strong and rugged constitution, I have never doubted that his health was seriously and probably permanently impaired by his assiduous and close application in the labors of his office. He had been prostrated by a long and severe illness in the winter of 1864-5, which rendered his appearance at Washington at the inauguration doubtful and precarious. But it was the earnest wish of President Lincoln, who did not conceal his gratification at Mr. Johnson's election, that the Vice-President, a Southern patriot, should be present on that occasion. His absence would, he apprehended, have an unfortunate influence and construction abroad. It was in compliance with this earnest and expressed wish of President Lincoln, seconded by his own disposition to evade no responsibility or labor, that he was present, in enfeebled health and strength, to enter upon his duties as the presiding officer of the Senate, on the 4th of March. He was a man of fine presence and bore himself with dignity in the Cabinet, in his intercourse with officials and the representatives of foreign governments, and with all, indeed, with whom he came in contact. Always self-possessed and courteous, he never failed to receive and command respect even from his enemies. "The difference between him and Mr. Stanton, and I may say with Congress, was, in origin, political rather than personal. Their differences date back and were, in fact, anterior to the election of Mr. Johnson. They may be said to have begun during the administration of President Lincoln, who could not assent to or adopt the extreme and centralizing views of his radical supporters. While President Lincoln felt it to be his duty to put forth all his power and authority to suppress the rebellion, and was at times compelled to resort to extreme measures to accomplish that object, he was not disposed, by any arbitrary exercise of federal or undelegated authority, to deprive either States or people of their reserved and constitutional rights. These sound, tolerant, and benignant views were not in accord with the ideas and intentions of the extreme radicals, who did not conceal their hostility to the doctrine of States rights, and who avowed themselves the advocates of central power and supremacy, insisting that the federal government could and should control the local governments, treat them as mere corporations, with no original or primary powers, but only such as were granted them by the central government, which could dictate in regard to their organic law, and especially as to the right of suffrage. In his efforts to arouse the patriotic sentiment of the people of the South, and promote union by State action, President Lincoln had, in his message in December, 1863, invited the people in the insur- 72 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. rectionary States to come forward and organize local government, stating that those who were entitled to vote under their respective constitutions, prior to the ordinances of secession, and no others, could exercise the right of suffrage. These constitutional views so dissatisfied the radical Republicans that they strove to prevent his renomination. "Secretary Stanton, who, in 1863, fully assented to the principles then laid down by President Lincoln, and to the policy of his administration, began, in the winter of 1865, to manifest a disposition to favor a tendency towards the centralizing theories of the radicals. The subject of reconstructing and reconstituting the States which had attempted secession, and their restoration to the federal union, was discussed in Cabinet a few hours preceding the assassination of President Lincoln. When Mr. Johnson by that sad event became President, an earnest and unwearied effort was made by the radicals to commit him to their proscriptive and revolutionary scheme of excluding those States from the Union. But, although opposed to secession, and embittered, perhaps, towards those who had brought such woeful calamities upon the country, and caused a war in which he had been personally a sufferer beyond others, he denied that the Executive, or Congress, or both combined, could assume and exercise undelegated and ungranted powers, break down the State governments, and deprive them and the people of their inherent and reserved rights. On the question of reconstruction, Mr. Stanton and his associates took the position that the States and the people of the States that made war upon the government and the Union, had forfeited and lost their rights --that the resumption and re-establishment of their ancient constitutions, as they were prior to the secession ordinances, even with slavery abolished, were not permissible --that there must be new constitutions framed in each, under the direction of Congress or the central government. The first step in this revolutionary movement was brought forward in Cabinet, a few days after the inauguration of Mr. Johnson, by Mr. Stanton, who claimed that the colored man had the right to vote and should exercise this right in the formation of the new constitutions. President Johnson could recognize no such claim, said suffrage was a privilege, not a right, --that the subject belonged to the States, not to the Federal Government, and that the re-establishment of the Union must be on the constitutional basis of the equal political rights of all the States. "In these differences between President Johnson and the radical members of Congress, who soon, by caucus machinery, obtained control of the Republican party and of Congress itself, Mr. Stanton identified himself with the radicals, and became their counsellor and adviser in most of their measures. With his convictions, the President could not yield his assent to their schemes, and he was therefore impelled to put his veto on the Civil Rights Bill, the Freedman's Bureau Bill, the Military Reconstruction Bill, the Tenure of Office Bill, and other bills which, in his opinion, were without constitutional authority and in palpable violation of that instrument. Mr. Stanton did not approve, but acquiesced in those vetoes, except that on the Tenure of Office Bill. That enactment he openly and indignantly denounced as not only unconstitutional, but as a legislative usurpation, trespassing upon the Executive Department of the government, and impairing, if not destroying, its efficiency. So strong and emphatic was the opposition of the Secretary of War, so earnest and decisive his protest against the law, which assumed to compel the Executive to retain in place officers for whom he was responsible, forcing him to receive into his political family, and to associate and consult in his private council with men in whom he had no confidence, that the President devolved on Mr. Stanton the preparation of the veto message on that bill. It was the only occasion when such a request was made of Mr. Stanton or JOHNSON, GRANT, SEWARD, SUMNER. 73 of any of the Cabinet, for the President wrote his own messages ; but he was then writing another message on a different subject, which was completed and transmitted to Congress on the same day with his veto on the Tenure of Office Bill. Mr. Seward, by Mr. Stanton's request, was associated with him in preparing that document, which in form was less positive than Mr. Stanton had manifested in Cabinet, but was toned down and modified by the cautious and wary circumspection of the Secretary of State. "In the progress of events, and as the estrangement between the President and the party majority in Congress became more marked, those members of the Cabinet who regretted the differences, but were unwilling to break their party connection, courteously and in a friendly spirit tendered their resignations and retired from the Cabinet, unwilling to embarrass the Administration. But Mr. Stanton pursued an entirely different course. While the retiring members felt they could not preserve their self-respect and act in good faith by holding on to place under a chief whose policy they did not, in all respects, indorse, Mr. Stanton, who not only did not indorse, but actively opposed the President on almost every important question, refused to withdraw, and insisted on administering a department of the government without the concurrence of the Chief Executive, or consulting or holding communication with him. In total disregard of the principles which he had laid down, and of the message which he had himself prepared, as well as of common courtesy, Mr. Stanton would not resign his office, but clung to place under the shield of the Tenure of Office Bill, which he had declared to be indecent, unconstitutional, and, of course, no law. Under these circumstances, and in order to test the constitutionality of that enactment, President Johnson removed or suspended Mr. Stanton from office and appointed General Grant in his place, with the distinct understanding that he was to retain it until the highest judicial tribunal should decide on the validity of the act. "General Grant, who, in the early days of President Johnson's administration had professed himself to be, and doubtless was, in full accord with him in his measures, began to indicate alienation after the elections in the autumn of 1866, though he continued upon friendly and almost intimate relations with the President, who, after others distrusted the General's sincerity, still gave him his confidence. General Grant did not hold Mr. Stanton in high esteem, and had willingly assented to a proposition, the year previous, to supersede him in the War Department. But, before the change was consummated, President Johnson, who would have been glad to be relieved of Mr. Stanton, hesitated at the critical moment to take a step which would aggravate the existing ill feeling, and make more violent and vindictive the master spirits of opposition. The proposition had been very quietly discussed and was known to but few ; but the disappointment of General Grant, who did not originate though he consented to the arrangement, contributed to the estrangement. It doubtless gave edge to his animosity, when, at a later day, he forfeited the promise he had made to remain firm at his post as Secretary of War, so that the constitutionality of the Tenure of Office law should be decided by the Supreme Court. The equivocation and ultimate failure of General Grant to fulfill his promise, and his abandonment of the trust and the War Department, defeated the purpose and efforts of the President to obtain a legal decision on that enactment. Mr. Johnson, always truthful and inflexibly honest, never forgot and probably never forgave the deception, and further intimacy or personal interviews with General Grant ceased. "Mr. Stanton was not a cordial supporter of the President until after the Philadelphia Convention, as you seem to suppose ; but General Grant apparently was, and approved of that movement to promote reconcillation between different 74 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. sections of the country. The Secretary of War was opposed to any immediate fraternization or union with the people or States of the Confederacy, or to receiving or meeting them on terms of equality ; but General Grant, for nearly two years after the accession of Mr. Johnson to the Presidency, favored harmony and peace. "There was acquiescence, or submission, on the North Carolina Proclamation, rather than unity, in the Cabinet. It was the purpose and determination of Mr. Stanton and the radical portion of the Republican party to hold North Carolina and the other States of the 'Confederacy' in subjection. Before Mr. Johnson was President, Mr. Stanton had presented a plan to place those States under military control, and thus strike a blow at distinctive State rights, by establishing military departments over them, each department to comprise two or more States, over which should be, respectively, placed a General of the Army, Provost Marshals and their assistants, all to be appointed by the Secretary of War, who, under the Generals, was to organize civil government in those departments. The Secretary of War would, by this agreement, have the supervision and government of those States. Their constitutions, as they existed prior to the secession ordinances, were to be overthrown and no longer recognized. New constitutions were to be framed for each State, and, under the guidance and discretion of the Secretary of War, his Generals and Provost Marshals, with the aid of the colored population who were to vote, such governments would be established as conformed to the views and theories of the radicals. This device to reduce eleven States to a condition of territorial dependence was so repugnant to the ideas and principles of Mr. Johnson, so subversive of our Republican system of popular rights and of self-government, that the President could not give it his sanction. He was confronted with this project in April, at the very threshold of his administration, when he was anxious to conciliate his real and professed friends and supporters. He could not, however, be a party to any usurping scheme that was in conflict with the organic law, nor dictate to the States in regard to suffrage. On this latter point, the Cabinet, with the exception of Mr. Seward, who was incapable of attending, were at first equally decided. Thenceforward the divergence between the President and the Secretary of War increased until Mr. Stanton was dismissed. "No more rigid constitutionalist than Andrew Johnson was to be found ; few have ever studied the organic law more closely. The Federal Constitution had been his rudimental, elementary, first lesson, his political bible and text-book, carefully scanned and observed through his whole official life ; and it was revolting to his mind and nature that any of its provisions should be violated. His radical opponents, never strictly mindful of constitutional restraints, insisted that the war had broken down constitutional barriers, that Congress was omnipotent, and legislative action was absolute and supreme. Hence the antagonism that sprang up between the executive and the legislative departments of the government. Both had denied and resisted the heresy of Secession, but when Congress presented the opposite heresy, and arrogated the power of exclusion, and of denying to States and people the undoubted right of representation which is essential to free government, there was a fundamental difference which could not be reconciled. It eventuated, under the madness of party excitement, in a conspiracy to impeach the President for an honest and faithful discharge of his duty. Fidelity to the Constitution was denounced as treason to party. For boldly and honestly maintaining the rights of the Executive, he was arraigned and tried, but not convicted. It was a sad spectacle to witness his persecutors of the House of Representatives and the Senators who sat in judgment meeting in secret to strengthen and discipline the timid, and, under the audacious domination of the more unprin- JOHNSON, GRANT, SEWARD, SUMNER. 75 cipled, predetermine the course to be pursued in open session as triers and judges ! Happily for the country and its fame, there were Senators who refused to be disciplined to do a wicked and wrong act, or so to prostitute themselves to the demands of party as to pronounce an unrighteous judgment against a pure patriot and an honest man. "Called, unexpectedly and without anticipation, to discharge the duties of Chief Magistrate just as the great civil conflict was near its close, and while contending and belligerent parties, filled with hate, were unrelenting and unforgiving, Mr. Johnson labored under great embarrassments in administering the government. A large portion of those who elected him were old political opponents, whose opinions and views of government were diametrically opposed to those which he deemed essential. Consequently, there was not harmony, nor that mutual confidence between him and the dominant party in Congress which was necessary to give strength and secure success to his administration. On the other hand, his former political and party associates were estranged, because he had, in his devotion to the Union and his fidelity to the Constitution, broken and cast aside the fetters of party, and, irrespective of exactions and requirements of party organizations, resisted secession. His fearless and independent stand --'solitary and alone' in the Senate from his section--won the respect and admiration of the people, and especially of Mr. Lincoln, who desired his nomination, as did a majority of the Republicans, for the office of Vice-President in 1864. When the responsibilities of the government were devolved upon him in consequence of the assassination of his chief, he was compelled to pursue a course acceptable to neither of the great party organizations. He had, therefore, to encounter the hate of one and the indifference of the other in a great emergency, when he was entitled to and should have received the earnest support of every true patriot. But, in the midst of trials and struggles, such as none of his predecessors ever experienced, his firmness, independence, and inflexible purpose were never shaken ; he remained true to his convictions and faithful to this principles. "If, while honestly striving to discharge his duty as Chief Magistrate and restore peace, good-will, and union to the Republic, he was hampered, thwarted, and defeated in his policy, which was also the policy of Mr. Lincoln--if the dominant party, in a broken and fragmentary Congress, were successful in their factious war upon his administration--it was to them but a temporary triumph. Time and reflection, the curatives and rectifiers of erroneous public opinion, have already in a great degree reversed the hasty and heated judgment which partisan prejudice fulminated against him, and his country and posterity will do him justice. While his opponents in Congress, by the force of party discipline, suspended their legislative functions to pass questionable constitutional enactments in order to limit the rightful power and authority of the Executive, and thereby prevent or postpone immediate union and reconciliation, the messages and public documents of Andrew Johnson are in strong contrast with the course of the Legislative Department, and testify not only to his ability and wisdom, but to his lofty and unselfish patriotism--his abiding love of country. "That he may have been disturbed, vexed, and annoyed under the assaults upon the Executive, personally and officially ; at the perverted, mischievous, and assuming legislative acts of Congress ; at the revolutionary schemes to change and centralize the government ; at the insincerity and infidelity of some men in whom he had confided, is undoubtedly true; and it is also true that he boldly, freely, and, perhaps, indiscreetly, expressed his indignation against false friends and wicked measures. "My letter, which you requested might be early sent, has been written under 76 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. peculiar circumstances, which must be my apology for inadvertence and the absence of more careful preparation. "There is, I think, a prevailing erroneous opinion in regard to the differences and causes of differences between President Johnson and Secretary Stanton and General Grant, to each of whom he gave his willing confidence until convinced that each was unfaithful. Ultimately inexorable truth will appear, and it seems to me the facts may well be brought out over the grave of the departed statesman. I have, therefore, mentioned to you some of the more prominent of the many circumstances of the differences between the President and his subordinates, and the consequences to the country. You will please make use of these facts as you may deem best. "I will thank you for a copy of your address when published, and shall be always happy to hear from you. Very respectfully, [Signed.] "GIDEON WELLES." Apart from its interesting statement as to naval affairs at the close of the war, and its account of the act of the Naval Secretary, September 30th, 1867, in relinquishing to the Treasury sixty-five millions of dollars, despite Congressional failure to care for the funds remaining from unspent appropriations and from the sale of vessels and other property, the foregoing epistle is entitled to a significant place in the history of the last generation. It is the first expression of the kind that has reached the press from a member of President Johnson's Cabinet. It is a full, frank, free revelation of its author's careful estimate of contemporary events, and of certain controlling figures in the most thrilling drama that has transpired since the surrender of Lee--a drama that affected at once the fate of statesmen and the existence of States themselves. It is proper here to say that, in preparing his oration, Mr. Fowler failed to use a number of important facts which the letter contains, forbearing, likewise, to delineate the alleged conduct of Grant and of Stanton in a manner commensurate with the severity which Mr. Welles himself employs in recounting the movements of the President, and the origin, process, and end of the impeachment ; and hence, after reading the oration, the ex-Secretary was impelled to supplement his former by the subjoined letter, the terms of which, in portraying the writer's conception of Secretary Seward, Senator Sumner, General Grant, Edwin M. Stanton, and John Covode, have but few parallels in epistolary composition : II. [COPY.] "HARTFORD, November 9, 1875. "MY DEAR SIR : "On my return after ten days absence, I received your letter of the 25th ulto., and, also, the Nashville American containing your interesting, elaborate, and JOHNSON, GRANT, SEWARD, SUMNER. 77 carefully prepared address, which does justice to our deceased friend. I have read it with much satisfaction, and, when published in pamphlet form, do me the favor to send me a copy ; for the facts, and incidents, and remarks are so well and clearly presented, that I wish to have them in a more enduring form than the columns of a newspaper. "In some matters of opinion and estimate of the same men, we should, perhaps, entertain different views, although in most respects we agree. Your statement of the impeachment is the best I have seen, and yet it falls short of the measure of severity due to the chief actors in that great conspiracy. As regards Stanton, you give him credit which he does not deserve, and his perfidy and treachery are not fully told. I may say the same of Grant, who was false to the friend who gave him his confidence, and ungrateful for the trust and benefits bestowed. "There is a mistake, or a misconception of the condition and understanding between President Johnson and Grant, in regard to the terms and tenure by which the latter received and held the office of Secretary of War when Stanton was displaced. "You say that 'General Grant was assigned to the place for the time under the promise to surrender the office to the President if the decision of the Senate should be adverse to him, which was certain to happen.' Now, the fact is, the terms were precisely the reverse. The President knew, and so did Stanton, that the Tenure of Office law, under which Stanton held on when requested to resign, was unconstitutional. The President and Cabinet were satisfied the Supreme Court would so decide, if a case could reach them. He, therefore, determined that the suspension of Stanton should be taken before that tribunal. It was to be a test case. Grant promised to receive and hold the office until the Court decided the question of constitutionality, or, if he concluded not to retain the place, he would notify the President and resign in season for the President to select another man. But Grant was treacherous and false. He held on to the place until the Senate passed its adverse vote, and then immediately locked the Secretary's office, handed over the key to one of the attending officials, left the War Department and went to Army Headquarters. By this trick President Johnson was deprived of the opportunity of bringing the constitutionality of the act before the highest judicial tribunal. The factious conspirators in Congress well knew that the judicial department of the government would be against the legislative on that law, and with the Executive. "Thad Stevens, Butler, Boutwell & Co. were unwilling to trust to constitutional remedies for constitutional wrongs; and Grant, by deception and trickery, was their willing instrument to perpetuate the injustice, and prevent the tribunal, which the Constitution has provided, from passing judgment on the legality of the legislative act. I never saw Grant appear more insignificant, or President Johnson to better advantage, than on the occasion when the latter summoned Grant to appear before him and explain his course and conduct. You will recollect that the falsehood of Grant was proved by all the members of the Cabinet who were present at that interview. I think it very essential that that part of the address should be put right in your pamphlet edition. In one or two other less important matters I might make suggestions, but this is the most important, and should be rightly presented. 'Grant took the office of Secretary of War with an express agreement to stand in the gap until the Supreme Court virtually pronounced whether the Executive or the Senate was right; or, if he flinched, the President should have timely warning to select another that would stand the test. Grant, false to the Chief Magistrate who trusted him, joined the conspirators and prevented a legal decision from the proper tribunal. 78 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. "As regards men, the time has not, perhaps, arrived to award each his true position, and I, therefore, for obvious reasons, would not publicly give a free and full opinion of some whom you name, and concerning whom I, in some respects, differ with you. For instance, neither Mr. Sumner nor Mr. Seward was strictly a constitutionalist, nor do I class either among the highest order of statesmen. Mr. Sumner was a scholar, and better read on the subject of our foreign relations, international law, our treaties and traditions, than any other man in Congress. He better filled the position of Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations than any of his associates could have done. But he was not a practical man, nor a constitutionalist --knew not how to construct or build upon a government, though he could pull down; was an idealist and theorist ; could criticise, find fault, and take exceptions, and could tell Stanton to "stick" and defy his principal. There was violent partisanship, but no enlarged and enlightened statesmanship, in such counsel at any time ; it was unworthy of a senator in such a crisis of public affairs. "Mr. Seward was a skillful politician, full of expedients, strongly wedded to party--much stronger than to principles ; with little reverence for the Constitution, which he treated much as he would legislative enactments. In his speech of January 12th, 1861, and in propositions subsequently made at that session, as well as in his course of policy during the first few weeks of Mr. Lincoln's Administration, you have the characteristics of which I speak. He was for calling a National Convention, revising or remodeling the Constitution, conceding to the secessionists their demands, incorporating a provision that should be irrevocable, perpetuating slavery. This was the key to his ninety days' prophecy of harmony and peace. His policy was to concede. to yield to his antagonists. Our rights he almost invariably surrendered to foreign demands during the war. He was always ready, always superficial--not a profound thinker, nor with any pretensions to the scholarly culture and the attainments of Sumner. The two men were of different temperaments--had differently constituted minds. Each of them had a large party following, and a host of claquers and journalists to extol and glorify them. Sumner was imperious, ready to break down the States and their governments to carry out his schemes, regardless of the Constitution ; and made war on President Johnson because he would not assume and exercise undelegated and illegal power. Seward, while he had little deference for State rights and would have been willing to let Thad Stevens, Stanton, and Butler have their way in reconstructing the Southern States, was not unfaithful to President Johnson, and acquiesced in the President's policy. "I have written more of the two leading but differing minds of men of whom you make mention than I intended ; but my remarks are drawn out unconsciously. Grant has none of the redeeming qualities of either Sumner or Seward ; nor had he a single qualification for the office of Chief Magistrate. He is a man of little reading, limited capacity, vulgar habits, and was in employment more suitable to his mind and taste when serving as a porter in a leather store at Galena than as the official head of a great nation. Covode, who introduced the impeachment resolution, was a coarse, cunning man, without culture, fond of intrigue, and craving notoriety. These comments on men are made not for publicity, or to induce any change or modification of your excellent address. "I am desirous that the paragraph relative to Grant's holding the office of Secretary, whatever might be the action of the Senate, until the Court decided the constitutionality of the Tenure of Office Act, should be corrected. He was, by express agreement, to stand by the President and meet the anticipated conflict with the Senate, until the Judiciary, the expounder of the law and Constitution, should pass upon the question. Justice to President Johnson, to the country, and JOHNSON, GRANT, SEWARD, SUMNER. 79 to truth requires this matter, wherein Grant was treacherous and false, should be put right. Please excuse the freedom and frankness of my criticism, which I am confident you will properly appreciate. It will always give me pleasure to hear from you. My son, to whom you send remembrance, is now in Europe, but his return is expected in December. Yours truly, [Signed] "GIDEON WELLES. "Hon. Joseph S. Fowler." The letters here disclosed from the late Naval Minister may convey to the reader a useful lesson : Two decades have vanished since the trying days of 1867-8, and, meantime, the asperities of "reconstruction" have been subdued. Party ties and partisans have alike been changed by time, and new relations mark the face of American politics. Johnson and Stanton, Grant and Seward, Sumner, Covode, and Welles himself, are in their graves, and all they did and said in their busy day belongs to history. The Republic, purified by blood and strengthened by sacrifice, has long since quickened its majestic stride ; and the views of men, like current measure of State, have grown with the widening scope of affairs. Popular thought has been liberalized, political toleration broadened, and public sympathy deepened. It is remembered that Mr. Welles figures, as others did, in a decade of passion, of revenge, and of hate ; he became an indignant foe of Stanton and of Grant, and, in reproducing now his severities of opinion--the sharpness of which was acquired on the very edge of a fratricidal war--it does not follow that the phrase in which they are couched shall be approved. The picture which he paints is upheld simply because it offers a portraiture of the time, and thereby reflects, in its own way, a chapter of the past. Whatsoever criticism be evoked by the invectives that are used by the author of these letters to characterize the conduct of Stanton and of Grant toward President Johnson in reference to the Secretaryship of War, the Tenure of Office law, and the measure of impeachment, it must be conceded that he has presented a potent defense of his illustrious chief ; and, furthermore, that in view of the malignant assaults that have been incessantly made upon the fame of that chief, there is ample reason for this publication. These letters inspire another suggestion, viz., that the seven Republican Senators--Trumbull, Fessenden, Fowler, Grimes, Henderson, Van Winkle, and Ross--who, "facing the wrath of the party with which they had been so long identified," on that day so fatal to impeachment, voted with the Democrats for the 80 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. acquittal of the President, averted a new revolution, and displayed a courageous patriotism that deserved the nation's gratitude. They stood "Against allurement, custom, and a world Offended ; fearless of reproach and scorn, Or violence !" The attitude of Andrew Johnson in that critical hour was unequaled and heroic, and his acquittal by the Senate is ratified by the dispassionate judgment of his countrymen. GEORGE BABER. ENGLISH WOMEN AS A POLITICAL FORCE. THE origin, rise, and progress of the Primrose League has been already too amply given to necessitate repetition. My province is simply to touch on the part taken by the ladies of the League in this great political organization. I believe I am not wrong in saying that it is to a certain degree a social revolution, for it is the first time in England that women have taken an open and avowed part in political movement and have been recognized as political agents. The Primrose League, as is well know, was founded by a few gentlemen, of whom Lord Randolph Churchill, Rt. Hon. Sir H. Drummond Wolff, Sir John Goret, Sir Algernon Borthwick, and Colonel Burnaby were amongst the earliest members. The first meetings were held in a small second-floor room in Essex street, Strand, where the ten original founders met constantly for discussion, and were soon joined by others. A few paragraphs in the newspapers awakened public curiosity, and adherents speedily sent in their names. Not many weeks had elapsed when some hundred persons had joined, and the work of forming clubs or habitations was begun ; hundreds soon became thousands, and a large public demonstration was held with unprecedented success in Free Mason's Tavern. Since that day the League has steadily increased, and has now attained its present gigantic proportions. Its numbers now close upon six hundred thousand members and nearly thirteen hundred habitations. The aim and object of this new society was, first, the maintenance of religion, law, order, and the integrity of the Empire ; secondly, to encourage voluntary canvass at the time of elections ; thirdly, the establishment of habitations or clubs all over the Kingdom, which should hold meetings and elect members for the furtherance of those principles ; fourthly, a strict inquiry into the registration of all Conservative voters. VOL. CXLV.--NO. 368. 6 82 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. The Primrose League had already been started two years when a prominent member expressed a wish that Lady Wimborne and the writer of this article should call together a committee of ladies, and enroll them as members with power to act on the part of the League. After some consideration, this was done, and the first committee was held on the 2d of March, 1885, at 139 Picadilly. "At which meeting it was resolved to form a ladies' branch of the League, composed of the following ladies, who each guaranteed to subscribe an annual sum toward the funds of the League, viz.: Lady Borthwich (int the chair), Julia, Countess of Jersey, The Duchess of Marlborough, Mrs. Hardman, Lady Wimborne, Lady Dorothy Nevill, Lady Randolph Churchill, Miss Nevill, Lady Charles Beresford, Lady Campbell (of Blythswood), Dow. March'ss of Waterford, Hon. Mrs. Armytage, Julia, March'ss of Tweedale, Mrs. Bischoffsheim." Meetings were at once held, often two and three times a week, and much attentive work was required for the drawing out of the rules, which till then had never been written ; but good will was shown, as well as steady application, and at the end of a few weeks the new branch made rapid progress. Members from all classes joined. Many of the great employers of labor gave powerful aid, and now at this moment no less than 106 habitations have been founded by the Dames of the League, some of them numbering from two to sixhundred persons in a club or habitation. An Executive Council was then formed, of which the Duchess of Marlborough became Acting President. Six officials, viz., three Presidents, the Duchess of marlborough, Marchioness of Salisbury, and Countess Iddesleigh, and three Vice-Presidents, Lady Wimborne, Lady Borthwick, and Baroness Bolsover, were elected for life. A Grand Council was formed, with the right of voting. Since March, 1885, the League has numbered 1.043 Dames of the Grand Council, and 34,400 Dames of the League. These numbers are constantly increasing, and during the late elections sometimes as many as 2,000 male and female members joined in a day. The work of the ladies was of an intricate description, that of forming clubs or habitations, each of which should be composed of a president, vice-president, secretary, dames, and associates. ENGLISH WOMEN AS POLITICAL FORCE. 83 They had in each district to find places where such clubs might meet for discussion and work. The next important question was that of the literature to be dispensed at such habitations, and a separate committee was formed for the purpose of editing and publishing the leaflets. As the ladies' branch rapidly increased, so did also their financial prosperity, and two ladies were appointed, Lady Gwendoline Cecil and Lady Hardman, as treasurer and secretary of the committee. It would be difficult to enumerate all the many services rendered by the women of the League, but it will give some idea of how well they have worked, when I say that no fewer than 371 clasps have been conferred for special services. These are only given for some unusual amount of work. There have also been 53 orders of merit awarded. One among many cases of work and discipline I must name, as it came under my special notice. During the time of the second election for South Kensington, a Radical candidate was started five days before going to the poll. The time being so short, there was some difficulty in getting out the voting papers. At once some 80 or 100 ladies enrolled themselves, and so admirably, so steadily, so efficiently did they work, that in less than 24 hours 10,000 voting cards were written, directed, stamped and posted. This is one of many examples of the united work of the League. Among those whose names may be mentioned, as having helped greatly to further the cause, should be named Lady Wimborne, who has started numbers of habitations ; Lady Campbell of Blythswood, who started seven habitations in three months in Scotland, and turned out a Radical who had started in Renfrewshire. Miss Nevill, who worked most efficiently in personally canvassing east and west St. Pancras, and drove about for days in taking voters to the poll. The Hon. Mary Henniker founded 13 habitations in Suffolk, and framed the by-laws to suit each locality. Lady Bolsonn, Lady Pembroke, and Lady Jersey have also been most successful in their efforts. But it would be impossible here to mention all the valuable work performed by the ladies of the League and carried out by their undaunted perseverance, courage, and energy. I cannot resist quoting a few lines from the address of Mrs. Fawcett to the students of Bedford College, last November, who, though opposed in politics, has given a most generous commendation, to the women of the League. 84 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. "It is an undeniable fact that the Primrose League has done more to give women the position which has been so long and so rigidly withheld than any other organization in this or any period of the world's history. The originators of the movement showed their judgment and discrimination when they included women in their ranks, and, so far, I do not think there is one who has betrayed the confidence reposed in her by showing that she in any way merits the legal stigma of being classed with lunatics and that ilk. It is an admitted fact, by friend and foe, that the Primrose League throughout the length and breadth of the land has rendered the organized help of women in such a way as no help has ever been given before at Parliamentary or municipal elections. It has been the frank and universal admission of successful Conservative candidates that they have been lifted into Parliament by the Primrose League." I fully believe that a wide future is opening to women. As yet their capacity has been to a great degree untried ; they have proved themselves to be endued with quick perception, foresight, energy ; we know they have shown a great power of devotion, of unselfishness, of patience under suffering, of calm courage in danger. We know them to be at once to be the good and bad angels of the opposite sex, capable alike of inciting them to higher aims, noble ambition, and lofty aspirations, as they are alike capable of ruining them by their demoralizing influence. That woman's power is unbounded, is undeniable. It has been shown in every great movement, religious or political, since the world began. Let that influence be turned to some good account. But to make noble women, you must give them responsibility; they must feel they have a place in the universe, that their actions are important, that their word is sacred, that they stand before the world not as mere irresponsible puppets, but as rational human beings, capable of good and evil, both in themselves and in influencing others. I believe that the great faults attributed to woman are the faults rather of education and of public opinion than of nature. Had she a more recognized and important position, I fully believe that the trivialities, the petty jealousies, the spitefulness, the scandalmongering, the untruthfulness, would all disappear before the serious work of life. But while we give to woman the place that is fully her due, let us not run to the other extreme. Let her not try to emulate ENGLISH WOMEN AS A POLITICAL FORCE. 85 men in the many qualities he alone possesses; let her rather try to excel as woman in all that is most feminine and womanly. Woman was created to be the complement of man's stronger qualities, not the rival of his intellect. Their very contrast should make their strength. Neither is complete without the other. Let us then work, not only for the good cause, but for the education of our own better nature. "Woman's mind, and special gifts, and ways Should ever join with man's to solve the problems of our days." ALICE B. BORTHWICK. THE INTER-STATE RAILWAY SOLVENT. __________ THE Inter-State Commerce problem does not seem to have advanced much towards a satisfactory solution, although we have had what was so long delayed, and what has been all the time essential to its solution, Congressional action. A specific, however, is not likely to cure a chronic disease, but even if the disease can be brought to the surface, and present for a time a more aggravated appearance, it may be a step in advance. Faults in the legislation of this country are not a new thing; we do not address ourselves to the application of remedies with the directness of an absolute government, nor even with that of a popular government where the people surrender their prerogatives for a time to the sway of a responsible officer—which is the present characteristic of Great Britain—but there is a holding back by the party or individuals of the party in power, and a timidity in action that is unfavorable to the expression of pronounced and highly intelligent ideas. Power is held by so slight a tenure with us, not only by a party, but, presuming the party stays in power, by particular individuals of the party, that the thing first to do is to hug the popular sentiment, even though the sentiment be ignorant, misled, and utterly without grasp of the necessity of the situation. Our statesmanship then does not so much seek to grasp the situation as the popular interpretation of the situation, and public spirit ordinarily does not get further than to see office, and retain it afterwards. It is natural for a man of ordinary disinterestedness to believe that he can administer an office to which he aspires equally well or better than another man, and, having obtained an office, he feels it is better to make what he regards, perhaps, only a slight surrender of his best wisdom, rather than to turn over his position to another; but "the only way into truth is to enact your insight," and the man who halts and holds back from the expression of his highest wisdom is not the man to grapple with and THE INTER-STATE RAILWAY SOLVENT. 87 bring out of confusion a matter intertwined with truth and falsehood, and with conflicting private and public advantage. In saying this there may be no special value, but it calls attention to the unpreparedness of the national legislative mind and the lack of surrender of that mind to the solution of the railroad problem, and that it is but natural, consequently, that the country should grope in getting out of the difficulty. The administration of railroads has become bone of the bone and flesh of the flesh of the public affairs of this country, and these affairs are so public that they no longer admit of a purely private administration; and it has been the fault of government with us that this point has not been foreseen, that it has become a serious matter before it has been taken up, and, worse than this, that we are even now destitute of any special wisdom as to how we should grapple with it. The present Inter-State Commerce Law does not fairly combine even any two schools of thought in regard to the solution of the Inter-State railroad problem, and much less is it the expression of any one school of thought. Nobody, consequently, supports the law as it now stands with any heartiness. It is supported because it is a law, because it is the presumed wisdom, or compromised wisdom, of Congress upon the subject, and it has a special body of officers, selected with great care by the President, whose duty it is to see that it is enforced. The main feature of its passage was that the country wanted something upon the subject, that it was not best even to leave it over until another Congress, and, in the conflicting ideas, there was a general consensus to let something go through upon the subject, not very special reference being had as to what that something might be. Under this pressure of showing a result, the law fell short of showing the "average" wisdom of Congress upon the subject. This first act of "something" having been done, and that something having been demonstrated to possess no particular wisdom upon the subject, the nest step to get at is—what is wisdom upon it? In the first place, the force of the law is mostly spent upon the long and short haul clause, which has not been one of the burning questions of the railroad administration in this country. The long and short haul clause affects localities, whereas the chief objection in our railroading is in the aggrandizement of individuals— the wealth and the power, in railroading and out of it, 88 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. that has come to individuals, that in a measure has changed the character of our institutions, that has greatly changed the relative condition of individuals, and that is threatening further changes of these kinds, and is alarming to the public mind. This enormous power and wealth to individuals is, first, in the individual ownership and management of railroads, and, second, in the control of the business of the country, that has been given over to other individuals by those controlling the railroads. The former power comes, stating it in the most succinct form, through stock manipulation, the latter through freight discrimination. In advancing this subject towards a solution, I cannot see wherein it is not unfortunate that such prominence should have been given to the long and short haul clause--that is, to locality-- when this is not, and it is not possible that it should be, a national issue. The extreme aggrandizement of individuals is a national issue, as the great railroad man, holding his power through changes of party administration and through a succession of individuals holding high offices, is more important in the affairs of the country than one holding any elective office, and this is a change of the most extraordinary kind, not of our written, but of our unwritten constitution. The constitution of no country or government can be embodied in a state paper for any great length of time ; the men of one generation cannot lay down the law completely for the men of another generations, nor can the subtle changes from one period to another be recognized as changes and find a formal constitutional record. Each generation has to govern itself very largely without help from any preceding generation, and too much and too greatly revered automatic governing machinery may be an evil. As soon as a man ceases to be alone he has to be more or less governed ; this pertains to marriage, to the family, to private and natural defense and aggrandizement ; and transportation in the development it has received in the nineteenth century is perhaps the chief of these. Transportation in this country undoubtedly exceeds its importance in any other country. This is on account of our extent, the promise of development before us, and the greatly variegated products of the different parts of the country, making exchange of these products over great distances of the utmost consequence. The chief nations of Europe have international affairs, and the preser- THE INTER-STATE RAILWAY SOLVENT. 89 vation of their own boundaries and autonomies, to develop statesmanship of the first class. We do not have these spurs to statesmanship, and are of the order of people, supposed to be the most happy order, that has the least history. In this way transportation becomes for us of this country the greatest subject of our time. As our government has been constituted since the rebellion, its administration has not offered the greatest prizes for individual ambition, but these have been found in the administration of the affairs of railroads and other branches of transportation. This is because the tenure of power is longer, and the opportunities of individual wealth much greater. The officeholder may have the shadow of power, but the transportation magnate has the substance. If, to the holder of high office, there was the tenure of power such as rules, say, in Great Britain, the equilibrium of the affairs of this nation would be better, the railroad man would be held in check,--he would not weigh so heavily in courts, Congress, legislatures, lobbies, conventions, caucuses, and at the polls ; and there awaits us development in one of two directions--men powerful in office, able to impose a policy and regimen upon the country, or transportation affairs so passed over into the affairs of the administration of the relations of one to another,--become affairs of government,--that the transportation magnate sinks to the level of the competitive citizen, although he may be a very rich one, as is now the case with many bankers and merchants. Unless one of these courses is pursued, our institutions, as they have been known, are substantially at an end. Free institutions cannot exist with the wealth of the country practically at the command of irresponsible individuals, as has been the case since the railroads arrived at their pre-eminence. As I have cited, this has come through stock manipulation and freight discrimination. It is the old problem of government, whether individual or national, taking new form : there cannot be two masters. The individual cannot serve God and Mammon. Our predecessors could not live on territory part slave and part free, nor can we live under an oligarchy with unrestrained power for the absorption of wealth and maintain free institutions. A cursory view of this absorption of wealth shows : 1st, the railroads "manipulated" into the hands of a comparatively few ; 2d, manufacturing, trading, mining, and stock-raising annex businesses to railroading through discriminations ; 3d, the pockets of Eastern 90 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. land-holders emptied into the pockets of railroad magnates, who are the chief Western land-holders, by the cheap means of mechanical transportation East and West, and the consequent depreciation of the values of Eastern lands. he who has saved money by other occupations is likely, sooner or later, to have it swallowed up by one of these vortexes, as a surplus of money implies some form of investment. It is the misfortune of the country that a law has been enacted that overslaughs by diversion of attention the most important features of railroad administration, discrimination and stock manipulation ; that has attempted to substitute arbitrary law where natural law should control, nature having preceded railroads in establishing favored places by sea, and lake, and river transportation, and that destroys the last result of highly organized transportation, the railroad federation or pool. A patient trial of the present law might inhibit the evils of discrimination and stock manipulation, as the first is positively forbidden, and the publicity of facts, made obligatory, might in time root out the latter. But the energies of the Commission, as the law now stands, with the pressure upon it from the long and short haul clause, can but imperfectly reach this portion of the act. It is impossible to equalize, in points of advantage, all parts of this country ; and, as nature established the precedent of favoring one locality at the expense of another, it is not reasonable to expect that, in changing the chief method of transportation from water to rail, this precedent can be annulled, although the favored localities may not be entirely the same as they were before. The pool is an extraordinary convenience at least. With an uncontrolled private ownership of railroads, it might be a terrible instrument of oppression, and by rooting out competition, and by fixing such rates of transportation as it might choose, and directly, or through its agents, entering upon the business of trading, as well as transporting (which was at one time the case with the Standard Oil Company--that company acting as the pool agent for oil transportation), it might absorb in an extraordinarily short time the wealth of the country. But the pool with an intelligent and honest government supervision takes all complication out of transportation, and raises its powers to the highest efficiency. It is possible there may come a time in the affairs of trans- THE INTER-STATE RAILWAY SOLVENT. 91 portation when there will be more or less regulation regarding locality, but this is one of the niceties of the question that cannot be successfully reached while government oversight is in a crude state. This issue cannot well be national, as the friends of action for locality (which I repeat is the principle of the long and short haul) are likely to be arrayed each for his own locality, and against another locality when specific action comes. The attempt to treat this, in the present inchoate state of the subject, disappoints the country on the relation of the government to transportation. It makes the judicious grieve, but the magnate of transportation laugh. And fancy the feelings of a Commissioner, with discretionary powers, trying to do that which nature never did, and which no way has yet been invented for finite man to do ! The preponderating fault of the law is that it attempts to do altogether too much ; it is a nineteenth century bull against the comet, a Texan steer running amuck in a china shop. It is grounded first on the idea that the railroad manager must not be scotched but killed, that there has been no evolution worth preserving in railroad management, that the whole subject can be reconstructed on a priori ideas, that railroading in its entirety is reeking with abuse, and that the true American has not come to the front in its management. Speaking more definitely, Mr. Reagan in the House represented the a priori idea of settling the railroad problem, and was able to impose his views upon the majority, while Mr. Cullom in the Senate, with the majority of that body with him, accepted principles that have been plainly evolved as good ones, and attempted to discriminate against the abuses that have grown up in the system. Between these forces, neither party yielding to the other, but both willing to give way that something might be done without much reference to how intelligent that something might be, we have the present hotchpotch of a law, which has resulted in giving the railroads advantages over the public that they did not possess before. We have it now demonstrated that one law does not settle the railroad problem, and, unfortunately, this law has not put us in the way to learn much upon the subject, as what it has done more than anything else is to establish confusion where confusion did not exist, and divert attention from the true gist of the question. Under these circumstances, it is not to be expected that the next 92 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. Congress will be able to act very wisely ; the subject is vastly too intricate for ready solution, and all now living and taking an interest in public affairs are likely to see their course pretty well advanced before it can be eliminated from a controversial position in the public mind. The difficulties of settling the question are congenital, as the framers of our constitution knew not railroads, and, in looking into it to see what may be formulated there that applies to them, there is the greatest room for latitude of opinion. This is unfavorable to the development of knowledge upon the subject, except as that is forced by dire experience. The public mind of the country ignored the whole subject of the relation of the government to railroads until it was forced by events ; but now the point is reached that something has to be done, that it is right to do something, and that to do something is harmonious with the constitution. We have been getting "judge-made law" on the subject pretty fast for a few years, and now stand on the ground, from the federal standpoint, that no state can legislate on transportation that pertains to two states, and that the federal government has full power, and exclusive power, on all transportation from one state to another state. With the volume of our inter-state commerce, this makes the judicial and legislative field of the federal government in transportation very large. Railroad transportation of the country as it pertains to regulation, may be classified as follows : 1st. Railroads that run from state to state. 2d. Commodities and passengers that are moved from state to state. 3d. Railroads that are located wholly in one state. 4th. Commodities and passengers moved wholly within one state. There is no further controversy to take place on the first two of these propositions, as it is settled in the public mind and in the courts that the federal authority has exclusive jurisdiction. The establishment of the federal authority regarding the second proposition also establishes it in a measure regarding the third proposition, as a railroad located wholly in one state participates in moving commodities from one state to another, and this brings it in a measure under the domain of the federal authority. But is it reasonable, practicable, and in the line of efficient THE INTER-STATE RAILWAY SOLVENT. 93 regulation to let it stop here ? It is a nice division in the business of a railroad to know what is state and what is inter-state, almost too nice to follow with exactness for practical results. A railroad participates in inter-state commerce ; it sells tickets to passengers that are good over its line and over lines in other states ; it honors tickets in the same way held by passengers coming from other states, and the same principle is true regarding the movement of commodities. It is too much of an abstraction to draw a line and say, the part of the business of the railroad that is done wholly in one state the authority of the federal government in no way relates to and cannot touch. The fact that the railroad participates in the national and federal business at all--is an instrument of inter-state commerce--is sufficient to make it amenable in all its business to the national and federal law. The adoption of this principle would not include the railroads of municipalities, the ordinary street car lines, where no recognition is taken of a passenger's destination or whence he comes. But it is desirable in this country to localize the exercise of authority as much as possible, to distribute it among the various states. And this is specially true regarding neighboring citizens and corporations. Let the federal law on the subject be so framed that a state law, made in harmony with and to carry out the same provisions as those of the federal law shall have jurisdiction, within the territory of that state, and if a state does not legislate to this effect the federal law to be supreme. This would give to each state the option to do for its own citizens what otherwise the federal law would do : it would establish uniformity of law regarding railroad transportation throughout the country, and at the same time it would maintain the local jurisdiction of each state, unless it voluntarily surrenders it. JOHN C. WELCH. NOTES AND COMMENTS. I. THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE GLACIAL THEORY. FIFTY years have now elapsed since the glacial theory was first formulated and promulgated. This brilliant scientific conception is commonly supposed to have originated with the Swiss savant, Louis Agassiz ; but Dr. Otto Volger, in a recent paper published in the Allgemeine Zeitung, of Munich (February 17th and 18th), affirms and clearly proves that Agassiz borrowed this idea from Karl Schimper, and that he was not only fully conscious of this indebtedness, but also most carefully concealed it. In the interests of truth and justice, and as a matter of scientific history, it certainly seems desirable that the facts in the case should be presented to the English-reading public. Karl Schimper, eminent as a botanist, and esteemed as a poet, was born in Mannheim, February 15th, 1803. From 1826 to 1829, he pursued his studies at the Universities of Heidelberg and Munich, in intimate daily association with Agassiz and Alexander Braun, and made, during this period, several original and exceedingly important contributions to the morphology of plants. In recognition of his discoveries, and for the purpose of facilitating the further prosecution of his scientific researches, he received a small annual stipend from the Bavarian Academy of Sciences, which, by enabling him to make frequent excursions among the Bavarian and Tyrolese Alps, turned his attention more and more to geognostic investigations. Gradually his interest in mountain flora was overshadowed by the curiosity excited in him by the gigantic bowlders, near which it grew, and he was led irresistibly to inquire as to the nature and origin or these exotic and erratic blocks. As a botanist, he was first attracted to them by the foreign character of the lichens and mosses, which he found growing upon the bowlders scattered over the Bavarian plains. He continued these observations for several years, and finally embodied the results in a course of lectures, delivered at Munich, in the winter of 1835-36. In these lectures, Schimper not only unfolded the main features of the glacial theory, but he also seems to have anticipated Mr. Croll in attributing the glacial epoch to astronomical influences, which produced an alternation of "cosmic summers and cosmic winters." According to the Bavarian Privy Councilor, the late Gustave von Bezold, who attended and took notes of these lectures, Schimper proved conclusively that the erratic blocks of granite, or so-called "foundlings," had been transported to their present position, not by water, as had been hitherto supposed, but by the agency of ice, masses of which, several thousand feet thick, once covered all Europe. He also expressly stated that it was due to this method of transportation that the alluvion and drift did not fill up the lakes and the valleys, which would have been the case with diluvial deposits of detritus. In July, 1836, Schimper was present at a meeting of Swiss naturalists in NOTES AND COMMENTS. 