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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8720481 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54502 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54502) diff --git a/old/54502-0.txt b/old/54502-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 85bddbb..0000000 --- a/old/54502-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13598 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vacation Rambles, by Thomas Hughes - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Vacation Rambles - -Author: Thomas Hughes - -Release Date: April 7, 2017 [EBook #54502] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VACATION RAMBLES *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -VACATION RAMBLES - -By Thomas Hughes, Q.C. - -Author Of ‘Tom Brown’s Schooldays’ - -Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.--Juvenal - -London: Macmillan And Co. - -1895 - -[Illustration: 0001] - -[Illustration: 0009] - -PREFACE - -Dear C----- So you want me to hunt up and edit all the “Vacuus Viator” - letters which my good old friends the editors of _The Spectator_ have -been kind enough to print during their long and beneficent ownership of -that famous journal! But one who has passed the Psalmist’s “Age of Man,” - and is by no means enamoured of his own early lucubrations (so far as -he recollects them), must have more diligence and assurance than your -father to undertake such a task. But this I can do with pleasure-give -them to you to do whatever you like with them, so far as I have any -property in, or control over them. - -How did they come to be written? Well, in those days we were young -married folk with a growing family, and income enough to keep a modest -house and pay our way, but none to spare for _menus plaisirs_, of -which “globe trotting” (as it is now called) in our holidays was our -favourite. So, casting about for the wherewithal to indulge our taste, -the “happy thought” came to send letters by the way to my friends at 1 -Wellington Street, if they could see their way to take them at the usual -tariff for articles. They agreed, and so helped us to indulge in our -favourite pastime, and the habit once contracted has lasted all these -years. - -How about the name? Well, I took it from the well-known line of Juvenal, -“Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator,” which may be freely rendered, -“The hard-up globe trotter will whistle at the highwayman”; and, I -fancy, selected it to remind ourselves cheerfully upon what slender help -from the Banking world we managed to trot cheerfully all across Europe. - -I will add a family story connected with the name which greatly -delighted us at the time. One of the letters reached your grandmother -when a small boy-cousin of yours (since developed into a distinguished -“dark blue” athlete and M.A. Oxon.) was staying with her for his -holidays. He had just begun Latin, and was rather proud of his new lore, -so your grandmother asked him how he should construe “Vacuus Viator.” - After serious thought for a minute, and not without a modest blush, he -replied, “I think, granny, it means a wandering cow”! You must make -my peace with the “M.A. Oxon.” if he should ever discover that I have -betrayed this early essay of his in classical translation. - -Your loving Father, - -THOS. HUGHES. - -October 1895. - - - - -VACATION RAMBLES - - - - -EUROPE--1862 to 1866 - - - - -Foreign parts, 14th August 1862. - -Dear Mr. Editor-There are few sweeter moments in the year than those -in which one is engaged in choosing the vacation hat. No other garment -implies so much. A vista of coming idleness floats through the brain as -you stop before the hatter’s at different points in your daily walk, and -consider the last new thing in wideawakes. Then there rises before -the mind’s eye the imminent bliss of emancipation from the regulation -chimney-pot of Cockney England. Two-thirds of all pleasure reside in -anticipation and retrospect; and the anticipation of the yearly exodus -in a soft felt is amongst the least alloyed of all lookings forward to -the jaded man of business. By the way, did it ever occur to you, sir, -that herein lies the true answer to that Sphinx riddle so often asked in -vain, even of _Notes and Queries_: What is the origin of the proverb “As -mad as a hatter”? The inventor of the present hat of civilisation -was the typical hatter. There, I will not charge you anything for the -solution; but we are not to be for ever oppressed by the results of this -great insanity. Better times are in store for us, or I mistake the signs -of the times in the streets and shop windows. Beards and chimney-pots -cannot long co-exist. - -I was very nearly beguiled this year by a fancy article which I saw -in several windows. The purchase would have been contrary to all my -principles, for the hat in question is a stiff one, with a low, round -crown. But its fascination consists in the system of ventilation--all -round the inside runs a row of open cells, which, in fact, keep the hat -away from the head, and let in so many currents of fresh air. You might -fill half the cells with cigars, and so save carrying a case and add -to the tastefulness of your hat at the same time, while you would get -plenty of air to keep your head cool through the remaining cells. - -My principles, however, rallied in time, and I came away with a genuine -soft felt after all, with nothing but a small hole on each side for -ventilation. The soft felt is the only really catholic cover, equal to -all occasions, in which you can do anything; for instance, lie flat on -your back on sand or turf, and look straight up into the heavens--the -first thing the released Cockney rushes to do. Only once a year may it -be always all our lots to get a real taste of the true holiday feeling; -to drop down into some handy place, where no letter can find us; to -look up into the great sky, and over the laughing sea, and think about -nothing; to unstring the bow, and fairly say: “There shall no fight be -got out of us just now; so, old world, if you mean to go wrong, you may -go and be hanged!” To feel all the time that blessed assurance which -does come home to one at such times, and scarcely ever at any other, -that our falling out of the fight is not of the least consequence; that, -whatever we may do, the old world will not go wrong but right, and ever -righter--not our way, nor any other man’s way, but God’s way. A good -deal of sneering and snubbing has been wasted of late, sir (as you have -had more occasion than one to remark), on us poor folks, who will insist -on holding what we find in our Bibles; what has been so gloriously put -in other language by the great poet of our time:-- - - That nothing walks with aimless feet; - - That not one life shall be destroy’d, - - Or cast as rubbish to the void, - - When God hath made the pile complete. - -I suppose people who feel put out because we won’t believe that the -greatest part of creation is going to the bad can never in the nature of -things get hold of the true holiday feeling, so one is wasting time in -wishing it for them. However, I am getting into quite another line from -the one I meant to travel in; so shall leave speculating and push across -the Channel. There are several questions which might be suggested with -advantage to the Civil Service Examiner, to be put to the next Belgium -attachés who come before them. Why are Belgian hop-poles, on an average, -five or six feet longer than English? How does this extra length affect -the crops? The Belgians plant cabbages too, and other vegetables (even -potatoes I saw) between the rows of hops. Does it answer? All the -English hop-growers, I believe, scout the idea. I failed to discover -what wood their hop-poles are? One of my fellow-travellers, by way of -being up to everything, Informed me that they were grown in Belgium on -purpose; a fact which did not help me much. He couldn’t say exactly what -wood it was. Then a very large proportion of the female population of -Belgium spends many hours of the day, at this time of year, on its knees -in the fields; and this not only for weeding purposes, for I saw women -and girls cutting the aftermath and other light crops in this position. -Certainly, they are thus nearer their work, and save themselves -stooping; but one has a sort of prejudice against women going about -the country on all fours, like Nebuchadnezzar. Is it better for their -health? Don’t they get housemaid’s knees? But, above all, is it we or -the Belgians who don’t, know in this nineteenth century, how to make -corn shocks? In every part of England I have ever been in in harvest -time, we just make up the sheaves and then simply stand six or eight of -them together, the ears upwards, and so make our shock. But the Belgian -makes his shock of four sheaves, ears upwards, and then on the top of -these places another sheaf upside down. This crowning sheaf, which is -tied near the bottom, is spread out over the shock, to which it thus -forms a sort of makeshift thatch. One of the two methods must be -radically wrong. Does this really keep the rain out, and so prevent the -ears from growing in damp weather? I should have thought it would only -have helped to hold the wet and increase the heat. If so, don’t you -think it is really almost a _casus belli?