95 Solothurn, where he made the acquaintance of Charpentier and Hugi, with whom he discussed the glacial theory. Agassiz was also there, but showed no interest in this subject, being wholly absorbed in fossil fishes, echinoderms, and mollusks. At this time Schimper investigated the glacial phenomena on the slopes of the Jura and in the Black Forest, where he discovered unmistakable traces of glacial action. In September of the same year he visited Charpentier at Bex, where he remained till December. On his arrival, he found Agassiz already there, who, however, had come, not for the purpose of studying glaciers, as is stated in his biography (p. 261), but solely for the sake of examining Charpentier's fine collection of fossil fishes and shells. He listened to the conversation of the two friends, but took little or no part in it, and only once accompanied them, with his brother-in-law, Francillon, on an excursion conducted by Schimper, to the Col de Balme and the Trient Glacier. On the 16th of December Schimper arrived at Neuchatel, and on the 19th discovered the famous glacier marks near Landeron, in the chalk rocks of the Jura. Agassiz, to whom he communicated this discovery, now showed the liveliest interest in it, as well as in the general doctrine of a great glacial epoch, towards which he had hitherto maintained a decidedly skeptical attitude. His constant intercourse with Schimper, who imparted the results of his daily researches without reserve, kindled in him an ardent enthusiasm for this subject, and he resolved to present it to his fellow-citizens of Neuchatel in a series of public lectures, which were accordingly announced in the Courrier Neuchatelois for January 24th, 1837. In order to carry out this purpose more successfully Agassiz requested Schimper to let him have the manuscript of the lectures, which the latter had, as already stated, delivered in Munich a year before. But as Schimper was unable to procure this manuscript, owing to the fact that it was locked up in his room at Munich, he wrote to Gustave Bezold, a former pupil, to send with all possible haste the notes which he had taken of the aforementioned lectures. These notes were received in January, and early in February Agassiz began his course of lectures, and continued them at the rate of five a week until the beginning of March. But in the very first lecture Agassiz betrayed so great ignorance of the subject and made so many blunders, especially concerning the nature and constitution of ice, that Schimper generously offered to aid him henceforth in the preparation of each lecture, and this offer was gratefully accepted. Schimper also wrote an ode entitled "Die Eiszeit. Fur Freunde gedruckt am Geburtstage Galilei's, 1837" (The Ice Period. Printed for Friends on Galilei's Birthday, 1837), which Agassiz distributed among his auditors. It was signed "Dr. K. F. Schimper," and dated "Neuchatel, February 15th, 1837." Here the word "Eiszeit" appears for the first time in print, and the date of Schimper's ode is, therefore, regarded by Dr. Volger as the nativity of the glacial theory, although it was really born into the scientific world a twelve-month earlier. It was perfectly natural that the people of Neuchatel should have looked upon their distinguished townsman as the author of the strange and striking theory which he promulgated. The local newspaper gave him the full credit of it and probably had not the slightest conception of Shimper's real and originary connection with it. At any rate, it was more pleasing to the proverbially provincial spirit of the Swiss and the cantonal conceit of the Neuchateles, already restive under Prussian domination, to think that "our Agassiz" should explain the cosmic significance of "our glaciers," than that they should be indebted to a foreigner for the interpretation of their familiar phenomena. In the summer of 1837, the twenty-second session of the "Helvetic Society of Natural Sciences" was held at Neuchatel. As Schimper was then in Karlsruhe 96 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. and unable to be present at the meeting of the association, he wrote to Agassiz, urging him as a brother (Schimper was betrothed to a sister of Agassiz's first wife) to bring the glacial theory before the assembled savants, in his stead, and to make use of the fit opportunity afforded to secure the scientific recognition of this "immensely important truth." My discovery, he adds, has already been to me the source of much annoyance, since it offends the inveterate prejudices of neptunists and plutonists alike, and runs counter to the traditional "unbiological notion of a merely mechanically progressive diminution of the earth's temperature." He also refers to some glacial phenomena in the vicinity of Neuchatel, to which the Helvetic Society should be conducted, and gives the necessary instructions. In view of this letter, the greater part of which is published in the "Actes de la Societe Helvetique des Sciences Naturelles, Neuchatel, 1837," no one can doubt, says Dr. Volger, "who was the teacher, and who the pupil." A comparison of the "Discours preliminaire," with which Agassiz, as President of the Helvetic Society is said to have "startled" his auditors, shows how greatly he was indebted to Schimper's communication in the preparation of this address, as it appears in the printed proceedings. He speaks of his exposition of the glacial theory as a "fusion of his views with those of Mr. Schimper ;" and it is clear that where he does not follow Schimper, he usually errs, as, for example, when he asserts that the transportation of bowlders by glaciers was due to a gliding or sliding motion on an inclined plane produced by the upheaval of the Alps. Indeed, Dr. Volger declares that Agassiz, notwithstanding all his later glacial investigations, never acquired a knowledge of ice and its peculiar energies. In his preliminary discourse he passes over points which he could not explain, with the phrase, "Comme ils sont enpartie connus, je ne m'y arrete pas;" adding "M. Schimper a fait n beau travail sur les effets de la glace, auquel je renverrais mes lecteurs, s'il etait publie." The rage of Leopold von Buch, mentioned in Mrs. Agassiz's biography of her husband (p.264), was directed against Schimper, as the real author of the mischief, if we are to believe the account of the affair given shortly afterwards by Agassiz himself to Schimper in Karlsruhe. But whatever glory emanated from the new doctrine haloed round the brow of Agassiz as its public expounder, and naturally enough he soon grew fond of the easily-won fame. The nimbus of the saint is a covetable head-gear, provided one is not compelled to win it by the thorny crown of martyrdom. It would seem as though Agassiz had so often heard it said that he was the originator of the glacial theory, that he finally began to believe it himself. At this time a certain tension becomes apparent in the personal relations of the two friends. Schimper wrote to Agassiz calling his attention to the fact that the press uniformly attributed to him the theory of a glacial epoch, and earnestly entreating him not to consent by silence to this wrong, but to publish fully and frankly the true state of the case. To this reasonable request Agassiz replied, October 23d, 1837, in a somewhat lofty manner, that he neither read the newspapers nor had anything to do with their contents, butthat in the official report of the society's proceedings everything would have its due place. In his "Etudes sur les Glaciers" (published in 1840), Agassiz does not make the slightest allusion to Schimper ; and in a letter to Alexander Braun, accompanying a presentation copy of this work, he remarks : "You need not wonder that Schimper's name is no where mentioned. I wished thus to punish his presumption. Whatever he could call his own, in the remotest degree, I have passed over, even when I was compelled to agree with him." Wherein consisted this "presumption," which Agassiz wished to punish by a policy of utterly ignoring the achievements of a colleague, in a manner which, in the interests of NOTES AND COMMENTS. 97 true learning and to the honor of human nature, one would gladly think is rare in the annals of scientific research ? Merely in the modest expression of a desire to have his name publicly mentioned in connection with a theory, of which, as is now clearly shown, he was the real and only author. Schimper urged Braun, who was fully cognizant of the facts, to uphold him in the defense of his rights. But Braun declined to take part in the controversy, on the ground that he "could not approve of the angry attitude of the two friends." Nevertheless, in a letter addressed to Professor Roper, of Rostock, and dated February 22d, 1840, he refers to the glacial theory and declares that "Agassiz and Charpentier, who are now doing most in this matter, are both Schimper's pupils." Schimper died at Schwetzingen, in the Grand Duchy of Baden, December 21st, 1867. At Munich he was the favorite pupil Schelling, who predicted a brilliant future for him. That his subsequent career did not fully realize the promise of his youth was due partly to a certain idealistic indifference to worldly emoluments, but, in a great measure, to the persistent enmity of Leopold von Buch, who could not forgive the young botanist for having introduced into geology a new ice-epoch-making idea, of which he, the veteran geognost, had never dreamed. There is a grim irony in the fate, which, on the one hand, robbed him of the honor of being recognized as the originator of the theory, for which, on the other hand, he appears to have suffered no little persecution. The ignoring policy which Agassiz inaugurated in his first work on glaciers, he pursued to the bitter end. In the recently published "Life and Correspondence," edited by Mrs. Agassiz, Schimper is mentioned about half a dozen times. He is spoken of as a "most congenial companion," "a young botanist of brilliant promise," and is playfully referred to as "our professor of philosophy ;" but there is not intimation that he ever saw a glacier, or took the slightest interest in glacial phenomena. Dr. Voler's article, of which we have given an abstract, has already attracted considerable attention among scientific men in Germany, and, unless its statements can be refuted, will seriously injure the reputation of Agassiz as a savant, and leave an indelible stain upon his character as a man. E. P. EVANS. II. IRISH AID IN THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. WITH one glance at Faneuil Hall, and the Irish "love of liberty" that would prevent Englishmen from using it in polite and harmless celebration of "Queen Victoria's Jubilee," permit me to correct the public misapprehension that the Irish were of any great and special service to this republic of ours, in the days of the Revolution. Among Irish-Americans and the politicians who court their votes, the claim of such service usually comes up at public meetings about as follows : "Ill would it become us to turn a deaf ear to the cry of suffering Ireland when we remember how, in the hour of our own travail--in the hour when our own country was coming into the world amid roar of cannon and groans of anguish--it was Ireland that held out to us the hand of fellowship, etc., etc." Those who read the papers doubtless remember many orations framed upon this model. Sometimes the speaker goes farther, and attempts to particularize ; and then we seen something like the recent effort of a Massachusetts statesman and ex-governor who, in recounting the benefits received, says : "She sent us Montgomery ! and also remarks with unconscious humor, "Remember the memorial VOL. CXLV.--NO. 368. 7 98 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. which Congress addressed to Ireland !" He does not give Ireland's response, but leaves us to believe that a beggar is indebted to him he asks for alms, even though no alms be forthcoming. Now, let us look, first, at the individual cases of prominent Irishmen in the Revolution. There were soldiers of fortune from almost every country in Europe, who thronged to the revolutionary army, even to the extent that Congress was seriously embarrassed to provide offices for a host of applicants who looked for nothing less than major generalships and separate commands. Among these there were doubtless Irishmen, but, unfortunately for the force of the demagogues' plea, we do not find that our Irish auxiliaries were unmitigated blessings. They cannot point to a single name like Lafayette, Kosciusko, Pulaski, or Steuben ; but there was Conway, whose restless, scheming spirit, and selfish treachery, well nigh imperiled the cause of liberty, and whose conspiracy to degrade Washington, to drive him from the service with a blackened reputation and to install the shallow Gates as commander-in-chief of the American army is registered in history as "Conway's Cabal." Fortunately the attempt failed. I do not include the name of Richard Montgomery, the name that is most often quoted by the Irish panegyrist--first, because he did not come here to assist us, but was a resident in the colonies before the war broke out, and second, because, though born on Irish soil, he was certainly not an Irishman. His name alone discloses his Scotch lineage, and, as a matter of fact, he was a descendant of one of Cromwell's settlers--one of that class upon whom the vials of Irish wrath are ever emptied, and who as Macauley informs us, would resent the name "Irish" as a deadly insult. I must be pardoned for mentioning, also, the historical circumstance that the soldier who, for an English bribe, undertook to poison George Washington, was an Irishman. But I have no wish to dwell on this part of the subject. It is not just to charge the acts of isolated individuals against their race, any more than it is just to credit to the race the virtues of stray individuals. And now for a few hard facts which really bear upon the issue,--only a few out of many, but enough to explode forever the [f]iction of American indebtedness to Ireland on the score of revolutionary succor. In the first place, as to the disposition of the rank and file of Irish immigrants, I quote from Bancroft's "History of the United States," Vol. X., Page 175 (first octavo edition) : "While it was no longer possible for the Americans to keep up their army by enlistments, the British gained numerous recruits from immigrants. In Philadelphia, Howe had formed a regiment of Roman Catholics. With still better success, Clinton courted the Irish. They had fled from the prosecutions of inexorable landlords to a country which offered them freeholds. By flattering their nationality, and their sense of the importance attached to their numbers, Clinton allured them to a combination directly averse to their own interests, and raised for Lord Rawdon a large regiment, in which officers and men were exclusively Irish. Among them were nearly five hundred deserters from the American army." The italics are mine. So much for the spirit of the Irish immigrants. Now let us see about the sympathy of the Irish in Ireland. In 1779 the Spanish government, then at war with England, sent an emissary, a Catholic priest, to see what could be done in the way of creating a diversion in Ireland to aid the cause of the allies in Europe and America. Bancroft speaks of his mission as follows : NOTES AND COMMENTS. 99 "He could have no success. After the first shedding of American blood in 1775, one hundred and twenty-one Irish Catholics, having indeed no formal representative authority, yet professing to speak not for themselves only, but 'for all their fellow Roman Catholic Irish subjects,' had addressed the English Secretary in Ireland, 'in proof of their grateful attachment to the best of kings, and their just abhorrence of the unnatural American rebellion,' and had 'made a tender of two millions of faithful and affectionate hearts and hands in defense of his person and government in any part of the world.' " The italics are again my own. My references are Bancroft's "History," Vol. X., page 252, and Froude's, "The English in Ireland," Vol. II, page 176. Now turn to Ireland as represented in her Parliament ; for she had a Parliament of her own then. I quote again from Bancroft, Vol. X., page 453. "When the tidings from Lexington and Bunker Hill reached them (the Irish), their Parliament came to a vote that 'they heard of the rebellion with abhorrence, and were ready to show to the world their attachment to the sacred person of the King.' Taking advantage of its eminently loyal disposition, Lord North obtained its leave to employ four thousand men of the Irish army for service in America. That army should by law have consisted of twelve thousand men ; but it mustered scarcely more than nine thousand. Out of these the strongest and best, without regard to the prescribed limitation of numbers, were selected, and eight regiments, all that could be formed, were shipped across the Atlantic." This, it may be said, was the act of the Irish Parliament as a whole. But to close the last loophole of doubt let us examine the position taken by the Irish patriots, with Henry Grattan at their head. Bancroft again says, on page 454 : "When in 1778, it appeared how much the commissioners sent to America had been willing to concede to insurgents for the sake of reconciliation, the patriots of Ireland awoke to a sense of what they might demand. . . . At the opening of the session of October, 1779, Grattan moved an amendment to the address, that the nation could be saved only by free export and free import, or according to the terser words that were finally chosen, by free trade. The friends of government dared not resist the amendment, and it was carried unanimously. New taxes were refused. The ordinary supplies, usually granted for two years, were granted for six months. The house was in earnest, the people were in earnest. . . . Great Britain being already taxed to the uttermost by its conflict with America, Lord North persuaded its Parliament to concede the claims of the neighboring island to commercial equality." Here we have the patriot party of Ireland signalizing the American revolution, not by sympathy, not by aid, but making use of the occasion for obtaining advantages for themselves in return for the resources they furnished England to help suppress the cause of American independence ! Comment is entirely unnecessary ; and, while, perhaps, we should not blame them, under the circumstances, for the course they took, yet when they claim our gratitude for it, they exhibit an ignorance or an impudence for which they should occasionally, at least, be snubbed. There may have been isolated instances of Irish sympathy with "the spirit of '76," which I have been unable to discover ; but it would require a long list of them to weigh much against the recorded facts. Let us hear somewhat less of this "debt to Ireland," save, of course, from the lips of the Irish agitator or American demagogue. By giving to the Irishman or German praise which has not been earned, we belittle the gratitude which we do owe to one and only one European race, for aiding our American Revolution. To France as a nation, and to the French as individuals, we are deeply indebted ; and those who, for political capital, harp other names and display other flags, should remember that by so doing they insult the country to which America owes most, but whose citizens are not here in sufficient numbers to incite the politicians to defend their merits. DUFFIELD OSBORNE. 100 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. III. THE SISTER OF THE DRAMA. PERMIT me to offer a few objections to Mr. Boucicault's interesting article in your April number, and correct some inaccuracies of statement. The form of drama called opera was invented nearly 300 years ago, instead of 200, as he says. As early as 1594 Peri composed an opera, and in 1600 the work was published and performed in honor of Maria Medici and Henry the 4th of France. Conceding the point, that opera is not a drama in the realistic sense in which Mr. Boucicault so amusingly represents it, to those who have been thrilled and delighted by the indescribable power of song, enhanced with the adjuncts of chorus and orchestra, it would seem more appropriate to say that opera is not a drama any more than an angel is a woman. Opera is essentially an idealization of the drama. No character can remain on the plane of reality in lyric works. It is unnatural for Romeo and Juliet to sing their thoughts of love even, and from a realistic (dramatic) standpoint silly for the nurse, Mercutio, and the rest of them to utter their ideas in sustained tones ; yet a serenade introduced for the one, and a comic song for the other, would be perfectly proper and logical. For this reason it is necessary that operatic subjects should be ideals rather than realities. For this reason the masters chose always classic subjects, Orpheus, Iphegenia, etc., characters of fable sufficiently unreal to wear with grace the garments of music. It is not more absurd for your neighbor Jones to go about chanting, "How do you do this morning, sir ?" "What's the price of stocks ?" etc., than it would be to appear on change wrapped in a Roman toga with a laurel wreath on his brow. Therefore, I do not wonder at Mr. Boucicault's disgust at the dramatic inconsistencies in Sir Julius Benedict's treatment of his "Rose of Killarney." But, in spite of these inconsistencies and monstrous absurdities, let me draw attention to some facts which seem to have escaped his notice. In the first place, his operatic experiences have been of an era dating nearly fifty years back. No doubt his own activity on the boards has prevented him from attending many more modern works, and thus much has escaped his attention which I doubt not he would have enjoyed, even from a dramatic standpoint. To prove that musical treatment of a dramatic work may be successful, let me remind him that Gounod's opera, "Faust," has driven Goethe's drama of the same name off the stage. Here the characters were ideal, and the French master's inspiration clothed them with a charm and beauty that the drama itself could not have represented. Even so realistic a subject as the troubadour, "Il Trovatore," has been given a vital strength of enduring impressiveness which, it seems to me, no drama on the same subject could have sustained. And who that has witnessed the mental agonies of the king's jester in "Rigoletto," when performed by a good actor and singer like Galassi, has not felt a sympathy as deep, if not so horrible, as when the "Fool's Revenge" is enacted even by Booth ? Again, Wagner, in his operas, the "Flying Dutchman" but more especially in "Lohengrin," has given a happy wedding of ideal characters in action, with music that does not offend the sense of logic, while it transforms them to the dignity of demi-gods, and lifts the listeners into a lofty realm of emotion where speech is awed into silence, and thought is merged into adoration and ecstasy. Of the thousands who have been uplifted and transfused with these divine inspirations, you will find few to admit that opera is a thing of the past, "evanescent," an "exotic," etc. NOTES AND COMMENTS. 101 Dramatists use music as a valuable adornment to add charms to their creations. Musicians use the drama for the sake of giving them greater opportunities for power and variety. The power and enduring qualities of music are best shown when it is remembered that for generations a "Don Juan," by Mozart, with its utterly inane libretto, can remain attractive. And so, if it be true that our operatic artists are not histrionic geniuses, it equally true that the librettos usually call for little acting. And the same pieces presented by the best actors in the world without music would not attract any one at all. So, if it be true that many vocal artists might find no place as juvenile tragedians or leading ladies, should they loose their voices, it is equally true that your actors appearing in "Lucia," "Carmen," or other operas without music, would fare as badly. I also deny the implied inferior histrionic abilities of Gerster, Patti, Lucca, Nilsson, Hastreiter, Hauk, Brandt, and other singers, as compared to Miss Terry, Ada Rehan, and others, whose talents grace the dramatic arena. If these singers should lose their vocal art, I believe there is not one but could, if she chose, appear with advantage in the drama. If in opera they appear at a disadvantage, it is because the opportunity is not offered to demonstrate their talent in that direction, and not because of lack of histrionic power. Who that has seen Marianne Brandt in the "Prophet," "Fidelio," and "Lohengrin," can deny her wonderful dramatic power ? And did not Madame Hastreiter present a consummate characterization of Ortrud, the embodiment of hatred, hypocrisy, and revenge ? The sextette of "Lucia," of which Mr. Boucicault speaks in such (logically just) ridicule, I have never yet heard given without its moving audiences to enthusiasm; and who that has witnessed a Lucca as Marguerite, a Nilsson as Valentine, in the "Huguenots," and the matchless Patti in "Traviata," would deny that they were actresses as well as singers ? Again, the opera is not dependent upon government support abroad any more than the drama, and in Italy it is self-supporting. That music is an art continually changing is true. The music of the seventeenth century is not the music of the nineteenth. Our day has absorbed the best of the past. But turning to the drama, does not the same picture present itself ? Where is Boccaccio, where Katzebue, Congreve and others ? Perhaps no writer of plays knows as well as Mr. Boucicault himself where the best of these authors may be found in modern dramas, for no doubt he is conscious of having assimilated much in his own works. Music is the youngest of the arts, poetry the oldest ; yet the spirit of transmigration is shown even in poetry. For is not Homer a compilation of various men's recitations ; Aesop's fables a collection of stories of many generations' filterings of wisdom ; and does not Dante absorb and reiterate the gloomy superstitions and bigotries of hundreds of mediaeval fanatics ? At the present day there is not found in England a single theatre where Shakspere's immortal works can be seen and heard, and the waves of but two centuries have washed the tablets of his soul's deep thought-carvings. How long will the process of disintegration of this greatest combination of mortal talents be retarded? At the most but a century ; for it is in nature that the centuries devour each other and reproduce in some new form their vital qualities. If this is true of the oldest of the arts, with a definite speech to aid in crystallizing it for enduring, is it strange that change should be written on the face of music, yet a child in the family of the true and beautiful? Permit me to remind Mr. Boucicault that despite this apparent fickle character of music, the Gregorian chants have been sung for more than a thousand years. The Hallelujah, still sung in the Jewish synagogues, is thousands of years old. The music of Palestrina 012 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. is yet in vogue in the church service. Thus it would seem that the "divine art" possessed a vital individuality almost equal to that of its older sister. But the power of music in connection with the drama has asserted itself in spite of logical absurdities, and while it is true that it appeals in these instances to the senses rather than to the intellect, it is not that the opera is appreciated by the illiterate masses as compared with the educated classes ; for music is a matter of special cultivation. Only a small minority are usually found who enjoy it in the higher forms, such as oratorio, opera, and symphony. To the many educated thousands who recognize the adage that "fiction hath in it a higher aim than fact," Mr. B. will appeal in vain for the destruction of opera. For while admitting the service and power, not alone for entertaining, but of instructing and improving the mind, of the drama, I must claim that music hath in it a higher aim than realism, an aim which tints our sorrow-clouds with golden sunlight of hope, gives joy wings to soar above mundane things, and lifts the soul in inexpressible adoration before the Creator of the Universe. S. G. PRATT. IV. MORLEY ON EMERSON. THE essay on Emerson by Mr. John Morley is read with extreme pleasure, because one feels that, although the writer's views of the world differ fundamentally from those of Emerson, he yet endeavors to render the fullest justice. Therefore, it is that, when he seems inadequately to interpret our seer, the impulse arises to set the matter right. I find Mr. Morley at fault when he views Emerson's solution of the great problem of individual deprivation. I will quote his words: "One radical tragedy in nature Emerson admits. If I am poor in faculty, dim in vision, shut out from opportunity, in every sense an outcast from the inheritance of the earth, that seems indeed to be a tragedy. 'But see the facts clearly and these mountainous inequalities vanish. Love reduces them, as the sun melts the icebergs in the sea. The heart and soul of all men being one, this bitterness of His and Mine ceases. His is mine.' Surely words, words, words ! What can be more idle, when one of the world's bitter puzzles is pressed on the teacher, than that he should betake himself to an attitude whence it is not visible, and then assure us that it is not only invisible, but non-existent ? This is not to see the facts clearly, but to pour the fumes of obscuration around them." But what are the "facts ?" A person who is blind, for instance, through the loving devotion of another, receives so much he may almost be said to have gained his sight. It is the constant effort on the part of the good to equalize conditions. The causes of deprivation, whether of body, mind, or environment, are being investigated to the intent that they be removed. In those few terse words of Emerson, where he speaks of "love" and the "inequalities" that "vanish," he suggests the process whereby men are to become equal partakers of their inheritance -are becoming so, in fact. Who can look around him and see the work being done for the amelioration of the less-favored, and not declare that Emerson truly answered the problem ? Every new discovery of science that can be turned into this channel of help is so turned, and so each decade sees the problem lessened in a wonderful ration. The larger share of humanity's woe and loss seems to have been the result of man's own infliction; it only remains for man to undo his work. The words quoted from Emerson by Mr. Morley were from the essay on Compensation. In another, on "Heroism," Emerson shows how the puzzle, when the threads are untangled, proves to the eternal law of debit and credit; and NOTES AND COMMENTS. 103 hence what had been seen to be incredible, as connected with a moral system of things, is yet justified : "A lockjaw that bends a man's head back to his heels ; hydrophobia that makes him bark at his wife and babes ; insanity that makes him eat grass ; war, plague, cholera, famine, indicate a certain ferocity in nature, which, as it had its inlet by human crime, must have its outlet by human suffering. Unhappily, no man exists who has not in his own person become, to some extent, a stockholder in the sin, and so made himself liable to a share in the expiation." A. M. GANNETT. V. "THE COURT OF PUBLIC OPINION." MANY, who are neither the friends nor legal champions of the New York Aldermen of Chicago Anarchists, do not consider it one of the "admitted duties" of the press to arraign upon rumor, try on heresay evidence, and pass judgmen upon one charged with a crime. The arrogant assumption of such a tribunal is equaled only by the futility of its attempts. It is commonly supposed that courts, juries, and counsel constitute the proper tribunal ordained by the people for the trial of alleged criminals. It has remained for the author of the "Court of Public Opinion" to assume that such is not the case, and that the machinery of justice exists merely for the purpose of automatically registering the prejudiced decision of a self-constituted tribunal. And woe betide the daring lawyer who attempts the defense of one against whom the judgment of this august tribunal has been passed. A trial court whose judgment is infallible, and from whose decision no appeal lies, is a very unsafe tribunal for the people of this country to adopt. It matters not how heinous the offense charged, or how degraded the offender, no circumstances can alter the unalterable rule that it is the sole and exclusive province of court, jury, and counsel, to conduct the trial of alleged criminals, and reach a decision. Any attempted interference with the exercise of these duties by the press is presumptuous, unwarrantable, and often productive of a great wrong. Many egregious blunders made by this "infallible" court might be cited, but one will suffice for the present purpose. In the summer of 1883, Mrs. Carlton, of Boston, was brutally murdered, and Roger Amero was charged with the crime, extradition proceedings were instituted to bring the accused from Nova Scotia. The justice before whom the proceedings were held was of the opinion that the evidence was insufficient, but yielded to the force of public opinion and the clamor of the press. Amero was taken to Boston and imprisoned. For days the columns of the press teemed with "evidence" against the accused, the shrewdness of the detectives was praised, and the speedy conviction and execution of the accused demanded. After a six months imprisonment Amero was released upon the statement of the prosecuting attorney that there was not evidence upon which a trial, much less a conviction, could be had. Then the opinion of the "infallible" court was reversed, and so great was the sense of the wrong committed against the accused, that a bill for compensation to him was introduced in the legislature, and barely defeated upon the sole ground that it would be a bad precedent. And this is not a solitary instance. Let the press keep to its own well defined province, and leave the trial of alleged criminals to the tribunals ordained by the people, although they lay no claim to infallibility. WALLACE F. CAMPBELL CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE. IT is a patriotic duty, as well as one consistent with the best literary ethics, to recognize attempts in fiction towards giving American life that halo of romance and picturesqueness which the old world owes to the poets and novelists. The great Sir Walter has made all aliens love Scottish moors and crags, and London has a glamor over it, due to the romancing of Thackeray, Dickens, and even Ainsworth. We welcome then, with pleasure, two recent American novels,* "The Yoke of the Thorah" and "The Story of a New York House." Mr. Sydney Luska, author of the first, has produced a new flavor in American literature by describing certain phases of Jewish life in New York. "As It Was Written" was his first effort in this line. "The Yoke of the Thorah" is a distinct advance. Mr. Luska has worked, notably in his description of the Koch household, a vein of humor which is without bitterness ; it admirably relieves the sombreness of Elias Bacharach's sombre love story. The young Jewish artist, bred under Talmudic influences, which, in spite of the corrective action of energetic, materialistic New York life, have a strong grip on his mind, is a personage requiring strength, as well as subtleness of touch, to prevent him from seeming mock heroic or melodramatic. Elias, amid scenes of realism that throw Mr. Howell's dainty touches into the shade, falls in love with a young New York girl, "a graduate of the Normal School." He resolves to marry her. His uncle, a rabbi, threatens him with the curse of that unwritten law, whose yoke Elias, with all other orthodox Jewish youth, has undertaken to bear. He asks his uncle what is the most accursed crime under the Thorah. "To marry a Goy," the rabbi answers, and then quotes the blood-freezing curses called down by the orthodox on the heads of those who break the law. Elias is moved by the superstitions of his childhood, and the author wisely provides that he shall wander through Central Park on the day of the wedding in a rain-storm : the epileptic fit which strikes him at the most important part of the ceremony would otherwise have been too much of a coup de theatre. He is persuaded by the rabbi to jilt the "Goy"--by which name all who are not of the Jewish creed are known to the very orthodox. He marries a commonplace and characteristic Jewess, attempts to go back to his old love, and dies one of the most pathetic deaths ever described with a few simple touches in a novel. Union Square and other parts of New York are struck by Mr. Luska with a ray or two of that "light that never was on sea or land," and Bacharach and Christine Redwood will always be connected with Steinway Hall, and Delmonico's with the little supper, after the concert, when Bacharach began to love this "daughter of Heth" and ate of the unclean meal, to the rabbi's displeasure. Mr. Luska's style smacks of American argot at times. A man who will write "swallowtail" for evening coat *"The Yoke of the Thorah." By Sydney Luska. New York : Cassell & Co. "The Story of a New York House." By H. C. Bunner. New York : Charles Scribner. CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE. 105 seems almost capable of writing "gent." But the author of a good strong study of American life, written as if we had a vitality of our own, may be indulged in some eccentricities, when they are not affectations, and Mr. Luska has no affectations. Mr. Bunner, who writes "The Story of a New York House," is more civilized, more sophisticated than Mr. Luska. He has an exquisite sense of form and the truest artistic reticence. In fact, he keeps his story in so low a key that any burst of sound, such as the appearance of the prodigal son in chase of a runaway slave, and the death of old Mr. Dolph, seem almost too melodramatic. Mr. Bunner's story is true of many New York houses, in which the children of the old world now swarm, ignorant of the moving and pathetic histories of the past. It is much better in every sense, and certainly less artificial, than Mr. Bunner's earlier story, "The Midge." Here we have two genuine American novelists growing in strength before our eyes. And now that the "international school" has gone out of fashion, let us hope that fresh, frank, and careful presentments of American life, which is so complex and picturesque, may come in. *Miss Bayle is elevated to the position of a heroine of romance because she is represented to be a girl of that class which the average Englishman has learned from the novelists to consider typical of America. She is simply a pert and vulgar creature, entirely in keeping with the English and American sets in which she moves. It is a cheap trick to array a set of dummies and call them "Jay Gould," the "Prince of Wales," and other noted and notorious names, and the author of "Miss Bayle's Romance" plays it very clumsily. He is not a good master of marionettes. Mr. Gilmore's biography of John Sevier,+ the patriotic founder and ruler of the State of Tennessee, contains some conclusions with which many old Tennesseans and those who come much in contact with them will not agree. Mr. Gilmore recognizes this, and with the frankness of a single-minded desire for the truth, he asserts that he maintains those opinions until facts disproving them shall have been brought to light. It is the absence of a theory on which facts are strung as beads on a string which makes Mr. Gilmore's work so satisfactory. Mr. Gilmore follows his facts, and therefore, even in his severe remarks on John Tipton, we must agree that he follows his premises, although persons familiar with the oral traditions of Tennesseans may reserve the right of considering these premises ill-founded. Mr. Gilmore's sketch of the causes that made North Carolina inferior to Virginia in public spirit and generous treatment of good citizens shows that he believes in "blood" and, however, aristocratic this may seem, he still follows his facts. John Sevier was a well-bred gentleman, not in the French or English sense. M. de Bacourt, coming to Washington as Minister from that very Louis Philippe who in former days had stood on Governor Sevier's cherished rug in a Knoxville log cabin, expressed his amazement at finding President Van Buren so gentlemanly, "although it was said he had kept an inn." John Sevier, the founder and hero of Tennessee, made a competence by managing a grocery store, and when he was not fighting Indians, he was weighing sugar. Nevertheless, the last royal Governor of Virginia, Lord Dunmore, was charmed by his manners, and in 1772 gave him a commission in the corps in which Washington was then colonel. He left his influential place among the Virginians and went to the western slope of the Alleghanies, to fight and to work. He may have been actuated by that instinct *"Miss Bayle's Romance." New York: Henry Holt & Co. +"John Sevier: The Commonwealth Builder." By James R. Gilmore (Edmund Kirke). New York: D. Appleton & Co. 106 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. which leads a man to find out his vocation. No other reason appears. He found North Carolina a shrewish, grasping stepmother to the new settlers, and from her exactions Sevier and his friends cut loose. Mr. Gilmore tells us that in those early days the skins of animals were currency,--coon-skins being especially prominent. It was thought that this currency could not be counterfeited. "It was mostly of skins, which passed from hand to hand in bundles or bales, from the ends of which the caudal appendages were allowed to protrude, to designate the species of the animal. Before long, acute financiers affixed the tail of the otter to the skin of the fox and the raccoon, and thus got the better of the receiver in the sum of four shillings and nine pence upon each peltry." Sevier's policy in regard to the Indians was one of attack. He was never treacherous, though, in open war, no measures were too hard for him. The Indians respected him ; and, cutthroats as they were, they did not usually torture fighters who had met them fairly in the field. It was to the sneaking and underhanded enemy that they meted out their refinements of cruelty. Mr. Gilmore paints John Tipton, Sevier's rival, in dark colors. Tennesseans believe that he was hot-headed and imperious, but that, in accordance with Mr. Gilmore's belief in the virtue of good blood, his descendants are fair evidence of the character of their ancestor. And one of them--a mere boy--in battle, blood-stained and powder-marked, was asked, "Where is your colonel ?" "Dead." "Where is your captain ?" "Dead." "Who commands this regiment ?" "I-- Ensign Tipton." Apart from a few opinions,--apparently well founded,--this story of John Sevier's remarkable career ought to be received with a hearty welcome by all Americans. As a keen thinker recently said, ideals have greater influence in the world than ideas. And the story of a patriot like John Sevier, told as well as Mr. Gilmore tells it, must make the ideals of the young citizen,--and the old one, too, for that matter,--higher and purer. Books like "John Sevier" show Americans that the foreign idea of gentlemanhood is not, after all, the only true idea, and that a man may be a knight and gentleman, a governor and grocery-man, without lowing real dignity or truest effectiveness for high aims. Mr. Lecky's two new volumes, *large as they seem, are so full of genuine, even thrilling, interest, that one hardly knows how to find salient points. There is little color in them, except that which comes from the incidents of Mr. Lecky's chapters. Readers fed on Froude will miss the attractive garnishings of Carlyle's biographer. But Mr. Lecky's exactness of statement and full reference-list make up for the lack of romantic enticement of style. Besides, there is romance and gossip enough in the periods in which Mr. Lecky dwells. Are there not strange doings among Lords and Ladies, in which the Prince Regent is not unmentioned ? Does not Egalite disport himself in London ? Lecky holds, with the best authorities, that the selfish and corrupt "first gentlemen in Europe,"--the Mr. Turvey-drop of his time,--was married to the famous Mrs. Fitzherbert. The chapter on the causes of the French Revolution is more valuable and more comprehensive than De Tocqueville's "Ancien Regime," to which thoughtful men have hitherto gone for those philosophical analyses of the causes of that great outburst of humanism, which Carlyle's phantasmagoria fails to give. Then we have Mr. Lecky's estimate of Pitt, in which, unfortunately, we find some opinions that seem illogical, but not unfair. Mr. Lecky is disposed to hold that Pitt's Irish policy was the result of Irish opinion rather than the creation of a great mind foreseeing the future. So strong, however, is the effect of Mr. Lecky's desire not to be partisan, that even the most earnest Pitt worshipers will not be exasperated by the summing-up. Mr. *"History of England in the Nineteenth Century." By William Edward Hartpole Lecky. Vols. V. and VI. New York : D. Appleton & Co. CURRENT AMERICAN LITERATURE. 107 Lecky believes that the unspeakable mass of corruption in which the France of Louis XVI. festered would have been easily removed by a strong man, arising at the proper time. We may exclaim in answer that Mirabeau was a strong man, who attempted to save the monarchy ; and yet, in spite of this intellectual giant, the monarchy died with him, before Louis and Marie Antoinette even expected death. Mr. Lecky thinks that if Louis XVI. had found a Cavour, a Bismarck, or a Richelieu, the revolution would have been averted. Most Americans, having read the chapter on the causes of the French Revolution, will be inclined to think that in all the array of financiers that had crossed the threshhold of the French Court, Franklin alone could have saved it. What, in Mr. Lecky's showing, was most needed, was clear vision, determination, and common sense. Common sense above all. Necker, Lomenie de Brienne, and the rest were blinded by the most insidious thing that Rousseau, Voltaire, and their followers could have created,--a pseudo-classic sentimentality. Franklin understood what was practical in the theories of the new teachers, and he could apply them, laughing at the travesties of classical speeches and actions which resulted in the death of the king as well as of Marrat, of Madame Roland as well as Egalite. On the Irish question, Mr. Lecky is more satisfactory as a narrator than as a deductive philosopher. He does not bring us in his sixth volume down to the suicide of the Irish Parliament, and the consummation of the union. Mr. Lecky's picture of the prosperity of Dublin under the Irish Parliament would seem overdrawn if he were a Parnellite. But he makes very evident that he has no sympathy with the "Jacobin" policy of the Irish party. According to this account, Moore's young lady, who went through Ireland clothed principally in beauty and "rich and rare" jewels, was as safe in the time of the Parliament as she is said to have been in the palmy days of Brian Boru. The commercial prosperity of Ireland, following the loosening of restrictions on Irish trade, the return of capitalists before kept out of the country by the penal laws, and the increased intercourse on almost equal terms with England was so great, that in 1790 the Chancellor of the Exchequer declared that he did not think that any nation could have improved so much in six years as Ireland had done. Both agriculture and manufacture were stimulated, and the whole country felt the impetus. Dublin, as was to be expected in an Irish capital, became even more splendid than the resources of the country warranted, and Mr. Lecky does not hesitate to say that, if Dublin was extravagant, the reason of that extravagance was in the sure hope that Ireland's wealth was not to be evanescent, provided the Parliament's policy of low taxes and industrial encouragement were continued. Logically, we would deduce from all this that the most certain way to make Ireland prosperous would be to restore her Parliament. Mr. Lecky's facts, which he piles up with stern precision, giving all the time the best authorities for the process, lead him, however, to sneer at modern schemes for reconstructing the Irish Parliament --at once the means of Ireland's aggrandizement and of her further enslavement. He thinks that the new Parliament would be made up of irresponsible adventurers,--in a word, of ultra Democrats. The old Parliament showed itself, in the end,--which Mr. Lecky will relate in his next volume,--to be composed of ultra and venal aristocrats. A new Parliament, however, "irresponsible" in Mr. Lecky's eyes, would be directly and closely responsible to the people. Mr. Lecky does not see this. But, after all, we go to a historian for stated facts, not for deductions ; we tolerate the deductions out of respect for scrupulous and careful work which, in Mr. Lecky's case, has never been surpassed by any of the array of great German historians. In Mr. Lecky's hands we feel, as somebody said of Longfellow, "safe." He is free from the contortions of the sibylline and force-of-destiny class of historians. He writes, not as a seer obliged to force a confirmation 108 THE NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. of his prophecies, but as an honest student giving the actual truth without curtailment. *The sudden renaissance of the author of "The Blessed Damozel" in popular favor is more comprehensible than the growth of the Browning cult. Rossetti is sensuous, full of color, thoroughly exotic, wonderfully musical, and, in the whole, easily comprehended, and when not comprehended, replete with the drowsy effect of poppy-seeds. He flashes in red and gold ; and strikes angular Byzantine posture, which are taken for the genuine Italian mediaeval manner. This translation of the poems,--mostly sonnets,--of the writers before and around Dante is chiefly valuable for the light it casts on the literary influences in which the great poet lived. It is interesting to know what manner of man Dane Cavalcanti was, and to understand the thought and manners of Florentine Bohemians and the ladies they adored. It seems a pity that Rossetti should have attempted to translate from Italian into English the metre and form of the delightful series of poems in this book. It was too much for even him, knowing both languages so well, to attempt. The rhymes are sometimes exceedingly forced ; and, as it is easy to find a hundred rhymes in Italian to one in English, one grows tired of the iteration of "love" and "of," and other equally hackneyed assonances. *"Dante and His Circle." Translated by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Boston : Roberts Bros. NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW ADVERTISER. 5 Horsford's Acid Phosphate (LIQUID). A preparation of the phosphates that is readily assimilated by the system. Especially recommended for Dyspepsia, Mental and Physical Exhaustion, Indigestion, Headache, Nervousness, Wakefulness, Impaired Vitality, Etc. Prescribed and indorsed by Physicians of all schools. It combines well with such stimulants as are necessary to take. It makes a delicious drink with water and sugar only. 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It is delicious, nourishing, strengthening, easily digested, and admirably adapted for invalids as well as for persons in health. Sold by Grocers everywhere. W. BAKER & CO., Dorchester, Mass. Life of Henry Ward Beecher, BY DR. LYMAN ABBOTT, Editor of Christian Union. AND REV. S. B. HALLIDAY, Asst. Pastor Plymouth Church. Sold only by subscription. For terms, address BROMFIELD & CO., Publishers, 658 Broadway, New York. 6 NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW ADVERTISER. REMINISCENCES OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN. GENERAL U. S. GRANT, Hon. George W. Julian, Hon. Elihu B. Washburne, Hon. R. E. Fenton, Hon. J. P. Usher, Hon. Geo. S. Boutwell, General Benjamin F. Butler, Charles Carlton Coffin, Frederick Douglass, Judge Lawrence Weldon, Ben Perley Poore, Titian J. Coffey, Henry Ward Beecher, Hon. Wm. D. Kelley, Hon. C. M. Clay, Col. Robert G. Ingersoll, A. H. Markland, Hon. Schuyler Colfax, Hon. Daniel W. Voorhees, Hon. Chas. A. Dana, Hon. John A. Kasson, General Jas. B. Fry, Hon. Hugh McCulloch, Hon. Chauncey M. Depew, David R. Locke (Petroleum V. Nasby), Donn Piatt, E. W. Andrew, James C. Welling, John Conness, Walt Whitman, Leonard Swett, John B. Alley, Thomas Hicks, HAVE WRITTEN ARTICLES WHICH APPEAR IN REMINISCENCES OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN, By Distinguished Men of His Time. IN ONE HANDSOME VOLUME, OCTAVO. Containing a Fine Steel Portrait of Lincoln, Eighteen Artistic Portraits of Contributors, and other Illustrations COLLECTED AND EDITED BY ALLEN THORNDIKE RICE, Editor of the North American Review. Besides the six hundred pages of reading matter relating to Abraham Lincoln there is a biographical sketch of each of the contributors. No Well-Equipped Library is Complete Without this Volume. The Capters are Short and Intensely Interesting. 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WYCKOFF, SEAMANS & BENEDICT. 339 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. CHRYSTIE & JANNEY, BANKERS, 23 and 25 Nassau Street, Corner of Cedar, NEW YORK. INVESTMENT SECURITIES. MUNICIPAL and RAILROAD BONDS. Transact a General Banking Business. Allow Interest on Daily Balances. Collect Drafts, Notes, Dividends and Coupons in the United States and Canada, AND INVITE CORRESPONDENCE. OF VITAL IMPORTANCE TO YOU. Good Steam Beating Save [Y]our Health. No C[o]al Gas. No Smoke, No Dust. Agents wanted everywhere. Send for illustrated catalogue and references. Mention NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW. DUPLEX STEAM HEATER CO., 10 Barclay Street, New York. ATKIN & PROUT, PRINTERS, NEW YORK. 1887 WALT WHITMAN Box 1 Folder 20 PRINTED MATTER 1870, 1887 JULY 1887 Vol. VII. MAY. No. 5. THE RADICAL Published Monthly. CONTENTS. 1. A Woman's Estimate of Walt Whitman. Letters to W. M. Rossetti 345 2. From Goethe's West-Easterly Divan. John Weiss 360 3. The Character and Power of Judaism. Mary N. Adams 361 4. Five Lives 371 5. Evidences of Spiritualism. Hudson Tuttle 373 6. A Sermon of Immortality. Everett Finley 385 7. The New-Testament Miracles. M. H. Doolittle 394 8. Mr. Abbot's Religion. D. A. Wasson 408 9. Dreams. Edwin Morton 421 10. Notes 422 Dr. M'Cosh and the "Boston School." Evangelical Missionary Efforts. Horticultural-Hall Lectures. Card of the "Boston Young Men's Christian Association." Mr. Connor's Society. The Free-Religious Anniversary. "The Standard." Mr. Weiss. Mr. Conway. 11. Reviews and Notices 424 BOSTON: OFFICE OF PUBLICATION 25 BROMFIELD ST. 1870. [Price, $4.00 a Year. Single Number, 35 Cents.] THE RADICAL, VOLUME VII. CONTENTS OF JAN. NO. The Confession. D. A. Wasson. Law of Habit. John Weiss. A Portrait of R. W. Emerson, by David Scott. Ednah D. Cheney. From Goethe's "Four Seasons." T. D. The Book of Daniel. F. E. Abbot. Liberal Religion in Europe. Samuel Longfellow The Family at Entenbruch. From the German of Gustav Pfarrius. C. C. Shackford. Patience. A. E. Notes. Reviews and Notices. CONTENTS OF FEB. NO. Christianity and its Definitions. W. F. Potter. My Star. Edwin Morton. Gates Ajar. Fred May Holland. A Sermon of Death. Everett Finley. Christianity and Free Religion. C. K. Whipple. Rich in the Lord. Addressed to Theodore Parker. Frances Power Cobbe. The Family at Entenbruch. From the German of Gustav Pfarrius. C. C. Shackford. By the Graves. A. W. Bellaw. Notes. Reviews and Notices. CONTENTS OF MARCH NO. Woman and Science. A Chapter on the Enfranchisement and Education of Woman. I. F. Stahl Patterson. Conquest. Ethics of Sentiment and of Science. O. B. Frothingham. The Scarlet Oak in Winter. The Suez Canal. F. Vila Blake. "Lost Sinners." C. K. Whipple. To G. L. S. D. A. W. Personality of God. Charles Henry. Notes. Reviews and Notices. Terms, $4.00 a Year in advance. Single Copies mailed to any address for 35 cts. Bound Volumes of THE RADICAL.--Vols. 2, 3, 4, 5, 6-- for sale at this Office. We will send either of the Vols., postpaid, for $2.50. Single odd copies for distribution, 10cts ; $7.00 per hundred. James Tolman, MERCHANT TAILOR, 111 Washington Street, Boston. A Large and Well Selected Stock of FOREIGN & AMERICAN GOODS ALWAYS ON HAND Which will be made up in the best manner, AT REASONABLE PRICES. THE RADICAL. MAY, 1870. A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE OF WALT WHITMAN. [FROM LATE LETTERS BY AN ENGLISH LADY TO W. M. ROSSETTI.] London, Nov. 20, 1869. THE great satisfaction which I felt in arranging, about two years ago, the first edition (or rather selection) of Walt Whitman's poems published in England has been, in due course of time, followed by another satisfaction -- and one which rightly laid to heart, is both less mixed and more intense. A lady, whose friendship honors me, read the selection last summer, and immediately afterwards accepted from me the loan of the complete edition, and read that also. Both volumes raised in her a boundless and splendid enthusiasm, ennobling to witness. This found expression in some letters which she addressed to me at the time, and which contain (I affirm it without misgiving, and I hope not without some title to form an opinion) about the fullest, farthest-reaching, and most eloquent appreciation of Whitman yet put into writing, and certainly the most valuable, whether or not I or other readers find cause for critical dissent at an item here and there. The most valuable, I say, because this is the expression of what a woman sees in Whitman's poems,--a woman who has read Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by S. H. MORSE, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 346 The Radical. and thought much, and whom to know is to respect and esteem in every relation, whether of character, intellect, or culture. I longed that what this lady had written should be published for the benefit of English, and more especially of American readers. She has generously acceded to my request. The ensuing reflections upon Whitman's poems contain several passages reproduced verbatim from the letters in question, supplemented by others which the same lady has added so as more fully to define and convey the impression which those unparalleled and deathless writings have made upon her. W. M. ROSSETTI. June 22, 1869.--I was calling on -----a fortnight ago, and he put into my hands your edition of Walt Whitman's poems. I shall not cease to thank him for that. Since I have had it, I can read no other book : it holds me entirely spell-bound, and I go through it again and again with deepening delight and wonder. June 23.--I am very sure you are right in your estimate of Walt Whitman. There is nothing in him that I shall ever let go my hold of. For me the reading of his poems is truly a new birth of the soul. I shall quite fearlessly accept your kind offer of the loan of a complete edition, certain that great and divinely beautiful nature has not, could not infuse any poison into the wine he has poured out for us. And as for what you specially allude to, who so well able to bear it--I will say, to judge wisely of it--as one who, having been a happy wife and mother, has learned to accept all things with tenderness, to feel a sacredness in all? Perhaps Walt Whitman has forgotten--or, through some theory in his head, has overridden--the truth that our instincts are beautiful facts of nature, as well as our bodies ; and that we have a strong instinct of silence about some things. July 11.--I think it was very manly and kind of you to put the whole of Walt Whitman's poems into my hands ; and that I have no other friend who would have judged them and me so wisely and generously. I had not dreamed that words could cease to be words, and become electric streams like these. I do assure you that, strong as I am, I feel sometimes as if I had not bodily strength to read Walt Whitman. 347 many of these poems. In the series headed "Calamus," for instance, in some of the "Songs of Parting,". the "Voice out of the Sea," the poem beginning "Tears, Tears," &c., there is such a weight of emotion, such a tension of the heart, that mine refused to beat under it,--stands quite still,--and I am obliged to lay the book down for a while. Or again, in the piece called "Walt Whitman," and one or two others of that type, I am as one hurried through stormy seas, over high mountains, dazed with sunlight, stunned with a crowd and tumult of faces and voices, till I am breathless, bewildered, half dead. Then come parts and whole poems in which there is such calm wisdom and strength of thought, such a cheerful breadth of sunshine, that the soul bathes in them renewed and strengthened. Living impulses flow out of these that make me exult in life, yet look longingly towards "the superb vistas of Death." Those who admire this poem, and don't care for that, and talk of formlessness, absence of metre, &c., are quite as far from any genuine recognition of Walt Whitman as his bitter detractors. Not, of course, that all the pieces are equal in power and beauty, but that all are vital ; they grew--they were not made. We criticise a palace or a cathedral ; but what is the good of criticizing a forest? Are not the hitherto-accepted masterpieces of literature akin rather to noble architecture ; built up of material rendered precious by elaboration ; planned with subtile art that makes beauty go hand in hand with rule and measure, and knows where the last stone will come, before the first is laid ; the result stately, fixed, yet such as might, in every particular, have been different from what it is (therefore inviting criticism), contrasting proudly with the careless freedom of nature, opposing its own rigid adherence to symmetry to her willful dallying with it? But not such is this book. Seeds brought by the winds from north, south, east, and west, lying long in the earth, not resting on it like the stately building, but hid in and assimilating it, shooting upwards to be nourished by the air and the sunshine and the rain which beat idly against that,--each bough and twig and leaf growing in strength and beauty its own way, a law to itself, yet, with all this freedom of spontaneous growth, the result inevitable, unalterable (therefore setting criticism 348 The Radical. criticism at naught), above all things, vital,--that is, a source of ever-generating vitality : such are these poems. "Roots and leaves themselves alone are these, Scents brought to men and women from the wild woods and from the pond-side, Breast sorrel and pinks of love, finders that wind around tighter than vines, Gushes from the throats of birds hid in the foliage of trees as the sun is risen, Breezes of land and love, breezes set from living shores out to you on living sea,--to you, O sailors ! Frost-mellowed berries and Third-month twigs, offered fresh to young sons wandering out in the fields when the winter breaks up, Love-buds put before you and within you whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms. If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you : If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall branches and trees." And the music takes good care of itself too. As if it could be otherwise ! As if those "large, melodious thoughts," those emotions, now so stormy and wild, now of unfathomed tenderness and gentleness, could fail to vibrate through the words in strong, sweeping, long-sustained chords, with lovely melodies winding in and out fitfully amongst them ! Listen, for instance, to the penetrating sweetness, set in the midst of rugged grandeur, of the passage beginning,-- "I am he that walks with the tender and growing night ; I call to the earth and sea half held by the night." I see that no counting of syllables will reveal the mechanism of the music ; and that this rushing spontaneity could not stay to bind itself with the fetters of metre. But I know that the music is there, and that I would not for something change ears with those who cannot hear it. And I know that poetry must do one of two things,--either own this man as equal with her highest, completest manifestors, or stand aside, and admit that there is something come into the world nobler, diviner than herself, one that is free of the universe, and can tell its secrets as none before. Walt Whitman. 349 I do not think or believe this ; but see it with the same unmistakable definiteness of perception and full consciousness that I see the sun at this moment in the noonday sky, and feel his rays glowing down upon me as I write in the open air. What more can you ask of the works of a man's mouth than that they should "absorb into you as food and air, to appear again in your strength, gait, face,"--that they should be "fibre and filter to your blood," joy and gladness to your whole nature ? I am persuaded that one great source of this kindling, vitalizing power--I suppose the great source--is the grasp laid upon the present, the fearless and comprehensive dealing with reality. Hitherto the leaders of thought have (except in science) been men with their faces resolutely turned backwards ; men who have made of the past a tyrant that beggars and scorns the present, hardly seeing any greatness but what is shrouded away in the twilight, underground past ; naming the present only for disparaging comparisons, humiliating distrust that tend to create the very barrenness it complains of ; bidding me warm myself at fires that went out to mortal eyes centuries ago ; insisting, in religion above all, that I must either "look through dead men's eyes," or shut my own in helpless darkness. Poets fancying themselves so happy over the chill and faded beauty of the past, but not making me happy at all, --rebellious always at being dragged down out of the free air and sunshine of to-day. But this poet, this "athlete, full of rich words, full of joy," takes you by the hand, and turns you with your face straight forwards. The present is great enough for him, because he is great enough for it. It flows through him as a "vast oceanic tide," lifting up a mighty voice. Earth, "the eloquent, dumb, great mother," is not old, has lost none of her fresh charms, none of her divine meanings ; still bears great sons and daughters, if only they would possess themselves and accept their birthright,--a richer, not a poorer, heritage than was ever provided before,--richer by all the toil and suffering of the generations that have preceded, and by the further unfolding of the eternal purposes. Here is one come at last you can show them 350 The Radical. how ; whose songs are the breath of a glad, strong, beautiful life, nourished sufficingly, kindled to unsurpassed intensity and greatness by the gifts of the present. "Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy." "O the joy of my soul leaning poised on itself,--receiving identity through materials, and loving them,--observing characters, and absorbing them ! O my soul vibrated back to me from them ! "O the gleesome saunter over fields and hillsides ! The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds, the moist, fresh stillness of the woods, The exquisite smell of the earth at daybreak, and all through the forenoon. "O to realize space ! The plenteousness of all--that there are no bounds ; To emerge, and be of the sky--of the sun and moon and the flying clouds, as one with them. "O the joy of suffering,-- To struggle against great odds, to meet enemies undaunted, To be entirely alone with them--to find how much one can stand !" I used to think it was great to disregard happiness, to press on to a high goal, careless, disdainful of it. But now I see that there is nothing so great as to be capable of happiness ; to pluck it out of "each moment and whatever happens ;" to find that one can ride as gay and buoyant on the angry, menacing, tumultuous waves of life as on those that glide and glitter under a clear sky ; that it is not defeat and wretchedness which come out of the storm of adversity, but strength and calmness. See, again, in the pieces gathered together under the title "Calamus," and elsewhere, what it means for a man to love his fellow-man. Did you dream it before ? These "evangel-poems of comrades and of love" speak, with the abiding, penetrating power of prophecy, of a "new and superb friendship ;" speak not as beautiful dreams, unrealizable aspirations to be laid aside in sober moods, because they breathe out what now glows within the poet's own breast, and flows out in action toward the men around him. Had ever any land before her poet, not only to Walt Whitman. 351 concentrate within himself her life, and, when she kindled with anger against her children who were treacherous to the cause her life is bound up with, to announce and justify her terrible purpose in words of unsurpassable grandeur (as in the poem beginning, "Rise, O days, from your fathomless deeps"), but also to go and with his own hands dress the wounds, with his powerful presence soothe and sustain and nourish her suffering soldiers,--hundreds of them, thousands, tens of thousands,-- by day and by night, for weeks, months, years ? "I sit by the restless all the dark night ; some are so young, Some suffer so much : I recall the experience sweet and sad. Many a soldier's loving arms about this neck have crossed and rested, Many a soldier's kiss dwells on these bearded lips :-- Kisses, that touched with the fire of a strange, new, undying eloquence the lips that received them ! The most transcendent genius could not, untaught by that "experience sweet and sad," have breathed out hymns for her dead soldiers of such ineffably tender, sorrowful, yet triumphant beauty. But the present spreads before us other things besides those of which it is easy to see the greatness and beauty ; and the poet would leave us to learn the hardest part of our lesson unhelped if he took no heed of these ; and would be unfaithful to his calling, as interpreter of man to himself and of the scheme of things in relation to him, if he did not accept all-- if he did not teach "the great lesson reception, neither preference, nor denial." If he feared to stretch out the hand, not of condescending pity, but of fellowship, to the degraded, criminal, foolish, despised, knowing that they are only laggards in "the great procession winding along the roads of the universe," "the far-behind to come on in their turn," knowing the "amplitude of Time," how could he roll the stone of contempt off the heart as he does, and cut the strangling knot of the problem of inherited viciousness and degradation ? And, if he were not bold and true to the utmost, and did not own in himself the threads of darkness mixed in with the threads of light, and own it with the same strength and directness that he tells of the light, and not in those vague generalities that everybody 352 The Radical. uses, and nobody means, in speaking on this head,--in the worst, germs of all that is in the best ; in the best, germs of all that is in the worst,--the brotherhood of the human race would be a mere flourish of rhetoric. And brotherhood is naught if it does not bring brother's love along with it. If the poet's heart were not "a measureless ocean of love" that seeks the lips and would quench the thirst of all, he were not the one we have waited for so long. Who but he could put at last the right meaning into that word "democracy," which has been made to bear such a burthen of incongruous notions ? "By God ! I will have nothing that all cannot have their counterpart on the same terms !" flashing it forth like a banner, making it draw the instant allegiance of every man and woman who loves justice. All occupations, however homely, all developments of the activities of man, need the poet's recognition, because every man needs the assurance that for him also the materials out of which to build up a great and satisfying life lie to hand, the sole magic in the use of them, all of the right stuff in the right hands. Hence those patient enumerations of every conceivable kind of industry :-- "In them far more than you estimated--in them far less also." Far more as a means, next to nothing as an end ; whereas we are wont to take it the other way, and think the result something, but the means a weariness. Out of all come strength, and the cheerfulness of strength. I murmured not a little, to say the truth, under these enumerations at first. But now I think that not only is their purpose a justification, but that the musical ear and vividness of perception of the poet have enabled him to perform this task also with strength and grace, and that they are harmonious as well as necessary parts of the great whole. Nor do I sympathize with those who grumble at the unexpected words that turn up now and then. A quarrel with words is always, more or less, a quarrel with meanings ; and here we are to be as genial and as wide as nature, and quarrel with Walt Whitman. 353 nothing. If the thing a word stands for exists by divine appointment (and what does not so exist ?), the word need never be ashamed of itself ; the shorter and more direct, the better. It is a gain to make friends with it, and see it in good company. Here, at all events, "poetic diction" would not serve,--not pretty, soft, colorless words, laid by in lavender for the special uses of poetry, that have had none of the wear and tear of daily life ; but such as have stood most, as tell of human heart-beats, as fit closest to the sense, and have taken deep hues of association from the varied experiences of life--those are the words wanted here. We only ask to seize and be seized swiftly, over-masteringly, by the great meanings. We see with the eyes of the soul, listen with the ears of the soul ; the poor old words that have served so many generations for purposes, good, bad, and indifferent, and become warped and blurred in the process, grow young again, regenerate, translucent. It is not mere delight they give us,--that the "sweet singers," with their subtly wrought gifts, their mellifluous speech, can give too in their degree ; it is such life and health as enable us to pluck delights for ourselves out of every hour of the day, and taste the sunshine that ripened the corn in the crust we eat (I often seem to myself to do that). Out of the scorn of the present came skepticism ; and out of the large, loving acceptance of it comes faith. If now is so great and beautiful, I need no arguments to make me believe that the nows of the past and of the future were and will be great and beautiful too. "I know I am deathless. I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by the carpenter's compass. I know I shall not pass, like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night. I know I am august. I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood. "My foothold is tenoned and mortised in granite : I laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of Time." "No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and Death." You argues rightly that my confidence would not be betrayed 354 THe Radical. by any of the poems in this book. None of them troubled me even for a moment ; because I saw at a glance that it was not, as men had supposed, the heights brought down to the depths, but the depths lifted up level with the sunlit heights, that they might become clear and sunlit too. Always, for a woman, a veil woven out of her own soul--never touched upon even, with a rough hand, by this poet. But, for a man, a daring, fearless pride in himself, not a mock-modesty woven out of delusions --a very poor imitation of a woman's. Do they not see that this fearless pride, this complete acceptance of themselves, is needful for her pride, her justification ? What ! is it all so ignoble, so base, that it will not bear the honest light of speech from lips so gifted with "the divine power to use words?" Then what hateful, bitter humiliation for her, to have to give herself up to the reality ! Do you think there is ever a bride who does not taste more or less this bitterness in her cup ? But who put it there ? It must surely be man's fault, not God's, that she has to say to herself, "Soul, look another way--you have no part in this. Motherhood is beautiful, fatherhood is beautiful ; but the dawn of fatherhood and motherhood is not beautiful." Do they really think that God is ashamed of what he has made and appointed ? And, if not, surely it is somewhat superfluous that they should undertake to be so for him. "The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul," Of a woman above all. It is true that instinct of silence I spoke of is a beautiful, imperishable part of nature too. But it is not beautiful when it means an ignominious shame brooding darkly. Shame is like a very flexible veil, that follows faithfully the shape of what it covers,--beautiful when it hides a beautiful thing, ugly when it hides an ugly one. It has not covered what was beautiful here ; it has covered a mean distrust of a man's self and of his Creator. It was needed that this silence, this evil spell, should for once be broken and the daylight let in, that the dark cloud lying under might be scattered to the winds. It was needed that one who could here indicate for us "the path between reality and the soul" should speak. That is what these beautiful, despised poems, the "Children of Adam," Walt Whitman. 355 do, read by the light that glows out of the rest of the volume : light of a clear, strong faith in God, of an unfathomably deep and tender love for humanity,--light shed out of a soul that is "possessed of itself." "Natural life of me faithfully praising things, Corroborating for ever the triumph of things." Now silence may brood again ; but lovingly, happily, as protecting what is beautiful, not as hiding what is unbeautiful ; consciously enfolding a sweet and sacred mystery--august even as the mystery of Death, the dawn as the setting ; kindred grandeurs, which to eyes that are opened shed a hallowing beauty on all that surrounds and preludes them. "O vast and well-veiled Death ! "O the beautiful touch of Death, soothing and benumbing a few moments, for reasons !" He who can thus look with fearlessness at the beauty of Death may well dare to teach us to look with fearless, untroubled eyes at the perfect beauty of Love in all its appointed realizations. Now none need turn away their thoughts with pain or shame ; though only lovers and poets may say what they will,--the lover to his own, the poet to all, because all are in a sense his own. None need fear that this will be harmful to the woman. How should there be such a flaw in the scheme of creation that, for the two with whom there is no complete life, save in closest sympathy, perfect union, what is natural and happy for the one should be baneful to the other ? The utmost faithful freedom of speech, such as there is in these poems, creates in her no thought or feeling that shuns the light of heaven, none that are not as innocent and serenely fair as the flowers that grow ; would lead, not to harm, but to such deep and tender affection as makes harm or the thought of harm simply impossible. Far more beautiful care than man is aware of has been taken in the making of her, to fit her to be his mate. God has taken such care that he need take none ; none, that is, which consists in disguisement, insincerity, painful hushing-up of his true, grand, initiating nature. And, as regards the poet's utterances, which, it might 356 The Radical. be thought, however harmless in themselves, would prove harmful by falling into the hands of those for whom they are manifestly unsuitable, I believe that even here fear is needless. For her innocence is folded round with such thick folds of ignorance, till the right way and time for it to accept knowledge, that what is unsuitable is also unintelligible to her ; and, if no dark shadow from without be cast on the white page by misconstruction or by foolish mystery and hiding away of it, no hurt will ensue from its passing freely through her hands. This is so, though it is little understood or realized by men. Wives and mothers will learn through the poet that there is rejoicing grandeur and beauty there wherein their hearts have so longed to find it ; where foolish men, traitors to themselves, poorly comprehending the grandeur of their own or the beauty of a woman's nature, have taken such pains to make her believe there was none,--nothing but miserable discrepancy. One of the hardest things to make a child understand is, that down underneath your feet, if you go far enough, you come to blue sky and stars again ; that there really is no "down" for the world, but only in every direction an "up." And that this is an all-embracing truth, including within its scope every created thing, and, with deepest significance, every part, faculty, attribute, healthful impulse, mind, and body of a man (each and all facing toward and related to the Infinite on every side), is what we grown children find it hardest to realize too. Novalis said, "We touch heaven when we lay our hand on the human body ;" which, if it mean anything, must mean an ample justification of the poet who has dared to be the poet of the body as well as of the soul,--to treat it with the freedom and grandeur of an ancient sculptor. "Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy of the muse :--I say the form complete is worthier far. "These are not parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul. "O, I say now these are soul." But while Novalis--who gazed at the truth a long way off, up in the air, in a safe, comfortable, German fashion--has been Walt Whitman. 357 admiringly quoted by high authorities , the great American who has dared to rise up and wrestle with it, and bring it alive and full of power in the midst of us, has been greeted with a very different kind of reception, as has happened a few times before in the world in similar cases. Yet I feel deeply persuaded that a perfectly fearless, candid, ennobling treatment of the life of the body (so inextricably intertwined with, so potent in its influence on the life of the soul) will prove of inestimable value to all earnest and aspiring natures, impatient of the folly of the long prevalent belief that it is because of the greatness of the spirit that it has learned to despise the body, and to ignore its influences ; knowing well that it is, on the contrary, just because the spirit is not great enough, not healthy and vigorous enough, to transfuse itself into the life of the body, elevating that and making it holy by its own triumphant intensity ; knowing, too, how the body avenges this by dragging the soul down to the level assigned itself. Whereas the spirit must lovingly embrace the body, as the roots of a tree embrace the ground, drawing thence rich nourishment, warmth, impulse. Or, rather, the body is itself the root of the soul,--that whereby it grows and feeds. The great tide of healthful life that carries all before it must surge through the whole man, not beat to and fro in one corner of his brain. "O the life of my senses and flesh, transcending my senses and flesh !" For the sake of all that is highest, a truthful recognition of this life, and especially of that of it which underlies the fundamental ties of humanity,--the love of husband and wife, fatherhood, motherhood,--is needed. Religion needs it, now at last alive to the fact that the basis of all true worship is comprised in "the great lesson of reception, neither preference nor denial," interpreting, loving, rejoicing in all that is created, fearing and despising nothing. "I accept reality, and dare not question it." The dignity of a man, the pride and affection of a woman, need it too. And so does the intellect. For science has opened up such elevating views of the mystery of material existence that, if poetry 358 The Radical. had not bestirred herself to handle this theme in her own way, she would have been left behind by her plodding sister. Science knows that matter is not, as we fancied, certain stolid atoms which the forces of nature vibrate through and push and pull about ; but that the forces and the atoms are one mysterious, imperishable identity, neither conceivable without the other. She knows, as well as the poet, that destructibility is not one of nature's words ; that it is only the relationship of things-- tangibility, visibility--that are transitory. She knows that body and soul are one, and proclaims it undauntedly, regardless, and rightly regardless, of inferences. Timid onlookers, aghast, think it means that soul is body,--means death for the soul. But the poet knows it means body is soul,--the great whole imperishable ; in life and in death continually changing substance, always retaining identity. For, if the man of science is happy about the atoms, if he is not baulked or baffled by apparent decay or destruction, but can see far enough into the dimness to know that not only is each atom imperishable, but that its endowments, characteristics, affinities, electric and other attractions and repulsions--however suspended, hid, dormant, masked, when it enters into new combinations--remain unchanged, be it for thousands of years, and when it is again set free, manifest themselves in the old way, shall not the poet be happy about the vital whole ? shall the highest force, the vital, that controls and compels into complete subservience for its own purposes the rest, be the only one that is destructible ? and the love and thought that endow the whole by less enduring than the gravitating, chemical, electric powers that endow its atoms? But identity is the essence of love and thought,--I still I, you still you. Certainly no man need ever again be scared by the "dark hush" and the little handful of refuse. "You are not scattered to the winds--you gather certainly and safely around yourself." "Sure as Life holds all parts together, Death holds all parts together." "All goes onward and outward : nothing collapses." "What I am, I am of my body ; and what I shall be, I shall be of my body." "The body parts away at last for the journeys of the soul." Walt Whitman. 359 Science knows that whenever a thing passes from a solid to a subtle air, power is set free to a wider scope of action. The poet knows it too and is dazzled as he turns his eyes toward "the superb vistas of death." He knows that "the perpetual transfers and promotions" and "the amplitude of time" are for a man as well as for the earth. The man of science, with unwearied, self-denying toil, finds the letters and joins them into words. But the poet alone can make complete sentences. The man of science furnishes the premises ; but it is the poet who draws the final conclusion. Both together are "swiftly and surely preparing a future greater than all the past." But, while the man of science bequeaths to it the fruits of his toil, the poet, this mighty poet, bequeaths himself--"Death making him really undying." He will "stand as nigh as the nighest" to these men and women. For he taught them, in words which breathe out his very heart and soul into theirs, that "love of comrades" which, like the "soft-born measureless light," makes wholesome and fertile every spot it penetrates to, lighting up dark social and political problems, and kindling into a genial glow that great heart of justice which is the life-source of Democracy. He, the beloved friend of all, initiated for them a "new and superb friendship ;" whispered that secret of a god-like pride in a man's self, and a perfect trust in woman, whereby their love for each other, no longer poisoned and stifled, but basking in the light of God's smile, and sending up to him a perfume of gratitude, attains at last a divine and tender completeness. He gave a faith-compelling utterance to that "wisdom which is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and of the excellence of things." Happy America, that he should be her son ! One sees, indeed, that only a young giant of a nation could produce this kind of greatness, so full of the ardor, the elasticity, the inexhaustible vigor and freshness, the joyousness, the audacity of youth. But I, for one, cannot grudge anything to America. For, after all, the young giant is the old English giant,--the great English race renewing its youth in that magnificent land, "Mexican-breathed, Arctic-braced," and girding up its loins to start on a new career that shall match with the greatness of the new home. FROM GOETHE'S WEST-EASTERLY DIVAN. I. IF toward Mecca one should drive Jesus' ass, no whit would he Bettered by the journey be ; Still an ass he would arrive. II. He who knows not how to render Upshot of three thousand years, Lives from hand to mouth, a darkling, Shiftless with his long arrears. III. My house who enters may upbraid What I in many years have made ; But he may pass before the gate If I decline his estimate. IV. Once I put my foot upon a spider, And I thought, are these comely ways? Is not God to both of us provider Of an interest in these days? V. The tide of passion sends its futile strife Against the constant land : It throws poetic pearls upon the strand, And these are clear receipts of life. VI. A twofold gift in breathing, see ; The air we draw, then set it free : In that there's toil, there's ease in this, So strangely life compounded is. Thank God when he constrains thy will, And when he lets thee, thank him still. JOHN WEISS. THE CHARACTER AND POWER OF JUDAISM. THERE are living in the United States about three hundred and ten thousand Israelites. These, though widely scattered and somewhat migratory, have two hundred congregations that meet for worship, and one hundred synagogues, costing more than two millions of dollars, and accommodating at least seventy thousand persons. Seven religious papers are ably edited. They have between one and two hundred societies of a joint religious and literary character, several societies for the study and practice of music and the drama, institutions of learning and charity, and have commenced forming young men's Hebrew Associations. They support their own orphan asylums, but as masons they co-operate in all those charities peculiar to that order. How should we feel and act toward this people ? Here they are in our new republic, strong and helpful, and clothes with an historic interest which gives them an especial claim to our respect. Though scattered and bruised as a nation, they have, as a race, an unbroken history, extending back through the centuries to where other ancient peoples have left naught save their foot-prints and tombs. Our first historical knowledge of Israelites is as workers, acquisitors, saviours. They did not go empty handed into Canaan, but with Egyptian jewels of silver and gold. Moses gathered, too, the learning of the Egyptians, and very characteristically put it into such a form that his followers might possess it, and that it might still teach when his tongue should be silent. All Semitic races, of which the Israelite is the greatest, are religious peoples and monotheists. They have been characterized by devotion and reverence. They have always had some things which the rabble were not permitted to handle ; some safe place to deposit their treasure, whether it were words or gold. It is well for the world there has been such a people. Where would be the Bible, if the original manuscripts had been 364 The Radical. cross ; though it was Roman ignorance that thrust the side and spilled the blood ; yet money was wanted to build cathedrals, new symbols were wanted to replace the heathen practices and content the new converts ; and a people were not wanted that were constantly repeating the first commandment, while the Christians were bowing, and commanding all to bow the knee and prostrate the mind and soul, to one they taught "was like God above and man on the earth." When the Jews were powerful they consented to Roman soldiers killing one : the Christian church, when it could command Roman soldiers, has slain by thousands to retaliate. These believers in the one God, ever invisible but ever present, who have cradled religion on the earth, were persecuted as if they were beasts from the jungles. They had to destroy their property to prevent it from building churches to be devoted, as they thought, to idolatrous worship. Women, with firm faith, took their children, and, before the fires could be kindled for them, plunged into the current and escaped from their persecutors. In the history of all the nations of Europe the same atrocities are recorded. There is only this difference : where the Christian church was most powerful, and was building the grandest cathedrals, there we find the most brutal spirit shown toward them. While Spain was growing and becoming a power in the world, when she deservedly was proud of her literature, then we find her succoring the Israelites. Their industry enriched her ; their knowledge of medicine made Spain a resort for acquiring the art of healing. In an evil hour priests got the ear of sovereigns. "It is easier," they said, "to slay the crucifiers of Christ, and take their wealth, than to tax Christians." What followed every student of history knows. France, which is always in advance in all that pertains to civilization, has never been so cruel to these civilized people. Charlemagne was their friend, but his love was like Cromwell's and Napoleon's. He was wanting money ; he was conquering far countries ; he needed friends in them who were attached to others in France ; he needed men of learning as interpreters ; he needed the counsel of travelers ; he needed very much of that which Jews possessed ; so during his reign they were befriended. Character and Power of Judaism. 365 The French Revolution destroyed church tyranny. Since 1791 Jews have had equal rights in France. Napoleon brought not only the pope to France, but he assembled, at Paris, a Sanhedrim in 1806. Since 1830 the rabbis, like the clergymen, have received an allowance from the state. In 1862, the women of France, under the presidency of Madame Lemonnier, founded a school for the professional instruction of women. Here Jewish girls have equal advantages with the Christian and the Rationalist. Thus peacefully civilization gives safety to persons by dividing the power among the religious sects. During the formation of the Alexandrian library, Israelites had peace and freedom. Origen kept up friendly intercourse with many Jews, which may, in part, account for his kind, enlightened views. Theodoric and his court were courteous to Jews, and openly protected them, and this was true of all the Arian gothic kings. During the sixth century the pope himself protected them from the violence of the ignorant. Afterward the root of much evil in churches, love of money, to build grand houses of worship, took possession of Christians, which accounts for much of their hatred and persecution. When this spirit had reached its climax, and St. Peter's stood as its legitimate result, Reuchlen the humanist introduced into Germany the study of the Hebrew language and literature. The Dominican monks protested ; a long quarrel ensued, but Reuchlin was victorious. The result was that valuable manuscripts were saved which otherwise would have been burned. From this time the Old Testament began to be studied by scholars in the original. This quarrel with the Dominicans awakened students to the real spirit of Christians toward learning ; and the result taught the people that the church was not invincible. Israelites can join in celebrating the Reformation, as they did recently at Worms, at the uncovering of the Luther monument, not only because it was commenced by introducing the study of Hebrew, but also because since then learning has been more universal. A tolerant spirit and a love for learning are closely allied. We owe to the Jews not only our Bible, but the privilege of reading it understandingly. Those very Hebrew manuscripts the Dominicans desired to 368 The Radical. The lovers of science will never persecute Israelites, they are so saving of all facts. They have brought to this age much of Egypt's learning and Asia's alchemy. But Jews will not listen to them till they can speak with authority, and not till there can be extracted something that time will not destroy. When Christianity reigned supreme over the civilized world the people of Israel were robbed, persecuted, slain. Are they vanquished ? They have all the religious and political world directly in their grasp. To-day there are not churches open with men or women of learning expounding the best English scripture ; no one dares rise and preach, even from Whittier's "Eternal Goodness." We are still kept on "sacred psalms," begging God to slay our enemies ; yet there are plenty of modern psalms which plead with God to take us near to him, that we may become better than our enemies.* Every Sunday's discourse must be headed by a verse from the Jew's scripture. The most enlightened civil governments are as dependent on the Jew's collection of coin as churches are on their collection of truth and history. They have to ask Israelites when they can build palaces ; when they can go to war ; and even proud Protestant England receives an Israelite's choice of a man for the head of her church. Of course Jews now are not slain or persecuted ; for who can get money at the lowest rate at the right time can have the largest boundaries, the greatest armies. Since civilization has forbidden to slay and steal, governments, with standing armies, will protect, even love, the Jews. Are they vanquished ? In all nations, now, there are synagogues open for believers to bow around the altar of the creating and preserving God. Their lamps, giving light and heat, have never ceased to burn. In all lands they are increasing. History paints in fast colors the truth that one is exalted and cared for in just the same proportion as the power acting wants *This was written before Francis E. Abbot became minister of the First Independent Society of Toledo, O. There is now one congregation in our republic that values modern as well as ancient scripture ; who are willing their minister shall take his text from words written in the nineteenth as soon as from those written in the first century. Character and Power of Judaism. 369 you for its benefit. Who, then, needs the Jews ? Russia, very naturally, despises them ; for she wishes to control her people through the one church which ranks the second in wealth and numbers among the Christian churches, and its intolerance is in proportion to its power to inflict injury on its enemies. She cannot make Israelites slay Islamites, exalting idolatry over ancient monotheists. What is to check the tyranny that would arise from the union of the two most powerful branches of the Christian church ? There is a power in their midst that has wealth, numbers, unity of purpose, and that power will not help destroy the only religious order that would unite with them against church tyranny ; yes,--Russia hates Jews. France and Germany are filled with pantheism and materialism. Do they not need to hear the voice that never wavers, "There is one God without form, Creator and Preserver of humanity ?" Does not Spain just now need citizens with wealth, industry, economy, and with a faith in a God that is, and ever has been, "unknown" to the senses ? Our government was among the first to make them citizens. Any class enfranchised are safe in a republic : some party will befriend them for the value of their votes. The commercial class will not persecute, for they compose one-third of this. Students of social science find that Moses is the great leader. He taught the prevention of sin and disease, which indicated knowledge of natural laws. He did not take one from the dead, but kept many from the grave. The Iraelites in America look for no man to be their Messiah. Their God is Creator and Saviour. In finding the method of creation, they find the method of salvation. When the Jews were preserved from pestilence by observing their sanitary laws, Christian bishops, supposing it was by witchcraft in their Talmud which brought it to England, but exempted the Israelites, ordered it burned. The Jew asked, "Why should I leave the belief that prevents disease for Christian cure ? Who has faith enough to work miracles, even if cure was as great as prevention." A rabbi writes, "Sins cannot be forgiven. There is no remission of sins without removing their cause. The means of expiation and atonement are within every one's reach. God is 372 The Radical. One was a barren-minded monad, called A positivist ; and he knew positively: "There is no world beyond this certain drop. Prove me another ! Let the dreamers dream Of their faint gleams, and noises from without, And higher and lower : life is life enough." Then swaggering half a hair's breadth, hungrily He seized upon an atom of bug, and fed. One was a tattered monad, called a poet ; And with shrill voice ecstatic thus he sang : "Oh, the little female monad's lips ! Oh, the little female monad's eyes ! Ah, the little, little, female, female monad !" The last was a monad of the period, Who dashed amid the infusoria, Danced high and low, and wildly spun and dove Till the dizzy others held their breath to see. But while they led their wondrous little lives AEonian moments had gone wheeling by. The burning drop had shrunk with fearful speed ; A glistening film--'twas gone ; the leaf was dry. The little ghost of an inaudible squeak Was lost to the frog that goggled from his stone ; Who, at the huge, slow tread of a thoughtful ox Coming to drink, stirred sideways fatly, plunged, Launched backward twice, and all the pool was still. EVIDENCES OF SPIRITUALISM. FOR more than a score of years the subject of spirit communication has been before the world, and, although repeatedly "exposed," has gathered strength from year to year, until its adherents are counted by millions. Five great journals are issued in its advocacy in this country, and over twenty in the various languages of Europe. That is has great power and is wielding it, for good or evil, all must admit. The only question is the source of its manifestations, purporting to come from the world of spirits. Here is great divergence. My purpose is to review the principal explanations which have been offered, and adduce the main points in evidence of their spiritual origin. The limited space of a magazine article will not allow more than a bare outline, and in my endeavors to condense I may become obscure. The phenomena are extremely diverse in character ; and, while this peculiarity has presented an insurmountable obstacle to those who have attempted to frame theories for their explanation, it equally increases the difficulty of selecting such facts as most perfectly illustrate and prove its lofty claims. Charlatanism, in its hydra-headed forms, has fastened itself on the new cause ; quackery and humbugs of incredible impudence have grown strong under its shadow ; and sometimes even the well-meaning have been led widely astray by ignorance. A cause with less vitality would have sunk beneath the load of folly, villainy, and ignorance it has been compelled to carry. As a great flood pours down the river's bed, yellow with the wash of half a continent, bearing all the flood-wood collected on its shores, and the swollen carcasses which for the summer have festered on its banks, so Spiritualism has swept together all the heterodox issues of the day. The biologist, the patheist, the mesmerizer and phrenologist, have marshaled themselves under its banner, and its broad aegis is claimed for them all. This stream will become pure, and then will it be found 376 The Radical. realm and the so-called supernatural, it does not follow that the members of circles are hallucinated. Opposers of Spiritualism talk as if the world were a world of hallucinations, an unreliable, phantom existence. It is true, all are liable to this abnormal action. It is induced by fevers, fasting, narcotics, and stimulants, but here is the distinction : hallucination is the perception of the sensible signs of an idea ; "illusion is the false appreciation of real sensations." "Either may exist (the former rarely) in persons of sound mind ; but in that case they are discredited in consequence of the exercise of reason and observation, or, if credited, they do not influence the actions." To apply the above principle, stated by the highest authority on insanity. If a score of persons subject to illusions or hallucinations were in a circle no two would be affected alike. Because one saw the table move would be no reason for another to do so. One might see it rise to the ceiling, another drop through the floor, and a third go out at the window. Contrary to this, at circles the members see the same movements and hear the same sounds, a fact which at once silences the hypothesis of illusion of hallucination. The opposers of Spiritualism have each a favorite theory which they complacently maintain. There is a respectable party who have at once fallen on a sure and satisfactory method, at least to them. It is the devil ! Ah, Satan, you are too much abused,--scape-goat for all the folly and ignorance of the world ! Whether referred to the devil, or to evil spirits, this important question arises : "If evil spirits can communicate, why not the good ?" Ah ! here is an unfortunate dilemma. Can a benevolent God let loose on mankind an innumerable host of demons, and allow them to delude the children of men, and obstruct all avenues by which the good and loving ones can hold the same intercourse ? The tree is known by its fruit. Spiritualism teaches a sublime code of morality. It inculcates virtue, goodness, and purity ; holds out the strongest inducements for right doing ; destroys oppression and gives assurance of the beautiful life beyond and the constant ministrations of loved ones gone before. Evidences of Spiritualism. 377 The same laws by which evil spirits can communicate will allow the good. With those who have a smattering of science, electricity, magnetism, and od force, have been in turn thought to explain the manifestations. The only assignable reason for their being thus applied is in the mystery with which they are surrounded. Electricity, generated by electric machines, is readily detected by electrometers. When in tension it will give a spark ; but even when accumulated to the extent of human means, it cannot be made to move objects as tables are moved, not to mention the intelligence manifested. It can only affect objects directly in its path, and that for an almost infinitely short space of time. Whether received from a machine or battery, perfect insulation is requisite. In a circle, as usually constituted, there is no insulation, no battery, in short, not a single condition necessary for the production of an electrical effect. The most delicate instrument science can devise for the detection of this force gives not the least indication of its presence, as I have repeatedly tested. The snapping sound of the electric spark is entirely different from the rappings. Objects when moving never give any indication of magnetic attraction : wood is its antipode, yet an iron article moves not more readily than a wooden one. The moving table will not attract the smallest iron filing any more than electrically it will attract a pith ball. It sounds exceedingly wise to refer unexplained facts to electricity or magnetism, and has become quite the fashion. The human body cannot charge a table either magnetically or electrically. Odic force ran a famous career. It was less understood than the previous, and hence more implicitly entertained. The world never received a greater sham than this explanation. Scientific men have never admitted the odic force into the courts of science, and even doubt its existence. At most, in the hands of its discoverer, it was only an attenuated flame, only recognizable by extremely sensitive persons. Its influence is exerted only on living beings, and it has no power to move matter, and is as devoid of intelligence as the wind. These theories were not propounded by scientific men. They 380 The Radical. four other eminent men. While the little girl sat in her high-chair, her tiny feet resting on the foot-board, she was lifted and carried about as a feather blown by the wind. The heavy table, around which they were seated, rocked, while loud raps resounded from various parts of the room, and spelled out names and dates and messages, identifying departed friends of the sitters. As they were about to adjourn, a message was given from General Bullard's deceased brother. Then he thought, as a test, If it is my brother, move the medium in her chair towards me. His idea was to have her moved a little way ; but she was carried round the table, and sat by his side almost instantaneously. Then General Bullard started up, exclaiming, "By heavens, it is all true !" In an article written for "Putnam's Monthly," Horace Greeley gives a fact of peculiar significance on the authority of Mrs. S. Helen Whitman, the celebrated poetess of Rhode Island. The details of the seance are unimportant : the following item only has direct interest. "Mr. S. placed the closed points of a pair of scissors in the hands of the medium, and dropped his pencil through one of the rings or bows, the paper being placed beneath. Her hand presently began to tremble, and it was with difficulty she could retain her hold of the scissors. Mr. Simmons then took them into his own hand, and again dropped his pencil through the ring. It could not readily be sustained in this position. After a few moments, however, it stood as if firmly poised and perfectly still : it then began slowly to move. Mr. S. saw traced slowly beneath his eyes the words 'James D. Simmons.' The letters were distinctly and deliberately written, and the handwriting was a fac-simile of his son's signature. Bending down to scrutinize the writing more closely, he observed, just as the last word was finished, that the top of the pencil leaned to the right ; he thought it was about to slip through the ring, but, to his infinite astonishment, he saw the point slide slowly back along the word 'Simmons' until it rested over the letter i, when it deliberately imprinted a dot. This was a punctilio utterly unthought of by him ; he had not noticed the omission, and was therefore entirely unprepared for the amendment. . . . How will those who deny the agency of disembodied spirits Evidences of Spiritualism. 381 in these marvels, ascribing all to the unassisted power of the human will or to the blind action of electricity,--how will they dispose of this last curious and significant fact ?" Of his son's death Mr. S. had received no particulars, but the intelligence purporting to be him related the exact manner in which his body had been embalmed. The statements were highly improbable ; but four months after, a gentlemen returned from California, and confirmed them in every particular. Prof. Hare gave the subject close and careful scrutiny. For accuracy and completeness his scientific series of tests have never been surpassed. He endeavored to perfect an apparatus which would wholly eliminate the action of the medium's mind, as well as prevent conscious or unconscious deception. In one of these a thin board was supported on the surface of a table of balls ; on this board the medium's hands were placed. As the least movement of the hands would roll the balls, there was not possibility of moving the table ; yet the table moved as readily as before, and, being connected with a disc, which the medium did not see, spelled long sentences, the substance of which was entirely new. The same results were obtained by interposing water between the hands and the moving object. His testimony in any other path would be unquestioningly received. Why not in this ? Of the manifestations through the Fox family, Horace Greeley wrote : "We devoted what time we could spare from our duties out of three days to this subject (they were staying at his own house), and it would be the basest cowardice not to say that we are convinced beyond a doubt of their perfect integrity and good faith in the premises. Whatever may be the origin or cause of the rappings, the ladies in whose presence they occur do not make them. We tested this thoroughly and to our entire satisfaction." Said Jenny Lind to Katy Fox, whom she visited while at the residence of Greeley : "If it were possible for you to make these sounds, I know it is impossible for you to answer the questions I have asked this evening." She had conversed in her native tongue, and was so deeply impressed as to depart with eyes suffused with tears. 384 The Radical. is impossible to honestly engage in investigation without receiving such proof. Ah ! it is rejoined, grant this all to be true : of what good is it ? This query has been repeatedly asked, and is considered to contain the force of an argument. The truthfulness of Spiritualism does not depend on its good or evil results. If true, it is the most glorious philosophy ever presented to the world. The future is no longer a far-off country, but is a near and clear domain, joining our lives, and the departed dwell there in supernal light, loving us still and receiving our love. Materialism has taught a dark and cheerless lesson. Religion has bowed her head to its sway. Faith has died out of the world, and nothing but positive testimony is of any value in religion as well as in science. The spiritual experience of the past cannot be renewed by faith. The age is positive. It demands accurate knowledge and not the show of it. It is at this critical moment that Spiritualism presents its positive demonstration of future existence. That it has met an imperative demand of the time is shown by the eagerness of its reception, and the hope even of the skeptic that it may be true. HUDSON TUTTLE. GOD sends his teachers unto every age, To every clime, and every race of men, With revelations fitted to their growth And shape of mind, nor gives the realm of Truth Into the selfish rule of one sole race : Therefore each form of worship that hath swayed The life of man, and given it to grasp The master-key of knowledge, reverence, Enfolds some germs of goodness and of right ; Else never had the eager soul, which loathes The slothful down of pampered ignorance, Found in it even a moment's fitful rest. -- James Russell Lowell. A SERMON OF IMMORTALITY. BY THE LATE EVERETT FINLEY. IT is not always best to judge concerning the truth of a proposition by the amount or the quality of the evidence that is brought to sustain it. One may argue poorly in support of a most important truth, or produce a great show of logic and profound reasoning to uphold an injurious falsehood. A man may be argued down by the superior tact of his opponents a hundred times, and still be in the right. Or, in his own mind, one may believe what is true, upon evidence that is grossly absurd and insufficient. Socrates, condemned to death, spends the last day of his life discoursing to his friends on immortality. His arguments in proof of the immortality of the soul are most of them fanciful, and would probably have very little weight if reproduced at the present day. But his logic and argument are of very little importance either way, when we consider the fact that there was Socrates himself, serene and self-possessed, though face to face with death, and confident of his own perpetual existence, even while drinking the poison of the executioner. Paul's reasoning in support of this doctrine of the future life is often, no doubt, lame and inconclusive ; but shall Paul's perfect faith in immortality count for nothing ? A man may have perfect vision, yet know nothing of the laws of optics ; or he may think he understands the science of optics, and may undertake to explain the laws of vision, while his science and explanation are only a bundle of absurdities : but his ignorance or absurd explanation has nothing to do with the fact of his seeing. And the fact, that so many do seem to see and know the truth of the soul's immortality, may be of more real weight and importance than all the arguments, good and bad, that have ever been produced in support of the doctrine. All the arguments may prove weak and defective ; but the example of those who have nobly lived an died in the firm assurance of immortality cannot fail to persuade and influence 388 The Radical. upon the resurrection of Jesus. But when one declares that there is no evidence of man's immortality save in modern Spiritism, or when another proclaims that the only reliable evidence is to be found in the fact that Jesus rose from the dead,-- 'tis as if the blind man, who has learned to read through the sense of touch by means of raised letters, should maintain that there is not other method under heaven or among men whereby one can be taught to read, save this method of having raised letters which are applied to the sense of touch. There are those who can only arrive at a conviction of immortality through the ends of their fingers as it were, and by means of raised material letters ; but there may be others who can see the truth of the soul's immortality proclaimed in letters of light in every page and syllable of nature. A man may walk on crutches either from choice or from necessity ; but we may be allowed to greet him with a smile of incredulity when he comes to recommend crutches as the only proper and safe instruments of pedestrian locomotion. There are a vast number of spiritual, or perhaps more properly unspiritual crutches, in common use, which are very largely recommended and advertised as being vastly superior to the natural organs of locomotion. Let those who prefer to do so rest their faith in immortality upon a single prop, which may be removed by scientific or historic criticism ; but the majority of men will prefer to acknowledge the help and validity of every kind of sound and reasonable evidence which can help to sustain and confirm the assurance of a future existence. Let us beware of claiming for Christianity any monopoly of this faith in immortality ; for if one could prove that this is a private story told in the ear of some special prophet or saviour, and not a communication which the Infinite Spirit has made to the whole humanity, he would only be proving that it is a doubtful or incredible story. So important a truth as the soul's immortality, if it be a truth, cannot rest upon any private or partial testimony ; but it needs the general and direct testimony of the race, if it is to be firmly and reliably established as the faith of humanity. The first proof of immortality which I shall name is the general A Sermon of Immortality. 389 general belief of mankind. I do not say that it is the universal belief of mankind ; for travelers have given accounts of tribes who have seemed to have no notion whatever of a future existence, and there are individuals in every community who doubt or deny the immortality of the soul. But it is fair to affirm the belief in immortality as the general faith of humanity both past and present. 'Tis a faith that is not limited to any age, race, or religion. No research has ever led us to the origin of this belief, unless it be in the soul itself as an essential part of man's spiritual constitution. 'Tis often stated, by those who do not go so far as to maintain that Christianity has furnished the only reliable evidence of immortality, that before the Christian era the belief in a future life, where such belief had any existence, was altogether vague, indefinite, and uncertain. Though these statements of the vagueness and uncertainty of this belief among the heathen nations previous to the birth of Christianity are, no doubt, many of them grossly exaggerated, still it is undeniably true, that, through the influence of Christianity, the faith in the immortal life became vastly more vivid and intense. But this faith is not always and everywhere clear and intense, even in Christendom. There have been times when the faith of Christendom in a future existence has seemed as weak and uncertain as among the Greeks, Romans, and barbarians previous to the birth of Jesus. And perhaps the present is such a time. But it is still true, when all proper exceptions have been made, that the faith in immortality is the faith of humanity. Its origin seems to be further back than the commencement of history, and its prevalence has extended over almost ever inhabited portion of the earth. Now whence came this faith ? Could it have grown up by mere accident ? Is it possible to suppose an almost universal moral or spiritual belief among mankind, without some fact to correspond with the belief? 'Tis hard to conceive of a general and concurrent belief of humanity in the real existence of a baseless unreality. In this general faith of mankind, there seems to be a promise and assurance of immortality from the Author of nature, given through the human constitution. 392 The Radical. and progressive existence that he can enter in to possess and improve this radiant land of promise. The soul's most intimate relations are with the infinite and eternal ; and to suppose that the soul itself is nothing more than a fleeting time-bubble seems more absurdly unreasonable than to suppose that wings should be produced where there is no atmosphere. If the soul is not immortal, then there is failure, defeat, and bankruptcy, where God himself has advertised one of the most noble and divine achievements of the universe. Yes, in the law and constitution of our being, God himself seems to have given us a clear promise of immortality. Life is a cheat to man's nature, a false prophecy, if the soul is not immortal. But in the light of immortality we may hope to see all the dark problems of the universe justified and explained. The objections to immortality are founded entirely upon our ignorance, --our ignorance of the soul's connection with the body, and our ignorance of the soul's connection with the future life out of the body. To our observation, the soul seems to grow up, decay, and perish with the body. But we have no knowledge or assurance that it does so grow up, decay, and perish. From a variety of intelligent witnesses there is clear and concurrent testimony in favor of immortality, while against it is only the testimony of this one blind witness, our ignorance, which does not see how the soul can be immortal under the circumstances. And, higher than any circumstantial proof, there may be the conscious assurance of immortality. There are those who live and die with a positive and confirmed conviction of the perpetual existence of the good which seeks no outward testimony or argument to sustain it. I do not suppose it possible for all men to feel this undoubting interior assurance of the immortal life ; but it is no doubt generally true, that the more nobly any one lives and aspires, the more clear and steadfast will be his faith in immortality. The soul's health is its best pledge of immortality. Those who are faithfully endeavoring to make life such that it may be worth perpetuating will seldom have any serious doubts of its endless continuation. A Sermon of Immortality. 393 I know a person who says he seldom hears a lofty and inspiring strain of music without feeling an almost absolute assurance of the perennial existence of the soul. Whatever exalts the soul above the clogs and cares of time and sense, whether it be poetry, music, eloquence, or love, whatever transports us into the highest state of self-consciousness, makes us aware of our own infinite relations. When God comes to make his abode with any one, he brings infinite riches and the feast is eternal. But it is a vain task to prove the immortal life to those who are making no endeavor to live it now. What boots it to discourse of colors to the blind, or of the sweet enchantment of music to the deaf? Whoso begins to live the true life may come to know if it be immortal or not. If we prove that we are kindred, and not alien, to the eternal truth and beauty which dwell in God, we may perchance come to know that the soul must be as enduring as these. We have no language or information which will enable us to describe the circumstance and scenery of the future life ; but we may feel assured that it will not remain a hampered, routine life, such as we are now compelled to live. Two conditions are essential, namely, eternal youth and endless progress ; for, without these conditions, immortality would be a curse instead of a blessing. Swedenborg says the oldest spirits in heaven are the most youthful ; to grow old there is to grow young. And the idea is true, whatever may be said of Swedenborg's report of the outward fact. But, when all is said, it is still the part of wisdom to submit willingly and gladly to the direction of the supreme laws, whatever they be--for or against the soul's immortality. If it is best that we should live on forever, then we shall live on. It is doubtful if immortality can be proved to the majority of mankind at the present day as anything more than a reasonable expectation. We are so overridden by physical science and physical facts, as well as the ancient superstitions, that often the soul's intuitions of the higher life are, in too many cases. treated as if they had no real existence. 7 396 The Radical. his post mortem deeds and words, and inquire whether they were characteristic of the man. Matthew's account of these deeds and words is very brief, "Jesus met them, saying, All hail. . . . Then said Jesus unto them, Be not afraid : go tell my brethren that they go into Galilee, and there shall they see me. . . . And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you : and, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world. Amen." All the rest of the account of the resurrection in the First Gospel is occupied with the deeds, words, and thoughts of other parties. From so little perhaps little can be determined ; but it is noticeable that Jesus is nowhere represented as having, by either example of administration or command before his death, taught his disciples to baptize. If William Ellery Channing were allowed to return to earth and utter a few words to his former friends, would he improve the opportunity--I might better say waste it--with any prescription of baptism ? Was Jesus any more likely than Channing to do so ? The command to teach all nations is entirely at variance with the Jewish exclusiveness that he is uniformly represented by the evangelists as having maintained through all his life ; the allusion to the Trinity is utterly unlike all that is recorded of his previous utterances ; and it was unworthy of him to make the extravagant boast of having received all power in heaven and earth. How has he ever employed his terrestrial omnipotence ? The account give in the Second Gospel is nearly as short, and is rejected as spurious by many critics. "Now when Jesus was risen early the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene. . . . After that he appeared in another form unto two of them as they walked and went into the country. . . Afterward he appeared unto the eleven as they sat at meat, and upbraided them with their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they believed not them which had seen him after he was risen. And he said unto them, Go ye into all the world and The New-Testament Miracles. 387 preach the gospel to every creature. He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved ; but he that believeth not shall be damned. And these signs shall follow them that believe : in my name shall they cast out devils ; they shall speak with new tongues ; they shall take up serpents ; and if they drink any deadly thing it shall not hurt them ; they shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover. So then, after the Lord had spoken unto them, he was received up into heaven, and sat on the right hand of God." According to this account, the risen Jesus was broad precisely where the third century was broad, and narrow where the third century was narrow. There is no longer any distinction between Jewish children and Gentile dogs ; the gospel is to be preached to every creature : but salvation is made dependent on faith and baptism ; and the unbeliever is threatened with damnation. Such common jugglers' tricks as the handling of serpents and the drinking of poison with impunity are mentioned among the credentials of the new faith. The genuineness of this account might well be doubted ; but if St. Mark ended his biography with no account whatever of so important as occurrence, how is his silence to be explained ? According to the author of the Third Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, the risen Jesus seems to have been chiefly occupied with expounding the prophecies--an occupation to which this writer was especially partial. Matthew and Mark relate that in the beginning of public life Jesus taught in a Galilean synagogue. They say nothing about the matter of his discourse ; but Luke records that he expounded a passage from Isaiah. According to the same writer, Stephen, Philip, Peter, Paul, and Apollos, on different occasions, expounded the prophecies. It is to be noticed that in the description of the journey to Emmaus after the resurrection, Luke occupies more space in relating what the disciples said to Jesus than in relating what he said to them--a course not usual with the evangelists. His exposition is not given in detail ; but its object is said to have been a vindication of his claim to the name and title of "Christ." At that early date the term "Christ" had not begun to signify either a Trinitarian's God or a Unitarian's pope. It was the Greek equiv- 400 The Radical. the phenomena may have been produced that the evangelists record ; but it may be a question whether it were not better to remain dead, than to be raised so inferior to one's former self as Jesus would appear to have been. The account of the resurrection attributed to Matthew presents the appearance of having been appended to the Gospel after the doctrine of the Trinity had begun to take form ; and there are many reasons for supposing the account at the end of the Gospel of Mark to have been added by a much later hand ; but the account given in the Third Gospel is probably of very early authorship. From the well-authenticated epistles of St. Paul, it is evident that the Messiahship of Jesus was one of the earliest, if not the very earliest of Christian dogmas. Like other dogmas, it soon became a dead issue ; opinions became decided for or against it ; it ceased to be discussed ; and the doctrines of the Logos, the Trinity, and the Vicarious Atonement arose in their turn and claimed attention. But the account of the resurrection of Jesus found in the Third Gospel was evidently written while this first of church dogmas was in the heat of discussion, and must have been the work of some very early disciple. I cannot, however, regard him as very trustworthy. Unlike many, if not most of the writers of the New Testament, he plainly shows the influence of a desire to gain for himself a literary reputation. His works commence with elaborate introductions. The first two chapters of his Gospel are embellished with poetry. Such a writer was likely to be tempted into the regions of romance, and to care more about telling a good story than a true one. The Fourth Gospel is of very uncertain date and authorship, and is likely to have been intended as a rhapsody rather than a history. There is yet to be considered the account of the resurrection as given by St. Paul in the First Epistle to the Corinthians. "I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins, according to the Scriptures ; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures ; and that he was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve. After that he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once ; of whom the greater part remain unto this The New-Testament Miracles. 401 present, but some are fallen asleep. After that, he was seen of James, then of all the apostles. And last of all he was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time." There is no reason to doubt that these words were written by St. Paul ; and though he probably depended more upon his visions to determine what he should believe than upon any careful sifting of evidence, we may be pretty certain that there were then living individuals who had been acquainted with Jesus before his death, and who, perhaps in darkness or at a distance, had seen somebody whom they suspected or guessed to be Jesus risen from the dead. If the Gospel of John could be depended upon as history, it would nearly or quite establish a case of imposture on the part of some unknown person successfully attempting to personate the crucified Nazarene. "Touch me not," he says to Mary, "for I am not yet ascended." A very strange reason this. It would certainly have been too late for her to touch him after he had ascended. The reason he gives for waiting is the very reason why she should not have waited, but touched him at once it ever. "Reach hither thy hand and thrust it into my side," he says to Thomas. Why was it that Thomas must touch him and Mary must not ? In the case of Mary, the scene was laid out of doors, in the morning ; and but a short time had elapsed in which to prepare a disguise, which, therefore, might not have been able to bear too close an inspection. In the case of Thomas, a week had gone by ; and the order is given in a crowded room, in the evening, with the doors shut ; and, as glass windows had not been invented, and artificial lights were not very brilliant, a disguise must have been favored by the darkness. The ascension of Jesus into heaven is necessary to prove the resurrection a miracle, as otherwise it might have been merely a case of natural resuscitation and not at all extraordinary. It is remarkable, that, of all the New Testament writers who relate that Jesus was seen alive after his crucifixion, only one intimates that anybody saw him ascend into heaven ; and he is the romancer and poet who wrote or edited the Third Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles. "When they therefore were 8 404 The Radical. very natural. Persons in such a condition often fancy themselves on high elevations like temple, pinnacles or brinks of precipices. The angels that ministered unto him were probably human angels,--men or women who found him in the last extremity, fed him, and rescued him from death. Upon their accidental aid depended the form that the religion of the civilized world should assume for ages to come. His glassy, sunken eyes were unable to see anything correctly. Imagination ran away with every perception of reality, and common men and women were distorted into devils or transformed into angels. A man in a delirium hears occasionally a word really spoken or sees a face really present ; then his mind wanders : he becomes blind and deaf to all realities, attentive only to the fancies that crown upon his weary and restless imagination. Any one finding a person in a starving condition would have been likely to mention bread or some other article of food, as the devil is said to have done. Jesus may have heard the word : his imagination, so started, and running on the track or off the track, may have furnished all the rest of the conversation. He who was first regarded as a devil may have been afterward seen as a ministering angel. Jesus and his friends might have been expected to regard this experience as the great event of his life. It had been dearly paid for with suffering and danger, and was therefore highly prized. It was then that he had stood face to face with eternal realities and gazed upon the spiritual world. Thereby it had been proved that his prayers and fasts had been acceptable to God. Thus had he attained a degree of sanctity that made him worthy of supernatural power. It is not surprising that all the synoptic evangelists relate it. John omits it, as might have been expected from his theory that Jesus had come down from heaven and needed no such revelation. The history of the temptation is especially valuable for the information it gives of the true character of Jesus. I have heard of a teacher who was accustomed to encourage his pupils to relate to him their dreams, concealing from them his reason, which was a desire to obtain a knowledge of their dispositions. When Jesus is reported as saying that it is his meat and drink to do The New-Testament Miracles. 405 the will of God, we may reply that little dependence can be placed on intentional self-praise. But these delirious fancies show that his conscience was really so predominant among the faculties of his mind that it continued vigorous to the last, when all else was shattered and wasted by starvation. Every victory over temptation, whether real or imaginary, may be regarded as a type of a class of victories, and made a theme of profitable meditation. The sermons founded on the story of the temptation, considered as a parable or a miracle, are none the less practical upon the theory that I have presented. It is a striking illustration of the dignity of conscience, that because this young Galilean was conscientious, though he was ignorant and superstitious, the best and greatest of us after the lapse of nearly two thousand years, in these days of printing presses, railways, and ocean telegraphs, amid all the triumphs of physical science, profitably study his history, and even derive instruction from the wild vagaries of his shattered mind as he lay starving among the barren rocks of the desert of Judea. I will not make any other of the miracles the subject of a special discussion. I admit that with regard to many of them I am unable to determine what is fact, what is misinterpretation of phenomena, what is error of memory, and what is conscious invention. I farther admit that, whatever may be deduced from any one's definition of the word "miracle," the accounts given in the Gospels are not irrational or unintelligible like the doctrine of the Trinity or of transubstantiation. So far as I am able to judge, the Unitarian denominations, including the Universalists, Mohammedans, and Jews (all of whom believe in miracles), are entitled to the credit of advocating systems of theology entirely intelligible and rational. Whether they are true or not is another question. The statement that apples grow on vines is as intelligible and rational as the statement that they grow on trees, though it is as untrue as the statement that they grow on logarithms. The standard words on the evidences of Christianity generally admit that the historical evidence of the occurrence of the miracles would be insufficient if it were not corroborated by the reasonableness of the assumption, a priori, that a benevolent MR. ABBOT'S RELIGION. When the "Fifty Affirmations" of Mr. Francis E. Abbot appeared, his definition of religion, as "man's effort to perfect himself," impressed me as defective in substance and faulty in form. The impression has by no means been effaced by reflection. Of these two objections the latter is comparatively unimportant: it may therefore be dismissed with a brief statement. Mr. Abbot holds, as every man of intelligence not subject to some prejudice must hold, that religion is a permanent element or principle in man's nature. Now, a constitutive element or principle in man will certainly give rise to efforts, but as certainly it is not itself his effort. What if one should define growth as the effort of a creature to become bigger? Yet this definition would compare to advantage with the other. Growth actually is the process of increase: religion, as a constitutive principle, is but the source whence effort, activity and increase proceed. It is a part of man's nature or being: why not say that his being itself is his effort to exist? I see in this word "effort," so used, a looseness of phrase which augurs ill. But let us leave this lesser matter, and pass to considerations of more importance. In "The Index" of April 9, Mr. Abbot prints an elaborate defense of his definition, calling to his support the well-known passage in which John Stuart Mill commends to attention "a religion without a God." Strengthened by this, he avows an express purpose so to define religion that it should be rescued from all dependence upon the being of God, But, before proceeding farther, it may be well to glance at Mr. Mill's position. The latter asserts, in the passage cited; "the possibility of a religion without a belief in God." Mr. Mill, however, thinks a round square not impossible, and thinks it not impossible that two and two should be five, But we will suppose that he here speaks simply as a man of sense, and not as a teacher of "psychological" Mr. Abbot's Religion. 409 "psychological" philosophy. Now it has never yet been proved that without a belief in God a religion is possible which should have permanence, power and importance in world-history. But it must be admitted that individual men, or groups of men, - as, for example, Auguste Comte and some of his followers, - may be religious without conscious theistic belief. Indeed, a statement to that effect has been freely admitted by orthodox Christians. To liberal believers it is neither startling nor questionable, nor new. It does not militate at all against the doctrine that religion properly signifies the being of God, and logically implies belief in him. Religion belongs primarily to character; and of this, opinion may be, often is, a very imperfect exponent. Sentiment and opinion not unfrequently are opposed in the same man. I have a friend who is in character an autocrat, though of a magnanimous spirit; in opinion he is a democrat, very zealous and pronounced. His acquaintances perceive the contrariety; he himself is wholly unaware of it. Still more than special proclivities, the profoundest and subtlest principles of human nature may fail to explicate themselves in speculative belief. Socrates held that men often believe what they think they disbelieve; and he compared himself to a midwife because his purpose was to evoke this unconscious belief, causing men to recognize it and to correct their conscious opinion by it. It is often said, in my judgement with entire truth, that no man really believes in eternal punishment in hell fire. But how many men honestly think they do so! How many men hold an opinion to that effect, which no reasoning could overcome! We all distinguish, in fine, between conscious opinion and unconscious belief, "the faith of the heart," as it is sometimes called - in other words, the true import of moving sentiments and animating principles. The theist has, therefore, an ample explanation of individual religiousness without a speculative belief in God. But Mr. Mill, having asserted the "possibility" of a religion without such belief, adds that "a religion without a God" may furnish a profitable study. He makes use of this shorter expression, religion without a God, only as the equivalent of the former, religion without a belief in God. The words might, 412 The Radical. But he is a theist, and in adjusting his theism to his doctrine and definition of religion makes what may at first seem to a plain man an extraordinary tangle. Presently he says, "The strong, secret, purifying impulse to seek ideal excellence"--by which he means religion--"is, in my thought, a revelation of God within the soul ; but the fact is one thing, and my intellectual theory of it is quite another." He thinks that religion veritably is "a revelation of God within the soul." He thinks it this, does he not, in point of fact ? He thinks the fact to be that ? Well, why not define the fact as he thinks it to be in point of fact ? Why should his definition of the fact differ from his own conception of its nature, his own notion of what it really is ? Is it only by what of accommodation to opinions which he regards as untrue that he does this ? Has he the legless neighbor in mind ? Does he say, I will define religion by only a portion of what I esteem its true nature, I will suppress a part of my convictions respecting its true nature, because these convictions are not shared by all whom I recognize as religious men ? One could understand that in a cardinal at the OEcumenical Council, but how is it to be understood in a Radical of the Radicals, who professes above all things to think freely as an individual, and to speak for himself individually what he thinks? It cannot be so, however. Mr. Abbot is incapable of this gross compromise. We must look farther. And, happily, here comes a gleam of light. Subsequently to the statements which had nearly misled me, he says, "Does not the effort of man to perfect himself really include all that constitutes religion, as distinct from theology ? What we believe about God and immortality must be settled for all independent persons by scientific and philosophical thinking (italics his own.) The intellect must solve all intellectual problems. No begging of the question here." We have now the key to his position, - one key at least, for several seem required. He thinks religion a revelation of God, but thinks that no intimation of this fact is given by religion itself. Religion, "as distinct from theology," is without God in the world. Religion in and by itself is atheistic, - that is, in the privative, not the dogmatic sense. Theism is simply an intellectual opinion, that may, or may not, be superinduced Mr. Abbot's Religion. 413 upon it. He believes in God, but not as a religious man, only as a scientific and philosophical thinker. It is indeed quite impossible on this ground that one should believe in God in his quality of religious man, since in religion itself the being of God is ignored. One may so believe as a scientist or a philosopher, not as a saint,--may believe intellectually, not otherwise. "The intellect must solve all intellectual problems." This is a curious position for a theist, and it does not seem the less curious when Mr. Abbot is found saying, near the close of his "Affirmations," that "the great peace of free religion is in the Infinite One." How is this, pray ? "Canst work i' the earth so fast ? A worthy pioneer !" Religion finds its peace in that which it ignores ! It knows of no "Infinite One ;" nevertheless its peace is in that "Infinite One" of which it does not know! But putting aside this fresh complication, I understand Mr. Abbot to say that religion is, in his thought, a revelation of God, but that religion itself is unaware of this, and does not signify it. But how is this ? Just as I thought we were getting out of the woods, here I am again quite bewildered. It is wholly inexplicable to me how one can at once think of religion as a revelation of God, and as not revealing him, not signifying his being. Religion does not reveal God, for a definition of it that boldly ignores his being "includes ALL that constitues religion." Mr. Abbot thinks this, and at the same time he things it a revelation of God. Am I dizzy by mere infirmity, or are here some gyrations which it may well set one's head swimming to follow ? I spare myself, and revert to the main point. The main point is that religion does not reveal God, does not signify his being. Revelation or not, it does not reveal. We can see where Mr. Abbot stands, if not how he gets there. But how does he sustain himself there ? How does he prove that religion has not the significance which so many have attributed to it ? Echoing his words, "No begging of the question here," I will beg leave to ask questions nevertheless. What is the proof ? 416 The Radical. sprung up by its proper suggestion. These conditions appear in fact. There is undoubtedly a general tendency in religious men to believe in God ; this tendency, so far as we know, is coeval with religion itself, or at least with the beginning of civilization ; its spontaneous expression takes the forms proper to sentiment rather than to reflective opinion. The argument, therefore, is as strong as one of this nature can be. It has the only basis on which a sound argument from belief to the nature of a constitutive principle can be valid. Meanwhile observe that Buddhism, the only great system of religion, perhaps, which can be even doubtfully qualified as atheistic, arose a thousand years after the Vedic period, and was distinctly in the nature of a re-action against Brahmanism. Now, great re-actions in history are apt to be sweeping, and to be accompanied with abnormal developments of opinion. Mr. Abbot's argument, accordingly, from nothing but the negative opinion of some to a like negative with respect to the nature of a principle in man's being, has every character, and wants no character, of fallacious reasoning. How could he imagine it sound ? He was led to do so, I think, by a vice in the method of that philosophy he chiefly affects. It is a frequent practice with this school to define by the inferior limit : the least that a given kind of thing can be, its minimum possibility, is assumed as the proper characteristic of the entire class. For example, Herbert Spencer, wishing to define life, fixes his attention upon the lowest type of organic beings, observes what distinguishes them, as he thinks, from things inorganic, and defines life in its whole extent accordingly. This procedure is legitimate, if one desires to fix simply the inferior limit of life, simply its inferior line of demarkation. Mr. Abbot has supposed that he could be scientific and philosophical only by proceeding in a similar way. Some religious men do not believe in God : he must define by the inferior limit ; he must strip off from religion all that it can spare without being extinguished, in order to find its true nature. I am persuaded that we here come upon the true reason why he has arrived at such conclusions. He has adopted a certain method, and must follow whither it leads. Mr. Abbot's Religion. 417 Now, this method leads to curious results. For example, it is commonly supposed that the apple-tree is a fruit-tree. But hold ! Most apple-trees do indeed bring forth a certain kind of fruit ; but some of them do not bear fruit. Therefore, since we must define by the inferior limit, the apple-tree is essentially not a fruit-tree. Indeed, the term apple-tree is (philosophically speaking, of course) a misnomer ! Religion may exist without generating a belief in God : the apple-tree--as I will venture still to call it--may exist without bearing fruit. Mr. Abbot's method requires him to say in the former case, It is not of the nature of religion to generate a belief in God ; it must equally require him to say, It is not of the nature of the apple-tree to produce apples. The method I think a vicious one. Definition by denudation --by removing all that can be spared without extinction, and then declaring the remainder the true nature of the thing to be defined--is definition of a questionable sort. A man may spare speech and hearing, and live none the less : shall we therefore say that speech and hearing are not implied in the proper idea of human existence ? Meantime, it may be doubted whether this method permits one to hold as Mr. Abbot's does, that religion, even according to his definition of it, appertains to the nature of man. If any man is without it, then it cannot, according to his rule, be an element of man's nature. He says, Some men are religious without believing in God ; thence draws a certain conclusion. Suppose it may be said, Some beings are men without being religious : a similar conclusion follows with the same justification. Does, now, Mr. Abbot profess to see in every man a distinct effort to perfect himself? We all desire to think so, doubtless. But desire aside, is it a fact of observation ? "No begging of the question here." Pimps, pickpockets, poisoners, Fagins,--what effort are thee making to perfect themselves,--what effort involving, as Mr. Abbot says, "first, an ideal conception of the perfect, secondly, an aspiration or longing to realized this ideal, thirdly, a determination and actual endeavor to realize it ?" Or take a case which affords us more breadth of view. Tribes of men are known that have wallowed in sheer stagnation of bes- 10 420 The Radical. perfect religion, I indicate the contrast between Mr. Abbot's attitude and my own. Many of his special statements I admit ; but it is utterly impossible for me to sympathize with his direction. I insist upon studying religion to learn what it properly is at the top, in its widest embrace of ideas, in its richest content : he insists upon studying it to learn what is its minimum of character, and to elect this as "the universal religion." There can be no compromise between these opposite directions : one or the other is unphilosophical and misguided. It is a matter of congratulation that there is coming to be a penetrating and unprejudiced study of all the great religions of the world. Nevertheless these religions may be studied in a way to make that research worse than vain. If one sets forth to compare Christianity, Judaism, Mohammedanism, Brahmanism, Buddhism, &c., and proceeds to cast out from each whatsoever he does not find in every other, the residuum that remains when the process is complete, call it "the universal religion" or what one will, can be only a minimum, poorer than the poorest of the religions compared. Suppose that one should proceed in the same way to describe the human nose. He sees noses of different characters, Roman, Grecian, pug, flat, thin, beaked, retrousse, &c. No one of these, however, is the universal nose. He must resolutely cast out from each particular form whatever does not appear in every other, in order that now, in the fullness of times, the universal nose may dawn upon the world. Under these conditions, how would one define in the end ? Might he venture to say that the nose is a protuberance upon the human face ? Or, more philosophically, might he define it as man's effort to smell ? In my view, then, it may be objected to Mr. Abbot,-- 1. That he reasons from conscious belief to the nature of a principle in the way that is never justifiable. 2. That he defines only by the inferior limit. 3. That he esteems religion an element of human nature with doubtful warrant according to his own method. 4. That this method requires him to exclude from his religion any ideal of the perfect, whereof any man comes short. 5. That his so-called definition is but a crude classification. Dreams. 421 6. That his universal religion is merely religion with the least possible of content and character. Mr. Abbot has laid us all under obligations. He has dared to obey his own heart, not taking counsel with flesh and blood. That brave sally should lead to a general clearing up, which indeed is greatly to be desired. I think his philosophy unsound, his reasoning fallacious, and his act noble. D. A. WASSON. DREAMS. TO E. W. W. I DREAM a dream of gentleness, And wander far to find it real ; When lo ! thou com'st, my heart to bless, And more than bring'st the wished ideal. I dream a dream of innocence And purity thro' stainless years. Thou wak'st me from the joy intense, And lo ! the vision thro' my tears ! I dream a dream of tenderness,-- The manly strength, the woman's heart,-- And in my waking prayers confess How fairer than my dream thou art ! I dream a dream of simple right, Nor think to match my thought by day ; But words and deeds of thine are light Which drown the heavenly vision's ray ! Till last I dream of perfect truth, And sigh to find it all a dream ; But thou art near, O Heart of Youth ! And all my dreams are what they seem. EDWIN MORTON. 424 The Radical. prophets have seldom done more than make their signal to the world. All of glory is in that one fact. Not what men do, but what they try to do, entitles them to honor. How was it, we will venture to ask, with Christ himself? He failed hopelessly financially and in all ways,--let the doctors and editors of his day report "the result," making it up blindly from outward appearances. He could only point "the way." Death was all the "pay" Jerusalem awarded him. Does Dr. Miner often lay this thing to heart and illustrate it in his discourses on "the blood of Jesus?" Taken up in this way, a very instructive and profitable lesson might be read to his people. Possibly he has done as much without perceiving any parallel in modern times. The third annual meeting of the Free Religious Association is advertised for the 26th and 27th of May. The meeting for "business" will occur on the 26th. On Friday, the 27th, there is to be three sessions in Tremont Temple. The morning will be devoted to "setting forth the Principles and Aims of the Free Religious Association ;" the afternoon "to a discussion of the Relation of Religion to the Free School system in America, including topics of the Bible in the Public Schools and the Use of Public Money for Sectarian Schools." The evening "will be appropriated to the consideration of the Sympathy of Religions and the Grounds on which they may come into Unity and Co-operation, including the Practical Problem of the Chinese and Their Religion in America." "The Anti-Slavery STANDARD" is no longer published. Having finished its work, leaving behind a record to be proud of, it gives place to a new enterprise to be conducted by the same competent parties. Dropping "Anti-Slavery" from the title, Mr. Powell will publish "The Standard" as a Monthly, commencing with the present month. We expect "The Standard" will be awake and in earnest, and never lacking in courage. All the questions of reform are to come within its province. We hope for its prosperity, and greet it in advance. MR. WEISS is giving a course of lectures on Greek Religious Ideas at Mr. Sargent's. M. D. CONWAY will return to America this fall to remain and lecture during the winter. THE RADICAL is unavoidably late this month. REVIEWS AND NOTICES. THE ILIAD OF HOMER. Translated into English Blank Verse by William Cullen Bryant. Vol. I. Boston : Fields, Osgood & Co. 1870. It certainly gives an agreeable impression of dignity and maturity in American literature, that our two foremost poets, after middle life, should produce elaborate translations of the two great poems of the world. That Longfellow's "Dante" and Bryant's "Homer" should be published within a few years of each other,--in the same superb style of execution, and by the same bookselling house,--is an exquisite piece of poetic fitness, and takes rank with the simultaneous death of Adams and Jefferson on the Fourth of July, or with any of those remarkable American coincidences which give joy to schoolboys. Professor Longfellow's career as a translator has been more continuous than Mr. Bryant's, though it dates back no earlier. For this work the Cambridge poet has gifts so peculiar, that he is scarcely likely to find a rival in this age ; and though it is very likely that the original poetry of Bryant may outlive that of Longfellow, by reason of greater depth and fineness of quality, yet Bryant's laurels in the minor service of translation are, by comparison, yet to be won. But he bravely "puts them to the touch ;" for, however great the difficulties of translating Dante may be, it is impossible to compare them with those of translating Homer. Yet the translator of Homer has one advantage, at least, to set against many disadvantages. He is trying to do something which nobody ever did well, and in which, therefore, a little success goes a great way. There are always the two points of view : shall we simply ask that the translator should do no worse than Pope and Cowper and Derby and Newman ? or shall we set all these aside, and compare him with Homer ? It is safe to say that no lover of the Iliad ever read with great pleasure any version except Chapman's, and much of the pleasure which that yields is not of the kind yielded by the original. Speaking from the Homeric point of view, we must maintain that a page of Chapman gives more conception of the Iliad than a whole library of translations beside, even if the catalogue include Bryant's ; yet, after all, Chapman is very unlike Homer. As we view it, Mr. Bryant's is a faithful, patient, simple version ; never daring, always moderately good, often graceful, never in the slightest degree grand or commanding. It is free from the pettiness of Pope, from the craggy epithets of Chapman, and from the tiresome eccentricities of Newman. Nothing is ever added to Homer, and it is a merit to refrain from that attempt. But there is something wanting on every page, something which is in Homer, and without which Homer is not himself. After all is II 428 The Radical. And put on golden mail, and took his scourge, Wrought of fine gold, and climbed the chariot-seat, And rode upon the waves. The whales came forth From their deep haunts, and gamboled round his way : They knew their king. The waves rejoicing smoothed A path, and rapidly the coursers flew ; Nor was the brazen axle wet beneath. And thus they brought him to the Grecian host." Iliad, xiii. 15-31. This is Mr. Bryant, clear, pleasing, unexceptionable. But now come to Homer. "There sat he high retired from the seas ; There looked with pity on his Grecians beaten ; There burned with rage at the god-king who slew them. Then rushed he forward from the rugged mountain ; He bent the forest also as he came downward, And the high cliffs shook underneath his footsteps. Three times he trod ; his fourth step reached his sea-home. "There was his palace in the deep sea-water, Shining with gold and builded firm forever ; And there he yoked him his swift-footed horses (Their hoofs are brazen and their manes are golden) With golden thongs : his golden goad he seizes ; He mounts upon his chariot and doth fly ; Yea, drives he forth his steeds into the billows. "The sea-beasts from the depths rise under him,-- They know their king ; and the glad sea is parted, That so his wheels may fly along unhindered. Dry speeds between the wheels his brazen axle : So bounding fast they bring him to his Grecians." What a life, what a freshness is there ; what a vigor ! You feel the very breeze of the motion ; the air and the water play on you : it is poetry instead of prose. Now this life and freshness and vigor constitute Homer : to omit them is to leave Homer out. Bryant's is a shade more literal ; and yet he evidently does not make a controlling point of literalism, as Longfellow does, or he would not have substituted "Grecian host," instead of "Grecian ships," at the close. Again, his "wroth with Jove" is less literal, as well as infinitely less vivid, than the "heard with rage" of the other version. And observe how much is gained by the more poetic translator in breaking up the narrative into "There was his palace," and "there he yoked him," instead of the more deliberate and consecutive "where" and "these" of Mr. Bryant. Yet the more graphic version is here the more literal also, and Hale's use of particles corresponds far better to Homer's. And were it otherwise, he keeps higher laws than he breaks ; for, after all, it is the first essential of a translator, not merely to avoid faults, but to give a positive impression of the characteristic qualities of the original. No translation of Homer that we have seen has exhibited a continuous Reviews and Notices. 429 vigor and vivacity such as mark this last fragment. The best parallel to it--and perhaps the very best American translation of a Greek poem-- is to be found in the admirable version of the "Hylas" of Theocritus by Mr. E. C. Stedman, to be found at the end of his "Blameless Prince and Other Poems." This is almost a literal rendering of Greek into English, and shows extraordinary freshness and vigor. The introductory essay of Mr. Bryant does not, we fear, add much to the value of the book,--it suggests so readily a comparison with the recent essays of Mr. Gladstone, and is so much inferior to them in comprehensive appreciation. Nor can the reasons given for the use of the Latin names of the deities, instead of the Greek, seem satisfactory at the present time. Twenty-five years ago they would have had weight. But the Greek names are now so generally re-instated in the histories, dictionaries, and school-books, that it seems a pity to go back to the associations of Lempriere's Dictionary and Tooke's Pantheon. It was long since admitted that the difference was not one of names, but of things. The Roman deities were different conceptions, personalities of whom Homer never dreamed. We might almost as well look for his deities in the Scandinavian mythology, into which they were also imported, and where we find them combined with Noah and Zoroaster. Newman, in his preface, takes a much better view of the subject, though in his practice he is inconsistent and impulsive on this point, as on most others. We have spoken frankly in regard to this great national work, because no criticism is of any value except in proportion to its frankness. It only remains to repeat that, while thus open to question at some points, Mr. Bryant's Homer is an honor to our literature, in its thoroughness, it simplicity, and its fidelity. It is obviously superior to Pope or Cowper ; it is better than Lord Derby's version, for it is a poet's version, and that is not ; it is better than Newman's, because it is simple and unaffected, and that is not ; and if it gives far less of the Homeric sensation than Chapman's, it gives no sensation that is not Homeric. It is only that there is a limit to the power of the English language in representing the Greek ; to the power of ten-syllable blank verse in representing the hexameter ; and to the power of a pleasing and meditative poet in representing the fire and grandeur of Homer. In short, Mr. Bryant's translation affords the same kind of pleasure with Mr. Booth's Hamlet ; and this to many persons will seem all-sufficient praise. Careful, tasteful, almost perfect in execution, each lights up agreeably all the minor scenes and the subordinate passages, and so affords continuous pleasure. The only trouble is, that, when the poet rouses himself and puts his glory on, the heights and depths find no echo : the interpreter has exhausted his resources, and can offer nothing more. Tested by this highest standard, he who can act Hamlet is still to seek, and so is he who can translate Homer. T. W. H. 432 The Radical. "Do not understand me as wishing to undervalue churches, nor the Bible, nor the worth of Christ to the soul. Heaven forbid that I should do either ! I would only say that the church cannot give us religion ; the Bible cannot give us religion ; Christ cannot give us religion. These are all our helps, our teachers ; but they are of no avail unless they lead us directly to the Father ; unless they teach us to look to Him daily for the law of our lives, and enable us with joy to commune with our own hearts and be still. The moment we so regard all outward means, the questions of inspiration, of church authority, of apostolic succession, are practically settled. The words which feed my soul are the words of God ; the church which fills me with awe, and leaves me to silent communion, is the church which has divine authority ; the ministry which teaches me to live in harmony with this world and all worlds,--to find God in my daily life ; to feel that he is ever coming to me in the joy of my home ; in the love of my loved ones ; in the mercies fresh every morning and renewed every evening ; in the sorrows which make me still and thoughtful ; in the pleasures which make me grateful and glad ; in the beauties of every season, and the wonder of everything : the ministry which can teach me all this is the apostolic ministry, whether it began yesterday or two thousand years ago." The publisher has given this matter a fitting form, and the book is graced by a fine likeness of Mr. Staples' manly face. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. By Louisa M. Alcott, author of "Little Women." Boston : Roberts Brothers. Miss Alcott makes "The Old-Fashioned Girl" to be a most winsome and attractive little body. But we protest that she is not "old-fashioned" in the sense of a passed-away fashion. The folly of ill-bred and would-be-elegant "young misses," whom weak parents abandon to their own absurdities, is drawn in a vein of fine satire that hides a sigh under its sneer. Perhaps these "new-fashioned girls" are exaggerated or generalized a little too much, for the sake of making a good background for "Polly's" sweet naturalness. We must hold that such children are not the rule in our "new civilization." Polly's brave, independent efforts to win money for her brother's college expenses make a good picture of the type of girl and woman we all know and love. One can almost see her cozy little room in the back street, with its book-shelf and roses, leaves, grasses, and pictures, and the dozy old pussy before the blazing fire. Such a little womanly soul makes beautiful surroundings as a necessity. The spirit of Polly's prayer for "the strength of an upright soul, the beauty of a tender heart, the power to make her life a sweet and stirring song, helpful while it lasted, and remembered when it died," passes into her life, and we see it fulfilled. There is plenty of fun in the book, and it has room for tears besides. We recommend the book as more healthful reading to thoughtful parents than to impressible children. Its free use of "slang," and frequent looseness in style, make it questionable whether all young people would be improved by it, though the purpose of the book is high. It is hardly likely to be so popular as "Little Women" among our young folks, though its Polly and Tom, good old Miss Mills, and little Jimmy, are sure enough of warm recognition and welcome. E. C. P. GREAT WESTERN Mutual Life Insurance Comp'y OF NEW YORK. OFFICERS : ROBERT BAGE, PRESIDENT, FREDERICK W. MACY, VICE-PRESIDENT, WESLEY E. SHADER, SECRETARY. 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WINDOW SHADES Drapery Curtains, UPHOLSTERY GOODS ETC. NOTTINGHAM AND SWISS LACE CURTAINS, AT VERY LOW PRICES, Wholesale and Retail, at EDWARD W. PEAR & CO. 387 Washington St. cor. Avery St. BOSTON. EDWARD W. PEAR. WM. O. HOLMES THE ELECTRIC DISK. A neat self-acting alloy-electrique, to be worn on the body or limb as if a plaster ; a very superior remedy for many a lame or weak back, stomach, side or limb ; for cold, rheumatism, nervous cough, atony, pain, or palsy. These simple Disks are easy medical electricity and for very general use ; are also prescribed by Dr. Garratt and leading physicians. For sale by all first-class Druggists. At wholesale by GEO. L. ROGERS, General Agent, 146 Washington St. Boston, Mass. Orders filled with dispatch. LAWN MOWERS. The best in the world, every one warranted to give perfect satisfaction. 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TERMS.--Two Dollars per annum, in advance. Subscriptions to be sent to the Editor, Lock-box 19, Toledo, Ohio. REMOVED TO 15 BEACON ST. J.B.A. WINGHAM DENTIST NO. 12 WINTER ST. BOSTON. Will devote his PERSONAL and SPECIAL ATTENTION to FILLING, CLEANSING, and EXTRACTING TEETH (with Ether and Nitrius Oxide Gas). Treating all Diseases of the Mouth and Maxillary Organs. Toothache relieved without extracting ; Spongy and Inflamed Gums cured ; Neuralgia of the Face in most cases relieved ; Restoring the Speech by Artificial Palates ; Artificial Teeth inserted, &c. To place the benefits of Decayed Teeth within the reach of all, his terms for filling medium-sized cavities with gold will be $2.00. With an experience of over twenty-five years, he will endeavor to give satisfaction. Office Hours, from 9 to 4 o'clock. 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Address American Spiritualist Publishing Company, 47 PROSPECT ST., CLEVELAND, OHIO. DECALCOMANIE Designs fresh from Paris Every Month. This beautiful and useful art consists of transferring Designs in Oil Colors to Paper, Wood, Glass, China, &c., from Paper so prepared that, after the painted portions are varnished, by simply damping the back of the Paper, the design is removed, and attached permanently to any surface. A great variety of Material on hand for Decoration, and Instruction Free. Also, Diaphanie for Stained Glass, Materials for Wax Work, &c.--Wholesale and Retail. Artistic Instruction in Wax. L. R. SPRINGER. Decalcomanie Depot, 351 Washington St., First door north of the Boston Theatre, Room 5. BOSTON. WAY, TRUTH, AND LIFE. SERMONS. BY NAHOR AUGUSTUS STAPLES. With a Sketch of his Life, by John W. Chadwick. 1 vol. 16mo. containing a finely executed portrait of Mr. Staples. Price $2.00. For Sale by WM. V. SPENCER, No. 2 Hamilton Place, Boston. PURE NATIVE WINES, Of all kinds, made by THOMAS RANNEY, Oak Hill, Newton Centre, And For Sale at $6 per doz. Specially recommended for medicinal purposes. Order Box, No. 50 Federal St. Boston. THE WORSHIP OF JESUS In its Past and Present Aspects. BY SAMUEL JOHNSON, MINISTER OF THE FREE CHURCH AT LYNN. "A pure and simple worship of the Infinite and Eternal is the necessity of Philosophy ; it is the goal of science ; it is the true ground of trust and prayer and love, of Philosophic Theism and Spiritual Pantheism alike ; it is the parent of Prophets, of Mystics, of Reformers, of all true builders of man's social unity and religious communion." We recommend this book to every reader of THE RADICAL. Sent, postpaid, from this Office on receipt of price. Flexible covers, 50 cents. Fields, Osgood, & Co.'s New Books. 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[Vol. 2 ready in May.] "Three years ago we welcomed Mr. Longfellow's 'Divina Comedia,'---a translation which, for the first time in English, gives the very spirit and atmosphere of the original text. We believe that Mr. Bryant has now given us the standard English Iliad, which is destined to supersede all previous versions. In any case, he has produced a work which reflects the highest honor on himself, and on the country whose literature he has already so nobly enriched." --New-York Tribune. BROOKE--SERMONS. $2.00. "I bought Brooke's Sermons as soon as they came west, and value them very highly. I think they are worthy of the biographer of Robertson, and that is saying a good deal. The preacher goes directly into his subject, and talks man-fashion very much as Beecher does, and talks, not to his own sect merely, but to the common head and heart of us, the 'common sense of most.'"---Robert Collyer. GEORGE ELIOT--NOVELS. Illustrated Library Edition. 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We are let into the secret of the gamblers, by which fortunes are made and lost, how corners are formed, how one man coolly plans and accomplishes the ruin of thousands, and boasts of it as a clever scheme, how men swindle and lie and cheat and call it shrewdness. We have the history of Vanderbilt and Drew and Jerome and Fisk and Gould, and can see what slight difference there is between playing with marked cards or loaded dice, and the practices of some of the kings of Wall Street."---New-Bedford Mercury. MISS PHELPS---HEDGED IN. 1 vol. 16mo. $1.50. "This is a simple story. Any street will furnish the materials of it; that is, so far as the sadder side of the story extends. But, simple and commonplace as the narrative is, it is wrought out with a marvelous power. There is nothing strained to produce an effect. And yet every page contains a passage whose pathos reaches to the very fountain of one's tears. The great power of the book is plainly owing to the fact that the writer has written not to tell a good story, but to enforce a mighty, solemn truth whose greatness fills all her own heart."---Watchman and Reflector. MURRAY---MUSIC-HALL SERMONS. $1.50 "The Sermons strike us as among the most remarkable of the generation. Mr. Murray has succeeded in avoiding whatever could offend, without compromising a single fundamental truth."--Protestant Churchman. For sale by all Booksellers, Sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by the Publishers, FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO., BOSTON. TIME. DECEMBER, 1887. THE FRENCH SCANDALS. BY MRS. G. M. CRAWFORD. Public events in Paris have a way of presenting themselves spontaneously in theatrical forms. The genius of that capital is above everything else dramatic. What stage no manager ever devised anything more fitted for the purposes of a theatre than the sudden transformation the Caffarel scandal into the Wilson one! The first had the effect of bringing forward and placing in the dock of the Correctional Tribunal a general officer more sinned against than sinning, and a half-dozen wretched beings; who devoted themselves to intrigues for the promotion of jobbery. In, these there four women, one of whom was a bourgeoise in cramped circumstances past forty. She had never been pretty, and had none of that distinction which goes far to supply the want of beauty, otherwise than in her family name of De La Motte, and her wife name of Rattazzi. One thought, in looking at her, of the struggling middle-class earth-worms painted by Zola in "Pot Bouille". A good coloured engraving of the lady and her hat, which was trimmed with wood-pigeon, must, had it got into the leading illustrated journals of the world, have had the effect of stamping out the fashion of wearing stuffed birds. Two of the other ladies were ex-pretty women of humble origin, and as the history told in the lines of their faces, cumulated stay-making with gallantry. In one comeliness veiled insatiable greed. The woman in feathering her own nest was the genius of famine incarnite. A member of the last cabinet, over which the Empress Eugenie presided as regent, granted the stay-maker a contract for supplying Paris with the live cattle, both ovine and bovine, which were during the siege to form its meat supplies. The prices of ordinary years were allowed, although it might have been foreseen that peasants, to save their live stock from the VOL, XVII. 41 642 THE FRENCH SCANDALS. Prussians, would take whatever the Government contractors offered. Another contract was for 400,000 pairs of gloves for soldiers. This woman set herself up later with an aristocratic husband, the Baron de Saint Sauveur. Her title had piquancy when brought into an indictment. The female Belial of the crew was Madame Limousin, a misshapen dwarf, who undoubtedly was a few years ago in amorous dalliance with both General Paul Grévy of the Engineers, brother of the President, and with General Thibaudin. The latter as unquestionably owed to her and M. Wilson the post of War Minister, and when he lost it the position of Commander of the Police of Paris and of its entrenched camps. What was the secret of this hag's witchery? French officers, used to provincial garrison towns, are not, as regards women, men of delicate tastes. The bourgeoise in those towns is too much afraid of the tongues of other women and of finding herself cut not to be on her good behaviour. Good looks in combination with light manners must emigrate to Paris; and so the unfortunate officer is forced to look for feminine companionship among the most vulgar and vile of their sex. Mere flirtation with young married women does not exist in France, because nobody would believe it was pour le bon motif. With young girls it is impossible. This will account for some of the influence of La Limousin and the other ladies who were on their trial with her at the War Office. But in the case of Madame Limousin there were other reasons for success. The French general officer has drunk too much absinthe since he left the military school not to have a weakened will; and to the end of time the strong mind must govern the weak. La Limousin has not only strength of mind, diabolical address, a cunning and cool head, but a sort of monstrous beauty. One might fancy there were as many electrical batteries behind her black eyes as in a torpedo-fish. Her ugliness has the sort of harmony one finds in a monster of old Japanese bronze. If Victor Hugo had a sense of fun he could have been her most worthy limner. She is the she Quasimodo of La Comédie Humaine, which now and then skirts on or fuses with tragedy. One feels oppressed as with a nightmare when one thinks how France had fought and been convulsed in her noble attempts to bring some of Heaven's justice into her national institutions, and when one reflects upon the gigantic sacrifices at which she keeps up an efficient army, and sees this female Belial an effective Ministress of War. There is, however, a poetic justice at once droll and dramatic in the coup de théâtre of M. Wilson's antedated letters, and the consequent adjournment of Caffarel's and Madame Limousin's trial, in her sudden descent to rank as a celebrity of Le Chat Noir and to serve as an advertising showwoman for Liebert's photographic gallery. Such a reverse is only possible in Paris. THE FRENCH SCANDALS. 643 So far as Caffarel goes the War Office scandal is, in respect to the dénouement, like those novels of Mary Anne Radcliffe in which the apparition turns out to be no ghost, and the villain to be an inoffensive person. Public expectation of a show of villainy was raised to its highest pitch by the theatrical way in which he who was General, Deputy Head of the Staff at the War Office, was first clapped into a military prison, then tried by five Generals, including the War Minister, of being guilty of ignominious breaches of that code of honour which governs the French army, and deprived of his post, and of his rank in the Legion of Honour, and removed on a curtailed pension from active service. The circumstances of Caffarel's formal "degradation" piled up the agony. According to usage, he should have been stripped of his decoration by an officer of high grade, and with military pomp and circumstance. But in his case the execution was shirked by the War Office, and thrown upon the Ministry of the Interior or of Justice, nobody can, so far, tell which. A police commissary was deputed to act as executioner. He discharged his mission with much kind feeling, knowing, it may be assumed, that the dishonoured officer was rather a victim than a sinner. The scene went forward in the parlour of the Governor of the Conciergerie Gaol, to which Caffarel was fetched by a warder. There the Police Commissary read a decree of the President of the Republic, erasing the General's name from the Rolls of the Legion of Honour, on which he had been successively inscribed as Knight, Officer, and Commander. No more terrible punishment could befall a Frenchman of good station much less of high military rank. Were there not always hope while there is life, any one knowing the French point of view could not have understood how the unfortunate General did not escape the shame to which he was condemned by giving himself his quietus. Caffarel's bad luck is partly explained in one of the many pictorial squibs and lampoons which the so-called War Office scandals have suggested to French caricaturists. This cartoon is of tragic poignancy, despite its surface fun. M. Wilson is on the steps of the Elysée, ordering, with a gesture worthy of a Cato, a goat with a human head laden with the sins of "Israel." Crosses of the Legion of Honour, pots de vin (Anglicé, jobs), a mountain of Peru guano, railway conventions, with, attached to them, the names of Israelites who are often welcome guests at the Elysée, burden the shoulders of the hapless scapegoat. The head of the creature is Caffarel's. But the whole truth is not suggested in this caricature. Caffarel was intended to serve as many ends as a "utility" in the theatre. He was made to turn attention from the meagre satisfaction Prince Bismarck gave for the shooting, as if for sport, of two Frenchmen at Raon, by German military forest guards, and to serve as a butt for the 41 A 644 THE FRENCH SCANDALS spiteful jealousy nourished by General Ferron for Boulanger. Indeed there were such involvements of motives in "l'affaire Caffarel," that even those on the spot and well acquainted with the parties, hidden and in view, are puzzled by their mazes. General Caffarel, until the tables were turned on M. Wilson, the central figure in the "scandals," is now fifty-eight. He was a good and studious cadet at St. Cyr; docile in bending to discipline, and, in short, a pattern to his classmates. He left that school with a high place in the batch to which he belonged. Of an old and aristocratic family, and of elegant appearance (though of a visage of a goatish cast), his services in the Crimean and Italian campaigns were rewarded with the post of aide-de-camp to the Emperor. This situation, a quarter of a century back, was counted the best thing a young office could obtain. Only those who saw Imperial France can have an idea of Caffarel's luck in being attached to the Court. The Emperor's power was unbounded, save by the laws of Nature. There was a weak Italy and a divided Germany, so that France was the leading power in Europe, and she was swayed by the will of the Emperor and the whims of the Empress. Great as their real power was, people thought it greater because few took into account those laws of Nature that ran against it. Caffarel entered the Imperial Household just as the world began to forget that his Imperial master and mistress were a pair of upstarts. The Tuileries Palace was becoming an auberge for members of reigning families, who wanted to have French influence on their side, or to revel in Parisian wickedness without loss of dignity. Caffarel saw how chamberlains and ladies and gentlemen in attendance on exotic sovereigns comported themselves in their "waits." He was in the Emperor's household when the Queen of Holland, the Prince and Princess of Hohenzollern, the King of Prussia, the late Czar and his sons, the Prince and Princess of Wales, the Kings and Queens of the Belgians, Sweden, and Portugal were guests of the Emperor and Empress. The example of the foreign suites chased that rollicking freedom from the Court, which Lord Malmesbury remarked when Eugenie was new to her exalted position. Caffarel, who had native breeding and liked what was correct and proper, shaped himself as an aide-de-camp upon these models. His deportment became faultless and he acquired that air which stamps ladies and gentlemen who have been long in attendance on sovereigns. It is an air of self-mastery, arising from a sense of being in a holy place and in the real presence of a sacred being. This courtly stamp obtained, the other day, picturesque value in the Correctional Tribunal, by its contract with the bearing of those sharpers among whom the unlucky General sat. General Caffarel, who still enjoys his military title, is a man bound by nature to keep in a groove. This again infused THE FRENCH SCANDALS 645 piquancy into his incongruous position in the Court of Justice, He has a fine forehead. The under part of his face is thin, long, and of a goatish shape, which a long pointed tuft of beard on the chin accentuates. The beard follows the movements of his jaw when he speaks, and is very lively and the end of the long point. The cheeks are sunken. A regular profile gives an air of refinement to the head. Want of " go" is shown in the long neck and drooping shoulders. The frock coat - an elegant fit - is buttoned on the body. The General before the Correctional Tribunal had an aristocratic way of not appearing to see his co-accused. He stood erect in speaking, and the voice had the vibrations of honesty. A man of his breeding and disposition is sure to be pushed to the wall and plundered if he falls among sharpers. The source of his misfortunes was having believed in l'Union Générale, which was floated by royalist dukes, princes, and the circle of the really honest Marshal MacMahon. Caffarel put what money he had, and a large part of his wife's fortune, into this bubble. The other part he left in the factory in which her father made it - which was unfortunate, as the manufacturer who worked the establishment ended in bankruptcy. Attempts were made, as is the way with French officers, who think themselves in the secret of the Government, to recoup on the Bourse. This brought him further into the quicksand. He fell into the hands of shady moneylenders, who lent him nothing, but made him pay the bills which they obtained of him and failed to discount. His credit was, while he was looking for something to turn up, engaged through them buying goods to be sold - as it turned out - at a loss, and for their profit only. The advancement he got seven months ago seemed to promise rescue from the quicksand. History repeats itself. The intrigues of Bismarck to distract and weaken France resemble, without being an imitation, those of Louis XIV. at the Court of Charles II., as shown in a book recently brought out in London, "Louise de Keroualle." Bismarck has greatly worked with an objectionable class of Jews, who are now a strong ferment, and for decomposition, as the scapegoat caricature above mentioned suggests, in the French body politic. Nobody can now understand French politics who does not take into account the inrush of Talmudic Jews within the last quarter of a century from central and east Europe. One, Bamberg, was for a long time Bismarck's agent at Nancy. A Protestantised Jew, and former secretary to Baron Hirsch, is the chief man of the Debats, and brother-in-law to the secretary of M. Leroyer, the Speaker of the Senate. It was a Mayer who, by sending an insulting invitation to a Meyer to attend a meeting of the German Gymnastic Society in the Passage Saint Marc, so nearly succeeded in giving Germany a pretext for quarrelling with France, Raynal, ex-Minister of Public Works, who helped 646 THE FRENCH SCANDALS. Rouvier, the actual French Prime Minister, to carry the Railway Conventions Bill, so profitable for the great companies, is a Jew. The notorious Madame Kaulla is a native of Bavaria, and of Jewish origin. Madame Limousin, though claiming to be grandniece of Kleber, could trace her origin to a Judengasse of a German city. She was née Scharnetz, which she softened into Charnet. Baron Kreit-Meyer, who is in Paris as a degraded German officer, bears a name which points to Juda. The late Colonel Samuel, who fell out of Gambetta's favour for secretly giving to a German the contract for building the fort of Fronard, went to the synagogue which the Rothschilds attend. Although he was cut by Gambetta, the fact that he exchanged letters with Germans was accepted by the High Court of Dresden as proof that they were guilty of treason. Perhaps in the development of the "Scandals" this puzzling circumstance may be explained. M. Isaiah Levaillant, the Director of Public Safety (so curiously spoken of by M. Andrieux, actual deputy and ex-Prefect of Police and ambassador in connection with a burglarious raid on M. Portales' house at night for the purpose of looting papers), is another Jew ; so is Lorentz or Laurens,---a variety of Lazarus,---who was a partner of Madame Limousin, and a co-accused with her. He took the name of Lorentz a short time ago in writing "Boulanger Dictator," an article in "The Battle of Dorking" style, for a Spanish review. It was an article meant to excite the envy of General Ferron and the fears of prominent men in and out of the Cabinet, who each works the State machine for his own advantage. This "Boulanger Dictator" was also brought out in French in Paris. Nothing was said about it in the interrogatory by the judge who tried him. This Lorentz is a clever scamp, who deserted his wife and seven children. So numerous a progeniture in France is Jewish, but their desertion is the contrary, Jews being too good family men to be good citizens. I do not know that Rouvier is a Jew, but he has a good deal in his physiognomy that is Jewish. There is a homonym of his a very worthy man, a bookseller in the Passage des Panoramas, who is a Talmudic Jew. The coincidence is noteworthy, inasmuch as Rouvier had been originally in the same trade. Before he was a clerk of the wheat importer Zafiroupoulos, at Marseilles he was a bagman for a house whose business lay in buying cheap prize books won by sixth form boys in lyceums, and selling them dearer, but a good deal under cost price. Rouvier is a pleasant fellow, clever, thick-skinned, and though he has grown very rich, and was very poor not many years ago, has been unfortunate in company promoting. One of the greatest actual wire-pullers in France is a Hessian Jew who is not in politics, and does not want to be. He is a sort of Phillipart, having in excess the fine and the objectionable qualities THE FRENCH SCANDALS. 647 of his race. The former are kindness in private relations carried to the height of splendid generosity, connoisseurship of the arts, munificence in their patronage, sympathy with merit, and latent tenderness in his family affections. The obverse side is shown in business relations, in which he is rapacious, bold, designing, and not hampered with scruples. National feeling and patriotism strike him as a prejudice. He is accused of often seeing Bismarck, Kalnoky, and Crispi, and is in some mysterious combination with the Rothschilds. Certainly he has, with Wilson and Dreyfus, made and unmade Cabinets, and was for more than a year trying to bring in Rouvier as Finance and Prime Minister, because Goblet and De Freycinet were "not men with whom to do business." The Talmudic Jews in France are to the Mosaic ones as orange is to green in Ireland. The Jew who stands with Moses on Mount Sinai is one of Nature's nobleman. He has rather a genius for developing great character in himself than for making money, and is not exclusive, but laborious, humanitarian, and apt to rebel against social iniquities. He is a ferment in the workshops and at Radical meetings, but seldom an agent provocateur of the police, a part the poor Talmudist from Poland or Germany willingly plays. Wilson is surrounded with a bad sort of Talmudic Jews, who often secretly manoeuvre against him in the intricate politico-financial games in which they are engaged. One of them, Dreyfus, the great outside broker, has been closely associated with him and the President, and the tale of how he brought Blaine and Bliss, Wilson and Grévy into his hand against the Peruvian Republic, as Jecker got De Morny to support him against Mexico, may perhaps get into print. In shooting at the pigeon Caffarel, the police hit the crow Wilson, who if not killed has lead in his wing. This personage is a Scot on his father's side of the house, and a grandson of the conventional Casenave on his mother's. The elder Wilson obtained, when this century was young, a concession for lighting Paris with gas, and set up an iron foundry near Ivry. His ventures brought him fortune. The two children whom he left had in their minority their uncle, President Casenave, of the Court of Appeal, for guardian, and Grévy for counsel. They were brought up Protestants. Margaret, a physically course and mannish woman, but of a brilliant intellect, married a son of Pelonze, the scientific chemist, and himself a scientist and as rich as his wife. They soon parted company. Daniel, on coming of age, plunged into the dissipation of la jeunesse dorée under the empire. He was an ostentatious spendthrift, emulating Prince Paul Demidoff in throwing money out of the windows. His suppers to the brilliant cocottes of his day and their admirers had this peculiar feature---each lady found a £40 note under her plate. This showed poverty of imagination, undue regard for the golden calf, and a want of delicate feeling which even cocottes resented. A 648 THE FRENCH SCANDALS. loss at a gambling table of £8,000 prompted his family to bring a suit to withdraw from him the right to spend his fortune as he liked. Grévy acted as peacemaker and mentor, and advised rustication at Madame Pelonze's royal manor of Chenonceau. A new leaf was turned over there, and another life began. Daniel studied, pondered, observed, pryed into the affairs of the bigwigs of the department, formed a plan of conduct, and went into politics. There were not half-a-dozen Republicans in Tours when, nineteen years back, he founded a Liberal journal in that town. Wilson was then a tall, slim young fellow, with gently-stooped shoulders, a close-cropped head, and Valois beard. I can best describe his side face by saying it was Mary Andersonian. But the eyes were close-set, and while watchful, those of a man living entirely within himself, and confiding in nobody. The three or four Republicans mistrusted him, but when he was a deputy, said, "He votes well." His journal became the centre of a printing business. Wilson planned to oust Mame, whose house at Tours is to Catholic France what Paternoster Row is to Protestant England, and employs six hundred hands to print cheap religious tracts, and the first artists of the day to produce chromo-lithograph copies, at a heavy loss, of the ancient illuminated missals and other old works of piety. The artistic work advertises, and the cheap books of piety far more than make up for the loss in money. The war burst on France, and the Grévy family took refuge at Chenonceau. Daniel, when they were there, became the Mercury between Thiers and Grévy, and helped on an opposition to Gambetta, whom he always hated after the fall of Paris. He was sent to the National Assembly, got more Republican, made a speciality of finance, and after the Wallon Constitution was put in working order got into the Budget Committee, and in turn into the Treasury as Under Secretary of State for Finance. Things being fluid he was able to create precedents. He learned there that the Jews, through their wealth, were kings of the young Republic, and political men their pawns and puppets. The power and the Orleanism of the Rothschilds filled him with resentment. To destroy this financial dynasty he combined with the late M. Genty, the chief shareholder of the Petit Journal, and a not very particular financier; with Dreyfus, Seigfried, and others; and is accused of having formed a ring which, when the finance branch of the civil service was "purified," would subscribe bail money for the new functionaries, taking upon it usurious interest - say 24 per cent. Tunis, Tonquin, Madagascar, the Leeward Islands, were to be financed. Elysian sources of news were to be utilised in halfpenny papers in the provinces, which, Wilson having postal and telegraphic franchise after he married Grévy's daughter, could edit by wire from the Elysée. The War Office was soon filled with his clients. Wilson became the big octopus THE FRENCH SCANDALS. 