_ Quin said to the elderly -gentleman in the coffee-house (after he had handed him the mustard for -the third time in vain), dashing his hand down on the table, “D------ -you, sir, you shall eat mustard with your ham!” and so we might say to -the Belgians if they are wrong, “You shall make your shocks properly.” - Fancy two highly civilised nations having gone on these thousand years -side by side, growing corn and eating bread without finding out which is -the right way to make corn shocks. - - - - -Bonn, 22nd August 1862. - -I am sitting at a table some forty feet long, from which most of -the guests have retired. The few left are smoking and talking -gesticulatingly. I am drinking during the intervals of writing to you, -sir, a beverage composed of a half flask of white wine, a bottle of -seltzer water, and a lump of sugar (if you can get one of ice to add it -will improve the mixture). I take it for granted that you despise the -Rhine, like most Englishmen, but, sir, I submit that a land where one -can get the above potation for a fraction over what one would pay for a -pot of beer in England, and can, moreover, get the weather which makes -such a drink deliciously refreshing, is not to be lightly thought of. -But I am not going into a rhapsody on the Rhine, though I can strongly -recommend my drink to all economically disposed travellers. - -All I hope to do, is, to gossip with you, as I move along; and as my -road lay up the Rhine, you must take that with the rest. - -Our first halt on the river was at Bonn. A university town is always -interesting, and this one more than most other foreign ones, as the -place where Prince Albert’s education was begun, and where Bunsen ended -his life. I made an effort to get to his grave, which I was told was -in a cemetery near the town, but could not find it. I hope it will long -remain an object of interest to Englishmen after the generation who knew -him has passed away. There is no one to whom we have done more scanty -justice, and that unlucky and most unfair essay of W------‘s is -the crowning injustice of all. I am not going into his merits as -a statesman, theologian, or antiquary, which, indeed, I am wholly -incompetent to criticise. The only book of his I ever seriously tried -to master, his _Church of the Future_, entirely floored me. But the -wonderful depth of his sympathy and insight!--how he would listen to and -counsel any man, whether he were bent on discovering the exact shape of -the buckle worn by some tribe which disappeared before the Deluge, or -upon regenerating the world after the newest nineteenth century pattern, -or anything between the two--we may wait a long time before we see -anything like it again in a man of his position and learning. And what a -place he filled in English society! I believe fine ladies grumbled -about “the sort of people” they met at those great gatherings at Carlton -Terrace, but they all went, and, what was more to the purpose, all -the foremost men and women of the day went, and were seen and heard of -hundreds of young men of all nations and callings; and their wives, -if they had any, were asked by Bunsen on the most thoroughly catholic -principles. And if any man or woman seemed ill at ease, they would find -him by their side in a minute, leading them into the balcony, if the -night were fine, and pointing out, as he specially loved to do, the -contrast of the views up Waterloo Place on the one hand, and across the -Green Park to the Abbey and the Houses, on the other, or in some other -way setting them at their ease again with a tact as wise and subtle -as his learning. But I am getting far from the Rhine, I see, and the -University of Bonn. Of course I studied the titles of the books exposed -for sale in the windows of the booksellers, and the result, as regards -English literature, was far from satisfactory. We were represented in -the shop of the Parker and Son of Bonn, by one vol. of Scott’s _Poems_; -the puff card of the London Society, with a Millais drawing of a young -man and woman thereupon, and nothing more; but, by way of compensation -I suppose, a book with a gaudy cover was put in a prominent place, -and titled _Tag und Nacht in London_, by Julius Rodenburg. There was -a double picture on the cover: above, a street scene, comprising an -elaborate equipage with two flunkeys behind, a hansom, figures of -Highlanders, girls, blind beggars, etc., and men carrying advertisements -of “Samuel Brothers,” and “Cremorne Gardens”; while in the lower -compartment was an underground scene of a policeman flashing his bull’s -eye on groups of crouching folks; altogether a loathsome kind of book -for one to find doing duty as the representative book of one’s country -with young Germany. I was a little consoled by seeing a randan named -_The Lorelei_ lying by the bank, which, though not an outrigger, would -not have disgraced any building yard at Lambeth or at Oxford. Very -likely it came out of one of them, by the way. But let us hope it is the -first step towards the introduction of rowing at Bonn, and that in a few -years Oxford and Cambridge may make up crews to go and beat Bonn, -and all the other German Universities, and a New England crew from -Cambridge, Massachusetts. What a course that reach of the Rhine at Bonn -would make! No boat’s length to be gained by the toss for choice of -sides, as at Henley or Putney; no Berkshire or Middlesex shore to be -paid for. A good eight-oar race would teach young Germany more of young -England than any amount of perusal of _Tag und Nacht_, I take it. I -confess myself to a strong sentimental feeling about Rolandseck. The -story of Roland the Brave is, after all, one of the most touching of all -human stories, though tourists who drop their H’s may be hurrying under -his tower every day in cheap steamers; and it is one of a group of -the most characteristic stories of the age of chivalry, all having a -connecting link at Roncesvalles. What other battle carries one into -three such groups of romance as this of Roland, the grim tragedy -of Bernard del Carpio and his dear father, and that of the peerless -Durandarté? When I was a boy there were ballads on all these subjects -which were very popular, but are nearly forgotten by this time. I used -to have great trouble to preserve a serene front, I know, whenever I -heard one of them well sung, especially that of “Durandarté” (by Monk -Lewis), I believe. Ay, and after the lapse of many years I scarcely know -where to go for the beau ideal of knighthood summed up in a few words -better than to that same ballad: - - Kind in manners, fair in favour, - - Mild in temper, fierce in fight,-- - - Warrior purer, gentler, braver, - - Never shall behold the light. - -But much as I prize Rolandseck for its memories of chivalric constancy -and tenderness, Mayence is my favourite place on the Rhine, as the -birthplace of Gutenburg, the adopted home, and centre of the work of our -great countryman, St. Boniface, and the most fully peopled and stirring -town of modern Rhineland. We had only an hour to spend there, so I -sallied at once into the town to search for Gutenburg’s house--the third -time I have started on the same errand, and with the same result. I -didn’t find it. But there it is; at least the guide-books say so. In -vain did I beseechingly appeal to German after German, man, woman, and -maid, “Wo ist das Haus von Gutenburg--das Haus wo Gutenburg wohnte?” I -got either a blank stare, convincing me of the annoying fact that not a -word I said was understood, or directions to the statue, which I knew as -well as any of them. At last I fell upon a young priest, and, accosting -him in French, got some light out of him. He offered to take me part of -the way, and as we walked side by side, suddenly turned to me with an -air of pleased astonishment, and said, “You admire Gutenburg, then?” To -which I replied, “Father!” Why, sir, how in the world should you and I, -and thousands more indifferent modern Englishmen, not to mention those -of all other nations, get our bread but for him and his pupil Caxton? -However, the young priest could only take me to within two streets, and -then went on his way, leaving me with express directions, in trying to -follow which I fell speedily upon a German fair. I am inclined to think -that there are no boys in Germany, and that, if there were, there would -be nothing for them to do; but for children there is no such place. This -fair at Mayence was a perfect little paradise for children. Think of our -wretched merry-go-rounds, sir, with nothing but some six or eight -stupid hobby-horses revolving on bare poles, and then imagine such -merry-go-rounds as those of Mayence fair. They look like large umbrella -tents ornamented with gay flags and facetious paintings outside, and -hung within, round the central post which supports the whole, with -mirrors, flags, bells, pictures, and bright coloured drapery. Half -concealed by the red or blue drapery, is the proprietor of the -establishment, who grinds famous tunes on a first-rate barrel organ when -the merry-go-round is set going, and keeps an eye on his juvenile fares. -The whole is turned by a pony or by machinery. Then, for mounts, the -children have choice of some thirty hobby-horses, or can ride on swans -or dragons, richly caparisoned, or in easy _vis-à-vis_ seats. When the -complement of youthful riders is obtained, on a signal off goes -the barrel organ and the pony and the whole concern--pictures, -looking-glasses, bells, drapery, and all begin to revolve, with a -fascinating jingling and emphasis! and at twice the pace of any British -merry--go-round I ever saw. It is very comical to watch the gravity of -the little _Deutsch_ riders. They are of all classes, from the highly -dressed little _madchen_, down to the ragged carter-boy, with a coil -of rope over his shoulder, and no shoes, riding a gilded swan, but all -impressed with the solemnity of the occasion. But here I am running -on about fun of the fair, and missing Gutenburg’s house, as I did in -reality, finding in the midst of my staring and grinning that I had only -time to get to the boat; so with one look at Gutenburg’s statue I went -off. - -The crops through all these glorious Rhine valleys right away up to -Heidelberg look splendid, particularly the herb pantagruelion, which is -more largely grown than when I was last here. Rope enough will be made -this year from hemp grown between Darmstadt and Heidelberg to hang all -the scoundrels in the world, and the honest men to boot; and the tobacco -looks magnificent. They were gathering the leaves as we passed. A -half-picked tobacco field, with the bare stumps at one end, and the -rich-leaved plants at the other, has a comically forlorn look. - -Heidelberg I thought more beautiful than ever; and since I had been -there a very fine hotel, one of the best I have ever been in, has been -built close to the station, with a glass gallery 100 feet long, and -more, adjoining the “Speisesaal,” in which you may gastronomise to your -heart’s content, at the most moderate figure. Here we bid adieu to the -Rhineland. - - - - -Munich, 29th August 1862. - -A bird’s-eye view of any country must always be unsatisfactory. Still -it is better than nothing, and in the absence of a human view, one may -be thankful for it. My view of Wurtemberg was of the most bird’s-eye -kind. The first thing that strikes one is the absence of all fences -except in the immediate neighbourhood of towns. Even the railway has no -fence, except for a few yards where a road crosses the line, and here -and there a hedge of acacia, or barberry bushes (the berries were -hanging red ripe on the latter), which are very pretty, but would not in -any place keep out a seriously-minded cow or pig. - -Wurtemberg is addicted to the cultivation of crops which minister to -man’s luxuries rather than to his necessities. The proportion of land -under fruit, poppies, tobacco, and hops, to that under corn, was very -striking. There was a splendid hemp crop here also. They were gathering -the poppy-heads, as we passed, into sacks. The women and girls both here -and in Bavaria seem to do three-fourths of the agricultural work; the -harder, such as reaping and mowing, as well as the lighter. The beds of -peat are magnificent, and very neatly managed. At first I thought we -had entered enormous black brick-fields, for the peat is cut into small -brick-shaped pieces, and stacked in rows, just as one sees in the best -managed of our brick-fields. As one nears Stuttgart the village churches -begin to show signs of the difference in longitude. Gothic spires and -arches give place to Eastern clock-towers, with tops like the cupolas of -mosques, tinned over, and glittering in the hot sun. I hear that it -was a fancy of the late Emperor Joseph to copy the old enemies of his -country in architecture; but that would not account for the prevalence -of the habit in his neighbour’s territory. I fancy one begins to feel -the old neighbourhood of the Turks in these parts. The houses are all -roomy, and there is no sign of poverty amongst the people. They have a -fancy for wearing no shoes and scant petticoats in many districts; but -it is evidently a matter of choice. Altogether, the whole fine, open, -well-wooded country, from Bruchsal to Munich, gives one the feeling that -an easy-going, well-to-do people inhabit and enjoy it. - -As for Munich itself, it is a city which surprised me more pleasantly -than almost any one I ever remember to have entered. One had a sort of -vague notion that the late king had a taste for the fine arts, and spent -a good deal of his own and his subjects’ money in indulging the taste -aforesaid in his capital. But one also knew that he had been tyrannised -over by Lola Montes, and had made a countess of her--and had not -succeeded in weathering 1848; so that, on the whole, one had no great -belief in any good work from such a ruler. - -Munich gives one a higher notion of the ex-king; as long as the city -stands, he will have left his mark on it. On every side there are -magnificent new streets, and public buildings and statues; the railway -terminus is the finest I have ever seen; every church, from the -Cathedral downwards, is in beautiful order, and highly decorated; and it -is not only in the public buildings that one meets with the evidences of -care and taste. The hotel in which we stayed, for instance, is built of -brick, covered with some sort of cement, which gives it the appearance -of terra-cotta, and is for colour the most fascinating building -material. The ceilings and cornices of the rooms are all carefully -and tastefully painted, and all about the town one sees frescoes and -ornamentation of all kinds, which show that the people delight in seeing -their city look bright and gay; and every one admits that all this is -due to the ex-king Lewis. But he has another claim on the gratitude -of the good folk of Munich. The Bavarians were given to beer above all -other people, and the people of Munich above all other Bavarians, long -before he came to the throne; and former kings, availing themselves of -the national taste, had established a “Hof-Breihaus,” where the monarch -sold the national beverage to his people. King Lewis found the -character of the royal beer not what it should be, and the rest of -the metropolitan brewers were also falling away into evil ways of -adulterating and drugging. He reformed the “Hof-Breihaus,” so that for -many years nothing but the soundest possible beer was brewed there, -which is sold to the buyers and yet cheaper than in any other house in -Munich. The public taste has been thus so highly educated that there -is no selling unwholesome beer now. A young artist took me to this -celebrated tap. Unluckily it was a wet evening, so we had to sit at one -of the tables, under a long line of sheds, instead of in an adjacent -garden. There was a great crowd, some 300 or 400 imbibers jammed -together, of all ranks. At our table the company were the artist and -myself, a Middlesex magistrate, two privates, and a non-commissioned -officer, and a man whom I set down as a small farmer. My back rubbed -against a vociferous student, who was hobnobbing with all comers. There -were Tyrolese and other costumes about, one or two officers, and a -motley crowd of work people and other folk. The royal brew-house is in -such good repute that no trouble whatever is taken about anything but -having enough beer and a store of stone drinking-mugs, with tops to them -forthcoming. Cask after cask is brought out and tapped in the vaulted -entrance to the cellars, and a queue of expectant thirsty souls wait for -their turn. I only know as I drank it how heartily I wished that my poor -overworked brethren at home could see and taste the like. But it would -not pay any of our great brewers to devote themselves to the task of -selling really wholesome drink to the poor; and I fear the Prince of -Wales is not likely to come to the rescue. He might find easier jobs no -doubt, but none that would benefit the bodily health of his people more. -The beer is so light that it is scarcely possible to get drunk on it. -Many of the frequenters of the place sit there boosing for four or five -hours daily, and the chance visitors certainly do not spare the liquor; -but I saw no approach to drunkenness, except a good deal of loud talk. - -The picture collections, which form, I believe, the great attraction -of Munich, disappointed me, especially the modern ones in the new -Pinacothek, collected by the ex-king, and to which he is constantly -adding now that he is living at his ease as a private gentleman. I -daresay that they may be very fine, but scarcely any of them bite; I -like a picture with a tooth in it--something which goes into you, and -which you can never forget, like the great picture of Nero walking -over the burning ruins of Rome, or the execution picture in the Spanish -department, or the Christian slave sleeping before the opening of -the amphitheatre, or Judas coming on the men making the cross, in the -International Exhibition. I have read no art criticism for years, so -that I do not know whether I am not talking great heresy. But, heresy -or not, I am for the right of every man to his own opinion in matters -of art, and if an inferior painting gives me real pleasure on account of -its subject, I mean to enjoy it and praise it, all the fine art critics -in Christendom notwithstanding. The pictures of the most famous places -in Greece, made since the election of the Bavarian Prince Otho to the -throne of Greece, have a special interest of their own; but apart from -these and some half dozen others, I would far sooner spend a day in our -yearly exhibition than in the new Pinacothek. The colossal bronze statue -of Bavaria is the finest thing of the kind I have ever seen; but the -most interesting sight in Munich to an Englishman must be the Church -of St. Boniface, not the exquisite colouring proportions, or the -magnificent monolithic columns of gray marble, but the frescoes, which -tell the story of the saint from the time when he knelt and prayed -by his sick father’s bed to the bringing back of his martyred body to -Mayence Cathedral. The departure of St. Boniface from Netley Abbey for -Rome, to be consecrated Apostle to the Germans, struck me as the best of -them; but, altogether, they tell very vividly the whole history of the -Englishman who has trodden most nearly in St. Paul’s footsteps. We have -reared plenty of great statesmen, poets, philosophers, soldiers, but -only this one great missionary. Yet no nation in the world has more need -of St. Bonifaces than we just now. The field is ever widening, in India, -China, Africa. We can conquer and rule, and teach the heathen to make -railways and trade, nut don’t seem to be able to get at their hearts -and consciences. One fears almost that were a St. Boniface to come, we -should only measure him by our common tests, and probably pronounce him -worthless, or a dangerous enthusiast. But one day, when men’s work shall -be tested by altogether different tests from ours of the enlightened -nineteenth century kind, it will considerably surprise some of us to see -how the order of merit will come out. We shall be likely to have to ask -concerning St. Boniface--whose name is scarcely known to one Englishman -in a hundred--and of others like him in spirit, of whom none of us have -ever heard, Who are these countrymen of ours, and whence come they? And -we shall hear the answer which St. John heard: “Isti sunt qui venerunt -ex magna tribulatione et laverunt stolas suas in sanguine Agni.” I felt -very grateful to Munich for having appreciated the great Apostle to the -Germans. - -The one building in Munich which is quite unworthy of the use to which -it is put, is the English Church. The service is performed in a sort of -dry cellar, under the Odeon. We had a very small congregation, but it -was very pleasant to hear how they all joined in the responses. What a -pity it is that we are always ready to do it abroad, and shut up again -as soon as we get home. Even the singing prospered greatly, though we -had no organ. But, alas! sir, the Colonial Church Society have done -their best to spoil this part of our service abroad. They seem to -have accepted from the editor as a gift, the stereotyped plates of a -hymn-book, copies of which were placed about in the Munich church, and, -I daresay, may be found all over the Continent. The editor has thought -it desirable to improve our classical hymns. Conceive the following -substitution for Bishop Ken’s “Let all thy converse be sincere”-- - - In conversation be sincere; - - Make conscience as the noon-day clear: - - Think how th’ all-seeing God thy ways - - And all thy secret thoughts surveys. - -This is only a fair specimen of the book. Surely the Colonial Church -Society had better hastily return the stereotype plates with thanks. - - - - -The Tyrol, 2nd September 1862. - -Next to meeting an old friend by accident, there is nothing more -pleasant than coming in long vacation on some flower or shrub which -reminds one of former holiday ramblings. In the Tyrol the other day we -came suddenly on a bank in the mountains gemmed over with the creamy -white star of the daisy of Parnassus, and it accompanied us, to our -great delight, for 200 miles or more, till we got fairly down into the -plains again. The last time I had seen it was on Snowdon years ago. When -we got a little higher I pounced on a beautiful little gentian, which I -had never seen before except on the Alps above Lenk, in Switzerland (the -Hauen Moos the pass was called, or some such name--how spelt, goodness -knows), which I once crossed with two dear friends on the most beautiful -day I ever remember. - -The flora of the Tyrol, at least that part of it which lies by the -roadside, seems to be much the same as ours. With the above exceptions, -I scarcely saw a flower which does not grow on half the hills in -England; but their size and colouring was often curiously different. The -Michaelmas daisy and ladies’ fingers, for instance, were much brighter -and more beautiful; on the other hand, there was the most tender tiny -heartsease in the world, and forget-me-nots, which were very plentiful -here and there, were quite unlike ours--delicate little creatures, of -the palest blue in the world, all the fleshiness and comfortable look, -reminding one of marriage settlements and suitable establishments, gone -clean out of them. In moving eastward with the happy earth you may -easily get from Munich to Strasburg in one day; but, if you do, you will -miss one of the greatest treats in the world, and that is a run through -the Tyrol, which you may do from Munich with comfort in a week. There is -a little rail which runs you down south or so to Homburg, on the edge of -the mountain country, from whence you may choose your conveyance, from -post carriage down to Shanks’ nag. If you follow my advice, whatever -else you do you will take care to see the Finstermunz Pass, than which -nothing in the whole world can be more beautiful. I rather wonder myself -that the Tyrol has not drawn more of our holiday folk, Alpine Club and -all, from Switzerland. The Orteler Spitz and the glaciers of his range -are as fine, and I should think as dangerous, as anything in the Swiss -Alps--the lower Alps in the Tyrol are quite equal to their western -sisters; and there is a soft Italian charm and richness about the look -and climate of the southern valleys, that about Botzen especially, which -Switzerland has nothing to match. The luxuriance of the maize crops (the -common corn of the country) and of the vines trained over trellis work -in the Italian fashion, and of the great gourds and vegetable marrows -which roll their glorious leaves and flowers and heavy fruit over -the spare corners and slips of the platforms on which the vineyards -rest--the innumerable fruit-trees, pears, apples, plums, peaches, and -pomegranates all set in a framework of beautiful wooded mountains, -from which the course of the streams may be traced down through all the -richness of the valley by their torrent beds of tumbled rock--. -remind us vividly of the descriptions of the Promised Land in the Old -Testament. Then the contrast of the people to the Bavarians is as great -as that of the countries. The latter seem to live the easiest, laziest -life of all nations, in their rich low flats, which the women are -quite aide to cultivate, while the men drink beer and otherwise disport -themselves. But in the part of the Tyrol next Bavaria it is all grim -earnest: “Ernst is das Leben” must be their motto if they are to get in -their crops at all, and keep their little patches of valley and hanging -fields cultivated--and it does seem to be their motto. After passing -through the country one can quite understand how the peasantry came to -beat the regular troops of France and Bavaria time after time half a -century ago, and the memoirs of that holy war hang almost about every -rock. There is no mistake here about battle-fields, and no difficulty in -realising the scene: the march of columns along the gorges, the piles of -rock and tree above, with Tyrolean marksmen behind, the voices calling -across over the heads of the invaders “Shall we begin?” - -“In the name of the Holy Trinity, cut all loose”; and then the crash -and confusion, the panic and despair, and the swoop of the mountaineers -on the remnant of their foes. A great part of the country must be -exceedingly poor, and yet only in the neighbourhood of two or three -villages were we asked for alms, and then only by small children, who -had apparently been demoralised by the passage of carriages. Except from -one of these children, a small boy who flirted his cap in my face, and -made a villainous grimace, when he got tired of running, and from -the dogs, we had no uncourteous look or word. The dogs, however, are -abominable mongrels, and there was scarcely one in the country which did -not run barking and snapping after us. The people seem to me very much -pleasanter to travel amongst than the Swiss. - -I had expected to find them a people much given to the outward forms -and ceremonies of religion at any rate--every guide-book tells one thus -much; but I was not at all prepared for the extraordinary hold which -their Christianity had laid upon the whole external life of the country. -You can’t travel a mile in the Tyrol along any road without coming upon -a shrine--in general by the wayside, often in the middle of the -fields. I examined several hundreds of these; many of them little rough -penthouses of plank, some well-built tiny chapels. I wish I had kept an -exact account of the contents, but I am quite sure I am within the mark -in saying that nine out of ten contain simply a crucifix; of the rest, -the great majority contain figures or paintings of the Virgin or Child, -and a few those of some patron saint. All bore marks of watchful care; -in many, garlands of flowers or berries, or an ear or two of ripe maize, -were hung round the Figure on the cross. Then in every village in which -we slept, bells began ringing for matins at five or six, and in every -ease the congregation seemed to be very large in proportion to the -population. I was told, and believe, that in all the houses, even in the -inns of most of these villages, there is family worship every evening at -a specified hour, generally at seven. We met peasants walking along the -road bare-headed, and chanting mass. I came suddenly upon parish priests -and poor women praying before the crucifix by the wayside. The ostlers -and stable-men have the same habit as our own, of pasting or nailing up -rude prints on the stable-doors, and of all those which I examined while -we were changing horses, or where we stopped for food or rest, there was -only one which was not on a sacred subject. In short, to an Englishman -accustomed to the reserve of his own country on such subjects, the -contrast is very startling. If a Hindoo or any other intelligent heathen -were dropped down in any English country, he might travel for days -without knowing whether we have any religion at all; but, most -assuredly, he could not do so in the Tyrol. Now which is the best state -of things? I believe Her Majesty has no stauncher Protestant than I -amongst her subjects, but I own that a week in the Tyrol has made me -reconsider a thing or two. Outwardly, in short, the Tyroleans are the -most religious people in Europe. Of course I am no judge after a week’s -tour whether their faith has gone as deep as it has spread wide. You -can only speak of the bridge as it carries you. Our bills were the most -reasonable I have ever met with, and I could not detect a single attempt -at imposition in the smallest particular. I went into the fruit market -at Meran, and, after buying some grapes, went on to an old woman who was -selling figs. She was wholly unable to understand my speech, so, being -in a hurry, I put a note for the magnificent sum of ten kreutzer (or 3d. -sterling) into her hand, making signs to her to put the equivalent in -figs into a small basket I was carrying. This she proceeded to do, and -when she had piled eight or ten figs on the grapes I turned to go, but -by vehement signs she detained me, till she had given me the full tale, -some three or four more. She was only a fair specimen of what I found on -all sides. The poor old soul had not mastered our legal axiom of _caveat -emptor_, but her trading morality had something attractive about it. -They may be educated in time into buying cheap and selling dear, but as -yet that great principle does not seem to have dawned on them. - -There may be some danger of superstition in this setting up of -crucifixes and sacred prints by the wayside and on stable-doors, but, on -the other hand, the Figure on the cross, meeting one at every corner, -is not unlikely, I should think, to keep a poor man from the commonest -vices to which he is tempted in his daily life, if it does no more. He -would scarcely like to stagger by it drunk from the nearest pot-house. -If stable-boys are to have rough woodcuts on their doors, one of the -Crucifixion or of the _Mater Dolorosa_ is likely to do them more good -than the winner of the Derby or Tom Sayers. - -But my letter is getting too long for your columns, so I can only beg -all your readers to seize the first chance of visiting the Tyrol. -I shall be surprised if they do not come away with much the same -impressions as I have. It is a glad land, above all that I have ever -seen--a land in which a psalm of joy and thankfulness seems to be rising -to heaven from every mountain top and valley, and, mingled with and -beneath it, the solemn low note of a people “breathing thoughtful -breath”--an accompaniment without which there is no true joy possible -in our world, without which all attempt at it rings in the startled -ear like the laugh of a madman. Those words of the old middle-age hymn -seemed to be singing in my ears all through the Tyrol:-- - - Fac me vere tecum flere, - - Crucitixo condolere, - - Donee ego vixcro. - -I shall never find a country in which it will do one more good to -travel. - - - - -Vienna, 10th September 1862. - -The stage Englishman in foreign countries must be always an object of -interest to his countrymen. He is a decidedly popular institution -in Germany, not the least like the Dundreary type, or the sort of -top-booted half fool, half miscreant, one sees at a minor theatre in -Paris. The latest Englishmen on the boards of the summer theatres here -are a Lord Mixpickl, and his man Jack, but the most popular, and those -which appear to be regarded in fatherland as the real thing, are the -Englishmen in a piece called “The Four Sailors.” It opens with a -yawning chorus. Four young Englishmen are discovered sitting at a German -watering-place, reading copies of the _Times_ and _Post_, and yawning -fearfully. The chorus done, one says, “The funds are at 84.” - -“I bet you they are at 86,” says another, and on this point they become -lively. It appears by the talk which ensues, that they have come abroad -resolved on finding some romantic adventure before marrying, which they -are all desirous of doing. This they found impossible at home; hitherto -have not succeeded here; have only succeeded in trampling on the police -arrangements, and getting bored. They all imitate one another in speech -and action, saying “Yaas” in succession very slowly, and always looking -at one another deliberately before acting. Now the four sailors appear, -who are three romantic young women and their maid, disguised as sailors, -under the care of their aunt, a stout easy-going old lady, dressed as a -boatswain, and of lax habits In the matters of tobacco and drink. After -hornpipe dancing and other diversions, the young ladies settle to go -and bathe, and cross the stage where the Englishmen are carrying their -bathing-dresses. A cry is raised that their boat is upset; whereupon the -Englishmen look at one another. At last one gets up, takes off his coat, -folds it up, and puts it carefully on his chair, ditto with waistcoat -and hat, the others doing the same. They walk off in Indian file, and -return each with a half-drowned damsel across his shoulders. Having -deposited their burthens, they return to the front of the stage to -dress, when one suggests that they have never been introduced, upon -which, after a pause, and looking solemnly at each other and the -audience, they ejaculate all together, “Got dam!” They then take refuge -in beer, silence, and pipes. At last one says, “This is curious!” Three -yaas’, and a pause. Another, “This is an adventure!” Three yaas’, and -a longer pause. At last, “Dat ist romantisch!” propounds another. -Tumultuous yaas’ break forth at this discovery. The object of their -journey is accomplished, they marry the four sailors, and return to love -and Britain. - -The summer theatres are charming institutions, but somewhat casual. For -instance, while we were at Ischl, there were no performances because the -weather was too fine. Ischl itself is wonderfully attractive, and as he -has not the chance of getting a seaside watering-place, the Kaiser Konig -has shown much taste in the selection of Ischl. The Traun and Ischl, -which meet here, are both celebrated for beauty and trout (a young -Englishman was wading about and having capital sport while we were -there). You get fine views of glaciers from the hills which rise on all -sides close to the town, and the five valleys at the junction of which -it lies are all finely wooded and well worth exploring. The town is -furnished with a drinking-hall (but no gambling), baths, a casino, -pretty promenades, and Herzogs and other grand folk, with Hussar and -other officers in plenty to enliven them. You can dance every evening -almost if you like, and gloves are fabulously good, and only a florin -a pair for men, or with two buttons, for ladies, a florin and ten -kreutzers; so, having regard to the number which are now found necessary -in London, it would almost pay young persons to visit Ischl once a year -to make their purchases. There is also a specialty in the way of pretty -old fashioned looking jewellery made and sold here cheap, but the Passau -pearls found in the great cockle-shells of these parts are dear, though -certainly very handsome. I must not forget the rifle-range amongst the -attractions of the place. I fell in with two members of the Inns of -Court, and we heard the well-known crack, and soon hunted out the scene -of operations. We found some Austrian gentlemen practising at 100 yards -at a target with a small black centre, within which was