649 of the Republic. He had twenty clerks. No Cabinet could live unless he chose to let it. No party could enter office but with his leave. He was silent, reserved, cold, concentrated, and given up to his money-getting work. The parents-in-law, who enjoy counting up their money, blessed the day on which their only child took Daniel for her husband. His marriage with her did not alter her relations towards them. The young couple and their offspring have had for six years the run of the Elysée, been lighted and warmed at the cost of the State, and had the franchise of the Custom House, the Octroi, and the Post Office. If they saved in private to spend money handsomely in public their thrift would be pardoned. Wilson meant well in going into politics, and might have gone on well if he had kept out of the Elysée. Temptation there, with the rush upon him of enterprising and rich speculators, was too strong for him to resist. It was strengthened by the precarious nature of his influence, which all hung on the life of a very old man. His Scotch foresight urged him to make what hay he could while the sun shone. In doing his work he warmed to it, and money-making grew to be an all-absorbing passion. His opportunities enabled him to net great gains; his Scotch instinct led him to take care of pence and farthings, and to prize small profits. Thus his business agency at the Elysée became a trawl net which caught up all sorts of fishes. The weak side of his mode of proceeding was that he had to lay bare his wires to hundreds, who were certain to become his enemies. His offices in the east wing of the Elysée were in the morning and in the early forenoon crowded with audience-seekers and beggars for patronage. The son-in-law was civil and a man of few words. A necessary sop for him before he would move to obtain any favour was for the client to subscribe or get friends to take subscriptions to some of his journals. Caffarel was the object of Ferron's hatred because Boulanger named him to a high place in the staff. Ferron is a good engineer, but he is a pedant, conceited, and rancorous. His grudge to Boulanger, who made him a divisional, was bred of wounded vanity. The present War Minister built the fort of Frouard, and fortified Nancy and the region round about, and prided himself on having made that town well nigh invulnerable. When last February war was thought imminent, and invasion without a declaration of war flared, Boulanger discovered that nothing would be easier than to turn and take Nancy before help could come from the three points where troops were massed, - Argonne, Belfort, and Chalons. Ferron stood by his plan of defence, and was incensed at Boulanger quietly bringing up troops to the weak places. Boulanger, as he said himself, was all February sur l'oeil, or on the lookout for invasion; and from that time he never was handed a telegram from Chalons that he did 646 THE FRENCH SCANDALS. Rouvier, the actual French Prime Minister, to carry the Railway Conventions Bill, so profitable for the great companies, is a Jew. The notorious Madame Kaulla is a native of Bavaria, and of Jewish origin. Madame Limousin, though claiming to be grandniece of Kleber, could trace her origin to a Jundengasse of a German city. She was née Scharnetz, which she softened into Charnet. Baron Kreit-Meyer, who is in Paris as a degraded German officer, bears a name which points to Juda. The late Colonel Samuel, who fell out of Gambetta's favour for secretly giving to a German the contract for building the fort of Frouard, went to the synagogue which the Rothschilds attend. Although he was cut by Gambetta, the fact that he exchanged letters with Germans was accepted by the High Court of Dresden as proof that they were guilty of treason. Perhaps in the development of the "Scandals" this puzzling circumstance may be explained. M. Isaiah Levaillant, the Director of Public Safety (so curiously spoken of by M. Andrieux, actual deputy and ex-Prefect of Police and ambassador in connection with a burglarious raid on M. Portales' house at night for the purpose of looting papers), is another Jew; so is Lorentz or Laurens, - a variety of Lazarus, - who was a partner of Madame Limousin, and a co-accused with her. He took the name of Lorentz a short time ago in writing "Boulanger Dictator," an article in "The Battle of Dorking" style, for a Spanish review. It was an article meant to excite the envy of General Ferron and the fears of prominent men in and out of the Cabinet, who each works the State machine for his own advantage. This "Boulanger Dictator" was also brought out in French in Paris. Nothing was said about it in the interrogatory by the judge who tried him. This Lorentz is a clever scamp, who deserted his wife and seven children. So numerous a progeniture in France is Jewish, but their desertion is the contrary, Jews being too good family men to be good citizens. I do not know that Rouvier is a Jew, but he has a good deal in his physiognomy that is Jewish. There is a homonym of his a very worthy man, a bookseller in the Passage des Panoramas, who is a Talmudic Jew. The coincidence is noteworthy, inasmuch as Rouvier had been originally in the same trade. Before he was a clerk of the wheat importer Zafiroupoulos, at Marseilles he was a bagman for a house whose business lay in buying cheap prize books won by sixth form boys in lyceums, and selling them dearer, but a good deal under cost price. Rouvier is a pleasant fellow, clever, thick-skinned, and though he has grown very rich, and was very poor not many years ago, has been unfortunate in company promoting. One of the greatest actual wire-pullers in France is a Hessian Jew who is not in politics, and does not want to be. He is a sort of Phillipart, having in excess the fine and the objectionable qualities THE FRENCH SCANDALS. 651 XVIII., of whom he is in line for line the exact image. He is a sceptical Royalist, who has been always on good terms with the governing regimés of his time, came into, when a young officer, a fortune of about £60,000, and a grandiose moated manor house, park, and chase. The Emperor gave him a post in his household, in virtue of which he was sent with a letter from that sovereign in 1859 to announce to the Empress Regent the victory of Solferino. Splendid largesses were given to the dispatch bearer. Comte D'Andlau lived high. He married a beautiful and rich New Orleans Creole some two-and-twenty years ago, and ran through her fortune. For years he has lived on his gains at the Jockey Club, - averaging about £1,400 a year, - and on his wits and influence as a Senator, general friend of the Rothschilds, and other potent personages, which he placed at the disposal of company promoters. Care was taken to let M. D'Andlau escape to foreign parts. It was thought great fun to hear at the Caffarel trial the judge call the absconding accomplice of Mesdames Rattazzi and de Saint Sauveur. Another device for binding the Royalists over to silence was the very wide range given by the Chamber the other day to the searching power of the Committee of Inquiry. That Committee may look into affairs springing out of l'Union Générale. Hence the confusion of the Right when Colfavrus' motion was voted. So far, the great results of the Ferry-Rouvier plan of campaign have been increased popularity for Boulanger, the discrediting of the moderate Republicans, the dis-decoration of Caffarel, the sentence of General d'Andlau (by default) to five years of penal servitude, and the addition to the French language of a new word, Wilsonism, which is of the same family as Simony. The French meaning attached to the word is shown in a dual cartoon of the caricatural sort sold on the Boulevards. On one side there is a bedroom furnished in the rococo style. Amoretti shooting darts are on the top of the bed canopy, and hovering above mirrors there are some ladies dressed in the rouge patch and powder, the beribboned and beflowered bundled-up style of the French Court of the Dubarry time. A nymph gay as Thalia, and unclad as Venus, rising from the waves, has issued just from her garments, and kicked off a high-heeled slipper, which a gentleman, who may be Louis XV. himself, is stooping gallantly to kiss. Gallant Abbés are paying their court to gay creatures, who though obviously no better than they should be, are grandes dames. Above this cartoon is the explanatory letterpress, "Corruption in the eighteenth century." The other side deals with "Corruption in the nineteenth century," i.e., Wilsonism. We have a back view with the head in vanishing profile of a middle-aged man in a plaid tweed suit. He is just quitting a hag, in which one 650 THE FRENCH SCANDALS. not think it was to announce to him the turning of Nancy and its occupation. He slept easy when the Schnabele affair was on, when he had time to sleep, because that town was secure. The steps he took to secure it were a good reason for Prince Bismarck to wish him out of the War Office. His care for the soldiers' weal made the jobbers hate him, and his popularity turned all the politicians against him. But it most greatly damped the hopes of M. Jules Ferry, of whom M. Rouvier is a pawn. So, when Parliament went into recess, it was settled to "dish" Caffarel rapidly, smirch Boulanger in doing so, and cast a stigma on Wilson which would compel him to quit the Elysée, and the President with him. But there was a hanging back from the extension of this plan of campaign until the Pretenders saw that Rouvier was manoeuvring to bring Ferry into the Presidency by the votes of the Monarchists. If he was in for seven years, the Princes might withdraw for ever from the arena. This danger led to increased activity on their part, as shown in the publication of the Comte de Paris' manifesto, and Prince Napoleon's book in defence of his uncle - steps which had the effect of hastening the disgrace of Caffarel and his back-handed attacks on Wilson and Grévy; and as this decisive moment drew on, ministers rushed out of town, they fearing to share the responsibility. The blow was struck through the Police, who, of all other official organisms. are the one in which there is the most leaven of the old monarchy. They are skilled in fomenting sham conspiracies, and in promoting political intrigues, as was the diplomacy of Louis XIV., which got up the Popish and Rye House Plots, and kept England in a state of seething ferment. For such work, the police have always at their beck and call a ruck of shady bourgeois adventurers, and the scum of the working classes for whom the prisons are too small. Their wages are immunity from arrest if they make themselves useful, and are docile instruments. It is to be supposed that the police and prosecuting board dropped upon General D'Andlau to terrify Royalists who have gone into shady finance, and of whose transactions there was proof in the papers seized at his house. General the Comte D'Andlau was born within a year of the time when Charles X. visited his father's house at Nancy. His aunt was that Countess de Polastron, who became the unwedded wife, and, oddly enough, the religious inspirer of Charles in exile up to the day of her death. That Countess D'Andlau, who formed one of the set of Marie Antoinette at the Trianon, was the absconding General's grandmother, and his great-grandmother came from Lorraine to Versailles when the daughter of Stanislas Leczinski, life Duke of that province, became Queen of France. She, later, was named governess to the daughters of Louis XV. General D'Andlau might have been related closely by blood to Louis THE FRENCH SCANDALS. 647 of his race. The former are kindness in private relations carried to the height of splendid generosity, connoisseurship of the arts, munificence in their patronage, sympathy with merit, and latent tenderness in his family affections. The obverse side is shown in business relations, in which he is rapacious, bold, designing, and not hampered with scruples. National feeling and patriotism strike him as a prejudice. He is accused of often seeing Bismarck, Kalnoky, and Crispi, and is in some mysterious combination with the Rothschilds. Certainly he has, with Wilson and Dreyfus, made and unmade Cabinets, and was for more than a year trying to bring in Rouvier as Finance and Prime Minister, because Goblet and De Freycinet were "not men with whom to do business." The Talmudic Jews in France are to the Mosaic ones as orange is to green in Ireland. The Jew who stands with Moses on Mount Sinai is one of Nature's noblemen. He has rather a genius for developing great character in himself than for making money, and is not exclusive, but laborious, humanitarian, and apt to rebel against social iniquities. He is a ferment in the workshops and at Radical meetings, but seldom an agent provocateur of the police, a part the poor Talmudist from Poland or Germany willingly plays. Wilson is surrounded with a bad sort of Talmudic Jews, who often secretly manoeuvre against him in the intricate politico-financial games in which they are engaged. One of them, Dreyfus, the great outside broker, has been closely associated with him and the President, and tale of how he brought Blaine and Bliss, Wilson and Grévy into his hand against the Peruvian Republic, as Jecker got De Morny to support him against Mexico, may perhaps get into print. In shooting at the pigeon Caffarel, the police hit the crow Wilson, who if not killed has lead in his wing. This personage is a Scot on his father's side of the house, and a grandson of the conventional Casenave on his mother's. The elder Wilson obtained, when this century was young, a concession for lighting Paris with gas, and set up an iron foundry near Ivry. His ventures brought him fortune. The two children whom he left had in their minority their uncle, President Casenave, of the Court of Appeal, for guardian, and Grévy for counsel. They were brought up Protestants. Margaret, a physically coarse and mannish woman, but of a brilliant intellect, married a son of Pelonze, the scientific chemist, and himself a scientist and as rich as his wife. They soon parted company. Daniel, on coming of age, plunged into the dissipation of la jeunesse dorée under the empire. He was an ostentatious spendthrift, emulating Prince Paul Demidoff in throwing money out of the windows. His suppers to the brilliant cocottes of his day and their admirers had this peculiar feature - each lady found a £40 note under her plate. This showed poverty of imagination, undue regard for the golden calf, and a want of delicate feeling which even cocottes resented. A 652 THE FRENCH SCANDALS. recognises Madame Limousin who has before her on a counter a pile of correspondence relating to Government jobs. The Elysee turned into an army and general business agency and shop for the sale of decorations is in the distance, Grevy sitting at a desk filling decrees and brevets having a Wilsonian purport. There is a philosophy in these caricatures. If Wilson is not as black as he is painted, there is a form of corruption at work in high places best expressed in the new word. It is less seductive than that of the eighteenth century, which knew how to hide the cloven foot of sensuality. So long as the office holds out great spoils as a prize to politicians this corruption must go on. I don't suppose that by taking thought any one can find a remedy. The cure probably will come from an angry and instructive movement below. It is certain that Parliamentarism does not do with a highly concentrated machine, which can be visited as a mart for emoluments and honours. It is also certain that the people have divined danger for the Republic, which they want to keep, in this combination of a civil service as created by Napoleon, and English constitutionalism as practised at the Palais Bourbon and the Elysee by M. Grevy and his son-in-law. Nothing is less likely than a national recoil towards Royalty. The one hopeful feature of present-day France is the great liberty every one enjoys. This is favourable to instinctive action; and for the coming into play of the power behind evolution, Boulanger is certainly the man for whom vox populi calls as the instrument for helping on a change for the better. But it would be impossible to forecast whether a year hence he will be a prisoner in a fortress at the Elysee, or simply degomme. EMILY CRAWFORD. MR. SWINBURNE ON WALT WHITMAN - Philistia, be thou glad of me! Over Whitman have I cast out my shoe, night be a motto appropriate for Mr. Swinburne's essay on Whitman (Fortnightly Review, August 1887). The tone of it seems to me very unbecoming, especially considering the venerable poet's years and known physical infirmities. Mr. Swinburne writes to assure us that the testimonial in favour of Whitman's poetical capacity, which he is supposed to have graciously tendered (as Arbiter Elegantiarum for two continents, if not more?) was really never intended to bear any such meaning. But, oddly enough, he pronounces judgement also on Whitman as a thinker, and blames the "Whitmaniacs" (as he wittily calls those whom have presumed to admire the American without explicit permission) for attributing thought to him, as we as poetry. Now I learn for the first time, and with surprise, the Mr. Swinburne claims jurisdiction for himself in this department also. I was not aware that the most ardent Swinburnian in its nonage had made such a claim for the master; indeed, I should rather have been prepared to hear (I fancy we have already heard, and from headquarters) that philosophy is a subject which can interest no rational creature, since Mr. Swinburne knows nothing about it, and cares less. Yet, to assert ex cathedra that a person "gives no sign of thinking," implies that the assertor supposes himself a proficient in that particular exercise. Whitman, however, is more than thinker; he is seer. Of certain cadences Mr. Swinburne is unquestionably a good judge; yet even in his own department of verbal music his taste is not catholic, and his intolerance enormous. I am given to understand that he thinks the author of "The Bothie" no poet, nor Alfred de Musset, nor Lowell, nor the late James Thomson. But would even Mr. Swinburne deny that a man may be an unimpeachable verse-maker, and no poet, while writers of impassioned, or imaginative and rhythmical prose, like Bunyan, Jeremy Taylor, Ruskin, Jean Paul, Michelet, George Sand, Hawthorne, and the translators of our cherished, familiar Bible are unquestionably poets of high order? Whitman has the poet's heart and vision, while his vehicle of expression is often, though not always, highly musical, 654 MR. SWINBURNE ON WALT WHITMAN. and appropriate to his vigorous and original idiosyncrasy. If a metrist, however skilful, cannot appreciate its excellence because it is not verse after an accustomed model, the defect is in his own ear. (To quote the worst passages out of a book and ignore the best, as this critic does in his rather indecent assaults on Byron and Whitman, is a well-known critical dodge, not overcreditable to the critic.) But a man may be honestly insensitive to certain kinds of music, whether of notes or words, while his sensibility is well cultivated in other directions. He may understand sapphics and alcaics, or intricate English and French metres, yet hear irresponsive the massive and stately rhythm of Psalms, Proverbs, of Job, rendered into our language by the poets of our ancient version; he may be indifferent to the harmonies of Bhagavad-Ghita, Icelandic Edda, Norse Rune; feel no strange and subtle charm in the cadences of Thalaba, or the happy irregularities of Matthew Arnold-even as the enthusiast for Mozart or Rossini may be repelled by Wagner and Berlioz -as one who loves the peopled pinnacles, and carven snows of Milan may remain cold amid the awful sublimities of Denderah, or Karnak; yet some of Hugo's finest verbal effects are in the romances, and to many Landor's prose appears more poetical than his verse. "Send but a song over sea to us," requested Mr. Swinburne lately; and now he informs us that the person thus adjured cannot sing. Was it only his fun then? But because the whim takes me to smash up my old and favourite toy (Byron has been treated with equal disrespect by Mr. Swinburne, who had formerly written a warmly appreciative introduction to him), need I get so very angry with my companions if they refuse to stamp upon it too? Of Whitman's rhythm I can here give only a few examples:- "Beat, beat, drums! Blow, bugles, blow! Make no parley-stop for no expostulation; Mind not the timid-mind not the weeper or prayer! Mind not the old man beseeching the young man! Let not the child's voice be heard, nor the mother's entreaties; Make even the trestles to shake the dead, where they lie awaiting the hearses. So strong you thump, O terrible drums-so loud you bugles blow." From the "Song of the Banner," I would quote the first stanza -and afterwards this spoken by the Pennant: "Come up here, bard, bard, Come up here, soul, soul, Come up here, dear little child, To fly in the clouds and winds with me, and play with the measureless light." Or take, "Come lovely and soothing Death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate Death!" MR. SWINBURNE ON WALT WHITMAN. 655 Or, "Down to the shores of the water, the path by the swamp in the dimness, To the solemn, shadowy cedars, and ghostly pines so still." Again, "O how shall I soothe myself for the dead one there I loved, And how shall I deck my soul for the large sweet soul that has gone, And what shall my perfume be for the grave of him I love?" "O what shall I hang on the chamber walls? And what shall the pictures be that I hang on the walls, To adorn the burial-place of him I love?" But one might go on quoting for ever. Whitman is "neither a singer nor a maker," it seems! he who made and sang the "Two Veterans," and "Camps of Green," and "O Tanfaced Prairie Boy," and "A Letter from Camp," and "A Sight in Camp," and "City Dead-house!" Well, "the song is to the singer," and to a few others also-we need only be sorry for those who cannot hear. Mr. Swinburne quotes one of Carlyle's few verses with contempt. Now, Carlyle was not a lyrical, but a prose poet, like Hans Andersen, and others already named; yet is there one lyric of his, "Adieu" which dwells in our memory very near the supreme song of Burns, or Heine, "The Cry of the Children," "The Land o' the Leal," or an old ballad-things we value beyond all sounding brass or tinkling cymbal, beyond all the gauds and glitter of Gongora. The Precieuses Ridicules may be left, with the latest "Deliquescent," to their momentary succes de curiosite. But Mr. Swinburne poses as a stylist. Here, then, are two specimens of his style. (Whitman) "has exactly as much claim to a place beside Dante as any Vermesch or Vermorel, or other verminous and murderous muck-worm of the Parisian Commune to a place beside Mazzini." Again: "In his treatment of topics, usually regarded as no less unfit for fuller exposition and literary illustration than those which have obtained notoriety for the would-be bastard of Balzac" (Mr. Swinburne's euphonious periphrasis for Zola!) "he has contrived to make the 'way of a man with a maid' " . . . "almost as loathsomely ludicrous, and almost as ludicrously loathsome-I speak merely of the aesthetic or literary aspect of his effusions-as the Swiftian or Zolaesque enthusiasm of bestiality"-his enemies may "thank him for that word!" Alliteration run mad, reiteration of inverted sentences, characteristic of Mr. Swinburne's poetry and prose alike, can only commend themselves to the depraved tastes of a literary decadence, and are not really better style than the most grotesque and "barbaric yaup" in all Walt Whitman. Can the most fervent Swinburnian admire the exquisite taste of that epithet, "Diogenes Devilsdung"-part of it probably purloined from some perturbed disturber of public peace, and commonplace purveyor of common plaice, or other fish in Billingsgate-admire the rabid 656 MR. SWINBURNE ON WALT WHITMAN. abuse with which a Swinburne is wont to bespatter a Carlyle, the dead lion, whose relatives and admirers are yet living - to pity, or despise the offender? Can any proficiency in word-jingle and word-juggle excuse this, and many similar outrages from such a quarter upon inspired and venerated seers like Carlyle, Emerson, or Walt Whitman, singer of "Drum Taps," beloved in hospitals, on the field of battle, by the common people, and all who know him? Indeed, it is most impudently improper, and most improperly impudent! Reverence for his own superiors is a credential admittedly required of any person, himself claiming authority, or leadership among his fellows. We are told again that Whitman is no more a poet than he is "a triptych, an amphimacer, a rhomboid, a right-angled parallelogram," or Mr. Swinburne's shoe. Surely the capers here are somewhat elephantine, and the ordnance very heavy! But the most astounding feature of Mr. Swinburne's essay is unquestionably his arraignment of Whitman: (1) for "exuberant incontinence" - his own effusions having been described not unhappily as "a hemorrhage of words," and (2) for "unhealthy and obtrusive animalism, which is unnatural, and incompatible with the wholesome instincts of human passion" - or (as above) for "treatment of topics usually regarded," etc. This makes one rub one's eyes. Was, then, a certain volume called "Poems and Ballads" wrongfully attributed to Mr. Swinburne? He does not say he is sorry he wrote them. Rather, like a certain "interesting penitent in Newgate" (vide David Copperfield), he "hopes Mr. W--- will repent, and all of that sinful lot." I am not blaming him for his Sapphic poems, "The Noyades," "The Leper," "Hermaphroditus," "Fragoletta," or "Hymn to Venus." But how can he have the face, if he wrote them, to throw a stone at Whitman? This seems an objectionable way of "compounding for sins you are inclined to" - by "damning" them when they are committed by your neighbour - a "new" (and singular) "way to pay old debts!" Mr. Swinburne says, indeed, that in art "any subject may be treated successfully, if the poet, by instinct or training, knows exactly how to handle it;" "the method of treatment, manner of touch, tone of expression is the first and last thing to be considered." "If anything can justify the display of mere physical emotion in art or literature, it is either intense depth of feeling, expressed with inspired perfection of simplicity as by Sappho, or transcendent supremacy of actual and irresistible beauty in such revelation of naked nature as was possible to Titian." Well, suppose all that to be true, which perhaps it may be; but then Byron fulfils the latter condition as no other poet (Haidee in the island, and the Harem scene), while Whitman fulfils the former in "Calamus," in "Drum Taps," and elsewhere. MR. SWINBURNE ON WALT WHITMAN. 657 There are things in Whitman of profoundest human feeling, and inspired perfection of simplicity. As a lover, indeed, he frankly accepts body and soul; rightly or wrongly he will embrace both. Nature made them one; it is hard for lover and poet of nature to distinguish. But his lovers are lovers, not lechers. Surely the mood of Fate was over-ironical when it compelled Mr. Swinburne, of all men, in his character of hostile critic, to emphasise by contrast the open air, broadly human, tenderly affectionate and pathetic, bracing and invigorating (however superfluously sensuous) literary tone of Whitman with the luxuriously enervating atmosphere of his own "Poems and Ballads"! I will throw no stones, for I, too, may live in a glass house. But why throw them at Whitman? Even "fleshly" literature may have its subordinate place. But is "deep feeling," forsooth, the phrase appropriate to corybantic paeans of lust and blood-madness, however fervent, that parody, for literary purposes, and prostitute to vile uses words consecrated to holy faith, doing violence without scruple to the deepest feelings of noble men and women, who should be dear to all, and safe from profanation? Where, at any rate, is the "inspired perfection of simplicity" in those serenadings? But should appeal be made to tone and touch and manner, some may be found to prefer the gambols unashamed and naked of "children of Adam" under their apple trees to closed doors, and cruel mysteries of sons of Belial, or votaries of Baphomet. Whitman is ultra-Pantheistic, honestly convinced that ascetism and convention have mischievously conspired in the name of righteousness to blaspheme and degrade the flesh, that creature of God, spouse and helpmate of the spirit. He systematically proclaims this without mincing or circumlocution, and does it sometimes coarsely. So he shocks decorum. He is also certain that the most fallen human being is his own brother or sister, akin to the Son of Man. So he will eat and drink, and suffer, ay, and revel with such, sure that there is a soul of good in things evil, and all good in human sympathy. This notion of the ultimate use and excellence of every detail and every experience he over-emphasises, mischievously for morals and art; since he serves it up crude, unresolved, unidealised into far results and world-harmonies. But he does make us feel the organic soundness of this universe, with all its lapses, and all its shadows, which, in an age of querulous weakness and atrophied vitality, is indeed very good. But is Saul also among the prophets? Or what elect and ruddy champion do we here find experimenting with the "weaver's beam" of respectability, gashing former friends and old allies, effusively fraternising with Goliath of Gath? It is vain, moreover, for Mr. Swinburne and his school to try and divorce the ethical from the aesthetic element in literature; at VOL. XVII. 42 658 MR. SWINBURNE ON WALT WHITMAN. least, among a community of civilised persons, who have cultivated a sense for the morally beautiful and ugly. Howsoever treated, the cruel lusts of moral mania and the human satyr must always be as repulsive to sane people as any other form of that "enthusiasm of bestiality," against which Mr. Swinburne is at present so very vehement. Finally, if his elegant utterances about "Whitman's Eve" and "Whitman's Venus" have any relevancy at all, one can only assume them to signify some irrepressible outburst of aristocratic spleen at the sincerely democratic sympathies and teaching of an American man of the people, because his types are not feudal, and his lovers no wearers of soft raiment, dwelling in kings' houses! But a poor prostitute, with the impurity of moral defilement in heart and soul, as of river ruin in clothes, mouth, and eyes, is as beautiful and holy to this true man as she was to that other humane and moving singer of the "Bridge of Sighs." To him the common soldier, blood-besmirched and rent with wounds on the field of battle, is sacred, lovely, with face like the face of Christ, "dead, divine, and brother of all." RODEN NOEL. NOTE. - I am not insensible to the merit of some of Mr. Swinburne's later verse - for instance, the "Songs before Sunrise," in which the "enthusiasm of humanity" seemed to ring true, and the conclusions of modern materialism were translated into complicated and sonorous rhythm - nor to the genuine enjoyment with which he celebrates the sea, although I think the words seldom convey a sufficiently definite impression, the picture being usually blurred. All is sacrificed to sound, and the reiteration of a few conventional images, like "fire" and "flame." But I have only spoken of Mr. Swinburne's own utter unsoundness as a model in poetry or prose, because the uncritical arrogance and truculency of his attacks on great reputations I have long revered appeared to permit me a freedom of speech on the subject, which good taste might otherwise have forbidden. Some one said of Germany that it was "the land of many cants with a C, but only one Kant with a K." So we may say that America is the land of bookmakers, mocking-birds, Stedmen, but only one Whitman. There is no occasion, however, to "break a butterfly upon a wheel." As for our later Dr. Donnes, they are well able to take care of themselves. They can change at will the Dr. Jekyll of euphuism for the Mr. Hyde of vituperation. It is a kind of cross between O'Donovan Rossa and Pircie Shafton. Now they are uttering "precious sentences," and now flinging wordy vitriol, mangling us with bombs of verbal dynamite - alternating mellifluous diction with what "Helen's Babies" call "fearful swears." "Now his breakfast, now his verses Vomits up, and damns our souls." I think it was Marryat's Chucks, the boatswain, who used to commence his invectives with the politest and most delicate diction, and then as he proceeded launched out into the most blood-curdling denunciations of his enemies: "Allow me just to hint to you, in the most delicate manner in the world, that you're a shilling-seeking, trencher-scraping, double-d----d, etc., etc., son of a sea-cook!" R. N. AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. "HERE we lodged at J. Veasies house; a most mighty fatte woeman. She saith shee is a Cheshire woeman, neere related in bloode to the Breretons. Soe fatte shee is as shee is soe unweeldy she can scarce stande or goe without crutches. This is reported one of the best innes of the North of Ireland, and in 8d. and 6d. onely the knave tapster over reckoned us in drinke." In this pleasant Dutch manner Master Egerton, also of Cheshire, travelling in Ireland in 1634-5, and carefully recording in crabbed handwriting his experiences and impressions, introduces his first glimpse of Irish society; and as it does not appear that the quaint old manuscript containing his adventures was ever made public save in the extracts which were given in the now-rarely-met-with magazine, The Christian Examiner, published by William Curry, of Dublin, in the first quarter of the present century, it may prove interesting to follow the early tourist and his six attendants on their way to the south-east coast, and to look at this island through an Englishman's glasses of two and a half centuries ago, premising that our traveller does not appear to have had a political mission, or any dealings with the Jury-packing Wentworth and his satellites, that he makes no allusion to the "Graces," or to the Defective Titles Commissions, and religiously abstains from political references or inferences, and that his only object appears to have been that of an amateur agricultural commissioner, and possibly the purchase, at anything but Griffith's valuation, of a fine property for a younger son, to which shadowy personage he more than once refers. As may be supposed, the first thing to strike our voyager was the extraordinary length of the Irish mile, the sixteen miles between Dundalk and Tredaugh (Drogheda) being lengthened into twenty-two; but apparently he considered the ride worth the trouble, so pleased was he with the town and its walled river, "soe as a shippe may come to their doores," and "commodiously situated for fish and fowle;" and as might be expected, Master Egerton was not long in Ireland before he was surprised to find many people "popishly affected," and some of them daring "to take the boldness to go to mass openly." In Drogheda the "divers faire neate" well-built houses and well-furnished shops, 42A 660 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. with the inhabitants more civilised and better apparelled, gave the traveller much pleasure as did the "little paire of organs" in Primate Usher's private chapel. The Lord Primate's palace, "a neate, handsome, and commodious house," appeared to Master Egerton a "prettie place," though it was only of "wood rough cast, and nott high;" but of the great church in which Usher "preacheth every Sabbath" the diarist records, that although the body was kept in good condition, "the chauncell, as noe use is made of it, soe it is wholly neglected in noe good repaire," a state of things one would hardly have expected to find under the nose of the primate with all his ultra-Protestant zeal. Enumerating the chancel monuments, Master Egerton says, apparently with no sense of having made an Irish Bull, "among these is one erected for the Ladye Salisburie nowe liveing att Chester." To "the sign of the Boote" at Swords, where it is pleasant to know the stranger was "well used," the journey was made over "as daintie fine way as ever I ridd, and a most pleasant countrie: greatest part corne upon the verye sea coast, and very good and well reared corne;" and at Swords 'faire large English kine' were selling at about £2, "these worth in England double the price," and land was being sold at twenty years' purchase or let at 5s. or 6s. per acre, and meadowing for from £1 to £2, land nearer the metropolis fetching from £2 to £4 per acre. Dublin, Master Egerton found, "without exception, the fairest, richest, and best built citie" he had met with in his journey, "except York and Newcastle;" a city, in fact, far beyond Edinburgh, only one street in Edinburgh, "the greate longe streete" surpassing those in the Irish metropolis. Unlike the Boyne, the Liffey was full of shelves and sands, "a very vile barred haven," not passable by ships over 400 tons, the harbour naked, plain, and with little protection from storms, most ships riding by the Ringsende, "a poor and bare shelter, and little defence against the storms, soe as the king's shippe which lyes here to scowre the coastes" was constrained at times to make for the head of Howsed (Howth). Our traveller seems to have taken a great interest in the religious services wherever he went, and in Dublin he appears to have got almost a surfeit of sermons. St. Patrick's he sets down as the best whited and kept of any church he had seen in Scotland or Ireland, the structure affording two parish churches under one roof, in either of which there was a sermon every Sabbath. Of Christ Church, he says that only the chancel was in use, "where the Lord Deputie and the State frequent," and at St. Warburgh's "a sort of Cathedral," judicious Dr. Hoile was preaching at 10 A.M. and 3 P.M., "a most zealous preacher and general scholar in all manner of learning." The Primate was preaching at 8 A.M. at St. Owens, the parish in which he was born, and Master Egerton almost excels the late Bishop Gregg AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. 661 when he sums up his opinion of Dr. Usher's capacity, finding him a most excellently able man, and most "abundantly holly and heavenly man" he had ever heard, the sermon being powerful and convincing, and the preacher "pregnant witted." The impression made in the pulpit was sustained at the dinner table, where the diarist found him tall, proper, comely, plain, familiar, courteous, of pregnant parts, with good intelligence, well read in antiquities, "a most holly well affected bishop, a good companion, and of good discourse." The entertainment was good and plentiful, but nothing curious or excessive, the bishop's habit being to spend the whole day, except meal times, in his study, which he had placed at a distance from the house to prevent distraction and diversion, a fact so well known, says Master Brereton, that "few come to him att any time of the daye, save att the hours of relaxation, which is from 11 to 1, and soe about supper time, the rest of the daye from 5 in the morning until 6 in the evening is spent ordinariely in his studye," In the closet were not a large number of books, but much used and employed volumes. "He showed me his 'Articles of Religion' printed in 1563," and with a generosity not common to bibliopoles, our diarist gave him an earlier copy, "but I left mine with him, which was more ancient and orthodox than his." The following Sabbath, at 10 A.M. and 3 P.M., Master Egerton attended St. Warburgh's to hear Dr. Hoile, "a most holly man, full of zeale and grace, and a generall scholar, but not sufficiently furnished with wordes to express the fullness of matter which abounds in him, who is a mere cynick to the world, but doubtless a gratious man in the sight of God." For the comfort and guidance of future tourists the diarist records "that you may with much ease and conveniencye heare 4 sermons every Lord's day, and as I was informed six sermons may be heard on one day," Trinity College was then "in good aire out of the citie, and neere the sea," the endowment being about £1,400 per annum, the Senior Fellowships being worth £9 per annum "besides their diets," the Junior Fellowships being worth, "besides their diets," only £3, the sixty "Poore Scholars" being worth "onelie their diets." The library "in which they glory made" was not large, well contrived, or well furnished with books. There had been much building in Dublin, and the city was extending her bounds and limits very far. Every commodity, therefore, had become very dear, horse hire being 1s. 6d. per day, but there was the comfort of having "an excellent, juditious, and painful smith," and "divers commodities cried as in London." In a street near the Courts of Justice there had died "an Irish merchant, and as wee passed by we heard either his wife or sister roaring out, as though she were violently distracted, and this they saye is verye ordinarie with the Irish, and is their custom." 662 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. Making his way southward, our diarist reached Hacketstown at eleven o'clock at night, after passing "thorow troublesome and dangerous wayes and woodes," in which he would have wandered all night had he not found an Irish guide, who brought him to a little low, poor thatched castle, where he was lodged, the day's journey being twenty-seven miles; "but it is as long as thirty-seven." The land about Hacketstown was let at from 2s. to 3s. 4d. an acre, good butter being made "as in England, and they say good cheese, but I tasted none." Mr. Watson had recently erected "a daintie new church," and allowed the minister, "Mr. Rooke's wive's brother," £40 per annum and his house. From Hacketstown to Carnew the road lay through "abundance of woodes" of more than many thousands of acres, and in some of the parts "the ground was soe thronged and pestered" with wood which was fallen "as thereby the ground was made of noe use." Much disafforesting had been in progress, the wood being required for "pipe staves," sold at £6 per 1,000, but a custom's rate of £3 having been imposed, the valuable advantages had been done away with, as the charge for hewing was 30s., besides the cost of conveyance to Enniscorthy, "at which time is required the aide and endeavour of one hundred men to conduct and guide them in this narrow, crooked, and shallow river which runs through the wood." Calling at Mr. Chamber's castle at Carnew, "to drink a cuppe of beere, the weather being extreme hotte," our traveller found very free and courteous entertainment, the host's two married daughters, my Lord Brabazon's lady, and Mr. Sanderford's wife, being with their father. Near this point of Mr. Odell's park, seven miles in compass, "wherein are both of fallow and red deere good store," were ironworks where "the sowes of iron which are brought from Bristow are melted into iron bars," a business which must have been very profitable to Mr. Odell, for the diarist records that the "sowes" cost "£5 a tunne, being laid downe at the doors," and that in bars they were worth twenty pounds per ton. Charcoal would, of course, be very cheap, but doubtless the same causes which led to the discontinuance of smelting and casting in Sussex gradually made the trade at Carnew unprofitable. The following day's journey was through "my Lord of Baltimoare's town" of Clarihaman, and Sir Morgan Kavanagh's woods, in which they were lurking "about sixteene stout rebells well appointed every one of them with his pistolls, skene, and darts, and also 4 long pieces." Master Egerton, however, did not even see them, but he did notice that timber was being used and burned at such a rate that it "soon will be much wanting in this kingdom, and is now very scarce at Dublin." Sir Morgan was a very honest, fair-dealing man, and his lady a good woman, but, shades of Usher, "both recusants," a fact which did not prevent AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. 663 our diarist enjoying the "good beere, sacke, and clarett whereof he was noe niggard." Sir Morgan wanted £1,000 per annum and "a £1,000 rent" for twenty town lands of altogether about 13,000 acres, or, in our diarist's opinion, "not less than 20,000 acres, much hereof mountaine, wood, and the rest but poore land, all overgrown with ferron and brachon, and nott to bee improved but with great chardge and trouble." The high valuation of the estate appears to have been due to the fact that the owner considered it "a convenient seat for an iron work," with sufficient water and charcoal. In one of these woods Master Egerton had a new experience, for he "observed and taste of the dew which fell uppon the oake leaves which glistened and shined and tasted like honey," a fact which gave rise to a supposition, "doubtless this kingdom is a most fruitful place for bees." The mansion did not take the diarist's fancy, and he describes it as a red, high, narrow, and inconvenient building, "the staires leading uppe into the dineing roome and chambers being steepe like a steeple staire," and "seated in a most solitarie, melancholy place, woodes on two sides, and plaines on the other: these are moares and mountaines wherein they say there are wolves." The place, too, Master Egerton adds, had been reputed "a theevish place, but Sir Morgan being demanded, said the 16 rebells beforenamed were most conversant about Ross and about the countie of Kilkennie." On his way to "Ennescottie" our diarist went over the river to survey the manor of "Ollart" in the parish and diocese of Ferns and Loughlin, which was to be sold with its belongings, "a court leet, a court baron, and one faire." The estate was mortgaged by the owner, Mr. Darbye Cavennagh,-"in Irish Dormannt MacDovillin"-to "one Turner, an Apothecarye in Dublin, for £800," and the adjoining land belonged to Sir James Carroll, whose new and stately house "hath allmost sunke him by the charge of building him the same." The neighbouring Slane was "plentifully furnished with Salmon and Troutes," and upon its banks many pleasant, convenient "seates for houses or townes" might be found out. The land, Master Egerton opined, would keep cattle and feed sheep and horses, of which he saw some; but the "most extreme violent drought" had burned up all the country, and no grass was left, "soe you cannot looke uppon this but with muche disadvantage, yett itt seems to be a good sweet natured earthe, but itt hath been overtilled and much wronged by the Irish husbandrye." The estate was given in at 1,000 acres, but it was by those who knew not "how to guess at 1,000 acres," and our diarist estimated it to contain very much more, and to be capable of being made very rich by the use of the lime, which could be conveniently provided very cheap at 2d. per barrel. In this district there was a strange custom, based seemingly upon a co-operative arrangement between landlord and tenants, 664 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. the third part of the corn being given to the landlord; and from the statement made by our diarist's host at Enniscorthy, a Mr. Plummer, "a Scotchman, his wife an Englishwoman," it would appear that the practice was not confined to Wexford, but was followed in other parts of Ireland, "for soe the Irish tenants sowe their landlord's grounds, and allow them the third sheafe, and take two sheaves for their paines." The landlord's share, upon Sir James Carroll's land, had sold for £120 the year before that of Master Egerton's visit. Like the Irish landlord of a more recent date, it would appear that Sir James was in difficulties, and ready to part with house and and lands, "a brave seate for a younger brother" the traveller writes, and records the fact that he made an unsuccessful offer. The host charged 1s. "ordinarie" for Master Egerton, and 6d. for the servants, and horses appear to have been as cheap as the board and lodging, for the tourist bought a little white mare for 44s., and it was agreed that if she were returned at the end of the journey only 3d. per day should be abated. A "grissel gelding" was hired for 82s. 6d., the agreement being that if returned within thirty days the money had to be returned, 1s. per day being charged for the loan. From this point the two horses hired at Dublin were returned, 12s. having been paid for their hire. The diarist and his servants crossed the river at Enniscorthy on horseback, and at Carrick Ferry the people affirmed that they never felt such extreme scorching hot weather in Ireland. At Carrick the distressed landlords again put in an appearance, several being anxious to let or sell, the land lying "verye convenient for a Cheshire man," a remark not very easy to understand. A little further on another landlord, Mr. William Synode, is immortalised as "a man that needes money," and one tenant, Mr. Hardey, an Englishman, had a lease at £16 per annum, the farm containing between 200 and 300 acres, sufficient for 20 or 30 milch kine, "and to yield sufficient corne for a small famieley." The place, however, was overrun by rabbits, "soe as they pester the ground," and there was more fish and fowl provided than would suffice "a good famieley." On three sides the farm was compassed by a lough a mile or two broad, with "mudde a halfe a yd, or a yde" deep, which made it "a place of much security to such cattle and goodes as were kept there none having been lost (stolen?) since the Hardeys took possession." As might be expected from the surroundings, the feeding for fowls was the best Master Egerton ever saw, "the grasse which comes from the mudde is good for them," and a grove of oaks formed a "most strong shelter to the fowle that feed or frequent under it." It is interesting, in the present position of the Irish land question, to note that for thirteen years' interest in the lease of the farm of between 200 and 300 acres at a rental of £16, AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. 665 Mr. Hardey asked £55, and for a lease of eighty years in reversion the landlord asked £100, "of the unreasonableness of which demand being convinced, hee sent next day a messenger, who desired to know what I would give," says the diarist, and adds, "I would offer nothing, but Mr. Mainewaring offered £20 for a lease for 80 years. He replied that £40 would not bee accepted; uppon this week breake off." Of Washiford (Wexford) Master Egerton records, "that the brave harbour capacious of many 1,000 saile" was much prejudiced and "damnified" by a barred haven and narrow bank of sand. Trade was decaying, and the town was very poor by reason of the herring fishing failing. In the old time, so the gossips stated to the visitor, five or six men in a ten-ton boat used to take to the value of from £20 to £40 in a night. The herrings, however, had forsaken the coast; the town, consequently, was impoverished, and "their keyes goe to ruine." Every great merchant's house "seated on the Nore" once had "either a key, or a part interest in a key, or a private way to the key. Their haven was then furnished with 500 saile of shippes, and small vessels for fishing," and, adds the diarist mournfully, "it is now naked." The assizes were on, the judges being Sir George Sherley, the Lord Chief Justice, and Sir John Fillpott, the latter being described as "a little black temperate man." Four justices of the peace were sitting on the bench with Fillpott, one being Master Egerton's cousin, Mainwaring, "a most courteous, civile gentleman, who came from the bench and saluted mee in the hall, and accompanied mee to the taverne, and bestowed wine uppon mee." Mr. Wainwaring stated that three rebels had been condemned, and advised our traveller to go by Ballyhack, and by way of the passage, rather than by Ross, about which latter place there were six or eight rebels "furnished with some pieces, pistolls, darts, and skenes, and some of them most desperate spiritts, and soe cruele, that the inhabitants of the countrie dare scarce travell that way." These men had all been proclaimed, and on the principle of Mrs. Glasses' recipe for cooking a hare, they were to be "hanged, drawne, and quartered, soe soon as they are apprehended." Master Egerton saw one of the three unfortunates who had that day been sentenced to a similar fate, and as he was taken along the streets to the castle "the woemen, and some other following, making lamentation, sometimes so violent as though they were distracted, sometimes as itt were a kind of tune-singing. One of these ('twas said) was his wyfe." To Wexford the assizes brought numbers of the county people, and Master Egerton appears to have been greatly struck by their "better habitts," "Irish garments I mean," he adds parenthetically, the dress being superior to any he had previously seen in 662 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. Making his southward, our diarist reached Hacketstown at eleven o'clock at night, after passing "thorow troublesome and dangerous wayes and woodes," in which he would have wandered all night had he not found an Irish guide, who brought him to a little low, poor thatched castle, where he was lodged, the day's journey being twenty-seven miles; "but it is as long as thirty-seven." The land about Hacketstown was let at from 2s. to 3s. 4d. an acre, good butter being made "as in England, and they say good cheese, but I tasted none." Mr. Watson had recently erected "a daintie new church," and allowed the minister, "Mr. Rooke's wive's brother," £40 per annum and his house. From Hacketstown to Carnew the road lay through "abundance of woodes" of more than many thousands of acres, and in some of the parts "the ground was soe thronged and pestered" with wood which was fallen "as thereby the ground was made of noe use." Much disafforesting had been in progress, the wood being required for "pipe staves," sold at £6 per 1,000, but a custom's rate of £3 having been imposed, the valuable advantages had been done away with, as the charge for hewing was 30s., besides the cost of conveyance to Enniscorthy, "at which time is required the aide and endeavour of one hundred men to conduct and guide them in this narrow, crooked, and shallow river which runs through the wood." Calling at Mr. Chamber's castle at Carnew, "to drink a cuppe of beere, the weather being extreme hotte," our traveller found very free and courteous entertainment, the host's two married daughters, my Lord Brabazon's lady, and Mr. Sanderford's wife, being with their father. Near this point of Mr. Odell's park, seven miles in compass, "wherein are both of fallow and red deere good store," were ironworks where "the sowes of iron which are brought from Bristow are melted into iron bars," a business which must have been very profitable to Mr. Odell, for the diarist records that the "sowes" cost "£5 a tunne, being laid downe at the doors," and that in bars they were worth twenty pounds per ton. Charcoal would, of course, be very cheap, but doubtless the same causes which led to the discontinuance of smelting and casting in Sussex gradually made the trade at Carnew unprofitable. The following day's journey was through "my Lord of Baltimoare's town" of Clarihaman, and Sir Morgan Kavanagh's woods, in which there were lurking "about sixteene stout rebells well appointed every one of them with his pistolls, skene, and darts, and also 4 long pieces." Master Engerton, however, did not even see them, but he did notice that timber was being used and burned at such a rate that it "soon will be much wanting in this kingdom, and is now very scarce at Dublin." Sir Morgan was a very honest, fair-dealing man, and his lady a good woman, but, shades of Usher, "both recusants," a fact which did not prevent AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. 667 After this enlivening conversation, the judge said that if all the justices of the peace did not wait upon him to Ross to guard him he would fine them deeply, and the junior judge told of a "verye wise demean" on the part of the mayor of Ross, who, being informed that three rebels lay asleep near the town, and being required to send out ten or twelve men to apprehend them, said he would provide for the safety of the town, "commanded the gates to be shutt, the drumme to be beate, and warneing pieces to be discharged, whereby they awaked, and so tooke notice thereof and escaped." Leaving Wexford, our diarist thankfully records that the Lord provided a good guide for him and his attendants, and directed them to a better course than that of going over the passage, which was so troubled and rough that my Lord of Kildare was in great danger, "and himselfe and servaunts constrained to cutt the saile ropes and jack-lines." Taking their lodging at Tinterden, a dissolved abbey occupied by Sir Adam Cotoliffe, Master Egerton was very kindly and courteously entertained. The mansion was a very fair, long stately one, "of great receipt," and Sir Adam is immortalised as keeping a good house, and his lady as being "a dainty, compleate, well-bred woeman; she is Sir Rob. Rich his daughter." A rainy day brings forth the remark, "Here they say no raine has fallen this 2 moneths, all extreme drie." A ride of eight hours brought the diarist to Ballyhack, a poor little village by the broadest passage said to be in Ireland, and a most rough passage when the wind is anything high. The unfortunate "my Lord of Kildare" was in trouble again, for his boat was "in danger to be runne under water, by carrying toe much saile, and running fowl uppon the passage boate." At this point of the river Master Egerton saw one of His Sacred Majesty's ships lying at anchor to guard the fleet ready to go to Bristol fair, a fleet of about fifty, the warship bearing the singular name of the Ninth Whelpe, Sir Beverley Newcombe being in command. The Irish here, it is recorded, had a very presumptuous proverb and speech, saying they must have a wind to Bristol fair, "yeah, though the faire bee begun, and the wind still averse, yett still doe they retaine their confident presumption of a wind." The boarding and landing were better than at Port Patrick, but less and worse boats; horses were not used, and the charge for the ferry of over a mile was 2s. for a four-oared boat. On the Munster side there was good lodging, and our traveller passed over the estate of a gentleman who had just died of a gangrene, of which some terrible details are given: "he was butt a young man of £1,000 per annum, and married an old woman, a crabbed piece of flesh, who cheated him with a £1,000 shee brought him, for which he was arrested within 3 days after his marriage. At Waterford Master Egerton baited at the King's Head, kept 666 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. Ireland. Some of the gentlewomen were "cloathed in good handsome gownes, petticoats, and hatts, who wore Irish ruggs which have handsome comely large fringes which goe about their neckes and serve instead of bands." Entering somewhat into detail, our diarist adds that the rugg fringe was joined to a garment "which comes round about them, and reacheth to the very ground." At any rate, it was home manufacture, no bad recommendation; and it appears to have been picturesque as well, for Master Egerton adds, "this is a handsome comely vestment, much more comeily as they are used than the rugg short cloakes used by the women uppon festivall dayes in Abbeveile, Bullen, and the nearer parts of Picardie in France." Of the Wexford women most were "barenecked and cleane skinned," and wore a crucifix tied in a black necklace, and, adds Master Egerton, "itt semes they are nott ashamed of their religion, nor desire to coneale themselves," a remark which needs no explanation when the penal laws are remembered. The Mayor, with the Sheriff, our diarist observed, attended the judges to the church door, and left them there and went to Mass, which it appears was "tolerated and publiquely resorted unto in 2 or 3 houses," there being very few Protestants in the place, a fact which "so appeared by the slender congregation at church where the judges were." The judges used our traveller "respectively," whatever that may imply, and the mayor, Mr. Mark Chevey, a well-bred gentleman with an estate in the country, and who had been member of Parliament for the county, invited him to dinner, and also to supper with the judges. "He is an Irishman," says Master Brereton, "and his wyfe Irish, in a strange habit, with a threadbare short coate with sleeves, made like my green coate of stuffe, reaching to her middle." Unfortunately, it is recorded also that "shee knew not how to carve, looke, entertaine, or demeasne herself," and there was at the table a kind of beer, which the diarist dared not taste, "called charter beere, mighty thick, muddie stuffe," and the meat "nothing well cooqued nor ordered." Possibly the "charter beere" was the discovery of an unappreciated forerunner of the Guinness family, a genius born before his time. Over the "muddie stuffe" there was discourse about the local rebels, the captain of whom was named Simon Prendergrasse, three carriers and two other "travailers" having been robbed in the vicinity a few days before, as also was a traveller in his lodging by three of the rebels, well appointed, and who uttered a terrible threat that if they could take the Lord of Kildare, " who passed thorow them nakedly attended," he should pray their pardon. At supper a letter was read addressed to a gentleman staying in the town, informing him that they had been to his house to take his life, as he had "prosequuted against them," and adding that they had taken from him to the value of £200. AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. 663 our diarist enjoying the "good beere, sacke, and clarett whereof he was noe niggard." Sir Morgan wanted £1,000 per annum and "a £1,000 rent" for twenty town lands of altogether about 13,000 acres, or, in our diarist's opinion, "not less than 20,000 acres, much hereof mountaine, wood, and the rest but poore land, all overgrown with ferron and brachon, and nott to bee improved but with great chardge and trouble." The high valuation of the estate appears to have been due to the fact that the owner considered it "a convenient seat for an iron work," with sufficient water and charcoal. In one of these woods Master Egerton had a new experience, for he "observed and taste of the dew which fell uppon the oake leaves which glistened and shined and tasted like honey," a fact which gave rise to a supposition, "doubtless this kingdom is a most fruitful place for bees." The mansion did not take the diarist's fancy, and he describes it as a red, high, narrow, and inconvenient building, "the staires leading uppe into the dineing roome and chambers being steepe like a steeple staire," and "seated in a most solitarie, melancholy place, woodes on two sides, and plaines on the other; these are moares and mountaines wherein they say there are wolves." The place, too, Master Egerton adds, had been reputed "a theevish place, but Sir Morgan being demanded, said the 16 rebells beforenamed were most conversant about Ross and about the countie of Kilkennie." On his way to "Ennescottie" our diarist went over the river to survey the manor of "Ollart" in the parish and diocese of Ferns and Loughlin, which was to be sold with its belongings, "a court leet, a court baron, and one faire." The estate was mortgaged by the owner, Mr. Darbye Cavennagh, - "in Irish Dormannt MacDovillin," - to "one Turner, an Apothecarye in Dublin, for £800," and the adjoining land belonged to Sir James Carroll, whose new and stately house "hath allmost sunke him by the charge of building him the same." The neighbouring Slane was "plentifully furnished with Salmon and Troutes," and upon its banks many pleasant, convenient "seates for houses or townes" might be found out. The land, Master Egerton opined, would keep cattle and feed sheep and horses, of which he saw some; but the "most extreme violent drought" had burned up all the country, and no grass was left, "soe you cannot looke uppon this but with muche disadvantage, yett itt seems to be a good sweet natured earthe, but itt hath been overtilled and much wronged by the Irish husbandrye." The estate was given in at 1,000 acres, but it was by those who knew not "how to guess at 1,000 acres," and our diarist estimated it to contain very much more, and to be capable of being made very rich by the use of the lime, which could be conveniently provided very cheap at 2d. per barrel. In this district there was a strange custom, based seemingly upon a co-operative arrangement between landlord and tenants, 668 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. by Mr. Wardes, "a good house, a very compleate gentlemanlike host." The quay was not only the best quay the diarist had seen in Ireland, but as good as he had seen in England, or observed in all his travels. Several forts and castles commanded the river, and in one of them Lord Esmond's company lay, and fifty good expert soldiers under the command of Sir George Flowre, "an auntient knight," were in the fort outside the gate towards Carrick. Master Egerton counted seven churches, and adds there had been many more. Apparently, however, the seven were more than sufficient, for it is entered that none of them were in good repair, a fact not difficult to understand when the context is arrived at: "most of the inhabitants Irish, nott above 40 English, and nott one of these Irish goes to church." The town was trading much with England, France, and Spain, a fact attributed to the goodness of the haven ; but the diarist was much shocked to see women "in a most impudent manner treadeing cloathes with their feete ; these were naked to the middle allimost, for soe high were their cloathes tucked uppe about them." The women of better rank and quality were wearing long high-laced caps turned up round about, "mightye high ; " and so pleased was Master Egerton with the effect of this French headdress, that he gave William Dale money to buy one, evidently being anxious to try how a Chesire lass would look in it. At Carrick, nine good large miles away, but "verye faire waye, verye readie to find," our travellers stayed at the sign of The Three Cups, Mr. Crummer's, where there was "a good neate woeman," and being unwell, Master Egerton, who had been in the hands of a "juditious apothecarye" at Waterford, wanted good accommodation. Lord Ormond's house, "built att twice," appears to have been all worth seeing in Carrick, for the town is described as a very poor place, and the houses many quite "ruinated" and others much decayed; the walls, however, with which the town was walled about were as strong "and that to walk uppon" as at Chester. The church was in poor repair, as, it seems, were all the churches in Ireland, - a fact which, our traveller unfairly asserts, "argues their general disaffection unto religion," meaning, of course, the Protestant religion. Their disaffection unto drunk also might have been insisted upon, for it is recorded, "here in this towne is the poorest taverne I ever saw, a little low thatched Irish house, not to be compared unto Jane Kelsalls of the green at Handsforth." Fearing lest "the country disease," whatever that might be, should so far prevail upon him as to disable him to endure, Master Egerton hurried away back to Waterford, and he records that within a few days he was quite recovered. At Tebrachen, near Waterford, "my Lord of Ormond's" uncle had a farm, for which he paid a rent of £120, and £100 fine for twenty years' AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. 669 lease, there being nearly 1,400 acres of good land, and a great marsh land lying near the river, in common and not enclosed, "commodiously watered and enriched by this navigable great river which runnes all along this ground a mile or two." This marsh land would have been worth more than the rent of the whole had it been divided and enclosed, our diarist says, and remarks that it would be only a small charge to make ditches. Apparently, however, my Lord of Ormond's uncle was either an easy-going gentleman of Conservative tendencies, and averse to improvements, or he was afraid of his landlord coming down upon him, and increasing his rent if he laid out anything upon the farm. To this land came sufficient of "fowle" in winter, and at a narrow point of the river "salmon, flooks (a Lancashire and Chesire name for plaice), and other fish sufficient" could be taken. Another strange custom appears to have obtained near Waterford, for Master Egerton records that there was an Englishman tenant keeping a dairy and renting thirty kine from the landlord, paying 30s. per annum each, "and half of the calves, all of which are to be reared." The milk was so good that they churned in the evening the morning's milk. Though our traveller saw "abundance of cheses," they did not sell any, and the butter was sold at only 4d. per lb. In the locality, as elsewhere, some tenants had no longer estate than from year to year, and they paid no rent in money, "onely plow the ground and allow the landlord a 3d part," and, adds the diarist, "this is soe sloathfully and improvidently ordered, as the ground is much impaired and yealds much less than if well husbanded." Resting at the King's Head at Waterford, Master Egerton, with the fear of the deep before his eyes, had preparations made of barley water, cordials, and perfumes, to take to sea to preserve him from fainting, for, like many other brave men, he was "never well at sea," and he spent an afternoon with the judicious apothecary referred to before, Mr. Jarvis Billiard, who, it would appear, had learned his business in Antwerp, and who showed him the best Mercator he had ever seen. Going down to the passage the next day, he found it so thronged that he could not have convenient lodgings, and had to put up with a hard bed, and to do without curtains, fire, or casements in a corner room, lodging at the Bell, "6d. ordinary," a resting-place described as a most unique house. The wind was favourable if they could have got out to sea, but it was too strong for them to venture upon the navigation of the river, but early upon St. James's Day they on board the Ninth Whelp discharged a piece of ordinance to summon our friend and his companions to embark, and Master Egerton had to depart without having taken breakfast, an accident he did his best to remedy by purchasing "half a mutton, cost 3s., and eggs 7 a pennie, and 3 pulletts at 3d. a piece," but, alas! he "wanted a stomache to make 670 AN IRISH TRIP: 1634. use of anie save some eggs and pulletts." The Ninth Whelp was entered in the King's Books as 215 tons burden, and she carried sixteen pieces of ordnance, "two brass sakers, six demi-culverin Drakes, and four iron demi-canon Drakes," with this kind of ordnance His Majesty "being much affected;" and the diarist gives us a list of the officers, including one temperate, well-governed, and well-affected man, who had lost an arm, and the boatswain, "corruptly called Boscon." The crew were mostly civilised and well-governed men, and divers of them, Master Egerton observed, "attentive and diligent at praier." Our friend's experience of the king's ship was that she was dainty and steady so long as she carried sail, and a swift sailer, able to give the advantage of a topsail to the most of the accompanying fleet, "for whom we made manye stayes and yett could nott keepe behind them." Suiting her course as a convoy to the ships she "waited upon to waft from Waterford to Bristoll faire, and to guard them from the Turks, of whom there was a feare, and a rumour that they were verye busie upon the coast of France," the Ninth Whelp had matches made ready and prepared, and looked for them about Lundy, but, doubtless to the disgust of the old sea dogs, Sir Beverley Newcomen and his crew saw none. Owing to the captain's care to see all the sails before him, the vessel "tottered and rolled intollerably," and made Master Egerton "vomitt extremely," Alderman Jones of Dublin and the Dean of Christ Church being comfortably located in the cabin, and, so far as we know, free from sea-sickness. The captain was in the master's cabin, and our diarist had to put up with the cabin in the gun-room, but he could not endure being under hatches except about four hours, when he could not rest, for the ship tossed so as though it had been tempestuous, "yett it was verye calm faire and moonshine night, but sometimes the waves flashed into the shippe at the loupe holes at sterne, soe as I could not endure in bed longer than one watch" Arising at 2 A.M. and going to the hatches, Master Egerton saw Lundy like a huge rock in the sea, but though it was the pirates' haven, he could not discover any, and after what, despite his sickness, he describes as a quick, pleasant, and dainty passage of twenty-six hours from the uttermost point of Ireland, he was landed from the Ninth Whelp at Minehead in Somerset, and, going no his way, we see him no more. JAMES BOWKER. A PARTY OF FOUR. IT is of no importance to any one, why on that particular evening I did not go down Bond Street to my club, as I had done many hundreds of times before; why, instead of betaking myself like a sensible man to my dinner, I plunged into Brook Street, and went mooning westward through the drizzle. Perhaps I was tired of dining, having dined so often before, only to dine again. Or perhaps I had taken afternoon tea and been snubbed, or wanted something out of the common to happen, or really had no reason at all for the freak. It is of no importance. The only point is that I did go westward, and something happened to me; as formerly to Columbus. It had an unpleasant beginning near Grosvenor Square. A little short of that place a hansom dashed up to the pavement, and drawing up sharply beside me splashed me so freely that I stopped short with a mild exclamation. The words were still in the air when two people jumped out of the cab, under a lamp as it chanced; and, while I stood glowering upon them, proceeded to pay the driver. The one was a tall girl, dressed in mourning; the other a child of twelve or thirteen, wearing the short, full skirts of that age, a purple cloak lightly edged with fur, and a big, purple hat partly covered by a white veil. Still standing, as much from indignation as to wipe the mud from my cheek, I heard what followed. "Kitty!" exclaimed the child, as the elder girl held up the fare, "do not pay him; let him wait for us." Kitty shook her head. "Why, dear?" she answered, gently; "we shall have no trouble in finding another." "But you will stay so long," her sister—I concluded they were sisters—pleaded, "and it is cold." "Indeed, I will not stay long," was the elder's reply. "I will stay a very, very little time, darling." Now, said I to myself, that girl is in trouble; and as they moved towards the square I, too, walked on, so that when they reached the corner, and stopped abruptly, I nearly ran against them. They were standing arm-in-arm, looking towards the inner pavement, which runs round the garden. Without intending to listen I heard, as I tacked round them—their umbrella acting as a sounding board—a few more words. 672 A PARTY OF FOUR. "Look, Kitty!" the younger was saying, "there she is again!" "Poor thing!" replied the elder girl. And that-that was all I heard. But the voice was the voice of an angel-in trouble. And the pathos and sorrow that rang in the two words set my curiosity vibrating more briskly than all their previous talk, or even their air of good breeding-out of place in the streets after nightfall-had been able to do. "There she is again," I said to myself. Up to this time I had learned, involuntarily, what I had. Now I took the first step towards meddling in a strange business by crossing the roadway to the garden instead of keeping along the outer pavement. I would see who was there again. And I did. I came upon her at once, a short, middle-aged woman, plainly dressed so far as I could see, and apparently of the lower class. She was standing still, her back to the garden railways, her eyes strained-or did I judge of that by her attitude?-in an intent looking towards the houses opposite her. There was nothing odd about her except this air of watching, and perhaps her position; nor anything to connect her with the two girls now lost in the gloom, but probably not far off. She did not move or avert her eyes as I brushed close before her, but only drew a quick sigh as of impatience at the obstacle, which for a moment intervened between her and her object. Naturally I examined the house at which she was looking. It was the second from the corner, a large house with a brightly lit porch, and heavy double doors. The rooms on the ground floor and the floor above were partly visible. Upstairs the curtains had been drawn, but not closely. In the dining-room below they had not been drawn, nor the blinds pulled to the bottom, so that I could see what was passing within. But the scene was commonplace enough. Two servants, an old man and a young one, were putting the finishing touches to a well-appointed dinner table; walking round it and daintily moving this thing and that, as all who create, though it be but a table effect, love to do. There were good pictures on the walls, there was plate on the sideboard, and shaded lamps cast a warm glow upon glass and flowers. But in all this there was nothing which might not be seen in a thousand houses; nothing which should have caused a person, unconnected with this one, to linger outside from curiosity. Yet stay. While I looked the men paused at their work. The elder seemed to be speaking to the other with animation, as if he were arguing with him or scolding him. More than once he raised his hands energetically, while the figure of the young man betrayed some shame I thought, and more obstinacy. Still there was nothing marvellous in this, a servant's dispute, and I was moving away, pishing and pshawing, when I saw a few yards from me, in the same attitude and gazing in the same direction A PARTY OF FOUR. 673 as the middle-aged woman, my former friends-the two girls of the cab. It was wonderful how my curiosity was set a-thrilling again. I vowed that there was something interesting afoot known to them, and suspected by me, but caviare to the stray passers-by. And not caring whether they saw me or not, or what they thought of me, I crossed over to the pavement to read the number of the house. I was making a note of it, when one leaf of the doors was thrown open violently. "Out you go, my lad!" cried a voice. And out accordingly, and down the steps, forcibly impelled as it seemed to me from behind, came the young man-servant, he whom I had seen in the dining-room. He held, in a helpless kind of way, as if they had been thrust upon him, an overcoat and a hat, and his face wore as foolish an expression of discomfiture as I ever saw. "Come, none of that, Mr. Bund!" he cried, in a weakly remonstrance, as he poised himself on the lowest step. "I do not see why I should go right away. I will not be turned out, sir." "Yes, you will, James," replied the butler, giving him a gentle push which landed him staggering on the pavement. "You will go or you will wait at table, which you were engaged to do, my lad." "Not on them!" exclaimed the young man, with a burst of excitement. "Why, you do not know the minute when one of them might turn round and-" "Hold your tongue!" broke in the other, imperiously, "or you will get into worse trouble than this; you mark my words." "You give me a month's wages," said the ejected one. He seemed to be a weak young man, and easily cowed. "Not I!" "Then let me get my things." "Your things! you can come and get them to-morrow," was the contemptuous answer. "You do not go down into the kitchen to chatter to-night, which is what you would be at. You are a mean cur, James, that is what you are!" "I would not talk of curs in that house, if I were you!" retorted James, spitefully. "People who live in-" He did not finish. His taunt, which seemed to me harmless enough, seemed quite otherwise to the butler. The latter sprang down the steps, swelling like a turkey-cock, and would certainly have fallen upon the offender, had not the young man, with a faint cry of alarm, fled along the pavement, and disappeared in the darkness. "What is the matter, butler?" I asked, as that worthy remounted the steps. He eyed me sharply. "Oh, only a servant that would be master!" he answered. "Pretty short-handed he has left me too, hang him!" VOL. XVII. 43 674 A PARTY OF FOUR. “With a party on your hands?” I said, sympathetically. “Party of four,” he answered shortly, his hand on the door; and he again looked me over, in doubt, I think, whether he should add “sir,” or not. I was wearing an old overcoat above my evening clothes, and instead of an opera hat had carelessly put on, the evening being damp, a low-crowned black hat. I interpreted his glance, and suddenly saw, as I fancied, a way in which I might gratify my curiosity. “Look here!” I said, preparing to make a bold plunge for it, “I can wait at table, and I am a respectable man. I will give you a hand for the evening, if you like.” He whistled softly, looking much astonished. “Could not do it,” he said, shaking his head. “There is plate about, and I do not know you from Adam.” “I am just off a job,” I urged, more eager now, and pleased to find my invention serve me so well. “I go out evenings. I am not badly off, but I would rather take half-a-crown and my supper, and perhaps extend my connection, than waste time. Look here, I have a gold watch—legacy from an old master. Suppose I hand it over to you as security for the forks. Terms, half-a-crown, and my supper.” “You can wait?” “Rather!” I said presumptuously. He wavered, poising my watch, an old-fashioned time-keeper, which had been my father’s, in his hand. “I am loath to let a stranger into the house,” he said, “but there is nothing Sir Eldred hates so much as a bad service. I am half inclined to try you, young man. I like your looks.” I could have said much on that, but refrained. “All I want is a job,” I answered modestly. “Then in you come,” he said, making up his mind. “It is just striking eight, and Sir Eldred is an impatient man at the best of times. Slip your coat and hat under this bench. And look slippery yourself, for there goes the master’s bell. I will take the meats and wines, and do you take the sauces and vegetables. The girl brings everything to the door. You understand, do you?” I said “Yes,” and did as I was bidden. But the prospect before me seemed more dubious now. My fingers had suddenly become thumbs, a very odd thing. And even my cheeks fell to burning, when almost immediately four gentlemen filed into the room, and sat down at the round table. Two minutes had not elapsed, however, before I was myself again; following my leader with cayenne pepper and lemon as to the manner born, and displaying, I flatter myself, a fair amount of readiness and aplomb. And so incongruous a party, for a West-End dining-room, were those four at the table, that I felt my curiosity was justified. I had no difficulty in picking out Sir Eldred. He alone looked A PARTY OF FOUR. 675 at me with passing surprise. He was a man of refined type, with aquiline nose, blue eyes, and a long fair beard; fastidious. whimsical, and a bit of an epicure, if appearances went for anything. Facing him, wearing a kind of undress uniform jacket, sat a man whom he addressed as “Slipper,” a short, sturdy sailor with a tanned face and goatee beard, and the separate use of an oath, which was new to me. The third at table, sitting at Sir Eldred’s right, was a pale, sickly youth, who from the moment of entering the room never ceased to fidget, I might almost say, to shiver and shake. If he touched a glass it rattled against its fellows. If I handed a dish to him, he knocked it with his elbow; and his fingers so persistently dropped his knife and fork, that I am sure the only food that reached his lips was the bread he continually crumbled. He wore the regulation dinner dress, but his air was not that of a gentlemen, although he came into the room on his host’s arm, and Sir Eldred showed him much attention, even clapping him on the shoulder as he sat down, and saying kindly, “Come, cheer up, my boy. We are all here again, you see.” “Ay, cheer up, lad,” cried the skipper, bluntly, as he spread his napkin with elaborate ease. “Care killed a cat!” “Oh, don’t, don’t!” cried the youth, staggering to his feet, as though a pin had run into him. “How can you! You—you—“ Trembling he cast a vicious glance, half hate, half fear at the sailor, and paused. “Skipper! skipper!” said Sir Eldred, reproachfully, laying his hand on the young man’s arm, and drawing him down again; “be a bit more careful.” “By the Lassie Kowen!” replied the sailor, “but I forgot.” And he showed a certain amount of real concern, though for the life of me I could not see what harm he had done. “Come, we are all here,” repeated the host, with an air of satisfaction. “Where” (to the butler) “is the claret, Bund? Bring it round, and let us drink our toast and be thankful.” A sort of grace, this, I thought. With some ceremony the butler, bidding me by a glance to stand back, brought from the sideboard a salver, bearing a Venetian glass carafe of claret, and four glasses. One of these he filled and gave to his master, who waited with it in his hands until all were served. Then, saying, with a ghost of a smile, “To our next meeting, gentlemen,” Sir Eldred raised it to his lips and drank it dry. The sailor followed suit, tossing off the wine with a kind of braggadocio, and smacking his lips afterwards with such gusto that I could scarcely think the liquor merely claret. The fourth at table, whom I have not described—a stout melancholy man of pasty complexion, with a big bald head and thick lips; he wore evening dress, but I saw the breadth of his thumb, and set him down for a master-saddler—took his glassful without looking up or saying 43A 676 A PARTY OF FOUR. a word. But even in him, as he set down the glass, I detected a curl of the lip that betokened relief. There remained only the young man at the host's right hand. Sir Eldred, beginning his soup, cast an anxious glance at him. "Peter thinks," he said lightly, "that he drinks best who drinks last. Come, pass the Rubicon! I mean," for it was evident the youth did not understand him, "drink it off, and no heeltaps, my boy." Thus adjured, the young fellow raised the glass to his lips with an unsteady hand, and with a queer shrinking look in his face that was an unintelligible to me as the rest of the scene did as he was ordered; not the least strange item being the interest which I could see that the other three secretly took in this simple action. "That is well done. We shall make a toper of you yet!" cried the host, slapping the table cheerily-over-cheerily perhaps. "Seven from forty-two leaves thirty-five. Skipper, you want something with more body in it. Bund, quick with the sherry. Fredricsson, you liked the soup last night. What of this? Now, Peter, to dinner! Care killed a-" he stopped with his mouth wide open, an expression of wrathful surprise on his face; and the skipper, who had had his glass of sherry, roared, "Ho! ho! ho! If the pilot do not know the shoals it is small blame to the sailor-man, Sir Eldred. That is good sea-law, by the Lassie Kowen." "I hate a sea-lawyer," retorted the baronet, testily. "So do I," was the hearty answer. After which the conversation, though always jerky, a fitful merriment alternating with a thoughtful pause, grew more general. The man of leather, who kept his appetite in spite of depression, gave gloomy praise to the cook. The youthful Peter hazarded a few tremulous remarks. And from these I gathered that this was not the first nor was it meant to be the last occasion of the quartette dining together. I stealthily rubbed my eyes, yet still they were all there, the fastidious baronet, the tradesman, the cockney clerk, the merchant mate. There, notwithstanding my rubbing, they still sat, hobnobbing together in this house in Grosvenor Square, and feigning, for some inscrutable reasons, to be of the same rank in life; to be one and all bred to the napkin. Was it some new Abbey of Thelema? I asked myself. Some extravagant off-shoot of Toynbee Hall? Some whim of a rich Socialist? Or was the baronet mad? or the youth some near relation, yet a monomaniac who had to be honored? Or had I really strayed into the land where cream tarts are dashed with pepper? I wondered, and remembering what the young footman had let fall, grew suspicious. It pleased me to hear the occasional rattle of a carriage passing through the square, and the heavy tread of a policeman outside. A PARTY OF FOUR. 677 It was in the baronet my curiosity centred. And, taking every opportunity of watching him, I was presently rewarded. I was handing some jelly to his opposite neighbour, when I saw him pause with his fork half-way to his lips, and listen. I listened too, and was conscious of a stir in the hall-of a noise as of some one or something shuffling to and fro, with every now and then a shorter throb of sound. Listening intently I forgot what I was about, and though the skipper had helped himself I continued to hold the dish before him, until his harsh voice roused me with a start. "Guess I'll not take whole cargo this voyage," he said. "You've dropped anchor too near in shore, young man." I drew back in confusion, but escaped notice, as Sir Eldred rose hastily. "I am afraid," he exclaimed, looking round in anger for the butler, who had slipped towards the door. "I am afraid- How is it, Bund, that my orders have been neglected?" Bund not answering, the sailor seemed at once to understand. "Oh! by the Lassie Kowen! this is too bad," he cried, violently. "Not that I mind for myself, not I. But our mate here-" and glancing at the gloomy epicure, he left his sentence unfinished. "Go and see, Bund," ordered Sir Eldred, wrathfully. "Go and see, sir." The butler had been standing near the door, with his hand upon it. Now he slid quickly out, and at once the noise ceased. While he was absent I noticed that the stout man desisted from eating, and sat with his eyes fixed upon the door and a look of dull alarm in them. "Well?" said Sir Eldred, when Bund came back. "Well?" "She went out by the area door, sir," the butler said in a low tone, "and came in by the front. I can assure you, sir, it will not occur again. I have-" and he added something, the meaning of which I could not catch. With that the incident ended, but it seemed to have destroyed such good fellowship as had existed. The bald tradesman left his jelly on his plate, and looked as if he was going to be ill. Sir Eldred's face wore a frown. The skipper tossed off two glasses of sherry, one on the top of the other. Only the white- faced clerk, fumbling with his bread, had betrayed no particular emotion, being too much taken up with his troubles, whatever they were, to perceive that anything strange was going forward, or to sympathise with the feelings of his companions. "Whatever was the matter outside, or whoever was the intruder," I thought. "They are a nervous lot. One is as bad as another. And then, who in heaven's name are they? Conspirators, madmen, actors, or practical jokers?" By this time dinner was over. The wine was being put on the 678 A PARTY OF FOUR. table, and I was dreading the order to withdraw - for curiosity raised to the pitch which mine had reached is an intolerable thing - when, following the skipper's eye, I saw a tear - an unmistakable tear, big, leaden, and unconventional - rolling down the fat face of the man known as Friedricsson. The skipper saw it too, as I have hinted. "Come," cried he bluntly, "don't give way, brother. We are all in the same boat." The stout man seemed by a melancholy shake of the head to demur. "You do not think so? Come, how do you foot it up?" asked the sailor briskly, affecting interest, as I thought, to draw the other into an argument. "They have neither wife nor child," he began. "You have only a wife." "You have no call to 'only' her," interrupted the merchantmate, sharply. "She is a woman in a hundred; ay, in a thousand! God bless her!" and he drank her health defiantly. "Well, you have no children," the other meekly answered, "and I have seven. Perhaps that seems a small thing to you, and to make no difference." But the skipper, nodding gravely, confessed that there was something in the distinction. And on the instant a ray of light pierced my mind. I divined who was the plainly-dressed woman I had seen watching the house. Clearly the woman in a hundred. The skipper's wife. And the two girls then - who were they? Sir Eldred had no wife or child. No; but at mention of those relations, a flush and a momentary parting of the lips, as in a smile arrested by some gloomy thought before it took shape, had been visible to one observing him. No, he had no wife or child; but that he had one who might some day be his wife I felt sure; as sure of it as she was then waiting and watching outside, sharing for some unknown reason the ill-lit wind-swept pavement with the other woman, and doing wifely service before her time. No wonder that I marvelled as I set on the olives. What - what on earth did it all mean? The glimpse of light I had gained only made the darkness more visible. But there, my chance was gone. The butler was giving me the sign to retire. The wine was already beginning to pass round the table. And though my eyes dwelt on the baronet to the last, that last had come, in another moment the door would have been closed behind me, when a sound, clear and prolonged, broke the momentary stillness of the square. There was nothing in the sound - to me, though I have heard it in lonely farmhouses and found it eerie enough, and though I know that it is a sound of awe to superstitious folk. It alone would not have stayed my hand upon the door; but the effect it produced did. The baronet swore, A PARTY OF FOUR. 679 disturbed, as it seemed to me, for others, rather than for himself. Friedricsson started nervously in his seat, and looked behind him. The sailor muttered something, and fidgeted oddly with his collar. Again the sound rose and fell dismally, and this time two of the four drank off a glass of wine as by a single impulse. The skipper was not one of these. He looked flushed, and was straining as if he had something in his wind-pipe. The clerk's face I could not see, his back being towards me. But he seemed little moved, even when a third time the long, dreary howl of a dog near at hand rose on the night air; and Sir Eldred, with a fiercer oath, sprang from his seat. "Bund, where the fiend is that brute?" he cried, roughly. "It is not Flora? Then send out and have it stopped. Have it stopped! Do you hear, you fool? Don't stand there gaping." And he flung his napkin on the table wrathfully. "Go!" I turned hurriedly to the butler, who was by my side, to learn why he did not go. He go? His whole soul was crying to be gone to feet that would not carry him away. His face froze me. His fat cheeks were quivering with over-mastering terror, and his eyes looking past me - past Sir Eldred too - were they eyes of a man looking upon death. I turned with a quick shudder to confront the worst. Ha! The skipper was clawing at his throat in an ugly fashion. His face had grown purple, and his hair become disarranged in a wonderfully brief time. He was beginning, too, to utter strange hoarse noises. A fit! I said to myself; and with a malediction on the butler's cowardice (I am not particularly brave, but there are some things, such as loosening a neckcloth, which one does owe to one's fellow-creatures) I sprang forward and undid the poor fellow's collar; and then tried to get him to lie down, not knowing whether that were right or not, but thinking, as he was inclined to be violent, that so he would do himself least harm. "A doctor!" I cried, trying to restrain him, for he was pulling the cloth from the table. "Quick, fetch a doctor!" I daresay that I spoke almost as imperiously as had Sir Eldred himself, for the truth was, I was disgusted with them one and all. The butler had escaped. I heard him fling open the outer door, and rush down the steps. And I hoped that he was gone for a doctor. But of the others only Sir Eldred, and he but perfunctorily, as I thought, and with a daintiness that could never have been less in place, gave me any assistance. The clerk had flung himself face downwards on a sofa, and was visible shaking from head to foot. The bald tradesman had retreated to the other end of the room, and was looking at us in silence over the back of an arm-chair, behind which he had intrenched himself. No help would come from them, although the poor sailor was 680 A PARTY OF FOUR. now in evil case, foaming at the mouth, and working his jaws. Remembering or fancying that sometimes the tongue is injured in these fits, I snatched a spoon from the floor and tried to insert the handle between his teeth, so as to prevent them closing; but before I could effect this, Sir Eldred clutched my arm and knocked the spoon from my grasp. "Are you mad?" I cried, enraged by his interference. "Are you mad, man?" he answered, scarcely able to speak for excitement, and still holding my wrist while the perspiration ran down his face. "Are you mad, or a fool, or tired of your life? Hold him down! That is enough, if you can do it. Bund has gone for the doctor. By Heaven, you are a foolhardy fellow, but a brave one!" "The doctor will come, I daresay," I answered, not understanding him one whit. "But I do not fancy he will put our friend's tongue in if once he bites it off." I meant to be rude. It is not easy to hold down a man in a fit, and be civil to the lookers-on in kid gloves. But somehow Sir Eldred missed the rebuke. "Be more cautious, man," he said, chidingly. "If I had thought this would happen, I would have left the poor fellow to himself. And Higginson? He said he would come at any hour, night or day! And why the deuce does he not come? But here he - Hallo!" I glanced up; not at the wretched cowards - they were beneath regard - but at the new-comer. It was not the doctor. But it was the next best thing; it was the woman I had seen in the square- the skipper's wife. And I never felt more thankful to see any one. She would know something about these attacks, and what ought to be done. When I heard her cry "Jack!" and rush towards him with arms outstretched to clasp him and, wife-like, save him from himself, the action seemed to me the most natural in the world. I did not dream of interfering, or standing in her way. Nay, I doubted my eyes when Sir Eldred arose from his knees with a sharp cry, and, seizing the woman by both wrists, bore her back by main force. "Are you mad?" I heard him say, using the same words he had used to me, as he struggled with her. "You can do no good, my poor soul; be calm. The doctor is coming!" She did not speak, but she wrestled with him, bringing down in another minute the table-cloth with all the service pell-mell upon me and the floor. And then she fell into hysterics. I snatched a hasty glance at her, and saw Sir Eldred trying to soothe her in a clumsy fashion. Then I had as much as I could do to hold my patient. I jerked out of his way a broken decanter, but he dashed his head so violently from side to side, amid the débris of knives and shattered glass, that he threatened each minute to do himself an injury, or do me one. He was a stout, heavy man. I could not by myself move him to a safer A PARTY OF FOUR. 681 place; and though the noise was appalling, and the whole house must have been alarmed minutes ago, no one came to my help. I was breathless and giddy. The poor fellow was growing more and more violent as my grasp upon him relaxed; and I felt that in another moment he must take his chance, when, just at the crisis of his paroxysm, a small gloved hand slid into the little space under my eyes, and deftly removed a broken plate, which I had been making frantic but vain efforts to push away with my foot. Away went its jagged edges out of sight, and away the same dexterous hand swept half-a-dozen other ugly things. Then this dea ex machinâ, by a few gentle touches, stilled the poor man. "Good, indeed! a thousand thanks!" I cried eagerly, raising my eyes to the face of the girl in mourning. "He is not," I added, seeing how white the face was, "a pleasant sight, but he is better. I think I can manage him now." As I spoke I looked from her to the others, having leisure now to think of them. At the same instant Sir Eldred glanced up from his charge. Our eyes did not meet; but I saw his, as they rested on the girl beside me, suddenly dilate. His lips moved. He dropped his burden as if she had been lead; and springing forward laid his hands upon the girl's shoulders - to pull her away as it seemed. But so panic-stricken was he that he had not strength to do it; and only rocked her to and fro, saying hoarsely, "Helen! Helen! Come; you are killing me. Think what might -" "Happen?" and turning upon him, while his lips still faltered, a look that should have given courage to a lamb - a look full of pure exaltation that glorified the pallor of her face - she added, "And what then? I should but share your fate: for better, for worse!" That did give him strength. "Oh!" he said, ragefully, and dragged her away. I heard her utter a faint cry of protest, and then she fainted in his arms, almost at the moment when a stout clean-shaven man came briskly in. "Dear! dear! dear!" he exclaimed, looking nervously round at the strange scene - the senseless girl, the sobbing woman, the baronet on his knees beside the sofa, the two pale-faced cravens at the further end. "Dear! dear! dear! We must get rid of these people. We can do nothing with these people here. It is a pity I was out. And what is it, eh? What is it?" "Well, it might be the black death!" I replied, testily. He had not asked the question as seeking information, but mechanically, as if it were a form to be gone through. "People could not be much more afraid of the poor fellow." "But," he answered, kneeling down suddenly, and laying his hand on the skipper's forehead so as to raise the eyelids, "this is not hydrophobia! this is only a fit! and not the first he has had either. Sir Eldred! Mr. Friedricsson! Where are you? 682 A PARTY OF FOUR. There is no cause for alarm. Our friend is only in a fit. It is not hydrophobia!" "Who said it was?" I replied, groping about for the truth, and yet at once understanding a part of it, and shuddering. We were alone now with the sailor. "The servant. Still it was an excusable error under the circumstances," replied the doctor, cheerily. "But I always thought Sir Eldred's quixotic plan a mistaken one. Though M. Pasteur considered all danger over, yet during the six weeks of probation there is always a risk. There! He is coming round. He will do well now. I must go and see the ladies." I detained him a moment. Of course he took me for a guest. "Were they bitten at the same time?" I asked. "All four on the same day. By different animals though. One by a cat," he replied, genially. "Sir Eldred by a fox-hound puppy, just off the walk. They entered M. Pasteur's establishment also on the same day, were inoculated the same day, and discharged the same day. Singular thing, was it not? So Sir Eldred-kind-hearted man, but whimsical-said, 'They should see it out together, and fare the same.' Ha! ha! Coming, Sir Eldred! The young lady is upstairs, is she?" He hurried away, and Bund coming in, I caught the butler's eye, as he lifted it for a moment from a sorrowful contemplation of the wreck on the floor. "You have made your fortune, young man," he said, as unasked he put my watch into my hand. "I liked your looks from the first. Sir Eldred is asking to see you. And you are to call a cab." I did so; and getting into it drove to my club to supper. STANLEY J. WEYMAN. DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. A NEW THEORY. THERE is a theory abroad nowadays, which, though utterly improbable on the face of it, is apparently gaining ground every day, namely, that happiness is equally distributed amongst individuals, and that, although we may be disposed to imagine that the lives of some persons are extremely wretched, while those of others are most enjoyable, this is really not the case; but that, taking all the circumstances together, one person is as happy as another, and the poor have far more enjoyment, and the rich far more sadness, than we give them credit for. A great deal has been said and written to show that wealth is not happiness, and that cheerfulness and contentment may go hand in hand with poverty. Old Robert Burton, in his "Anatomy of Melancholy," draws such a sorry picture of the moneyed man as would almost dispose us to pray that we might never belong to that class; while Charles Lamb makes out that the beggar is "the only free man in the universe," and with felicitous plausibility shows him to be possessed of so many and great advantages, that we feel inclined to join the fraternity forthwith. Another writer, too (whose name I have forgotten), draws quite a captivating picture of the pauper:- "Poverty runs strongly to mirth. A man never so full of jokes as when he is reduced to one shirt and two potatoes; while wealth is taciturn and fretful. Stockbrokers would as soon indulge in a hearty laugh as they would lend money on a second mortgage. Those who have wealth are too often saddled with law suits and dyspepsia. The poor cannot indulge in woodcocks, but they have a style of appetite that converts a number three quality mackerel into a salmon; and that does quite as well." The author of a recent novel ("Demos") hits upon the same theory, and thus delivers himself:- "The life of the very poorest is a struggle to support their bodies; the rich, relieved of that one anxiety, are overwhelmed with such a mass of artificial troubles that their few moments of genuine repose do not exceed those vouchsafed to their antipodes. You would urge the sufferings of the criminal class under punishment. I balance against it the misery of the rich under the scourge of their own excesses. It is a mistake due to mere thoughtlessness or ignorance to imagine the labouring or even the destitute population as ceaselessly groaning beneath the burden of their existence. Go along the poorest street in the East End of London, and you will hear as much laughter, witness as much gaiety, as in any thoroughfare of the West.... A being of superior intelligence, regarding humanity with an eye of perfect understanding, would discover that life was enjoyed every bit as much in the slum as in the palace." 684 DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. Such testimony as this, however, affords no scientific explanation of the many paradoxes the theory involves. It simply carries to their legitimate conclusion the many worn-out truisms concerning wealth and poverty which our grandmothers still impress upon us, and which still pass for original philosophy in country pulpits. Whoever undertakes to prove that the tramp, who lives in rags and dirt and dies in the workhouse, has no less happy an existence than the influential nobleman who looks out from his drawing-room upon half a mile of lawn, has certainly a very onerous task, one in which the odds are supremely against him, and in which he will not be much assisted by the sympathy of common-sense people. Nor am I about to undertake this task. Whenever it is scientifically attempted, however, the proof must depend largely -if not entirely-on the elaboration of a principle which is embodied in numerous proverbs, saws, and maxims in our language :- "Extremes produce extremes ;" "Extremes meet ;" "The hour before dawn is always the darkest ;" "After a storm comes a calm ;" "March, if it comes in like a lion, will go out like a lamb ;" "Soon hot, soon cold ;" "The longest way round is the shortest way home ;"-are proverbial expressions of a principle which seems to run all through nature, and which may possibly be yet found to embody some general law of compensation in the physical world. But we have similar proverbs pointing to the same principle in human nature itself, and indicating that there also extremes meet, and so compensate each other. Let us string them together a little ornamentally, like beads on a necklace, thus :-Childhood and old age are extremes, but they meet each other, and in many essentials are the same ; therefore we say, "An old man is twice a child." Are you conceited, haughty, proud? you will soon be brought low ; "Pride goes before a fall." Does any man spring suddenly into fame or notoriety ? he will probably be forgotten in a few months ; let him remember the saying, "Up like a rocket, down like the stick." Are you downhearted or distressed, in misfortune or trouble, with all things against you ? it is a sign that prosperity and happiness are coming to you ; "Things at the worst begin to mend," or, as another proverb has it, "When the bricks were doubled, Moses came." A man who has been very wicked is capable, if he turn from the error of his ways, of excelling those who have always been good ; "The greater the sinner, the greater the saint." Is a man desperately in love ? he will soon revert to a state of frigid indifference ; "The hottest love is the soonest cooled," "Soon hot, soon cold." Are you collecting vast stores of wealth, and hoarding it up ? the disbursement will be all the more sudden and revengeful ; "After a gatherer comes a scatterer." If a man is over anxious to accomplish some business to perfection, and calls in DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. 685 the help and advice of every one, the matter will probably be a failure,-better he had done it by himself ; "Too many cooks spoil the broth." Does he hurry with eagerness and impatience ? he will succeed no better than the slowest ; "More haste, less speed ;" he should "make haste slowly ;" the fable of the hare and the tortoise is well known. Does he watch with anxious expectancy for some event ? it will not come ; "A watched pot never boils." Is he, on the other hand, full of patience ? all things will come to him ; Tout vient à point à qui sait attendre. Is a man a stranger in a crowded city ? he will feel very lonely ; for "A crowd is not company." Is he by himself ? without a soul near him ? he may feel the reverse of solitary ; "Never less alone than when alone" has long been a theme for poets. But I might moralise in this strain the length of a summer's day, and the writings of Solomon are full of these apparent paradoxes, which are really nothing more than exemplifications of this theory of extremes. Now a proverb is a peculiar thing ; nay, it is a great and wonderful thing. It is the codified expression of the accumulated experience of ages ; it is the creed of common-sense in miniature ; it is the safety-valve for the poor man's philosophy. A proverb does not point to a personal characteristic or to a single event ; it embodies a principle rooted deep in human nature ; it speaks the beliefs and feelings of a nation, and thus of mankind at large. There is no limit in time or space to the range of the truth contained in a proverb. This being the case, we may expect to find numerous isolated facts throughout nature to illustrate the truth of any one proverb ; and when we have several proverbs all pointing to the same truth, we may well conclude that the facts in nature to corroborate that truth are practically innumerable. I shall just refer to a few of these facts in the Physical world, and then to some concrete instances in the Moral world, culled chiefly from the pages of history, all illustrative of the principle that "extremes meet." The atmosphere, in latitudes like England, presents no extremes ; it is never very clear, never very foul. In countries like Egypt, however, the atmosphere is exceedingly clear, and travellers never weary of praising the brilliancy of its midnight sky. Nowhere, also, does the air become at times so impure and heavily charged as in such countries, and the blinding sand-storms that occur constitute a heavy penalty for the blessing of superior rarefaction. There is a curious fact connected with the vibration of a tuning-fork ; if placed against the lips when vibrating at a medium rate of about five hundred per second, it will cause no pain ; but if vibrating much more slowly, or much more quickly, at two hundred or at eight hundred per second, it will hurt the lips. Another remarkable instance of extremes meeting is found in 686 DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. the case of lead. It is a scientific fact that you may dip your hand into a cauldron of lead molten red-hot, without being burned, the moisture of the hand acting as a shield between your skin and the flesh; the lead, however, must be extremely hot. So, likewise, you may lick a red-hot poker without being injured. Another similar fact is, that to touch with the naked hand a piece of metal frozen at a temperature far below zero, will produce the same effect as to handle a red-hot iron; both will burn severely. Smoke is produced by fire; it is also produced by ice, as Arctic travellers well know. Sleepiness is caused by heat, and also by cold. Candles, when lighted, almost go out, and then blaze up brightly. Seeds, when sown, almost die, and then spring up and fructify. The same is true in the moral world. Bunyan makes the Slough of Despond precede success; and death itself is preceded by a lightness in which men rise altogether above themselves,-to which fact Shakespeare more than once alludes. Sudden dearth and sudden abundance both bring on dangerous illnesses. Of this we have striking examples in the case of Livingstone, Kane, and other explorers. The hottest and driest regions of the world are within the tropics. Within the tropics also are the wettest regions. On the equator itself there is a zone (called by sailors the Doldrums) of perpetual rain. Let us pursue the same line of thought a little way in the domain of Human Nature and see what facts are at hand. Great comedians are subject to attacks of melancholy, which are often incurable. "What shall I do to be rid of my melancholy?" said a man to a physician one day. "Go and see A-,the comedian," replied the doctor. "Sir," said the man, "I am A-!" Immortal books, discoveries, inventions, buildings, all die of neglect, and are almost killed by hostile criticism, before they are accepted and worthily recognised. This fact is obvious to every one. "When once," said Mr. Preece, lecturing at the Royal Institution (February 1878),- "when once a new thing is shown to be true, a host of detractors delight in proving that it is not new. The inventor has to pass through the ordeal of abuse. He is shown to be a plagiarist, or a purloiner, or something worse. Others are instanced as having done the same thing years ago, though perhaps their own existence, apart from their ideas, has never before been heard of." The very high and the very low meet each other in a singular variety of ways. A king is plural,-"It pleases us" to do so and so; he does not condescend to use the singular. But neither does a beggar,-"Give us a copper, sir!" says the latter. The lowest classes have very lax notions of the importance of the marriage tie. In our largest towns many of them live in a state of nature. So do some of the highest and most cultured persons, and they do so on principle. DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. 687 Some people are interrupted while reading or writing if they hear a person talking. They are not put out, however, if they hear a large room-full of persons conversing. London and the deserts of Arabia are two opposite extremes; but in many respects they meet. "A great city is a great solitude;" "A crowd is not company," says Bacon. There are wandering Arabs in the desert, and there are street arabs in London; and these latter are not arabs in name merely, but in many respects lead lives similar to those of the Levant. The fear that something will happen to us, sometimes makes us go and do that very thing. The fear of death has caused persons to commit suicide. The tenderest love has produced the same results as the bitterest hate. The fondest mothers have been known to cut their infants' throats, for no assignable reason except on this theory of extremes. In the same way, very joyful and very awful news produce the same effect on weak-minded women; it makes them delirious or hysterical. The very dread of falling from a height makes some people to wish to precipitate themselves forthwith. Quite consistent with all this is the fact, that wit and pathos spring from the same source, and are closely allied. Hood and Goldsmith were the authors of the most laughable as well as of the most pathetic poems in the language. "The author of the 'Comic Annuals' can scarcely be conceived of as writing such a poem as the 'Bridge of Sighs.' Yet it is true that humour is generally united with sadness." The gate of laughter is very close to the fountain of tears. If we cherish anything too warmly, we pay for our affection by total loss. This fact is well known, and has given rise to many proverbs. "Those whom the gods love die young" is a saying as old as the Greeks; and Moore's lines:- "I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die," are equally well known. The remedy is, not to live or cherish anything too dearly. The Arabs have a curious mode of effecting this. They pretend to hate what they most love, and will not allow any one to praise it. They keep their favourite children in a state of shocking nastiness, in order to preserve them from eulogy and envy, and the "evil eye," as they call it. Lastly, let us take a few concrete examples from History, to illustrate this theory of the proximity of extremes. To be the greatest of all men,-to have one's name known and one's works read in every civilised country, is to be in danger of losing one's identity altogether. The question of the individuality of Homer has long been hotly contested; and now it is actually 688 DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. believed by some person that the author of Shakespeare's plays was not Shakespeare at all, but Lord Bacon, or somebody else. The most famous and illustrious of men have to suffer such aspersion and indignities as probably make their lives no happier than that of the man who lives unseen, unknown, and unlamented dies. In 1832 the people turned savagely on the victor of Waterloo, the hero of a hundred fights, the vanquisher of Napoleon, the saviour of England, and there was "a fierce and dangerous assault by the London mob upon the Duke of Wellington himself" (Rev. J. F. Bright's "History of England," Vol. III., p. 1433). In 1782 Henry Grattan, having won independence for his country, was the darling and hero of Ireland, and the Irish Parliament voted him £100,000. In 1818 he was nearly being thrown into the Liffey by the infuriated people. "After passing Carlisle bridge," says Mr. Madden, in his "Memoir of Grattan," "a base and execrable gang assailed him with ferocity, and, strange to say, he was nearly stoned to death in his native city." The Duke of Marlborough, after winning Blenheim and Ramillies, had to go into voluntary banishment. Clive, after founding our Indian Empire, was censured by Parliament, and committed suicide. Warren Hastings' trial lasted seven years. But the most conspicuous example of extremes in reputation is that of Lord Byron. "At twenty-four," says Macaulay, in his "Essay," "he found himself on the highest pinnacle of literary fame, with Scott, Wordsworth, Southey, and a crowd of other distinguished writers beneath his feet. There is scarcely and instance in history of so sudden a rise to so dizzy an eminence. . . . The gaze of a hundred drawing-rooms, the acclamations of the whole nation, the applause of applauded men, the love of lovely women, all this world and all the glory of it were once offered to the youth," Let us now turn to another page in his history. "The newspapers were filled with lampoons, the theatres shook with execrations, he was excluded from circles where he had lately been the observed of all observers. . . . The unhappy man left his country for ever. The howl of contumely followed across the sea, up the Rhine, over the Alps." Many great men have their "rocket-stick" fall before they go up, and a severe one it is. "Nothing is more remarkable than the contrast between the obscurity of Wyclif's earlier life, and the fulness and vividness of our knowledge of him during the twenty years which preceded its close" (Green's "Short History of the English People," p, 228). The same may be said of Socrates, and many others. Marlborough's "victories began at an age when the work of most men is done" (Ibid., p. 692). Bruce had to pay for Bannockburn by previous miseries and misfortune, living the life of a fugitive, and exile, a hunted thing. "For four years Bruce's career was that of a desperate adventurer; but it was adversity which transformed the reckless murderer of Comyn into the noble leader of a nation's cause" (Ibid., p. 206). DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. 689 Balliol, on the other hand, had his fall after his rise. I read as follows in the "Student's Hume" (p. 170), "The arms of Balliol were attended with surprising success; he was crowned at Scone." By December in the same year (1332), however, he was "put to the rout and chased into England in a miserable condition. Thus he lost his kingdom in a few months by a revolution as sudden as that by which he had acquired it." Bunyan's sufferings preceded his happiness and fame. He was the "son of a poor tinker at Elstow, in Bedfordshire, and even in childhood his fancy revelled in terrible visions of heaven and hell" (Green's "Short History," p. 454). That the agonies he suffered were for offences venial, if not altogether trifling, makes no difference; they were, nevertheless, "agonies such as almost overthrew his reason" (Shaw's "History of English Literature," p. 238). Cromwell's experiences, before he rose to be virtual King of England, were of a similar description, and he also closed his life in trouble. He had a greater reputation than Bunyan; but he had to pay a heavier penalty also. "Our first glimpse of Oliver Cromwell is as a young country squire and farmer in the marsh levels around Huntingdon and St. Ives, buried from time to time in a deep melancholy, and haunted by fancies of coming death. 'I live in Meshac,' he writes to a friend, 'which signifies prolonging; in Kedar, which signifies darkness.'" (Green, p. 454.) When every one thought that Lord Bacon was at the pinnacle of human greatness, he was in reality on the edge of a precipice down which he was destined to fall. "To ordinary eyes the Chancellor was a the summit of human success. Jonson had just sung of him as one 'whose even thread the fates spin round and full, out of their choicest and their finest wool.' The great Parliament of 1620 met after a silence of six disgraceful years, and one of its first acts was to charge Bacon with corruption. He at once pleaded guilty to the charge" (Green, p. 593), was tried, condemned, sentenced, and disgraced. If any one "protests too much" that he will not do a certain thing, there needs no Hamlet to come to the stage and tell us that he is pretty certain to do it. William III., after the death of his queen, "seemed so broken-hearted that he declared he could never again lead an army;" and yet "when once he had conquered his first grief, he resumed his old energy, and success such as he had never yet met with attended his efforts both at home and abroad." Macaulay, without formulating any theory on the subject, was very fond of calling attention to the historical outcome of one extreme from another. In the war of the Spanish Succession, Peterborough's great achievement was the taking of Barcelona. Now mark how this came about. The town, which was defended by the fortress of Monjuich, was besieged by the English and their allies. Bur the Earl objected to the undertaking; his camp was divided into hostile factions, and he was censured by VOL. XVII. 44 690 DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. all. The Dutch commander said that his soldiers would not stir, and that the whole business was madness. "No general was ever in a more deplorable situation than that in which Peterborough was now placed. . . . At length, after three weeks of inaction, Peterborough announced his fixed determination to raise the siege. The heavy cannon were sent on board. Preparations were made for re-embarking the troops. . . . On the 12th of September there were rejoicings and entertainments in Barcelona for this great deliverance from the English," etc. But "on the following morning the English flag was flying on the ramparts of Monjuich," and the town was taken. (Macaulay, "Essay on War of Succession in Spain.") In the same essay Macaulay goes on to point out another curious coincidence in Spanish warfare:- There is no country in Europe which it is so easy to overrun as Spain. There is no country in Europe which it is more difficult to conquer. . . . In no country have such strong fortresses been taken by surprise; in no country have unfortified towns made so furious and obstinate a resistance to great armies." So in this war the allies had been remarkably successful. "The reduction of Monjuich was the first of a series of brilliant exploits." The Spaniards lay crushed and helpless; "and now at last when it seemed that all was lost, when it seemed that the most sanguine must relinquish all hope, the national spirit awoke fierce, proud, and unconquerable. The people had been sluggish when the circumstances might well have inspired hope; they reserved all their energy for what appeared to be a season of despair." Peterborough succeeded by virtue of irregular genius, and when he least expected it, and he succeeded he knew not how. Had he made all his arrangements with mathematical precision, and trusted to them to succeed as a matter of course, he would probably have failed, as did Lord Galway. "Lord Galway," says Macaulay, "conducted the campaign of 1707 in the most scientific manner. On the plain of Almanza he encountered the army of the Bourbons. He drew up his troops according to the methods prescribed by the best writers, and in a few hours lost eighteen thousand men, a hundred and twenty standards, all his baggage, and all his artillery." Great wars have generally opened unsuccessfully for the side that has ultimately triumphed. In the English Civil War the Parliamentarians were at first beaten on all sides. Hampden was killed at Chalgrove field, "and his death seemed an omen of the ruin of the cause he loved. Disaster followed disaster." Bristol surrendered to Charles, who was now master of the west, "and the flight of six of the few peers who remained at Westminster to the [king's] camp at Oxford proved the general despair of the Parliament's success. From this moment, however, the firmness of the Parliamentary leaders began slowly to reverse the fortunes of the war." (Green, Ibid., p. 533.) We all known the issue; the next year saw Marston Moor, and the following year witnessed Naseby. The American War of Independence opened badly for the Americans. "Washington was weakened by withdrawals and defeat, and disheartened. . . . The Congress prepared to fly DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. 691 from Philadelphia, and a general despair showed itself in cries of peace." (Green, Ibid., p. 756.) Next year, however, saw the capitulation of Burgoyne at Saratoga, and Chatham's words, "You cannot conquer America" were found to be too true. The Seven Years' War was no exception to this rule. "No war has had greater results on the history of the world, or brought greater triumphs to England; but few have had more disastrous beginnings." (Green, Ibid., 727.) Even the individual triumphs in this war were bought by individual depression and despair. Witness the Conquest of Canada. Quebec commands Canada, and Wolfe was sent out by Pitt to take it. An assault was attempted, but the English were beaten off. The succours under Amherst and Johnson did not arrive, and the combined movement was a failure. "On the 9th of September Wolfe wrote a despatch in which he seemed quite to despair of success. Within a week Quebec was taken." (Bright, Ibid., vol. iii., p. 1030.) Frederic the Great had the same experiences in this war. He ruled over five million souls. "The population of the countries which were leagued against him amounted to a hundred millions. . . .In truth, there was hardly a politician or a soldier in Europe who doubted that the conflict would be terminated in a very few days by the prostration of the house of Brandenburg. Nor was Frederic's own opinion very different. He anticipated nothing short of his own ruin and of the ruin of his family." And yet, when the struggle was ended, "the king's fame filled all the world," . . . the war was over. Frederic was safe. His glory was beyond the reach of envy." (Macaulay, "Essays.") He had won Rosbach, Leuthen, Zorndorf, and Torgau. The Peninsular War opened (consistently with ultimate victory) with disasters to England. "Moore was forced to fall back hastily on the coast. His force saved its honour in a battle before Corunna, on the 16th of January, 1809, which enabled it to embark in safety; but elsewhere all seemed lost." (Green, Ibid., p. 800.) And no one at the time foresaw Talavera, Torres Vedras, Salamanca, and Vittoria. What is true of military occurrences is also true of social and political movements. "The dissolution of the Parliament of 1629 marks the darkest hour of Protestantism, whether in England or in the world at large. But it was in the hour of despair that he Puritans won their noblest triumph;" for it was then that they founded the New England States which have since developed into the mighty American Republic. (Green, Ibid., p. 490.) We have already seen how frequently the highest and the lowest classes meet each other. Here is an instance from history:- After the Restoration, every atom of religion was swept away, both from among the very rich and the very poor, but not from among the middle classes. 44A 692 DARKEST BEFORE DAWN. "There was, no doubt, a revolt against religion and against churches in both the extremes of English society. 