a scarcely -distinguishable bull’s-eye. When a centre is made the marker comes out, -bows, waves his arms twice, and utters two howls called “yodels.” When -the bull’s-eye is struck a shell explodes behind, the Austrian eagle -springs up above the target, and a Tyrolean, the size of life, from each -side--which performance so fascinated one of my companions that he made -interest with the shooters, who allowed him to use one of their rifles. -I rejoice to say that he did not disgrace the distinguished corps to -which he belongs. At his first shot he obtained the bow and two howls -from the marker, and at his fourth the explosion and appearances above -described followed, whereupon he wisely retired on his laurels. - -You proceed eastwards from Ischl, down the beautiful valley of the -Traun to Eben; see the great store-place for the salt and wood of the -district. The logs accompany you, in the river, all the way down; and -it is amusing to watch their different ways of floating. Such of them as -are not stopped in transit by the hooks of the inhabitants are collected -by a boom stretched across the head of the Gmünden Lake, on which you -take boat at Eben See. The skipper of the steamer is an Englishman, -who has been there for thirty years--a quiet matter-of-fact man, who -collects his own tickets, wears no uniform, and has a profound disbelief -in the accuracy of the information furnished to tourists in these parts -by the natives. Long absence from home has somewhat depressed him, but -he lights up for a few moments when he gets on his paddle-box and orders -the steam to be put on to charge the boom. But travellers should -consult him if they want correct information, and should not trust in -“Bradshaw.” The lion of the neighbourhood is the Traun Falls; and a -station has been opened on the railway to Lintz to facilitate the seeing -of the falls, which station is not even mentioned in the “Bradshaw” for -August 1862. This is too bad. - -I had considerable opportunities of seeing the state of the country in -Austria. The people are prosperous and independent to a degree which -much astonished me. They are almost all what we should call yeomanry, -owning from twenty to two hundred acres of land. Even the labourers, who -work for the great proprietors, own their own cottages and an acre or -so of land round; in fact, the Teutonic passion for owning land is so -strong that, unless a man can acquire some, he manages to emigrate. -Since 1848 the communes have stepped into the position of lords of the -manors, and own most of the woods and the game. The great proprietors -pay them for the right of sporting over their own lands. In faet, -whatever may be the case with the higher classes, the people here seem -to have it much their own way since 1848. We spent a Sunday afternoon -in the palace gardens at Schonbrunn, into which half the populace of -Vienna, smoking vile-smelling cigars, seemed to have poured in omnibuses -and cabs, which stood before the palace, and on foot. We (the people) -occupied the whole of the gardens, and a splendid military band played -for our behoof. You reach the gardens by passing under the palace, -so that King People was everywhere, and the Kaiser Konig, if he wants -retirement, must stay in his private rooms. A report spread that the -Emperor and Empress were coming out, whereupon King People, and we -amongst them, swept into the lower part of the palace, and right up to a -private staircase, at the foot of which an open carriage was standing. -A few burly and well-behaved guardsmen remonstrated good-humouredly, but -with no effect. There we remained in block, men, women, and children, -the pipes and cigars were not extinguished, and the smell was anything -but imperial. Presently the Emperor and Empress came down, and the -carriage passed at a foot’s pace through the saluting and pleased crowd. -The Empress is the most charming-looking royal personage I have ever -seen, and seemed to think it quite right that the people should occupy -her house and grounds. Fancy omnibuses driving into the Court-yard -of Buckingham Palace, and John Bull proceeding to occupy the private -gardens! John himself would decidedly think that the end of the world -was come. The Constitution, too, seems to work well from all I heard. -The Court party has ceased almost to struggle for power. It revenges -itself, however, in social life. Society (so called) is more exclusive -in Vienna than anywhere else, and consists of some 400 or 500 persons -all told. Even the most distinguished soldiers and statesmen have not -the _entrée_. Benedek’s family is not in society, nor Schmerling’s, -though I hear his daughter is one of the prettiest and most ladylike -girls in Austria. All which is very silly, doubtless, but the chief -sufferers are the 400 inhabitants who drive in the Prater, and go to -the Leichtenstein and Schwartzenburg parties, and after all, if -aristocracies in the foolish sense are inevitable, an aristocracy of -birth is preferable to one of money, or, _me judice_, of intellect, -seeing that the latter gives itself at least as absurd airs, and is -likely to be much more mischievous. On the other hand, my Hungarian -sympathies have been somewhat shaken since visiting the country. I -suppose the national dress has something to say to it. An Englishman -cannot swallow braided coats, and tight coloured pants, and boots all -at once, and the carriage and airs of the men are offensive. I say this -more on the judgment of several of my country-women on this point than -on my own, but from my own observation I can say that Pesth, to a mere -passer-by, has all the appearances of the most immoral capital in the -world. In the best shops, in the best streets, there are photographs and -engravings exhibited which, with us, would speedily call Lord Campbell’s -Act into operation. And the Haymarket is in many respects moral in -comparison with many parts of Pesth. It is the only place in Europe -where I have seen men going about drunk before midday. In short, you -will perceive that my inspection inclines me to suspect that there may -he more than one has been wont to believe in the assertion, that the -Constitution we hear so much of is aristocratic and one which will -give back old feudal privileges to a conquering race and enable them -to oppress Slaves, Croats, etc., as they did before 1848. There is, -everybody admits, a large discontented class in Hungary, composed -chiefly of the poor nobility (who have long ago spent their compensation -money), and professional men, especially advocates, but it is -strenuously maintained that the great mass of the people have been far -better off in all ways and more contented since 1849. I don’t pretend -to give you anything except the most apparently truthful evidence I -can pick up by the wayside, and the observations of my own eyes, and -certainly the latter have not been favourable to Hungary in any way, -though they look certainly very like a fighting race, these Magyars. The -railroad from Pesth to Basiash, where one embarks on the Danube, passes -through enormous flats, heavy for miles and miles with maize and other -crops, and very thinly peopled. It is a constant wonder where the people -can come from to reap and garner it all. The great fault of the country -is the dust, which is an abominable nuisance. Certainly the facilities -for travelling are getting to be all that can be wished in our time. A -little more than forty-eight hours will bring a man, who can stand night -journeys, to Vienna; after resting a night, eighteen hours more will -bring him to Basiash, where he will at once plunge into the old world of -turbans and veiled women, minarets and mosques; man and beast and bird, -houses and habits, all strange and new to him; and if the Danube fares -were not atrociously high, there are few things I would more earnestly -recommend to my holiday-making countrymen than a trip down that noblest, -of European rivers. Considering the present state of political matters, -too, in the world, he can hardly select a more interesting country. -Certainly the Eastern question gains wonderfully in interest when one -has seen ever so little of the lands and people about which the wisest -heads of all the wisest statesmen of our day are speculating and -scheming--not very wisely, I fear, at present. - - - - -The Danube, 13th September 1862. - -The Rhine may, perhaps, fairly be compared with the Upper Danube, -between Lintz and Vienna, even between Vienna and Pesth. There is no -great disparity so far, either in the size of themselves or of the hills -and plains through which they run. The traveller’s tastes, artistic and -historical, decide his preference. The constant succession of ruined -holds of the old oppressors of the earth which he meets on the Rhine, -are wanting on the Danube. It is certainly a satisfaction to see such -places thoroughly ruined--to triumph over departed scoundrelism wherever -one comes on its relics. As a compensation, however, he will find on the -Danube a huge building or two, such as that of the Benedictine Monastery -at Molk, or the Cathedral and Palace of the Primate of Hungary at Gran, -of living interest, and with work still to do