'In the highest circles every one laughs,' says Montesquieu, on his visit to England, 'if one talks of religion.' Of the prominent statesmen of the time the greater part were unbelievers in any form of Christianity, and distinguished for the grossness and immorality of their lives. . . . At the other end of the social scale lay the masses of the poor. They were ignorant and brutal to a degree which it is hard to conceive. . . . The rural peasantry, who were fast being reduced to pauperism by the abuse of the poor laws, were left without moral or religious training of any sort. . . . Within the towns things were worse, . . . but in the middle class the old piety lived on unchanged." (Green, Ibid., p. 717.) This principle or law (if such it can be called) relates also to literature, public questions, and Parliamentary measures. But the material to hand is inexhaustible, and I shall just conclude by making Professor Freeman bear unwitting testimony to its truth :-- "There is one rule to which, in my own experience, I have never known an exception. . . . When statesmen who pride themselves chiefly on common sense, when newspapers which pride themselves on a certain air of dignified infallibility, make light of a question or a movement, when they scorn it, when they snub it, when they call it 'sentimental,' when they rule it to be beyond the range of practical politics, we know, almost as certainly as we know the next eclipse of the moon, that that question will be the most practical of all questions before long." ("Methods of Historical Study.") A. W. HOLMES-FORBES. PLANTATION LIFE. IN common with most Englishmen who have lived "down South" for a year or so, I had seen a good deal of our emancipated negro brethren, and felt by no means enthusiastic about renewing the acquaintance at close quarters ; whence I was not greatly cheered by the remarks of a friend, to whom I communicated the fact that my work would take me to B----- Plantation during the "sugar months." "Ever tried plantation life before ?" he demanded, with a pitying expression. "No," I returned ; "but rumour reports that the machinery is very old and of a peculiarly primitive description, so we may anticipate a pleasing chapter of accidents." "Accidents !" he echoed ; "why, if it were not for boilers 'busting up' now and then, and other stirring incidents of a similar nature, you'd simply perish in that howling wilderness of sugar-canes and niggers, for want of a little wholesome excitement, which is opportunity afforded by a regular breakdown of the machinery when the work is in full swing ! I may add that manners are as primitive as the mills on a plantation ; so don't be surprised if you chance to see an overseer draw his revolver on an offending nigger -- such things are not unheard of in spite of emancipation." I was, however, bound to see the thing through, notwithstanding my friend's encouraging information ; and we started next day, arriving at B----- Plantation on a Sunday morning, the 16th November, after an enjoyable little trip down the Mississippi on a river steamer, the weather being delightfully balmy and mild, as the autumn usually is in the south. It was Sunday morning, but the sugar-mill was running full blast, as it is not allowed to stop day or night until the grinding season is over, -- except, indeed, in case of accidents, to which my friend alluded so feelingly. Nearly all the hands employed in this work are negroes, only a few white men being required, such as engineers, sugar-makers, and so forth ; and these merely visit the plantations when the cane is ripe and sugar-boiling begins. On the larger plantations the negroes all live together in small wooden houses, the "quarters," as they are called, resembling a small village, 694 PLANTATION LIFE. closely packed and densely populated, placed at a short distance from the planter's house. The women and children are usually employed during the season in cutting cane and feeding the mill ; but as they do not work on Sundays we encountered all the feminine population with the children and old men, as we stepped off the boat and walked towards the quarters. Most of these good people were lying huddled together upon the ground like sheep ; some were fast asleep, others were laughing and chattering together, or singing as they lay stretched out, basking in the sun just as a tired dog will do ! At our nearer approach a part of this human flock slowly raised their lazy heads, staring at us with open mouths and eyes, very much as though they had never beheld a white man before ; whilst others grinned and giggled as only a nigger can ; and some few actually took to their heels and fled, as though we were ogres ! On the whole, however much we might feel flattered at having produced so profound an impression, our reception was slightly embarrassing ; but fortunately one old man remained within speaking distance, and he ventured to accost us with, "Whar's yer gw'in, chil'len ?" I replied that I had come to look for a sweetheart, and asked if he couldn't recommend me to one ; whereat the old fellow fired up at once, retorting with immense dignity, "Now, look a-hyar, chile, yer may jus' as well turn right roun' an' go back, for we harn't got no gals hyar." I laughed, and changed the subject by asking the way to the sugar-house ; then the old man pulled off his battered hat with a flourish, saying, "Is you the gem'man wot's a-comin' engineer hyar ?" After I had set his mind at rest by gratifying his curiosity he was very respectful, and at once led the way to the mill. Amongst our earliest acquaintances on the plantation, with whom we were destined to become intimate, if not "friendly," was the "coloured lady" who acted as our cook and housekeeper. Lucy was a little, dirty old woman, with a perfect mania for rows and quarrelling ; when she had no one near her with whom she could get up a dispute or a battle royal, she would growl and grumble to herself unceasingly from morning till night ! She had once been the planter's own particular cook, whence she thought it most intensely humiliating to cook for anybody else, especially "poor mean white trash," as she contemptuously designated engineers, overseers, and sugar-makers alike ! This feminine chef had to cater for ten people ; and our fine, healthy appetites were amongst her greatest grievances, occasioning the loudest laments ; but I scarcely saw how this affected her until one day when I discovered that all food left at the end of the day was her perquisite, which she was allowed to take home to her family. So, of course, the more we ate the less she had to take away. She developed a playful habit of keeping up PLANTATION LIFE. 695 a running fire of scathing criticism during the progress of each meal, which we speedily learned to endure with philosophic equanimity. After all it did not greatly interfere with appetite or digestion to be informed that we were a set of loafing tramps in the habit of begging our living from door to door ; or that we never sat down to a "square" meal in our lives until we arrived at B----- Plantation, where we "put on more airs" than the planter himself. If any one was fool enough to reply to these elegant criticisms, Lucy would jump at him furiously with, "I'se not talkin' to you, man ; I'se talkin' to meself !" As a rule we used to take our meals by twos and threes as our work in the mill ended. I was generally the first arrival (being the first off watch), and entering the dining-room, would inquire whether the dinner was ready. Usually Lucy would not condescend to notice me at all ; but if she were in a particularly gracious mood, she would say, "Sit down, man," I meekly obeyed her behest, beguiling the time with various pipes and a newspaper, until my dinner should make its appearance. In about half an hour the chef would arrive with an armful of plates and dishes (she never by any chance laid the table beforehand !) ; this hopeful sign would be followed by another delay of fifteen minutes, during which I grew still hungrier and more tired of waiting ; but if I ventured to call out at the expiration of this period, and ask if dinner were ever coming, Lucy would crawl into the room with folded arms, observing casually, "Bless God, man ! think I'm a steam-car ?" If anybody attempted a more forcible remonstrance, she would stop short, and pour out her wrath upon the offender after this style, "Don't you cuss me, white man ! Don't cuss me if I is black ; black skin's as good as white trash, anyhow !" On an average we were from an hour to an hour and a half getting every meal served, which occasioned us not a little inconvenience, since we had only six hours out of every twelve in which to eat, sleep, and "take our divarshion." It must be remembered the work was incessant day and night, some of it very anxious and fatiguing work too, as may be imagined when I way that my friend's prophetic utterances concerning the damaged boilers and ramshackle machinery were in no way exaggerated, the boilers at B----- Plantation sometimes bursting every third or fourth day ! and for the most part I was thoroughly engrossed in the difficulties of my work, since I had to make shift with the primitive and worn-out appliances at hand until the sugar season came to an end. I am not attempting to follow any straight line in relating my experiences on a plantation, but am merely describing some of the chief "events" in a life that, despite the oddity of its surroundings, and, to an Englishman, its distinctly foreign accessories, is at once monotonous and almost featureless. Amongst the exciting scenes may be classed the funeral of an old negro, which 696 PLANTATION LIFE. we attended in the end of December. We were told that the performance would in some respects be rather a striking novelty to English eyes, and decidedly dramatic in effect. Wherefore we waited patiently in the little negro burying-ground some time before the funeral cortège arrived. Although this last resting-place -- "Where all sleep well, unsung to" -- was rude, wild, and neglected, it was neither devoid of interest nor a certain picturesque melancholy. Its chief feature was a huge Louisiana evergreen oak, whose far-spreading branches almost covered the entire area ; and beneath its perpetual shade reposed the bones of many generations of toilers, from the days of slavery to the present time ; whilst here and there we discerned little tokens of lost loves and vanished hopes, eloquent in their quaint simplicity. But at last the funeral procession was seen in the distance, and we returned to the gate to await its arrival. An old grey-headed negro, bearing the "stars and stripes," walked in front, followed by a diminutive coloured urchin, tolling the sugar-house bell after an erratic method of his own ; next came a cane waggon drawn by a dilapidated-looking mule, containing the corpse nailed up in a rough box intended to represent a coffin, and manufactured by "Edwhar," the plantation carpenter and cooper. The waggon jolted slowly towards the burial-ground, followed by a noisy throng of mourners ; whilst last, but by no means least, stalked the preacher, arrayed in all the glory of his Sunday go-to-meeting garments, and wearing a most lugubrious face. The clerical costume consisted of an antiquated frock-coat, suffering from a gaping rent in the right side, and the loss of half the left tail, the whole garment bearing mute but eloquent witness to long and faithful service. Of his nether garments I shall merely observe that they corresponded with the rest of his attire, being profusely adorned with patches of all sizes and every hue ; but his shirt was a gorgeous affair, very considerably frilled, though to me it looked suspiciously like a lady's apron tucked inside the coat, especially as I noticed that the frills ran the wrong way. The whole structure was crowned by a high plug hat, which might have been acquainted with a hat-brush at an early stage of its career, but had evidently renounced such vanities long ago. The coffin was deposited beside the open grave ; and whilst the mourners clustered around, wailing and praying loudly, the preacher proceeded with the service, which was one I had never heard before or since. After a preliminary prayer he burst into an eloquent panegyric on the virtues of the deceased ; but as the address was extremely disconnected and lengthy, I shall not attempt to transcribe it, but merely give a specimen or two of the style. "Breddren, we's all 'sembled hyar to witness the 'terment of old Brudder Lamouche Jones, who died kase he didn't care 'bout livin' no longer, dat bein' the on'y reason as we PLANTATION LIFE. 697 kin tell !" It further appeared that the departed brother had been a good church member and constant attendant ; but he had one bad habit of not coming up to time with his church "'scriptions," having, it transpired, died considerably in debt to that same concern -- a fact which evidently weighed heavily upon the minister's mind, since he took occasion to allude to it feelingly several times during the service. He then proceeded to give us his idea of heaven and hell, in the most lively and confident style, as though he felt himself equally at home in either place. At this juncture the mourners began to realise their own failures and shortcomings, and commenced a deafening uproar, shouting, weeping, praying, all at once, whilst the weaker members pathetically implored some one to come and hold them ! But everybody was too wrapped up in his own demonstrations to be able to listen to a neighbor's appeals, and I noticed that nobody fainted. Some of the men started a kind of war dance, and exhibited their agility by trying to kick off their friends' hats ; whilst a few fell into each other's arms, embracing with tears ! Altogether, it was the most ludicrous and startling performance I ever witnessed. But we must return to the minister, who was obliged to bawl at the extreme pitch of his voice in order to make himself heard above the hubbub and din, and it was during a brief lull that I caught the following logical remark : "Breddren, we must all die sometime, and talk 'bout dyin', we'se all so 'feared to die -- but dyin's nothin' when yer gits used to't!" This edifying observation closed the address, and we all followed the preacher out of the burial-ground, leaving two stout negroes to perform the last rites for their deceased brother. We had no sooner passed the gates of the enclosure than the scene changed with amazing celerity, and tears were dried as if by magic, whilst jokes and laughter abounded. The preacher pulled off his coat and mopped his face with a red handkerchief, at the same time putting a huge quid of tobacco in his mouth with an air of lively satisfaction. To judge by appearances, one would imagine that loss, suffering, and death were unknown evils to the fortunate inhabitants of this negro paradise ! A nigger, according to my own observation, is the happiest being on earth ; no matter what disgrace he gets into, how hard he has to work, or how much he is abused, he will grin, whistle, and sing, as though cares and troubles did not exist. I was particularly struck with this peculiarity of the negro temperament one day, when the overseer, having several times corrected a man who was doing his work improperly, receiving each time a smiling "Yes, 'ar," without any visible improvement in the fellow's performance, at length lost all patience, and struck at him savagely with a formidable club he carried. The blow fell upon the nigger's head, and would undoubtedly have broken the 698 PLANTATION LIFE. skull of any white man, and the dull thud could be heard a hundred yards away ! But the overseer merely remarked, "Perhaps you will now pay attention to what I say," when he got the same wide grin, and "yes, 'ar !" and the delinquent, to my unspeakable amazement, went on singing as happily as before. Presently a friend, who had witnessed this pleasing incident, approached, asking,-- "Whar Bossman hit you for, Mose ?" "Hit me ! who hit me ? Yer's 'staken, man." "Whar Bossman did wid dat club on yer head ?" "Good lor'! Hain't yer got no sense ? Bossman on'y put my hat straight wid his stick !" retorted Mose triumphantly, and the friend retired, silenced but not convinced, since a nigger will invent the most ludicrous lies sooner than own to the indignity of having been "clubbed." I alluded before to certain peculiarities in the attire sported by the reverend gentleman who officiated at the funeral ; but I think pen would fail to describe many of the costumes I saw at B----- Plantation. It is a negro's greatest pride to have his clothes well patched, and in some instances it would require a more scientific observer than myself to distinguish patches from the original cloth ! I once heard a young negress remark that the first thing she "took notice to" in a man was whether his clothes were well patched ; if not, she had no use for him. She considered patches most becoming, and the greater the quantity and variety the better,--that was the sort of husband she wanted ! The most astounding outfit on the plantation, and one which I tried very hard to buy, was owned by an old fellow named "Edmo" working under my especial supervision ; I thought this suit well worthy of a place in a museum, but "Edmo" could not be persuaded to exchange old clothes for new. One Sunday, when we were obliged to shut down the mill for repairs, the negroes took the opportunity of holding service in their "church"--a disused mule-shed, which had been turned over to them for the aforesaid religious purpose. The interior was of a decidedly gloomy and depressing aspect, the bare earthen floor, rough walls, and grimy, smoke-blackened rafters were far from inviting, whilst the wretched, flaring lamps, scattered about for the purpose of lighting the edifice, filled the air with the sickening odour of kerosene. At the upper end of the church a slight elevation of planks formed a kind of stage, in the middle of which was planted a tub-like object, strongly resembling an empty sugar hogshead, which did duty as a pulpit. The body of the church was filled with benches, chairs, and stools of all kinds, according to the taste and means of their owners ; and the congregation was already assembled when I arrived at the scene of action with a friend. Shortly after, the preacher (with whom we are already acquainted) PLANTATION LIFE. 699 made his appearance, and the service commenced with a brief extemporary prayer, in which the people joined ad lib. : this extraordinary co-mingling of their several, separate petitions was evidently regarded quite as a matter of course ! This was followed by a hymn ; then a longer prayer, in which the preacher completely exhausted himself, and after numerous repetitions he was obliged to wind up abruptly. The next "hymn" was certainly the most original composition of the kind I ever heard, and we experienced the greatest difficulty in preserving our gravity whilst it was being sung. I give the first verse and the chorus as a specimen, and the reader can judge for himself. "Tatur bug on golden wing, Lightnin' bug on flame ; Bed bug got no wing at all-- But he get dar all de same ! Nigger baby bow-legged, Nigger baby bow-legged, Nigger baby bow-legged-- Kase he walk too soon!" There were several other verses in keeping with the above, which, notwithstanding their ludicrous and inappropriate nature, were rendered in wonderfully good style, since almost all niggers are born singers ; and a striking feature of the performance was that each knew perfectly the capacity and quality of his or her voice, and had a fair idea of part-singing. After this delightful effusion had been duly rendered, with the usual accompaniments of "Yes, Lord!" by the enthusiastic congregation, the preacher started his sermon, which proved extremely dull, rambling, and difficult to follow, though the "church members" seemed to take it in pretty well. I remember, amongst other things, that he gave us a gloomy account of the end of the world and the Day of Judgment--a "fancy sketch," in his usual manner, and with more than his usual confidence. If I ever met anybody who "knew all about it," that negro minister was the man ! During the progress of this sermon several members experienced what they call "gittin' 'ligion !" in which the subject springs up, uttering terrific yells, and calling frantically on "de Lor'"; or, by way of variety, falls on his face and weeps profusely ; after this process they are supposed to be "true Christians." All this time the preacher was valiantly going ahead at a great pace, his tones resembling the roar of thunder, whilst ever and anon his voice sunk to an impressive whisper, soft as the autumn wind sighing among leafless trees. Then he would redouble his efforts and shout himself hoarse, whist the perspiration trickled down his face in rivulets. Altogether, we were very thankful when the service came to an end, and we were once more able to escape into the sweet pure air of the autumn night, the effluvium of a negro congregation proving a terrible trial to European olfactory organs. But being once planted in the "church," we dared not leave 700 PLANTATION LIFE. until the conclusion of the performance, since the "coloured ladies and gentlemen" are very easily offended, and might have taken our premature departure as an insult to their "'ligion." I returned to my own quarters, reflecting on the scenes I had witnessed, and I could not forbear wondering how far these civilised "Southern Metho-Baptists" -- as the B----- negroes called themselves--were removed from the fetish-worship and sacred snake dances of their savage African ancestors. There is small room for doubt that the plantation negro is profoundly ignorant and superstitious ; his belief in witchcraft, "charms," i.e. fetishes, and medicine men or women being almost as strong (though kept strictly secret) in the civilised (?), emancipated negro of to-day, as when he was first transplanted from his native African soil to the shores of the great American continent. RANDOLPH FORTESCUE. DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. BY GRAHAM EVERITT. CHAPER XI. MEDICINE MANIA. Some people, especially among the lower, middle, and the working classes, are confirmed medicine-takers. They read the advertisements of "patent" nostrums, which profess to cure every ill under the sun from agues to ulcers, and implicitly believe the statements which they contain. The ignorant medicine-taker never pauses to consider that if a tithe of the pretensions so blatantly proclaimed had an real foundation in fact, the existence of cultivated and learned bodies, such as the College of Physicians and the College of Surgeons, would be no longer necessary. Not only does he believe everything which the advertisers tell him, but he becomes an advocate of the remedies to his friends, and thus, like the snow-ball which increases as the school-boy rolls it in the drift, the mischief insensibly increases, until in time it assumes colossal proportions. The means by which so-called panaceas acquire a reputation is easily explained. "Take," says the author of Physician and Patient (we do not mean Mr. Timbs), "any remedy, no matter what, whether it be positive in its operation or wholly inert, and it can be made to acquire an extensive reputation for curing disease. Suppose that it is of a positive character. Let a large number of persons in a community be persuaded to take it. It would be appropriate to a few out of the whole number of cases, just as a man firing into a crowd of men at random would be apt to hit some one of them. Then there are some who, through the renewing power of nature, get well whilst using the medicine, perhaps even in spite of it, and falsely attribute the cure to it. The many that are not benefited soon give up the use of the remedy, and the fact that they have taken it is known to a few and soon forgotten even by them. But the few that chance to derive benefit from it, or that are cured by nature while taking it, proclaim everywhere the virtues of the remedy, and extol its efficacy by laudatory certificates, for what they falsely term the benefit of their fellow-creatures. The newspapers teem with 702 DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. flaming advertisements. The consequence is that the remedy comes into extensive use, and continues in popular favour, till some other, by the same process, supplants it." The success obtained by the proprietors of these "universal curers" is proved not only by the colossal fortunes which some of the most persistent of them make, but by the progressive increase in the amount of duty received for stamps, issued to them by the Inland Revenue authorities. Let us take two periods of five years each by way of example. Between the years 1840 and 1844 inclusive, the sum total received by the Revenue was £149,080 7s. 6 1/2d., or a yearly average of £29,816 1s. 6d. Whereas, in the corresponding period, from 1863 to 1867 inclusive, it had risen to £201,159 8s. 5 1/2d., showing an annual average of £40,231 17s. 8d. Now, if the reader will remember that the stamps are imposed on a graduated scale ; that the stamp on a shilling bottle of medicine is only three halfpence ; a half-crown ditto, threepence,-he will form some notion of the enormous quantities disposed of by the advertisers on the one hand, and purchased and swallowed by the public on the other. That the practice of medicine taking as indulged in by many of the persons to whom we have alluded is nothing less than a dangerous mania, is shown by the strange case which is stated in the following pages. We have drawn the facts from the evidence ; but the actual names of the parties interested in the proceedings we have, for obvious reasons, thought fit to suppress. Fifty years ago there lived in London a woman named Hollins. Her ostensible occupation was that of a seamstress, an occupation which she followed at the houses of her patrons, but on the principle advocated by some persons that it is just as well "not to carry all your eggs in one basket," she seems to have combined with her business of a needlewoman that of a vendor of patent medicine. One of the persons who gave her employment was the wife of a merchant captain named Wright. Taking advantage of her opportunities, Hollins in accordance with her custom advocated the remedial virtues of certain pills in which she was interested, and easily persuaded the captain to purchase a box. They appear to have given him so much satisfaction that he was induced to buy eleven shillings' worth, for the purpose of taking with him on an intended voyage to the West Indies : that voyage, as we shall presently see, the captain never lived to accomplish. The purchase of that eleven shillings' worth of pills brought on the scene another person whose name, for the purpose of this story, shall be Croot. How Richard Croot came to be connected with Hollins, and what was the precise nature of the connection between the pair, does not appear. We suspect that Croot was an agent for the sale of the patent medicine, and that the woman acted as his go-between and received a percentage on her DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. 703 sales. We are inclined to believe that this was the case for the reason that, although Hollins' name and the part which she took are brought into prominent notice in the events which follow, she does not appear to have been personally implicated in the legal proceedings from which we extract the facts. Whatever might have been the nature of their association in business, the fact that she had sold eleven shillings' worth of pills to Captain John Wright was speedily communicated by the woman to Croot. Thereupon the latter called at the house, and asked to see the captain, who happened to be absent. He then introduced himself to Mrs. Wright ; said he had been requested to call by Hollins ; and handed her a card, which gave his address as No. 6, Farringdon Street. He inquired what was the matter with her husband, and she answered with some surprise, "Nothing, that she was aware of." Croot explained the object of his visit, and said he would call again in a day or two. As a matter of fact he did call ; saw the captain ; and brought the conversation round to the subject of the pills. He cautioned him that he was on no account to take the "No. 2" pills, without also taking the "No. 1." "I am told," he added, "that you were much prejudiced against the pills at first, but you will find that they cure every disease and do a great deal of good :" the minor proposition being added by way apparently of rounding off the larger one. Had he attempted thus to force himself upon a man moving in a different sphere of life, "Doctor Croot"-with his major and minor proposition, his pills "No. 1" and "No. 2"-would have been promptly and civilly bowed off the premises ; probably in many cases that was the sort of treatment he was accustomed to experience. But poor John Wright-a guileless sailor-man, a veritable "Captain Cuttle"-instead of feeling resentment, seems to have been impressed with the medical learning and acquirements of his visitor. Hollins's retainer still continued ; and to show the vigilant look-out which was maintained by the pair, we may observe that when in the middle of January 1836 the captain complained of an attack of rheumatism in his knee, the "doctor" once more made his appearance. Again he saw Mrs. Wright, and told her he had learnt of her husband's illness through Miss Hollins. The wife, however, never seems to have been favourably impressed with "Doctor Croot" : she told him plainly that it would be well if Hollins attended to her own business ; that he had not been sent for ; and that his services were not required. This was an answer of which even Richard Croot was bound to take notice, and for that time at least he took his departure. But the rheumatic pain in the captain's knee instead of subsiding grew worse, and in a few days, by his express desire, the "doctor" was sent for. He came on Wednesday, the 20th of January, 1836 ; and from that moment Cuttle's fate may be said 704 DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. to have been sealed. Before he left, Croot ordered Mrs. Wright to give her husband twenty of the pills "No. 1" that night, and twenty of "No. 2" on the following morning "to drive off," as the learned man expressed it, "the number ones." The puzzled wife, whose antipathy to the "doctor" had been unable to prevent his being "called in," obeyed only half of these directions - that is to say, she gave her husband that night ten of the "No. 1," and ten of the "No. 2" on the following morning. Croot called in the early part of next day, and inquired if she had administered "the proper number," and she said that she had. He told her, she was to increase the number by five at every dose, which was to be given night and morning. As a matter of fact, however, she never gave poor Cuttle the full quantity ordered, "but always a great deal less;" and Croot (who called every day but Saturday) suspected the fact, and said he "doubted her much." She was acting, however, as she seems to have imagined under a doctor's orders, and sometimes gave the captain as many as fifteen or twenty pills at a time: sometimes none at night, but always some in the morning. After undergoing this course of "heroic" medicine for a period of five days, with all the results which may be imagined, poor Cuttle arrived at the conclusion (as he himself expressed it), that "there was something the matter with him worse than his knee." Croot called late on the Monday. Whether he was an orthodox Hebrew, keeping the Sabbath in all its rabbinical strictness, whether he was observing the Sunday as a Christian holiday, or devoting both days to the doctoring of the Jews and Gentiles by the impartial administration of pills "No. 1" and "No. 2," does not appear: he did not at any rate make his appearance till the Monday night. When the frightened wife told him the condition of his patient, he merely remarked that she had not administered enough medicine, and had moreover "given him too much to eat." Food - the learned pundit observed - her husband did not require, for the simple reason that "the fever would feed him without any food." This was the sixth day of attendance, and by this time poor John Wright was so woefully prostrated, that the strong, hearty man of six days ago could hardly sit up in bed. This unmistakable protest of Nature passed unheeded: the "doctor" told the wife to give the patient hot water and salt, and ordered more pills, telling her to go on increasing each dose by five. He called on the Tuesday, and being told that the captain was dreadfully ill, assured the wife that she was alarming herself without cause, and that if she would only attend to his directions he would be well in a day or two. The purgative action of course increased in proportion to the continuance and increase of the doses; and, on Wednesday the 29th of January, Mrs. Wright sent in great alarm for Mr. Gay, an old friend of her husband's. When the latter DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. 705 arrived, he found his friend delirious, and immediately called in Mr. Comyns-Smith, a qualified medical practitioner, and explained to him the course of treatment. Mr. Comyns-Smith saw the patient the same day, and Croot called twice; the first call being made after the qualified practitioner had taken his departure. The latter did not administer any medicine, feeling (if we are to judge by his evidence) that the patient was in a state when no medicine would have given him relief. This, however, was not the opinion of Dr. Croot: he told the wife to give her delirious husband twenty-five pills that night, "they will compose him," he said, "to sleep, and he will be better in the morning." When the criminal idiot (who does not seem to have been aware of the surgeon's visit) called at ten o'clock that night, he found the wife crying by her sick husband's bed-side, and actually assured her she "had no cause for alarm," as the patient "was doing well." She told him that a medical man had seen him, and had pronounced him to be in very great danger, to which he angrily made answer, that if a medical man ventured to interfere with his treatment, he should turn him out of the house. In spite of the wife's protest, he then and there administered twenty-five of his drastic pills, and told her to give her husband thirty or thirty-six of "No. 2," in the morning. It shows the ascendancy which this man had obtained over her, that in spite of her dislike to him, in spite of the warning she received from the qualified practitioner, she did actually give the patient twenty pills the following morning. The ascendancy indeed, which the dangerous ignoramus exercised over his victim and his wife, is one of the strangest circumstances in connection with this strange case. Scarcely less extraordinary is the fact that, although the treatment which was being pursued had been explained to him; although he perfectly well knew the captain was being poisoned by inches, the weak-kneed practitioner did not interpose his professional authority, and turn the criminal empiric and his poisonous pill-boxes out of the house: such an exercise of authority, even at this time, would not have been too late. Croot came again on the Thursday, and Mrs. Wright told him as she always had done, the dangerous condition of her husband; but Croot's cry was "pills! more pills!" and he asked moreover to see the pill-boxes. They were empty, the victim having swallowed in nine days the whole eleven shillings' worth which he had purchased of Hollins. He said he would call on this woman and order more. It was vain for the wife to remonstrate, and to remind the irrepressible quack that a medical practitioner had ordered that the pills were to be discontinued; he said he would administer one hundred at a time if he considered them necessary. The wife drew his attention to the unfortunate man's terribly reduced condition, but Croot was ready with his answer. VOL. XVII. 45 706 DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. "I must," he said, "take off the flesh before I can raise him up." He ordered her to administer thirty-two pills at three o'clock that day. It was vain to tell him that her husband "was continually throwing them up and throwing up blood also ;" he merely repeated his orders and said he would have them sent. Hollins made her appearance at three o'clock that day, and brought not only another parcel of pills, but a box of powders, for both of which the foolish Mrs. Wright paid her thirteen shillings and fourpence. It is worthy of note that at this time some brandy and water was offered to the patient, but he was too weak to swallow it, notwithstanding which, the miserable impostor intent on following out his dreadful system, called on Friday at ten with two powders in paper. He mixed those with water - one being of darker colour than the other. On being asked what these powders were composed of, he said they were pounded pills. He desired Mrs. Wright to raise her husband up, which she did. The wretched man was so weak that he could scarcely move. The quack put the cup to his lips, and the sick man swallowed the contents, which he immediately threw up together with a quantity of blood, a fact which did not in the least disconcert Croot. The sick man however interposed. "My dear," he said, "it is poison! this man has poisoned me!" Gay called at this moment, and sent up a message, expressing his wish to see both Croot and Mrs. Wright. The advent of Gay forms a new episode in the story. This gentleman was a very different person from either poor Captain John Wright or his wife, and for the first time, perhaps in his life, Richard Croot found himself in a position for which he was wholly unprepared. Nemesis in the person of Mr. Gay stood before him; and a series of interrogatives followed, which made him feel more than uncomfortable. The first question - a very inconvenient one - "For what disease was he treating the patient?" was parried with an assertion: "the medicine he was administering would eradicate every disease, and the captain would rise from his bed a better man than before." He added by way of parenthesis and justification, that he was in the habit of administering the medicine to his wife and children. The question, whether he considered his patient in a condition of body and mind when drastic medicine could be safely or properly administered, he answered with his usual effrontery. Asked whether he was a duly qualified medical man, he answered in the affirmative. On being asked to produce his "certificate," he replied that "it was unusual for medical men to carry their diplomas about with them." To the question, "where did he live?" he answered - somewhat vaguely, - "in the City." By this time however, his demoralization was complete, and he availed himself of the earliest opportunity to take himself off, while Gay went in search of the qualified DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. 707 practitioner. Croot's mental uneasiness brought him back the same night; and notwithstanding the strict orders which had been given, he managed to force his way upstairs. His reception was anything but encouraging: the sick man ordered him to be gone. "You will be paid," he said in his homely language, and with much difficulty, "for your trouble, but you have poisoned me - you have poisoned me right out." Hearing from Mrs. Wright that a physician would call the next day, he assured her that her friends were alarming her needlessly, and that there was no necessity whatever for calling in a medical man. At this moment Gay and Thomas Riley (a merchant captain) made their appearance, and Croot once more found himself subjected to a searching if not a very skilful examination. He called again on the next day, and brought with him a person whom he introduced as "Dr. Wynch," but neither were permitted to go upstairs. This was on the Saturday: all that day and the following the patient kept growing rapidly weaker; and at three o'clock on the Monday morning - thirteen days after Croot had been first called in - poor John Wright had gone over to the Great Majority. A post mortem examination followed as a matter of course, and the result will be found in the medical evidence, which we prefer to give in its entirety. The immediate result of the coroner's inquest was, the arrest and committal of Richard Croot who, on the 6th of April 1836, was placed at the bar of the Central Criminal Court, charged with "having caused the death of John Wright, by having administering to him, on the 20th of January, and at other times, large and excessive quantities of pills composed of portions of gamboge, cream of tartar, and other articles of a noxious, destructive, and deleterious description, he having no knowledge of medicine and having no license to sell or administer such medicine." The facts which led up to this inevitable result, we have extracted from the evidence of Anne Wright, the widow, and Henry Kimber Gay, the friend of the deceased. Thomas Riley, a captain in the merchant service deposed that he had known the deceased, Captain John Wright, for nine years, and always as a man of temperate habits. This witness corroborated the evidence of the widow and Mr. Gay as to the prisoner having represented himself to be a medical man. He heard the prisoner complain that the friends of the deceased were "crossing him in his treatment of Captain Wright." The witness had refused to allow the prisoner to go up-stairs to the deceased. He said he would call next day with Dr. Wynch. Both of them did call, but neither were permitted to see the deceased. In cross-examination the witness said, "there was an actual appointment between prisoner and Wynch, Dr. Roberts and Mr. Comyns-Smith for the next day at one o'clock. The prisoner 45 A 708 DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. at that occasion earnestly begged that Dr. Wynch should be permitted to go up-stairs to see the deceased," but this was refused. Alfred Comyns-Smith, surgeon and apothecary, being sworn, described the condition in which he found the deceased, in a manner which corroborated the evidence of the previous witnesses. The deceased could scarcely breathe and spoke with much difficulty. He told the witness how he had been treated, complained of his knee, and above all of pains "in the pit of the stomach." He examined his knee, and found that he was suffering from a rheumatic affection. That affection had nothing whatever to do with the disorder in the stomach. Having been told the sort of medicine he had been taking, he did not order it to be discontinued, "as he had no charge that would authorize him to do so;" but he expressed his opinion that the treatment, if continued, would prove fatal. He also advised chicken broth, "to try and restore the tone of the stomach." When he called on Friday (29th of January), he found him much worse. He lay still, with his eyes half closed, his pulse was weak; his breath faint; and it was his (the witness's) opinion, that he would shortly die. The witness declined acting without another opinion, and Dr. Roberts was in consequence called in; "but deceased was not then in a condition to take medicine." On the Saturday night he became worse, and the witness did not think that "any medicine in the world would at that time have relieved him." He understood that the pills were composed of portions of gamboge and aloes, and other ingredients. He had heard cream of tartar and assafoetida spoken of as other component parts. There had been a post mortem examination, and the stomach was found inflamed and ulcerated. There was at the bottom of the stomach, near the lower opening, a patch of ulceration larger than a shilling. If the deceased had taken the quantities of medicine described, it would account for the "appearances" he had witnessed, and which, he said, had caused death. In answer to the court, the witness explained that the ulceration must have been of recent occurrence; it could not have been of three months' standing. In his opinion it had commenced on the Friday (29th January). The appearance which he had found in the stomach would account for death. Mucus such as he had seen, and in such quantities, would not have passed without some strong, exciting cause. In cross-examination by Sir Frederick Pollock, the witness said that he had not advised any medicines, because he thought they would be improper in the condition in which he found the deceased. He thought that the medicines named, if mixed and administered in large quantities, would produce the effects in the stomach which he had described. He thought, too, that twenty DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. 709 pills of gamboge and aloes would produce vomiting and purging. He admitted that he himself had administered ten grains of aloes at a time, and three grains of gamboge at a time. He also admitted that when gamboge, aloes, cream of tartar, and assafoetida were mixed, he could not tell the precise quantity at which the dose would cause danger to commence, and safety to end. He was of opinion that ten grains of White's pills, supposing them to be composed of aloes and gamboge, would be a strong dose: twenty would be dangerous, and if taken night and morning highly so; much, however, depended on the constitution of the patient. He did not know the difference between pills "No. 1," and pills "No. 2;" but those which had the largest quantity of gamboge would be the strongest. If each pill contained half a grain of gamboge, with ten grains of aloes, it would be an over-dose. He thought thirty of such pills night and morning for two or three days, would be an improper dose to take. If ten persons were to take such doses for several days together, at least two or three of them would die; "and if it was stated by persons, that they had taken such doses for a long time, either such statements must be false, or else witness's theory must be wrong." He never found that a small dose of aloes would cause irritation, when a larger one would not. He had administered aloes in doses of from one to ten grains, and gamboge in doses of from one to three grains. He had heard Mrs. Wright's evidence, and had heard her say she had given a smaller number of pills than the prisoner had ordered, and that she sometimes kept back pills "No. 1" at night, and gave pills "No. 2" in the morning. He had also heard her say that "No. 2" ought not to be taken without "No. 1." "He thought it would not be fair to judge of the effect of medicine so administered." On re-examination, the witness stated it to be his opinion that "a competent medical man could on the Wednesday (27th of January) have told that there was inflammation of the stomach, and would not have administered two spoonfuls of the pills powdered on the Thursday and Friday. Such a dose would produce the symptoms he witnessed in the stomach of the deceased, and was likely to cause death." Dr. Frederick Roberts, Physician to the London Hospital, deposed that he saw the deceased on the Saturday, two days before his death, and was informed that he had taken a large quantity of White's pills. He directed a mustard poultice to be applied to the pit of the stomach, and ordered a mucilage and some chicken-broth to be given to him. The object of the mucilage was merely to sustain life; no medicines were administered, though enemas of strong beef-soup with small quantities of brandy were given. He attended the post mortem examination of the body on Monday (1st of February). The liver was rather large and congested, but there was no active 710 DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. disease; the pericranium was free from inflammation or other disease; the stomach much contracted; the middle of the great curvature exceedingly inflamed, with two spots of ulceration -- one the size of a shilling; the mucus membrane of the intestinal canal was inordinately injected with dark-coloured blood; in the ileum and jejunem the mucus membrane had the appearance of lymph effused within its substance, and greatly softened; in other parts the membrane was so thin as to give it the appearance of ulcerated destruction. In the caecum and colon was a mass of yellow pulpy matter, mixed with feculent matter. On opening the knee-joint, there was an effusion of lymph. The head was loaded, but not seriously diseased. There was abundant appearance in the stomach to account for death, but in no other part of the body. Taking large quantities of drastic medicine would produce such appearances. He had heard Mrs. Wright's evidence. He thought the dose described by her to have been administered to the deceased on the Friday -- of two table-spoonfuls of White's pills in powder, highly improper, and was of opinion that no man of competent skill would have administered it. It required a nicety of judgment to discover the presence of inflammation, as it did in most internal diseases; but any person of competent skill, seeing the deceased on the Saturday, must have known that he was labouring under some destructive mischief to a vital organ, and that in such case it was highly improper to continue the previous course of medicine. If the medicines of which he had heard, had been administered in the quantities described, they would be quite sufficient to account for death. He could name no medicine, the good effects of which were increased in proportion to the increased quantity taken. In answer to the court, Dr. Roberts said there was no medicine of which too large a dose might not be given. It was unfair to judge of the effects of medicine where the whole quantity prescribed was not administered. "To tell Croot under such circumstances that the full quantity had been taken would be likely to mislead him, and induce him to increase the dose when he found that the effect he expected had not been produced." This witness was not cross-examined. Mr. Philip Pemberton, lecturer on chemistry at St. Thomas's Hospital said, he had analysed some of the pills in question: they were of different sizes and colours. No. 1 consisted of cream of tartar and aloes; there was a smaller quantity of another substance, the nature of which he had not had time to ascertain; he at first thought it was colocynth. The larger or No. 2 pill consisted of aloes, gamboge, cream of tartar, and another substance which he had not had time to discover. He did not know the proportions of any of the medicines used. His assistant, Thomas Sparks Saffold, further deposed that both the pills No. 1 and No. 2 contained a little assafoetida, but could not tell the proportions of DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. 711 any of the ingredients: with the evidence of these two witnesses, the case for the prosecution closed. Notwithstanding that he was represented by a professional gentleman of the reputation of Sir Frederick Pollack, not the least strange part of this extraordinary case -- to ourselves at least, is the fact, that the prisoner was permitted to read a long defence which he had committed to paper; while a revelation was made by the witnesses called in support of his case which will, we believe, prove both novel and astonishing to the majority of our readers. John Morgan, a stone-mason, said he knew White's pills. "He was ill about three years ago when he first began taking them. He commenced with three, and increased them up to fifteen a night. He continued taking them for ten months. He had taken thirty at night, and thirty in the morning, for as long as four days together. After that, he reduced the number to twenty at night, and twenty in the morning. In twenty days he had taken one thousand pills, or fifty a day. He found great benefit from them, but never so much, or indeed hardly any, until he had taken the large doses, which he did by the prisoner's advice. His health was now restored. The prisoner took no fee for the benefits he had conferred upon him." In cross-examination, it was elicited that the complaint under which this witness had suffered was "a general debility." The revelations of Richard Cramp, landlord of the Harp Tavern, Harp Lane, Thames Street, were of a still more astonishing character. This unhappy witness, according to his own account, had been afflicted "with the scurvy and fistula," and had taken medicines under the advice of a surgeon, without deriving the slightest benefit. In a happy moment he began taking White's pills, commencing with the infinitesimal dose of five. Their beneficial effect was such that he was encouraged to proceed, and he proceeded accordingly, and found after taking forty a day (that is to say twenty night and morning), that they were doing him incalculable good. He knew this was the fact, because when he reduced the doses, "he invariably became ill again." He consulted the prisoner, and the result was that he took by his advice "one hundred pills in one day, and frequently ninety in one day." This terrific cannonade drove away of course scurvy -- fistula -- every possible or impossible ailment, and he was now in a state of the most perfect health. We might have forgiven a witness who admitted that he took pills by the hundred a day but for the statement with which he concluded his evidence. He said, "his wife and children took the pills and" (strange to say), "were benefited by them." The wonders went on increasing with the appearance of each fresh witness. Janet Peregrine swore that she had been seriously ill, and had taken as many as a hundred and twelve pills in one 712 DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. day, notwithstanding which, she "could eat her breakfast and work hard all day afterwards without suffering any inconvenience. She was now cured and well." Upwards of thirty other persons, among them "a surgeon" (?) a clergyman, -- persons of all classes in fact came forward, and asserted that they had been afflicted with gout, rheumatism, fistula, scurvy, and all manner of disorders, and had each and all been cured by taking "White's pills, after having sought relief in vain from the prescriptions of qualified medical men. They swore too, that they generally found relief from taking large quantities at a time. One enthusiastic person avowed that he had taken a hundred in twenty-four hours, whilst another shone pre-eminently above his fellows by having swallowed twenty thousand (for which he had paid only £22) in the short space of two years. Whatever might have been the value of the evidence of persons of this intellectual standard, it certainly exonerated the prisoner from all suspicion of mere mercenary motives: they all agreed in saying that he made no charge against them either for attendance or advice. Probably, the quantity of pills which these stupid people were prepared to swallow, amply paid him for his professional services. The counsel for the prisoner said he had upwards of forty other witnesses, but "thought it unnecessary to call them," an opinion in which the jury and the learned judge gaspingly coincided. Mr. Justice Pattison said all that was left for him to say after these astounding revelations, and concluded his summing up by advising the jury, that it was, under all the circumstances, a question for their consideration, whether upon the facts disclosed by the evidence on both sides, the prisoner was or was not guilty of the offence imputed to him. The jury after a consultation of a few minutes, expressed their wish to retire. In twenty minutes' time they returned into court, and pronounced a verdict of guilty, but recommended the prisoner to mercy, on the ground of his being not the compounder, but only the vendor of the pills. The sentence was that he should pay a fine of £200. The death of Wright was caused not of course by the pills, but by the enormous quantities in which they were administered by an empiric, ignorant of their composition and of their physiological effects. The dangerous principle was gamboge which, if administered in large and continuous doses, will produce the symptoms described -- violent vomiting and purging, abdominal pain and tenderness, cold extremities, and sinking pulse. We assume that the "directions" given with the medicine (which we have never seen), would scarcely authorise its being taken or administered in the preposterous quantities mentioned in the preceding case; but if the directions do countenance any such "heroic" course of administration, all we can say is that nearly eighty persons -- none of them perhaps mentally very strong -- DOCTORS AND DOCTORS. 713 appear to have been willing to come forward and testify, that the benefit they derived was in proportion to the quantities taken. Like all quacks, ignorant of the properties, physiological effects, and therapeutics of medicines, "Doctor" Croot relied upon his experience, represented by the eighty persons with cast-iron stomachs, each of whom (if his or her testimony is to be believed) was capable of swallowing, without injury, drastic physic in quantities which would have slaughtered a hippopotamus. Few will be inclined to pity him; and any allowance we might be disposed to make on account of his ignorance is withdrawn, when we remember that he tried to pass himself off as a qualified practitioner, as soon as his ignorant pretence to a knowledge of the art of healing had led him into serious trouble. Possibly his experience may have made him more cautious, and in this sense, but in no other, may have done him good. It is one of the peculiarities of ignorance that it remains unconvinced to the end of the chapter; and possibly to the day of his death, Richard Croot, in spite of the melancholy ending of poor Captain John Wright, sang (probably in more subdued tones) the praises of a remedy, which in his judgment "cured all diseases, and did a great deal of good." (To be continued.) Winter Song. (FROM THE GERMAN OF KRUMMACHER.) Why liest thou still and pale now, Wrapped in thy snow white veil now, Dear mother earth of ours? Where are Spring's voices, say now? Where Summer's plumage gay now? And thy bright festal robe of flowers? Thou sleep'st of it bereft now, Nor lamb nor sheep is left now In field or upland bare. The birds' sweet songs are dumb now, Hushed is the bee's soft hum now, Yet even in winter art thou fair. On twigs and branches dancing, A thousand gleams of glancing, Where e'er the eye may light. Who hath prepared thy bed now? The coverlid who hath spread now? And decked three with frost jewels bright? The bounteous Lord of Heaven To thee thy veil hath given, Who sleeps not day or night. Be thy sleep fearless taken He doth the weary waken In good time to new strength and light. Soon to Spring's breezes pleasant Thou'lt rise rejuvenescent, With new life wondrous fair ; When down their breath floats duly, Thou earth wilt prank thee newly With wreaths of flowers upon thine hair. M.R. WELD. TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. - There is an Italy which is familiar to every tourist, - the Italy of museums and picture galleries churches and antiquarians' shops, five-storied hotels and Parisian boulevards; but there is another and larger Italy in which the nation's life has developed more harmoniously, - an Italy seldom visited and little understood, over which the ages as they pass have spread their deposit with so sparing a hand that the primary strata of the first century seems separated but by a handsbreadth from that of the nineteenth. When we leave the towns where newspapers and Birmingham salesmen, ambitious town councils and jobbing builders have conspired in the work of modernisation; when we enter the hill country, where the whistle of the locomotive is never heard, and even stage coaches are unknown, we soon get among populations which, in spite of some outward changes, still, in many essentials, live as did their forefathers before the Roman peace was broken up by the barbarian invaders. Events beyond the horizon of their own narrow valleys affect them but little. All visitors, Italians no less than English, or French, or Germans, are alike "forestieri;" and they hardly look upon the Londoner as more remote from them than the Venetian or Neapolitan; their chronology too is as provincial as their geography, and all past time beyond the memory of their father and grandfather is equally near and equally remote. Such a district and such people are to be found within a few hours' journey from the fashionable drawing-rooms and crowded drives of Florence, and a few weeks spent among the Apennines of Pistoja will teach you more of the habits of Italian life and the real character of its people than as many seasons in your hotel on the Lungarno or the Piazza di Spagna. Taking the early express from Florence to Bologna, we are landed in the morning of a brilliant summer day at the little wayside station of Pracchia. A score of tunnels and an ascent of two thousand feet up a line skilfully engineered among precipitous mountain gorges has completely changed the landscape and the climate. Chestnuts and beeches have taken the place of olive, and vine, and fig; the banks are coloured with the heather and whin of Scotland, and the slopes above are covered with pine, and larch, and other TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. 717 Alpine trees. But an hour ago we saw labourers stripped to their shirts gathering in the harvest of golden corn under a burning sun; here the fields are still green, and the short stalk and stunted ear of the wheat and barley complain feebly, as they bend before the wind, of a climate very different from that of the plain below. In the station yard we find a one-horse shay, which, like the harness and the horse that draws it, seems to be a relic of some remote generation. The driver, however, manages to make better time than might have been expected, and we are soon bowling along by a mountain rivulet, a tiny tributary of the Po. The road leads past a succession of fields, all aglow with the rich colours of of bright Alpine flowers. "There," says the driver, "beyond the ice house and its water meadows" - for the winter ice harvest is here often the richest crop of the year - "are Catiline's fields." "And who was Catiline?" "A brave Condottiere who was defeated and killed here a long time ago by a Roman general." How long ago he cannot tell, nor for what cause he fought; but the local tradition of the wicked old pagan is still a living memory, and hardly thrusts him back into a past more distant than that of the Florentine Ferruccio. Curiously enough, as we find further on, he is the popular hero of the district, and shares with Ferruccio the honour of naming streets and piazzas in the chief villages of the valley. A mile or two further we come to the first of these villages, Maresca, "the swampy." On a low hill just outside it we notice a big square building with embattled walls, and at each corner the remains of a round tower. In its forlorn condition, with shattered windows and gaping roof, it looks much as if it had lately stood a siege. "It was built," says our communicative driver, "by a Prince of Piombino, a benefactor of the village, who drained the swamps that surrounded it, and as the old people say, bred fever and pestilence." Then finding a willing audience, he goes on to tell the story of the castle current in the place: How the Prince of Piombino had two sons who hated each other, and how the younger, having barely escaped more than once from the assassins in his brother's pay, built this stronghold as a place of refuge, and dug and underground passage connecting it with the woods beyond and providing a way of escape if at any time a siege were pressed too hard. But, in spite of all, his enemy was too much for him. Under pretence of reconciliation he induced him to leave his castle, and as they sat at supper together treacherously murdered him. After that the place was neglected till some distant relations claimed it, and divided it among themselves, and their descendants still live there uncomfortably enough, for the fruit trees are all cut down, and the pipes that feed the fountains are choked up, and the rich furniture has all been sold. He relates the story as he might tell of an event that happened in his father's time, perfectly 718 TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. familiar to him or in which he was himself interested. On further inquiry one is surprised to hear that this all happened "about the time of Ferruccio," some four centuries ago. Another mile or two brings us to Gavinana, the scene of this same Ferruccio's most glorious exploit. Here, like Claverhouse in the pass of Killiecrankie, - and the scenery of the two places is not very different, - the Florentine general fell, with victory in his grasp, leading the militia of the republic against the soldiery of the Prince of Orange. But at the fall of their heroic chief his men were seized with panic and fled, and with the rout of that little army perished the last hope of Florence then besieged by the imperialist forces. There to the east of the village they still show the steep bank, overgrown with gnarled chestnut roots, where Ferruccio's horse stumbled and fell, and in the village under the walls of the old church is the small piazza where the noble Florentine was brought mortally wounded into the presence of the Prince of Orange. "Villain," he cried, as his enemy stabbed him to the heart, "you are killing a dead man." Close by the public fountain we see the uneven stones under which in a deep trench the bodies of those who fell in the battle were heaped in one common grave. Further on again the valley narrows, and here, half buried among the chestnut trees with which it is surrounded, lies Cutigliano, the village where in the old days of the Florentine republic the "captains of the mountain" had their seat, holding the passes to the north against invaders from the Lombard plain. At a first glance the streets of the village seem modern enough. There, by the fountain, where the women wash their clothes, is the tobacconist with the government license, who is also, as flaming advertisements inform his customers, agent for the New York Insurance Company and Coate's cottons. Beyond is a mercer, with a full assortment of Manchester goods, and next door a shoemaker sits stitching his leather with a machine of a well-known London firm. The carpenter hangs out a notice that "Alpenstocks" are to be had within, and in the café window, for the old Italian name "trattoria" is looked down on as vulgar, stand a row of bottles which, whatever be their contents, are gay with labels of French wines and brandies. On better acquaintance we soon find out that these signs are merely superficial. The people and their homes are still much what they have been for centuries. The peasants still speak the pure old Italian of the fifteenth century, and in a humble cottage you will often find a well-thumbed copy of Dante, which the owner reads and appreciates far more readily than the educated townsman, for to him it is a book almost of his own times. Land here, as indeed in many parts of Tuscany, is still held on the tenure of classical time, and the Roman colonus is the prototype of the contadino living in his casa colonica and TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. 719 paying the landlord in kind with half the produce of his farm. The plough is just like that which Virgil has made familiar to every school boy. The hoe, the spade, and the sickle with which the farmer tills his fields are precisely similar to those which may be seen in the Museum at Naples, and the earliest attempt of Triptolemus might have served as model for the cumberous wain, that with its team of oxen creaks dreadfully along the road. Even the copper jars in which they women carry water from the fountains on their heads are shaped on classical lines, the tradition of which has never been lost. Yonder old crone crouching on her doorstep, with distaff and spindle, might have sat to the painter of some Pompeian fresco, and the drawing of the loom on which the wool she spins is woven into stout coarse cloth for her son's coats might easily be mistaken for an illustration from a classical dictionary. Not less primitive is the mode of threshing still in vogue. It might have been learned directly from the first Arian, who countless centuries ago sawed off the ears of his crop with a stone knife on the hills above the Euphrates. The workmen sit on benches round the threshing floor, and taking up the wheat, a handful at a time, beat the ears with a short stick till the grain is all scattered out on the rough stone pavement at their feet. Then, holding the grain in a tray high above his head, a man lets it slowly pour down to the ground, while the breeze drives away the chaff. Nor is the kitchen more advanced than the farm. The most important part of the household cooking is done after a method that reminds one of the roasting pigs and yams by the South Sea islanders. Biscuits of chestnut meal, tough as leather and far more indigestible than the colonial damper, are the chief article of the villagers' diet, and the oven in which they are prepared would indeed be a puzzle and scandal to a town-bred cook. Three sticks a couple of feet long fixed upright in a block of stone, a number of flat discs of sandstone some six or eight inches across and half an inch thick, and a handful of chestnut leaves complete the apparatus. While the stones are heating in the fire, the chestnut meal is mixed into a thin paste. Then, using the big stone as a base, and the three sticks as guides, the cook makes a pile; first come a pair of chestnut leaves, then a spoonful of the paste; then more leaves, and then a heated stone; and so the series is repeated till all the meal is used up. When the stones are cool and the smoke of charred leaves that fills the house during the operation has cleared away, the cakes are baked. That rare survival, the travelling pedlar, is still an institution in these valleys. The shops may offer more variety and better goods, but the village wife, like her grandmother before her, though often taken in, can never abandon the hope of making bargains, nor resist the wheedling tongue of her acquaintance of the plain who comes round every month with his pack, and his 720 TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. gossip from the town. You can seldom walk along the road without meeting a sturdy tramp with his bundle on his back, offering to sell soap or scent, or pins, or scissors, or tape, or handkerchiefs, at a cheaper rate than any of his rivals on the road. Very characteristic too are the saint's day festivals that come round pretty frequently, and, whatever an ecclesiastical purist might think of them, serve at any rate as an excuse for a holiday. Some of them are celebrated with ancient rites that bear a strange resemblance to those of the Ambarvalia, the Roman farmers' festival of blessing the fields at spring tide; though on these have been engrafted other ceremonies in deference to the creed of the Church that sanctions them. A little after dawn a crowd collects in the piazza which faces the church, waiting for the priest who stands before the altar, hardly visible in the dim light, invoking in a short office the blessing of heaven on the ceremonies of the day. Then when the last prayer has been said, the last chaunt intoned, the priest in his robes passes down the central aisle followed by a score of attendants dressed in long white cassocks. When he reaches the door a baldachino of embroidered silk is raised over his head, and the procession passes through the village, moving to a slow monotonous chaunt, followed by a still increasing crowd, as from each door that is passed one or more of the household come out dressed in their best clothes and fall into place in the rear. When the village gate has been reached,-for the walls and gates that every village needed in the good old days are usually still standing,-and the company begins to climb the steep rough path leading to the distant summit, the four bearers of the baldachino return to the church, but the priest, still in his robes, leads his parishioners up the mountain side. Two and two they march, winding round among the green cornfields, in and out under the large spreading chestnut trees whitened now with rich blossom. They halt for a few moments before a rough cross nailed to the trunk of some centennial tree. The crowd forms a circle round, the women kneeling, the men standing uncovered, while the priest bowing before the cross offers a short prayer. The rosy morning light has now covered all the loftier summits with a pink glow as the company enters the higher beechwoods, and halts again for a time in front of a homestead, the highest on the path, while the farmer brings out refreshment for all, bread and bowls of milk and goat cheeses. Then on again through the dewy Alpine pastures richly covered with the glowing lily, and the blue gentian of the Alps, and the mountain heartsease, and the brilliant yellow of the potentilla; passing over clear mountain streams that ripple against big stepping stones where nestle the bright veronica and pinguicula, and the tiny yellow violet. Up still to the summit where the priest in his many-coloured cope, and his white-robed attendants circle round the big cross that is TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. 