in the world. There is -not much to choose between the banks of the two streams in the matter of -general historical interest, though to me the long struggle between the -Christian and the Moslem, the footprints of which meet one on all sides, -gives the Danube slightly the advantage even in this respect. There -are longer gaps of flat uninteresting country on the eastern stream, -no doubt, which may be set off against the sameness and neatness of the -perpetual vineyard on the western; and on the Danube you get, now and -then, a piece of real forest, which you never see, so far as I remember, -on the Rhine. - -Below Belgrade, however, all comparison ceases. The Rhine is half the -size of its rival, and flows westward through the highest cultivation -and civilisation to the German Ocean, while the huge Danube rushes -through the Carpathians into a new world--an eastern people, living -amidst strange beasts and birds, in a country which is pretty much as -Trajan left it. You might as well compare Killiecrankie to the Brenner -Pass, as any thing on the Rhine to the Kazan, the defile by which -the Danube struggles through the western Carpathians. Here the river -contracts in breadth from more than a mile to between 200 and 300 yards; -the depth is 170 feet. The limestone rocks on both sides rise to near -2000 feet, coming sheer down to the water in many places, clothed with -forest wherever there is hold for roots. Along the Servian side, on the -face of the precipice, a few feet above the stream, run the long line of -sockets in which the beams were fastened for the support of his covered -road by Trajan’s legions. A tablet and an inscription 1740 years old -still bear, I believe, the great Roman’s name, and a memorial of his -Dacian campaign, though I cannot vouch for the fact, as we shot by it at -twenty miles an hour; but I could distinctly see Roman letters. On the -left bank the Austrians have carried a road by blasting and masonry; and -a cavern which was held for weeks by 400 men against a Turkish army in -1692 commands the whole pass. - -We had scarcely entered the defile when some eight or ten eagles -appeared sweeping slowly round over a spot in the hanging wood, where -probably a deer or goat was dying. I counted upwards of thirty before -we left the Kazan; several were so near the boat that you could plainly -mark the glossy barred plumage, and every turn of the body and tail as -they steered about upon those marvellous, motionless wings. One swooped -to the water almost within shot, but missed the fish, or whatever his -intended prey might be. A water ouzel or two were the only other living -creatures which appeared to draw our attention for a moment from the -sway of the mighty stream and the succession of the dizzy heights. Below -the pass the stream widens again. You lose something of the feeling of -power in the mass of water below you, though the superficial excitement -of whirl, and rush, and eddy, is much increased. Here, at Orsova, a -small military town on the frontier line between Hungary and -Wallachia, we turned out into a flat-bottomed steamer, with four tiny -paddle-wheels, drawing only some three feet of water, which was to carry -us over the Iron Gates, as the rapids are called; and beautifully the -little duck fulfilled her task. The English on board, three ladies and -five men, had already fraternised; we occupied the places in the bows. -The deck was scarcely a yard above water, and there were no bulwarks, -only a strong rail to lean against. The rush of the stream here beat any -mill-race I have ever seen, and the little steamer bounded along over -the leaping, boiling water at the rate of a fast train. Twice only she -plunged a little, shipping just enough water to cause some discomposure -amongst the ladies’ dresses, and to wet our feet. We shot past the wreck -of a Turkish iron Steamer in the wildest part, which had grounded on its -way up to Belgrade with munitions of war. The Servians had boarded and -burnt her, and there she lay, and will lie, till the race washes her to -pieces, for there is nothing to be got out of her now except the iron of -her hull. Below the Iron Gate, a fine Austrian steamer received us, and -we moved statelily out into the stream on our remaining thirty hours’ -voyage. We had left the mountains, but were still amongst respectable -hills covered with forest, full of game, an engineer officer who was on -board told us, and plenty of wolves to be had in the winter--too many, -indeed, occasionally. A friend of his had knocked up a little wooden -shooting-box in these Wallachian forests--a rough affair, with a -living-room below, a bedroom above. He had found the wolves so shy that -he scarcely believed in them; however, to give the matter a fair trial, -he asked three or four friends to his box, bought a dead horse, and -roasted him outside. The speedy consequence was such a crowd of wolves -that he and his friends had to take refuge in the bedroom and fight for -their lives; as it was, the wolves were very near starving them out. And -now the river had widened again, and water-fowl could rest and feed on -the surface. - -The hot evening, for hot enough it was, though cool in comparison of the -day, brought them out in flocks round the islands and over the shallows. -I was just feasting my eyes with the sight of wild swans, quite at their -ease in our neighbourhood, when three huge white birds came sailing past -with a flight almost as steady as the eagles we had seen in the -Kazan. “What are they?” I said eagerly to my companion, the engineer. -“Pelicans,” he answered, as coolly as if they had been water-hens. In -another moment they lighted on the water, and I saw their long bills and -pouches. Fancy the new sensation, sir! But on this part of the Danube -there is no want of new sensations. Our first stop at a Bulgarian -village--or town, perhaps, I should call it, for it boasted a -tumble-down fort, with some rude earthworks, and half a dozen minarets -shot up from amongst its houses and vineyards--may be reckoned amongst -the chief of these. What can be more utterly new to an Englishman than -to come upon a crowd of poor men, who have their daily bread to earn, -half of whom are quietly asleep, and the rest squatting or standing -about, without offering, or thinking of offering, to help when there -is work to be done under their noses? One was painfully reminded of the -eager, timid anxiety to be allowed to carry luggage for a penny or two -which one meets with at home. Here one had clearly got into the blissful -realms where time is absolutely of no account, and if you want a thing -done, you can do it yourself. Our arrival was evidently an event looked -forward to in some sort, for there were goods on the wharf waiting for -us, and several of the natives had managed to bring down great baskets -full of grapes, by which they had seated themselves. We were all -consumed with desire for grapes, and headed by the steward of the -vessel, who supplies his table here, rushed ashore and fell upon the -baskets. It seemed to be a matter of perfect indifference to the owners -whether we took them or let them alone, or how many we took, or whether -we paid or not. The only distinct idea they had, was that they would -not take Austrian money. Our English emissary returned with six or -seven huge bunches for which he had given promise to pay two piastres to -somebody. The piastre was then (ten days ago) worth one penny, it is now -worth twopence--a strange country is Turkey. There were some buffaloes -lying in the water, with their great ears flopping, to move the air a -little, and keep off flies. A half-grown Turkish lad was squatted near -the head of one of them, over which he was scooping up the water with -his hands, the only human being in voluntary activity. His work was -thoroughly appreciated; I never saw a more perfect picture of enjoyment -than the buffalo who was getting this shower-bath. The costumes, of -course, are curious and striking to a stranger, but turbans and fezzes, -camel’s hair jackets, and loose cotton drawers,--even the absence of -these in many instances, and the substitute of copper-coloured flesh -as a common garb of the country--are after all only superficial -differences. It is the quiet immobility of the men which makes one feel -at once that they are a different race, and the complete absence -of women in the crowds. The cottages, in general, look like great -mole-hills. They look miserable enough, but I believe are well suited -to the climate, being sunk three or four feet in the ground, which keeps -them cool in summer and warm in winter. Our Crimean experience bears -this out. The mud huts sunk in the ground and thatched roughly were -far more comfortable all weathers than those sent out from England. The -campaign between the Russians and Turks at the beginning of the late war -became much clearer to me as we passed down the river. It must be a very -difficult operation to invade Bulgaria from the Principalities, for the -southern bank commands the dead flat of the Wallachian banks almost all -the way down. The serious check which the Russians got at Oltenitza was -a great puzzle in England. We could not make out