721 planted on the stone cairn, and chaunt a hymn in honour of San Vito, who long years ago stayed the plague of caterpillars that threatened to bring famine to the country side. One might take them, as they stand there in the warm sunlight clear against the sapphire sky, for some old-world company doing sacrifice and service to Diana or Aesculapius round a mountain altar, or praying to Apollo that he should cease the twanging of his golden bow and send no more the shafts of death and disease among his people. And so the ceremony ends, and the long winding march is resumed down the other shoulder of the hill homeward to the village. Occasionally, too, in spring and summer miracle plays of the simplest character are performed in the open air by a troop of players chosen from the village. Though it must be confessed that, as a rule, the actors are but little better trained than Snug the joiner, and Snout the tinker, the dramatic instinct that comes naturally to all Italians enables them to get through their parts with more grace and dignity than one would expect. Among the favourite plays in their somewhat limited repertory is one which gives rather diffusely, in some two hundred four-lined stanzas, the life and adventures of San Pelegrino. San Pelegrino is the son of a king and queen of Scotland, vowed by his mother before his birth to the service of Christ. When he reaches manhood he leaves all the pomp of his father's court, and sets out to wander as a pilgrim through the world. He at last comes to the court of the Soldan, and is there given his choice: on one side death, on the other apostacy with rank and wealth. He refuses to deny his Saviour, is miraculously delivered from the executioner, and wanders through the wilds of Hungary, where he has a fierce encounter with the devil in person, who is signally defeated in his attempt to destroy the holy man. San Pelegrino then goes on his way, and at last reaches the Apennines. There, on a secluded mountain, he fixes his home as a hermit, and to his cell from all the country round the people flock for advice and blessing. After his death the mountain, in memory of his holy life, received the name of Monte Pelegrino, and to the shrine erected where the hermit lived pilgrims stream every August from Cutigliano and San Marcello, and all the villages round. The scenery of the play is of the simplest description. A score of branches planted in the ground represent the forest in Hungary, where the terrible combat is fought between San Pelegrino and the Evil One dressed in his time-honoured suit of sables, and the same forest afterwards serves as the wood which conceals the hermit's cell. To the right of it is the royal palace in Edinburgh, represented by a square tent, that serves also as a dressing-room for the male performers; in the Soldan's court which matches it on the left is the women's green-room. The parts are played not VOL. XVII. 46 722 TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. without some dignity and with considerable earnestness. The Soldan, a stately old man with fine massive forehead and flowing grey beard, is particularly applauded as he first, with truly regal gesture, orders the pilgrim to his doom, and then touched by his miraculous preservation steps down from his throne, and with all earnestness intreats the holy man, as the worthier, to take his crown and kingdom. There is real pathos, too, in the parting of Pelegrino from the queen his mother, who has willingly devoted him to a holy life; but when the moment of parting comes cannot bear to lose her only child. The grim battle between Satan and the Saint is not so successful. The swashing blows of San Pelegrino's cudgel are greeted with loud laughter, and the merriment rises to its height when the Evil One is finally knocked down and dragged out by his heels across the dust, showing too obvious care the while that his clothes should not be soiled in the process. More regular festivals are also celebrated from time to time with greater solemnity. On the other side of the narrow valley facing Cutigliano lies the village of Popiglio, at the foot of a hill crowned by two round towers, the remains of a castle from which in old days its robber count sallied out to levy toll and tribute on all who passed across the Apennines from Modena to Lucca or Pistoja. Through the streets of Popiglio once every three years a fantastic procession passes, in which reminiscences of feudal pageantry mingle with the sacred functions of the Roman Church. First rides Pontius Pilate as Roman governor in his purple robes. Men-at-arms clad in mail with high plumed helmets, escort their chief; then follow Christ and His disciples, and behind them the mob of Jerusalem in flowing Eastern robes. Children, too, in tight little dresses with angels' wings budding from their shoulders, take part in the show; and at the church door young girls stand, scattering flowers on the steps as the procession approaches. Curiously enough there is not here any attempt at a dramatic representation of any event in the passion of Christ, except so far as this passage through the streets may be taken to reproduce His ride into Jerusalem; but even in this there is not apparently any other aim beyond that of providing a brightly coloured pageant. At Cutigliano, too, there is a triennial festival quaintly characteristic in its origin and bizarre in its details, which attracts crowds of spectators from all the neighbouring villages. Early in August an invito sacro is put up against the church walls, and sent round the country informing the faithful that on the 8th of the month the festival of SS. Aurelius and Irenaeus will be celebrated in the parish church, when the sacred relics will be exposed for the veneration of the faithful, and High Mass will be celebrated. In the afternoon, as the notice somewhat incongruously goes on to promise, a tombola with prizes of eighty TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. 723 and fifty francs will be drawn, and the day will conclude cheerfully with music and fireworks in the piazza. A couple of days before the festival the village burst into unwonted briskness of life in preparation for the great event. By dint of paint and whitewash weather-beaten walls were renovated; innkeepers laid in stores of provisions, eggs were swept in from all the countryside, and became a scarce commodity for ordinary householders; coffee pounding in large iron mortars went on actively at many house-doors along the streets; stalls were set up at favourable corners, and the Cutiglianese whom you might meet in the village green, bustling about with an appearance of business-like importance, gave you to understand by meaning looks and smiles of goodwill that great things were forward, and that they at least were wideawake. In the Loggia facing the municipio or town hall, the wall of which is decorated with the crests and coats-of-arms of Medici, Farinati, Caponi, and other bygone "Captains of the Mountain," and with inscriptions recording the good deeds of sundry benefactors, where the Tuscan Marzocco looks down from his pillar on the public fountain, the best furnished stall was established. A miscellaneous collection of hats and sacred charms, pipes, and purses, and stays, children's toys and Brummagem hardware collected a crowd of critics and purchasers. A great attraction was the lotto-raffle always going on here, in which for the small stake of twopence you might win a pair of glass candlesticks, a portrait of Napolean III., a Berlin wool tester, or some other equally useful and unsaleable article. The investors enjoyed all the delightful agony of suspense while the winning numbers were slowly drawn; the shopman got rid of the accumulated rubbish of years, and so all parties were equally pleased. Here on Saturday afternoon family parties collected discussing eagerly how best to lay out the cash they had brought with them. There you might see old Nazzareno hanging in doubt between a much-needed hat and a huge jackknife that he tries in vain to cheapen; his daughter Assunta longs equally for a bright- coloured pair of stays, with wooden stiffeners as solid as a cuirass, and a set of silver-gilt earrings; while Philomena, her mother, turns her more practical mind to a pile of gaily-coloured cotton goods. The minutes and the quarters and the half hours slip past, and, still undecided, the party is jostled away by other equally eager and equally uncertain Annunciatas and Marias, Pietros, Giuseppes, and Giovannis, for scriptural names are all the fashion here, while all the time the salesman, used to the ways of the natives, stands by, an unconcerned spectator to all appearance, knowing that in the end the spare cash will come into his till, excepting always the two or three halfpence which are sacredly respected for buying tickets in the next day's tombola. At one end of the village, all along the avenue leading up to the church, long poles have been planted wreathed and 46A 724 TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. festooned with box twigs, and are now being hung thick with many-coloured Chinese lanterns for Sunday's illumination. Sunday is ushered in by a loud clangour of bells swinging wildly from the combined exertion of all the amateur ringers who can find footing in the church tower. At eight o'clock an early mass is celebrated, but to a small attendance, the bulk of the population preferring to loaf in the streets, there to greet their visitors from outlying villages, and discuss the events of the day. At eleven the chief function of the festival takes place, the veneration of the sacred relics. A couple of centuries ago the parish of Cutigliano came into possession of two relics of first-class importance, which have ever since been the pride of the whole population. In the seventeenth century, Carlo Randini, a citizen of Cutigliano, made the arduous journey to Rome to seek his fortune, and there rose to the high dignity of protonotary to the papal court. Casting about within himself how he might best benefit his native place and keep alive his name in the memory of his fellow-citizens, he decided that he would most worthily provide for their spiritual and temporal welfare, by placing them under saintly protection. Carrying out this intention, he purchased the bodies of St. Aurelius and St. Irenaeus, conveyed them to Cutigliano, and drew up a notarial act that certified the genuineness of the sacred remains, and secured the possessions of them for ever to the village of Cutigliano. As witness of his benefaction, the portrait of the donor with his hand extended in the act of making the gift is hung up, when the festival comes round, in the sight of all men, on the wall of the church. The sacred remains are preserved in richly-gilt shrines with glass front and sides. The skulls are bare, in all their grinning hideousness; the rest of the skeletons are happily clothed in rich costumes, the hands covered with silk gloves, and the feet in elegant stockings. The chief feature of the service, to the profane at any rate, is the magnificent tenor of the village chemist, which dominates all the other voices, and fills the church with a volume of sound. He is a handsome Neapolitan, stands six feet high, has a superb figure, and with adequate training would have made his fortune on the stage. Of evenings he often collects a crowd round his shop listening to his renderings of southern songs, while his son of twelve, with the happy confidence of youth, measures and mixes behind the counter. When mass is over and the people here have been duly blessed and incensed, a priest, standing in front of the altar, holds up a reliquary, that contains some minute fragment of humanity of concentrated efficacy, for the adoration of all. One by one the men come up to the altar steps, devoutly kiss the glass that covers the precious bone, and drop a copper or two into the brass tray which is carried by an attendant. After each osculation the TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. 725 glass is carefully wiped with a napkin, and then presented to the next in order. The women come after the men. The faith of these is apparently more lively. They seem fully satisfied that by the act of adoration they have committed themselves to the effectual safeguard of the saint, and they turn away their faces radiant with peace and contentment. Here comes a family group, a mother leading a little girl by the hand with a baby on her arm. It is touching to see the earnestness with which the mother presses the pouting lips of her infant against the sacred charm and the joy with which she broods over him when she has thus secured his salvation; behind comes an old woman, wrinkled, infirm, alone in the world, but the weight of her years and trouble seems to grow light when she has secured the goodwill and intercession of the saint. And so they come in a long succession of every age and condition, but all believing and devout. Long after the service is over many of the worshippers remain absorbed in prayer, kneeling in different parts of the church, utterly lost to all that passes around. Their lips move, and now and again a word or two bursts from them in the fervour of their devotion, and then they resume their silent prayer, while a tear perhaps rolls down their wrinkled cheek and falls unnoticed to the ground. One by one they rise and go up reverently to where the skeletons of the saints are exposed, remain for a while gazing on the holy relics, then kiss the shrine and go. At four o'clock come vespers, and afterwards the procession in which the precious bodies are carried from the church through the village. During the whole day crowds have been thronging into Cutigliano from the surrounding hamlets and from all the hillside farms. The streets, the piazzas, and the churchyard are thronged. The local band, in bright red uniform, is in attendance. So too are a company of friendly rivals in harmony; for early in the afternoon the band of Lizzano came marching along the narrow path that winds through the mountain woods and meadows to the east; behind it followed some two score men and boys in white cassocks, who had volunteered their services, bearing crosses, banners, and religious emblems. As the time for the start approaches, the beadle, who is also master of the ceremonies on this occasion, bustles about with eager zeal to get everybody in his right place; but his recruits are all undrilled, and the perspiration streams from his forehead before he is satisfied with his labours and the signal for the start is given. First marches the visitors' band, then two by two, bearing long wax torches that blink and gutter in the hot sun, eighty men in white cassocks, then a group of clerics with banners and crucifixes, then the two saints, then more white-robed attendants, and at last, when the Cutigliano band brings up the rear, the much enduring sacristan can sit down with a sigh of 726 TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. relief on the stone step under the porch, conscious that he has played the man. After the procession has passed there is hardly standing ground in the streets. All day the crowd in the village has grown thicker, and the din of voices louder, and now round every shop, and tavern, and stall, there surges a shouting, gesticulating, jostling, laughing, bargaining, and perspiring throng. Here stands a pedlar who unites the sacred and secular in characteristic fashion. His pack opens out to form a minature shrine in front of which burn two little wax tapers in honour of a rough painting of the Virgin, coloured in gaudy blues and reds. He does a brisk trade charms and rosaries, and broadsheets which relate the story of the miracle-working image of the Madonna, - how it was wrought by St. Luke and wonderfully wafted across land and sea to the black mountains of Ardenza, above Leghorn. A little beyond stands a table loaded with great piles of flat wafers and suspicious looking sweets, that would threaten much trouble to their many purchasers did not a diet of chestnut cakes harden men's stomachs against all lesser assaults. Further on a heap of water-melons is steadily diminishing as one by one the big green balls are sliced into ruddy sections, in which the black stones gleam like the eyes of an eastern h'ouri. Then come more stalls where toys and cakes and household stuff tempt the passerby. But the thickest crowds gather round the desks where tickets for the tombola are sold. See how anxiously yonder contadino debates the question with himself on what numbers he shall stake his pence. Fifty-five he has quite made up his mind shall be the first, it gives the years of his age, and eight will do for the day of the month, but what the other numbers shall be is not so clear. Thirteen might do, it stands for ill luck, and did not a frightened horse breaking through the procession nearly upset the shrine where St. Irenaeus lies. But then the saint escaped, and no one was really hurt. Besides, can a saint be unlucky? He scratches his head and turns to his acquaintance for advice on this delicate point of faith, but all are too busy about their own affairs. Then his son fell from a tree and broke his leg on the 29th of July, and that must mean something; and his wife bade him be sure and remember that eighty-eight stands for a murder, and it was only yesterday that Gigi, the mule driver, stabbed Beppo. Yes, eighty-eight promises well, only was it really a murder, for Beppo was a bad lot, and had just cheated him of a franc at "Mora"? And so the odd fellow, with his mouth agape, goes on weighing the virtues of different numbers, and his hustled from side to side by more decided gamblers. Here Carlo, the sindaco's son, his face flushed, and a little unsteady from the wine he has drunk, makes quite a sensation by buying ten tickets just as they come; the prodigal youth. But his example has few imitators; most investors have TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. 727 their numbers pat and can give a ready reason for the faith that is in them. Ask that little red-haired rascal, who is gazing at his ticket as confidently as if the eighty francs were already in his pocket, what his numbers are. His sharp little eyes glitter, and he speaks willingly enough, though wild horses would not have torn his secret from him before he had secured his ticket. Fifteen is the number of letters in the saint's name; and ninety-six stands for stealing, that he saw in his master's book of lucky numbers, and didn't he get soundly whipped last week for stealing apples in Sandro's orchard? and as he jumped downstairs this morning he came plump on to the cat that had had eight kittens in the night, and so on, and so on. He is not a bit discouraged by the fact that every man jack in the crowd is just as confident of winning as himself. And now the clock strikes six, the sales end, and all adjourn to the piazza where the sindaco sits to preside over the drawing. In one corner, shaded by a row of acacia trees, is a platform on which the sindaco and other dignitaries are collected to preside over the drawing, and a band in the rear whiles away the tedium of the wait, for the proceedings are very long drawn out, and would exhaust the patience of any less enduring folk. First the counterfoils have to be verified and delivered to the collector for the government, which claims rather over a third of the receipt as tax. Then one by one little printed tickets numbered from one to a hundred are held up to be examined by the crowd, while a volunteer with stentorian voice shouts out their import. Each number is then carefully folded up and dropped into a little wire workbox, shaped like a squirrel's revolving cage or a miniature dust-sifter. After these preliminaries the real excitement begins. A young boy rolls up his shirt sleeve to his elbow, and plunging his hand into the cage draws out a number which is solemnly unfolded by the sindaco, his dignity will not allow him to do anything quickly, and the corresponding number is exhibited on a large standard prepared for the purpose with a hundred revolving figures, something like a huge cricket scoring-board. Out come 25. Every ticket-holder knows perfectly well the numbers on his ticket, but for a moment every head is bent down to consult the precious paper. Far away on the edge of the crowd a little girl crows with delight, and waves her ticket round her head. She has scored the first point, And so the fun goes on as first one and then another speculator announces his hopes or disappointment. At last after two hours' suspense the winner is announced. Our little acquaintance with the sharp eyes had not won, but he is nearly as well pleased as if he had. He was mistaken in some matter of detail, and any one may be mistaken like that, but his theories are unimpeachable; and another time ---- ! As it was ninety-six came out all right, as for the kittens, of course he 728 TUSCAN HIGHLANDERS AT HOME. ought not to have counted the old cat with them, eight was the number for him and sure enough eight was drawn quite early. And so on with all his numbers. He has good and sufficient reason why each one just missed being right, and every day for the next week he will enjoy the tombola a dozen times at least as he fights the battle of the numbers over again with a score of friends all equally unlucky, but equally unshaken in their faith in their system, which must surely win at the next festa. The evening closes with a splutter of fireworks, and soon after nightfall we all go off to bed dusty and tired with the arduous dissipation of St. Irenaeus' Feast. E. STRACHAN MORGAN. "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" A Novel. BY ANNIE THOMAS (MRS. PENDER CUDLIP), Author of "Denis Donne," "Theo Leigh," "Played Out," "Eyre of Bleadon," "Allerton Towers," etc., etc. CHAPTER XXVIII. OLIVIA IS FIRM. As Marcus Gwynne and Olivia walked back to the house, they both felt that their story was written in their faces, and for a wonder the man felt the least concern that this should be the case. He certainly had harboured no thought of such a climax when he had invited her to walk down to the river. But the climax, now that he had unexpectedly reached it, was not hampered by any unpleasant doubts or reflections. He knew all there was to be known of Olivia, all that one can ever know of any human being, save oneself. He knew that she had suffered a strong affection for him to establish itself in her heart long ago in the days of their boy and girlhood, and that this affection had never wavered for an hour. He knew that she was entirely unselfish, and would be happy in any walk of life, provided she believed him to be happy too. He knew that his action would give unqualified happiness to his mother, and that his uncle, Lord Mount Hawke, would be intensely gratified at having him for a son-in-law. Above all, he knew that his feeling for Constance would die a happier death when it became his duty to nourish and cherish the one he entertained for Olivia into stronger life. So knowing all these things, he was very well satisfied that the climax had been reached so easily and in such a matter-of-fact way, although he had hardly intended it. But Olivia, on the contrary, though she had gained the proffered heart and hand of the only man to whom she had ever given a single loving thought, was not so well at ease in her mind. She was keenly and nervously alive to the fact that it was something she had said which had brought the honour she had dreamt of and longed for hopelessly upon her. She had a restless humiliating 730 "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" conviction that if she had not been weak enough to let fall those two traitor tears, Marcus would not have thrilled with that sudden pity, under the influence of which he had spoken. She stung herself by recalling all he had told her of Constance Brymer's grace and beauty, and intellect and charm. And like many another wife, she told herself that she could but fail to please and satisfy a taste which had been developed and gratified by so incomparable an old love. In short, proud as the position of being publicly engrafted into his life and enthroned within his heart would be, her innermost consciousness told her that it would be a shaky one. Accordingly, as they crossed a portion of the lawn on which there was no welcome shade cast, and on which they were clearly outlined for the scrutiny of a group of Gwynnes and guests who were assembled on the upper terrace, Marcus looked by far the more complacently elated of the two. Indeed, Olivia did not look elated at all, but rather frightened. Her feet seemed weighted and her knees shook, and she was aware that she was walking in a feeble, uncertain way that made her wish people wouldn't look at her. Something in her son's direct tender glance at her made Mrs. Sackville feel that the end she so desired was attained. An irresistible impulse made her call Olivia to her where she sat under the shelter of the window-awning. The day had not been one of unmixed pleasure to Mrs. Sackville. Her buoyant Irish nature enabled her to throw herself with sympathy into the universal hilarity which seemed to be the portion of all Lord Mount Hawke's family and friends, but it was an effort to do so, the real spirit was lacking. The truth is her sister and their sons and daughters and the present generation of the neighbours about Mount Hawke were nearly strangers. Already, too, she missed the services which Laura Payne had scrupulously yielded to her for so long, and Olivia's unselfish, unremitting attentions were no longer solely at her aunt's disposal as they had been at Thorpe. Of course, this was natural. Olivia was the only grown-up daughter left, and her domestic and social duties in her father's house were multifarious; nevertheless, though it was natural it was hard. Again, there was the feeling that when she went back to Thorpe she could not, in justice to Olivia, ask the girl to go with her, and her life at Thorpe without Olivia, and possibly without Marcus, would be a sadly lonely one. During the earlier years of her marriage she had not gone much into county society for two reasons. One was that some people had halted a little dubiously before cultivating Mr. Sackville. The other was that she had halted far more decidedly and stood away on the opposite course from those people who had so dubiously doubted. But now time had made her less exacting and less antagonistic. She was "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" 731 a wealthy well-born widow, and her son the peer of any one she knew. If only he had giver her a daughter, with what pride she would have made the effort to go into society and see them take their places, and see Thorpe assume its rightful position as a well-occupied gentleman's house in the county. Instead of this she had been telling herself dismally this day, she would soon have to go back to her own home alone! Now Marcus came forward with his cousin, and looked at her with that clear, happy, sunny, eloquent smile in his eyes, that perhaps only the mother of a son can read aright, and the whole prospect was changed. She called Olivia to her, and the rest of the party, who were laughing and talking too noisily to take any notice of the half-tones in the picture before them, and who probably would not have noticed them even if more quietly engaged, had a surprise. For Mrs. Sackville, forgetful of every one's presence or regardless of it, thinking only of the happiness and security she felt for her son, and the satisfaction she felt for herself in this certainty of having a daughter after her own heart in her old age, put her arms round Olivia's neck and kissed her heartily. "Never has a mother given a blessing to a son's choice more joyfully, my darling Livy! My dear daughter, may God bless you." Poor Olivia - covered with hot tears and blushes, and almost incapable of standing by reason of being overwhelmed with awkward embarrassment and the "chaff," which was instantly showered upon her by her young brothers - made no attempt to reply. As soon as she could free herself from her Aunt Helena's embrace, she turned and ran into the house, leaving Marcus to bear the brunt of the astonishment and congratulations which were liberally poured upon him. But Marcus was quite equal to the occasion. The climax had come upon him quite unexpectedly, but he was glad that it had come. Some men might have thought his mother's action rather premature. But Marcus was quite contented that the matter should be made public at once, and arranged without his having to go and make an avowal of it to his uncle. As it was he was able to smile quite cheerfully, and without any embarrassment, as he said to Lord Mount Hawke. "My mother is so delighted that she has taken the pleasant task of telling you out of my heads. It's rather hard on you to be asked to give away another daughter on Cosy's wedding-day, isn't it?" "Not at all, my dear boy," Lord Mount Hawke answered with engaging frankness. "It's the greatest pleasure I'll have given myself for a long time the day I'll hand Olivia over to you." Then he went on to laugh at his sister for her sharp-sightedness, and to confess that for his part he had thought "little Livy" had 734 "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" if she likes. Take care she doesn't do it while Marcus is still free." "What she does is nothing to me; it's Marcus I have to think of," Olivia said rather sadly. But the very argument her father had used to weaken her determination only served to strengthen it the more. So presently Marcus went away with his mother, and after spending a month at Thorpe he was startled by the receipt of a telegram from Colonel Hillier summoning him to Glade. CHAPTER XXIX. "IS IT - MURDER?" "MARCUS, I feel sure that it is something fresh about that wretched man Conway, or his unhappy wife," Mrs. Sackville said impatiently, when her son showed her Colonel Hillier's telegram. "I'm afraid of it myself." "Then don't go; in justice to Olivia and yourself don't mix yourself up with Mrs. Conway's affairs. If she has countenanced her uncle's appealing to you, now that she is unprotected by her husband's presence even, I think it most reprehensible! almost unpardonable indeed." "My dear mother, she's the last woman in the world to countenance a reprehensible appeal to any one, especially to me. If it has anything to do with her, you may be sure she knows nothing about her uncle's telegram and that she is not at Glade." "Think of Olivia, Marcus! What will she feel when she hears that you have gone back to Glade?" "I hope she will feel satisfied that I am doing the right thing, and acting as a gentleman." "She will feel that you are being led into temptation. Marcus, when you offered yourself to your cousin you ought to have made up your mind resolutely to have done with those Devonshire people, who have caused you so much unhappiness already." "As far as I can make it out, it isn't 'those Devonshire people' who have caused me unhappiness, it's that old reprobate Conway." "Olivia will be more apt to associate you with Mr. Conway's wife than with the man himself." "Olivia will never do anything ungenerous." "Her judgment may be just, though severe." "I shall always abide by her judgment, you may depend upon that, mother," and then Mrs. Sackville sighed despondently, and Marcus walked up to his room and began to pack his portmanteau. In another hour he was on his way to Glade. His way to the station took him past the Manor Farm, at the "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" 735 farm-yard gate of which Mrs. Salter was standing. He was driving rapidly by when his name, uttered by her in a tone of eager anxiety checked him. He pulled up, and seeing that she was coming towards him with outstretched nervous hands, and a general air of distress and bewilderment, he jumped from the dog-cart, and walked out of ear-shot of his groom before he spoke to her. "Mrs. Salter, is anything wrong?" he asked anxiously, and the poor woman broke into an open sob as she answered. "Charlie's gone, Mr. Gwynne! Where, I don't know; why, I don't know. He has not been home for three days; and to-day, in to-day's paper, I read-Oh! how can his mother say the words-of a murder in Paris." She stopped, choked by agony and sobs, and Marcus gasped out in a non-comprehending way, "A murder in Paris! What has that to do with Charlie, or with you?" "Ah! God knows. God only knows. Mr. Gwynne, my son was unhappy when he left. He has been unhappy for months- ever since that vicious serpent Laura Payne left him. Come in and I'll show you the paper, show you what I fear and why I fear it." "I must come-but I shall lose my train if I do! Can I help you if I come?" he asked half hesitating-as he thought of the Glade people-following her as he saw her anguish. She picked up a paper from the table in that keeping-room in which Mrs. Sackville had pleaded for her consent to her son's marriage with Laura Payne, and pointed with her poor trembling old finger to a paragraph, which ran as follows, copied from a Paris telegram to a London paper:-"An appalling tragedy has just happened. An elderly gentleman named Conway, has been found dead in his bedroom at The Grand. Suspicion has fallen on a young Englishman, whom it appears was formerly engaged to the young woman who has lately been living with Conway as his wife. He declares his innocence and protests that he feels the utmost horror and indignation against the perpetrator of such a crime. But appearances are against him." For a full minute Marcus Gwynne was dumb. A thousand thoughts rushed through his brain, but not one of them held a suspicion of Charlie Salter. At last he spoke; grasping the poor miserable mother's hand, and rang out words that pulled her out of the slough of despair. "Of course Charlie is innocent of the crime, and however much appearances are against him he shall be proved so. Don't let yourself have a doubt about him. I'll wire to the police authorities to-day that I'll be in Paris to-morrow in order to be of assistance to my friend Mr. Salter. Cheer up, Mrs. Salter; your son is no more guilty than I am. I shall take a detective with 736 "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" me, and Laura Payne shall have the full benefit of his attentions. Charlie will come back with me in a few days, please God. Meantime go to my mother, she'll share my faith in Charlie I know, and comfort you." Every nerve in Mrs. Salter's face quivered as he spoke, and when he had finished, she took his hands and covered them with kisses, and blest him passionately for having given her hope, and for believing in her boy! "I must go now," he said gently, "I shall lose my train else; the sooner I go the sooner I shall be with poor Charlie." Then she let him go, hurried him away in fact. And he by dint of putting one of his fastest horses along at its best pace, caught his train after all. He was in London by one o'clock, and took the next train down to Devonshire. It chanced to be an express, and he reached Glade at a not altogether unreasonable hour. There he heard full confirmation of the terrible story he had read in the morning's local journal. And there he found the widow of the murdered man. "I made my uncle send for you," she said to him, gravely, "that you may explain to him a circumstance that may help to clear up any mystery there may be, and so help to prove the guilt or ignorance of the suspected man. Tell him first about our seeing that woman in the park, wearing some of my diamonds. And then I will tell you how and when those diamonds were stolen. I have confessed it all to my uncle - my mad suspicions, my almost criminal reticence, my weak credulity and cowardice. And when you have told him what we saw, he will draw the same inference as I do, I think." And then Marcus took up the parable, and without seeking to colour Colonel Hillier's opinions, told how after seeing Laura Payne wear those lost diamonds, of which Mrs. Conway would give him no account, he had followed up Mr. Conway with the view of putting him on the track. Told of how he had followed Conway to the house in St. John's Wood, and found him to be the villain he had long suspected him of being. And when he had finished, Colonel Hillier said, "If he has been murdered it is by the woman for whom he thieved, and lived a lie." Then Constance told the tale with which readers of this story are already acquainted; told it all out, turning her eyes bravely on Marcus even while she was saying how she had suffered herself to be deceived into believing - or rather fearing - that he had been the culprit. Then she added, "You can never forgive me, Mr. Gwynne, I know that. I know too well how relentless I should have been against you, if you had ever so cruelly maligned me in your mind." "Can it be possible that women are less generous - or just - "LOVE'S A TYRANT!" 737 than men? For I have already forgiven you, Mrs. Conway. The evidence against me was very plausible; it was a small wonder that you allowed yourself to be frightened into being deceived." Then his face flushed as he realized how precious his honour must have been to her, since she had bartered herself away in order that it might not be publicly demolished. A silence fell upon them for a few minutes, a silence that was broken by Bella Hillier, the least interested of the party. "How has that marriage turned out that you were going to, when Connie met you last in London?" she asked. "Very well, I believe; my cousin Cosy is a very sensible girl, and having made up her mind to marry Hubbard, she made up her mind also to show people that she respects him, and is a happy woman. He's a liberal, good old fellow, and Cosy is able to gratify her heart's desire, and help her family largely." "Is she prettier than her sister, the one I've heard you speak of most?" Mrs. Conway asked, and then Marcus remembered that Mrs. Conway was probably still in ignorance of his engagement. The recollection of this fact embarrassed him, and he answered at random - "Yes, much prettier; but Hubbard preferred Olivia at first - at least they say so." "And she wouldn't have him?" "He didn't make her an offer, because she stood away from him directly she saw it, Cosy told me. I - I don't know whether or not you have happened to hear that I am engaged to my cousin Olivia?" Perhaps only a woman who is called upon to listen to these words from the lips of the only man she has ever loved in all her life can realize what sensations beset Constance. She never winced outwardly, though she felt that her uncle had given her one swift sympathetic look, and that Belle was flushing as furiously as if she had been Marcus's old love, who now learnt that she was supplanted. She forced herself to sit very still, and presently compelled herself to say very calmly, "I am glad to hear that you are going to marry Miss Gwynne. You gave me the impression of her being a sweet, good girl, and I know your mother wished for the marriage, and consequently must be delighted." She was aware that there was something strained and unsympathetic, not to say hard, in these phrases. Indeed, they were not at all the words she had intended employing when she began to speak. But her brain, and heart, and mind were all weary and over-taxed, and now on top of it all had fallen this blunt blow of unacknowledged disappointment. "You must allow me to offer my congratulations," Colonel Hillier said, stiffly; "I knew something of Lord Mount Hawke some years ago. Has he sons?" VOL. XVII. 47 TIME'S FOOTSTEPS FOR THE MONTH. HAD our lot been cast in the olden days of seer and prophet the occurrences of the last month would doubtless have given birth to a Jeremiad. Disturbed kingdoms, ominous menaces both of Fate and Nemesis, riot and anarchy, an absence of light and leading, at least one great spirit fled from this earth for ever -- these are not footprints which can give our great genius of the scythe and hour-glass much pleasure in his painful and predestined path. It would seem as if a wave of doom and disorder were sweeping over the earth. "The whole head is sick and the whole heart faint." Worse than this, the reign of Sham seems in the ascendant : an inability to look facts in the face, a mock-glorification of false heroes and the apotheosis of crime grows daily more popular. Men call evil good and good evil. The Mitchelstown tragi-comedy ended as might have been supposed. We do not question the honesty of Mr. O'Brien, but he is the rash victim of a malignant federation who have used him for their ends. From the first the danger of the Parnellite cabal has been its two-edgedness. With one mouth it preaches constitutional moderation, with the other it threatens social combustion ! "Do nothing," exclaimed this Bombastes Furioso of rebellion in his last fervid flight, "to mar the glorious work of Gladstone and Parnell. Take his advice, and shun outrages as you would shun poison. But on the other hand, as I have said, if patience is necessary for us, manhood is still more necessary. Show that you are worth fighting for, because I tell you if we are to win an Irish Parliament and win an ownership in the soil of Ireland this winter, it will not be by cringing to coercion. It will be by fighting coercion foot to foot ; it will be by fighting freedom's battle with freedom's weapons ; it will be by showing and proving to the world that the Irish people can hold aloft the banner of our sacred cause above the power of criminals to stain it and above the power of tyrants to conquer it." What "freedom's" weapons are was proved not many weeks afterwards when an old man was brutally murdered by moonlighters for doing his duty : a further interpretation of words addressed to an ignorant and infuriated populace was furnished little more than a week subsequently by Mr. Dillon. "The Government," he urged, "would find before long, and the TIME'S FOOTSTEPS FOR THE MONTH. 745 landlords would find, that their position had not been improved by the cruel wrong inflicted on Mr. O'Brien. His last words before he was shut up were, 'Avoid outrage ;' but they would find other methods to make the landlords of Ireland regret the day when they embarked on this cowardly and contemptible policy." In other words, the Plan of Campaign must be pursued to the bitter end ; and the Plan of Campaign, as every one is aware, involves not only the non-payment of rent, but the infliction of an almost Corsican Vendetta on those who do. The gloom of the Mitchelstown incident, however, has been relieved by a ray of light. The efforts of Captain Stokes to effect his arrest before the warrant was quite ready, so as to prevent the martyr's rescue in a free fight, were most ludicrously magnified by Dr. Tanner and his sweet-spoken companions into a gross breach of the law, and "another insult to Ould Ireland." To recall this mock-heroic scene is almost like reading a page of Thackeray, and indeed Captain Cortigan, had he been alive now, would doubtless have posed as the Cato of his country, and might very possibly have been pressed into service by Mr. Gladstone as one of his posthumous patrons of Home Rule ! But the two sequels prove even funnier. Mr. Wilfred Blunt was arrested for infringing the law, and made such a resistance as can be vicariously afforded by a devoted and Amazonian wife. Far be it from us to utter an unchivalrous word of Lady Ann. Posted on the Bluebeard's turret of the stump platform she looked in vain for a deliverer, and eventually determined herself to shield the male Fatima. The fainting husband, the panting and protecting wife were very pretty pieces of business indeed ; but when the bailed-out hero published a letter in the lady's praise, with the refrain of her appeal, "Cannot you see that he is very weak?" he forgot Dr. Johnson's advice, "Never tell a story against yourself." People with a sense of humour have found little of late in the "damnable iteration" of dark deeds in Ireland -- the home of humour -- to cheer them ; but we must be thankful for the silver linings of dark clouds, and Lady Ann -- the Andromeda who delivered Perseus -- has achieved a deserved immortality. And now we have Mr. O'Brien denouncing from his cell at once "breaches of faith" and the loss of his own breeches. The ill-used patriot is determined to be bereaved, and chafes against prison discipline ; but how can the halo be worn without the flame, and is it sensible to suffer for a cause and complain of the suffering ? It does not do to act Bob Acres if you wish to play "Sir Lucius O'Trigger." As might have been expected, Mr. Gladstone has kept the ball rolling : repeated communications to anybody who addresses him, discrediting the action of police and magistrates, branding law as "coercion," and stigmatising the action of the Government in proclaiming disturbed districts as "arbitrary" and "unconstitutional" have been rife ; but the 752 TIME'S FOOTSTEPS FOR THE MONTH. Sir George Macfarren, too, is gone, and England has lost a painstaking and true-hearted musician. Nothing really creative, however, ever issued from his pen, and his criticisms tended sometimes to be narrow-minded. The musical events of the season have been the performances of young Hoffmann. This marvellous boy is notone of those infant prodigies who are born to evanescence as the sparks fly upwards. He is a genuine and even creative artist, with a tremendous facility, and if he maintains his fresh nature and earnest effort will become a real force in the world of harmony. Except the centenary of Don Giovanni in Paris, and the renewed success of Mr. Irving in America, the only other artistic circumstance -- if indeed it can be termed artistic -- that calls for comment is the Grosvenor Gallery embroglio. The bare facts are -- Sir Coutts Lindsay founded the Grosvenor Institution, of which the gallery is the main and most attractive portion ; he engaged as its secretary Mr. Hallé, a young artist, and subsequently invited the co-operation of Mr. Comyns Carr, an enterprising littérateur. Eventually, and more especially lately, Sir Coutts has been losing heavily by the concern. The craze for what has been called "Greenery-yallery" seems abating. It was the reaction against the age of mahogany, and a fresh reaction has in turn set in. It did much good work, but it has not paid. Sir Coutts thereupon summoned a Mr. Pyke, a financial gentleman, to his aid, and Messrs. Hallé and Carr not only retired to the tune of indignant letters on the part of Mr. Alma Tadema and Mr. Burne-Jones, but thought fit to publish their reasons and their strictures in the Times. A Bohemian club was allowed to assemble in this Temple above a restaurant. "Art" was being desecrated and so forth. Two chief considerations strike us in this regard. It is not denied that Messrs. Hallé and Carr were paid for their services. Their sacrifices for "art" were certainly not gratuitous ; that is the first consideration. Secondly, these fallen angels seem to make the same mistake about "art" as Sir G. Trevelyan does about the Liberal party. They limit it by themselves. There may be very good "art" which Messrs. Hallé and Carr do not care for, and there is no reason why Sir Coutts should not try what art he chooses in his galleries, and what honourable means of profit he likes in the use of his building. Cannot he do what he wills with his own ? The letter of these gentlemen reads unpleasantly like advertisement, and really "art" is less served by these sordid squabbles than by any other means. It is said that an action for slander is pending. Art is long and life is short, too short for a further discussion of Messrs. Hallé and Carr. The Grosvenor Gallery had better start a laundry wherein to wash its own linen. Another little conflict has perturbed the University of Oxford. The motion for a final school of modern languages has been rejected by Convocation. Professor Nettleship affirms that TIME'S FOOTSTEPS FOR THE MONTH. 753 this is "a national calamity." If so, it has not yet laid the nation prostrate. We ourselves believe that classical literature and philosophy as at present taught with the advantages of modern light form the best education, but no one can deny that other languages and literature would afford vast means of culture, and a practical aid to success in life. The objection really is that in all probability this school would be badly managed. In England modern languages are taught by the wrong people. A Balliol tutor would be lecturing on Molière by the light of Comte mispronounced and misunderstood, and German might be lessoned as it was at a great public school by a French-Swiss. More than this the example of the sister university has not been reassuring. Those who wish to study modern languages and literature can always do so, and the discipline of the final classical school will not be a bad preparation. What may be characterised as "lay events" at home have been few and far between. For the first time we can boast of a Roman Catholic Lord Mayor who keeps an hotel -- and the Pope at bay. Lord Wolverton, Mr. Gladstone's ablest and wealthiest lieutenant, is dead ; a gorilla has arrived at the Zoological Gardens ; Mr. Chamberlain has started for Canada to eliminate the Fisheries dispute from the Irish question ; and the Cass case has passed into limbo. With the decision of that case we entirely agree : the hysterical outbursts on the one side or the other were equally repugnant, and Madame Roland's exclamation might be well varied to "O, Sancta Castitas ! how many crimes are committed in thy name ?" That Endacott stuck to a mistake was wrong, but it was not perjury, and we cannot after the trial conceive that Miss Cass was injured except by Mr. Newton and the Pall Mall Gazette. Christmas will soon be upon us, and the old refrain of "Peace and goodwill among men" ringing on every side amid the surging din of much discord, some falsity and more pettiness. It is well for human nature that the lovely message is mistranslated, and that the truer rendering both in version and in application is "Peace from God to men of good will." W. S. VOL. XVII. 48 Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury - CONTENTS OF VOL. VI. Page ABDY-WILLIAMS, E., M. An Enchanted Island 214 ALLISON, ALFRED "George Fordham" 513 BASILICO, VINCENT A Ballad of Trivialities 93 BERLYN, ALFRED Ballad: "Beside the Cradle" 186 BEST BOOKS, THE A Classified Bibliography 126, 382, 511, 638, 762 BOULTER, STANLEY Carlsbad 420 BOWKER, JAMES An Irish Trip, 1634 659 BOYLE, FREDERICK "Sybil or Cyril?" 33 COURTNEY, W. L. Sonnet 83 " " "Jacqueline Pascal" 274 CRAWFORD, G. M., MRS. The French Sandals 641 CRITICAL NOTICES 120, 249, 376, 508, 630, 754 DOLMAN, FREDERICK Was Thackeray a Cynic? 188 EVERITT, GRAHAM Doctors and Doctors 69, 196, 340, 469, 580, 701 FAGAN, REV. H. S. "Orange Ulster" 519 FORBES-HOLMES, A. W. Darkest before Dawn 683 FORTESCUE, RANDOLPH Plantation Life 693 GEOGHEGAN, MARY Sonnet: "In a Library" 221 GOODRICH, MAUD F. Poetry: Translation from Pushkin 351 "HAL FALOAF" Cowboys and Buffalo Bill 48 " " American Pseudonyms 209 HAY, W. DELISLE Mushrooms and Toadstools 282 "JOURNALIST" The Evening Newspaper 180 KAY, J. TAYLOR The Emendators of Shakspere [tag] 308 KERNAHAN, COULSON Sonnet: "Dante Gabriel Rossetti" 399 "KNIGHT HARBINGER" The Truth about the Primrose League 292 LELY, J. M. Ecclesiastical Legislation for 1887 23 MACKAY, WILLIAM The Town Pump 147 MEYER, J. G. Poetry: Translation from Horace 350 MONTAGUE, F. C. The University of Oxford in the Middle Ages 53 MOORE, GEORGE Confessions of a Young Man 1, 129, 257, 385, 535 MORGAN, E. STRACHAN Tuscan Highlanders at Home 716 "NAT ARLING" Poetry: "The Tree's Secret" 119 NELSON, W. F. Herrings and Herring Fishery 567 NICOLS, ARTHUR Dogs, and Dog Legislation 407 NOBLE, E. The O'Donol Rent 168,297 NOEL, HON. RODEN Mr. Swinburne on Walt Whitman 653 "P. C." The Vicar's Wife 84 " Her First Ball 554 iv CONTENTS. PAGE PORTER, J. NEVILLE. . . Reform of the Architectural Profession . 163 " " . . . Ocean Steamships . . . . 429, 532 POTTER, F. SCARLETT . . My Peculiar Case . . . . . 325 RADCLYFFE, RAYMOND . . House Boats . . . . . . 400 ROBERTS, WILLIAM . . . Sonnet: "Night and Morning" . . . 534 ROBERTSON SCOTT, J.W.. . Bringing the Sea to Birmingham . . 16 SALT, H. S. . . . . Some Thoughts on De Quincey . . . 447 SIBBALD, ANDREW T. . . The Ancient Use of Acorns as Food . . 600 SKOTTOWE, BRITIFFE . . The Man in Grey . . . . .426 SYLVESTER, JOHN . . . Von Moltke: A Character Story . . . 63 SYMONS, ARTHUR . . . Walter Pater: "Imaginary Portraits" . . 157 THOMAS, ANNIE . . . Love's a Tyrant . 94, 222, 352, 481, 604, 729 TIME'S FOOTSTEPS FOR THE MONTH . . . 109, 239, 366, 498, 621, 744 UNDERHILL, G. F. . . . Night Thoughts . . . . . . . 402 WALDEN, OTTO . . . The Women of Classical Rome . . . 318 WELD, M. R. . . . . Autumn Song: Translation from German . 460 " " . . . . Winter Song: Translation from German . 715 "WEST COUNTRY PARSON" . The Bishops and the House of Lords . . 236 WEYMAN, STANLEY J. . . A Party of Four . . . . . . . 671 CRITICAL NOTICES. 759 and we heartily commend to all parents the duty of teaching their children the two great lessons of Labour and Love. It will always be a vexed question whether it is better for a boy to go to a boarding-school or to a day-school, and the answer must depend very much on the circumstances of each family. If a mother has other social duties to attend to she cannot devote her whole evenings to the boy on his return from school, and boys from ten to fourteen require constant supervision. Young men fresh from the University will hardly relish the remarks as to learning the rudiments of their profession, but we believe that some such training college as the author sketches is much needed. As to public schools, the author's suggestions resolve themselves into plain living and high thinking - separation of the dullards from the idlers - encouragement of originality and reservation of scholarships for those who need the assistance. We do not think that any parent will quarrel with the author on these cardinal points. We have not space to follow the author into his remarks on the profit and loss at Oxford, and the result of the £3,000 spent on education, but they are well worth perusal. So also is the appendix on public school morality, or rather immorality, of which it may truly be said, "expellas furca tamen usque recurret." - MIGNON'S HUSBAND.* EVERY one who has read "Bootles' Baby" and "Mignon's Secret" (and who has not?) will be charmed to renew acquaintance with their old friends Bootles, Lucy, and Mignon. The latter is now a finished young lady fresh from a Parisian school, and after a short season in Bootles' country house falls victim to Cupid in the * "Mignon's Husband." by JOHN STRANGE WINTER, author of "Bootles' Baby." F. V. White & Co. person of ----, but we must not disclose the secret. Squire Landover and Jane Carminie are well-drawn characters, and as for little Madge we don't know when we have had such a charming little sprite to amuse us. The author's sympathy with little children is quite infectious. - DE BARY'S FUNGI.* The 4th edition of Sachs' "Textbook of Botany," the standard work for advanced students, was published in 1874. Since then, so great has been the advance in our knowledge of the morphology and physiology of the vegetable kingdom, and so great the differentiation of study, that Professor Sachs has wisely determined the domain of botany to be too vast to be covered by a single mind. No further editions of the "Text-book" as such will therefore be issued; but different branches of the subject have been assigned to different experts, under the general supervision of Professor Sachs. To entrust the section relating to fungi and their allies to Professor De Bary of Strassburg was inevitable; and we have here a record of our present state of knowledge of this group from the pen of the highest living authority on the subject. The discussion of the fungi proper takes up four-fifths of the whole work, the remainder being devoted to the two smaller allied groups, the exceedingly curious and difficult Myxomycetes or Mycetozoa, and Schizomycetes or Bacteria, so important from the point of view of hygiene. The fungi are again treated under two heads: firstly, their general morphology, including a description of the various forms assumed by the different vegetative and reproductive organs; and secondly, the course of development of the differ-{ent} *"Comparative Morphology and Biology of the Fungi, Mycetozoa, and Bacteria." By A. DE BARY. Translated by H. E. F. GARNSEY; revised by J. B. BALFOUR. Oxford: Clarendon Press. 1887. 760 CRITICAL NOTICES. different groups, or of a representative member belonging to each. Unless our knowledge of these forms of life increases as rapidly in the future as it has done during the last ten or fifteen years, this work must long be the standard book of reference in this interesting and difficult department of botany. We have nothing but praise to award to the manner in which Mr. Garnsey and Professor Balfour have performed their parts of translating and editing. - THE SPORT OF CIRCUMSTANCES.* The author of "The Sport of Circumstances" would seem to have been unduly influenced by an aphorism of the poet Rogers, which stands at the head of one of his (perhaps we should say her) chapters : - "No scene of life but has contributed Much to remember." Doubtless every scene of life contributes something worth remembering by the actors in the scene ; but it does not follow that this something is equally worth remembering by all the world. Want of attention to this truth has led Mr. Louis Armstrong to introduce into "The Sport of Circumstances" a great deal which to the uninterested observer looks hardly worth recording in print. The Breton family, a fragment of whose history the book relates, appears to have been a very ordinary middle-class household, and Mr. Armstrong discloses nothing in the character or conversational powers of its members which warrants such a minute chronicle of every-day incidents and common-place small-talk as is interwoven with his story. This is the worst fault we have to find with the book. The love affairs of the two Miss Bretons follow an orthodox course and come to satisfactory, though opposite, *"The Sport of Circumstances." By LOUIS E. ARMSTRONG. London : Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co. 1887. conclusions. Kitty Breton makes a sprightly and lovable heroine. It might have been made more clear why she fell in love so promptly with Geoffrey Oldfield, one of the most unobtrusive heroes we have ever encountered, but the author may justly reply that such matters are often obscure in real life. In one respect, perhaps, the Bretons are not an ordinary family, for it must be confessed that Kitty's sister Rhoda is as exceptionally heartless as she appears to have been exceptionally beautiful, ensnaring the swain who by all the laws of fiction must belong to her sister, jilting him for a young man of means, who is a notorious drunkard, and then driving her second sweetheart to destruction by an unprincipled flirtation with an elderly and aristocratic roue. However, she gets her reward. Jack, the hobbadehoy brother, is very amusing, though like all his class he is apt to be too much en evidence, and the minor characters generally are sketched with a good deal of humour. - BAYREUTH AND FRANCONIAN SWITZERLAND* We were attracted by the first view of this book, with its neat cover and etched illustrations, but we found the contents to be a very common-place record of very common-place travel. Every detail is given with that painful conscientiousness which seems to be the besetting sin of recorders of travel. It may be - it doubtless was--very satisfactory to the pilgrims that at a certain post-office an "intelligent old gentleman handed out two letters," but why bestow such purely personal news upon the general public ? Such trifles doubtless make up the warp and woof of human life, but they are not the memories which cheer, ennoble, or touch the heart of the individual. Still less are they worth sharing with a circle of readers. *"Bayreuth and Franconian Switzerland." By R. MILNER BARRY. London : Swan Sonneschein, Lowrey & Co. CRITICAL NOTICES. 761 The travel-book which gives us graphic pictures of scenery, of life or manners, or wayside studies of even the stillest life, has some claim upon our attention ; the travel-book of the catalogue or practical guide-book has its usefulness also, and there are books of travel which aim chiefly at amusing the reader, and succeed in the effort. We cannot class this book in any of these categories, but commend it to the tourist to whom "Franconian Switzerland" is untrodden ground. DOONAN.* THE main theme of "Doonan" is not novel, but it is one capable of very effective development--the story of a girl, already secretly engaged, forced by a tyrannical father into a marriage with a man much older than herself, whom, from merely honouring and obeying, she gradually learns to love. It is a subject, however, the successful treatment of which requires no small degree of literary skill, and it is therefore no reproach to the author to say that in "Doonan" he has not made the most of his opportunities. Sir George Anyot, the husband, is a shadowy character, who displays a blindness to his wife's original sentiments towards him contrasting strangely with his suspicious attitude later on. We get hints that he is a gentleman of generous instincts and a devoted lover and husband, but it is not clearly explained how or why in the course of two or three months the heroine's devotion to Gerard Raymond is transferred to her lawful spouse. The fate of Gerard, the discarded lover is peculiarly unsatisfactory. He is introduced as a youth of good character and *"Doonan." By MELVILLE GRAY, author of "A Life's Trouble," "Una's Revenge," etc. London : Swan Sonnenschein, Lowrey & Co. 1887. abilities, who has done nothing worse than disagree with his father about his profession and religion. In this light and as an honest lover of Doonan he has a fair title to sympathy. That he must be got out of the way if Sir George Anyot's married life is to end happily is obvious. But it is a little hard that after being cheated of his sweetheart he should have to do duty for the leading villain of the piece. No doubt he becomes intensely depraved. He breaks the heart of a little Italian artist's model (of course he is an artist and goes to Rome) in sheer wantonness. He persecutes Doonan with his attentions, when she is endeavouring to do her duty to her husband. He gambles and borrows money of his sister. Finally, having done his best to make Sir George Anyot desperately jealous, he purloins a letter which the unhappy Doonan has written in the hope of putting matters straight with her husband, and elopes with it first to Rome and then to the Soudan, where he is wounded in battle and meets the fate he deserves. In spite of all this villainy, however, it is impossible to forget that Raymond has a grievance, and that Doonan has a good deal to answer for in the matter of his downfall. It will be seen from the foregoing hints that there is plenty of material in Doonan for a thoroughly readable book. Doonan herself--whose Irish descent is apparently responsible for her eccentric name--is rather a flabby heroine, but she plays her difficult part in the way that probably nine women out of ten would play it. Nita Raymond, the villain's sister, has much more of the heroine about her, and deserved a more interesting husband than Ernest Anyot. The female characters throughout are much better done than the men, who are little better than names. 764 THE BEST BOOKS OF THE PAST MONTH. CLASS H*. -- MEDICINE. V. -- Medical Treatises on Special Diseases, etc. § 12. -- *Schreiber, J. Manual of Treatment by Massage [tr.], 10s. 6d., 8vo, Pentland, Edin. § 19. -- *Bellew, H. W. On the Nature of Cholera ; 7s. 6d., 8vo, Trübner. VI. -- Surgery. § 26. -- *Barker, A. E. J. Manual of Surgical Operations ; ill., 12s. 6d., 8vo, Longman. CLASS I. -- ARTS AND TRADES. II. -- Engineering. § 5. -- *Fidler, T. C. On Bridge Construction ; 30s., 8vo, Griffin. III. Military and Naval rs. § 22. -- Hovgaard, G. W. Submarine Boats ; 5s., cr. 8vo, Spon. V. Industries and Trades. § 76. -- Beaumont, R. Woollen and Worsted Cloth Manufactures ; 7s. 6d., 12mo, Bell. VI. -- Fine Arts. § 85. -- *Stokes, M. Early Christian Art in Ireland : ill., 7s. 6d., 8vo, Chapman. § 101. -- *George, E. Etchings of Venice : 63s., 4to, Fine Art Society. 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