how it happened. Omar -Pasha seemed to have made a monstrous blunder in throwing a single -division across the river, and we wondered at his luck in getting so -well out of it. The fact is that it was a real stroke of generalship. -The Russian corps were about to cross at points above and below. Omar’s -cannon posted on the Bulgarian heights completely commanded the opposite -plain, where a considerable stream runs into the Danube. This stream -protected the left flank of the division which crossed, and they threw -up earth-works along their front and right. The Russians recalled -the corps which were about to cross, thinking to annihilate them, -and attacked under a plunging fire from the Turkish artillery on the -opposite bank, which, combined with that from the earth-works, was -unendurable, and they were repulsed with enormous loss. It is by no -means so easy, however, to understand why they did not take Silistria. -Here they had crossed, were in great force, and had no strong position -to attack. The famous work of Arab Tabia, the key of the position which -was so gallantly held by Butler and Nasmyth with a few hundred Turkish -soldiers under them, is nothing but a low mound, which you can scarcely -make out from the steamer. Why they should not have marched right over -it and into the town is a mystery. - -The village of Tchernavoda where the steamer lands passengers for -Constantinople, consists of a very poor inn, some great warehouses for -corn, and some half-dozen Turkish cottages. An English company has made -the railroad across to Kustandjie, on the Black Sea, so that you escape -the long round by the mouths of the Danube. I fear it must be a very -poor speculation, but it is very convenient. The line runs through a -chain of lakes, by which it is often flooded. Once last winter the water -came nearly into the carriages. The train was, of course, stopped, and -had to remain in the water, which froze hard in the night. I believe -the passengers had to proceed over the ice. If any young Englishman who -combines the tastes of a sportsman and naturalist wants a field for his -energies, I can’t fancy a better one than these lakes. The birds swarm; -every sort of duck and sea-bird one had ever heard of, besides pelicans, -wild swans, bitterns, (the first I ever saw out of a museum) and herons, -and I know not what other fowl were there, especially a beautiful white -bird exactly like our heron, but snowy white. I saw two of these. I -don’t believe they were storks, at least not the common kind which I -have seen. - -We had been journeying past the scene of the late conferences, and of -the excitement which was so nearly breaking out into war a month or two -back, and had plenty of Servians and other interested persons on board; -but, so far as I could learn, everything is quieting down into its -ordinary state--an unsatisfactory one, no doubt, but not unlikely to -drag on for some time yet. Should the Servians and other discontented -nationalities, however, break out and come to be in need of a king, or -other person of that kind, just now, they may have the chance of getting -two countrymen of ours to fill such posts. We left them preparing -to invade Servia on a shooting and exploring expedition, armed with -admirable guns, revolvers, and a powder for the annihilation of insects. -They were quite aware of the present unsettled state of affairs, and -prepared to avail themselves of anything good which might turn up on -their travels. - - - - -Constantinople, 34th September 1862. - -The Eastern question! It is very easy indeed to have distinct notions -on the Eastern question. I had once, not very long ago neither. Of -course, like every Englishman, I was for fighting, sooner than the -Russians, or any other European Power, should come to the Bosphorus -without the leave of England, and that as often as might be necessary, -and quite apart from any consideration as to the internal state of the -country. But as for the Turks, I as much thought that their time was -about over in Europe as the Czar Nicholas when he talked of the sick -man to Sir Hamilton Seymour. They were a worn-out horde, the degenerate -remnant of a conquering race, who were keeping down with the help of -some of the Christian Powers, ourselves notably amongst the number, -Christian subjects--Bulgarians, Servians, Greeks, and others--more -numerous and better men than themselves. I could never see why these -same Christian subjects should not be allowed to kick the Turks out of -Europe if they could, or why we should take any trouble to bolster them -up. Perhaps I do not see yet why they should not be allowed, if they -can do it by themselves; but I am free to acknowledge that the Eastern -question, the nearer you get to it, and the more you look into it, -like many other political questions, gets more and more puzzling and -complicated and turns up quite a new side to you. A week or two on the -Bosphorus spent in looking about one, and sucking the brains of men of -all nations who have had any experience of this remarkable country, make -one see that there is a good deal to be said for wishing well to the -Turks, notwithstanding their false creed and bad practices. I hear here -the most wonderfully contradictory evidence about these Turks. They have -one quality of a ruling nation assuredly in perfection--the power of -getting themselves heartily hated. But so far as I could test them, the -common statements as to their dishonesty and corruption are vague and -general if you try to sift them, and I find that even those who abuse -them are apt in practice to prefer them to Creeks, Armenians, or any -other of the subject people in these parts. On the other hand, you -certainly do hear much of the honesty of the lower classes of the Turks. -For instance, it seems that contracts are scarcely ever made here in -writing, and in actions of debt if a Turk will appear and swear that he -was never indebted, the case is at an end, and he walks out of court -a free man. Admiral Slade, amongst his other functions, is judge of a -court which is a sort of mixture of an Admiralty and County Court, -in which he tries very many actions of debt in the year. After an -experience of nearly three years he told my informant that he had had -only two cases in which a defendant had adopted this summary method of -getting out of his difficulties. Again in the huge maze of bazaars in -Stamboul there is a quarter, some sixty yards square, at least, I should -say, which is _par excellence_ the Turkish bazaar. The Jews, Armenians, -and Greeks, who far out-number the Turks in the other quarters of the -bazaars, have no place here; or if an Armenian or two creep in, it is -only on sufferance. The Turks are a very early nation, and not given to -overwork themselves, and this bazaar of theirs is shut at twelve o’clock -every day, or soon afterwards, and left in charge of one man. I passed -through it one day when many of the shops were closing. The process -consisted of just sweeping the smaller articles into a sort of closet -which each merchant has at the back of the divan on which he sits, and -leaving the heavier articles (such as old inlaid firelocks, swords, -large china vases, and the like) where they were, hanging or standing -outside. Most of the merchandise, I quite admit, is old rubbish; still -there are many articles of considerable value and very portable, and -certainly every possible temptation to robbery is given both to those -who shut up latest and to the man who is left in charge of all this -property, and yet a theft of the smallest article is unheard of. In -this very bazaar I saw an instance of honesty which struck me much. The -custom of trade here is, as every one knows, that the vendor asks twice -or three times as much as he will take, and you have to beat him down to -a fair price. I accompanied a lady who had to make some purchases. After -a hard struggle, she succeeded in getting what she wanted at her own -price; but her adversary evidently felt aggrieved, and declared that he -should be a loser by the transaction. She cast up the total in her head, -paid the money; her _cavass_ (as they call the substitutes for footmen -here, who accompany ladies about the streets with scimitars by their -sides, and sticks in their hands, to belabour the Jews and Greeks with -who get in the way) had taken up the things, and we had left the shop, -when the aggrieved merchant came out, called us back, explained to her -that she had made a wrong calculation by ten francs or so, and refunded -the difference. I was much surprised. The whole process was so like an -attempt to cheat that it seemed very odd that the man who habitually -practised it should yet scruple to take advantage of such a slip as -this. But my companion, who knows the bazaars well, assured me that it -was always the case. A Turk does not care what he asks you, often loses -impatient customers by asking fabulously absurd prices, but the moment -he has made his bargain is scrupulously exact in keeping to it, and will -not take advantage of a farthing in changing your foreign money, or of -your ignorance of the value of his currency. This was her experience. I -might multiply instances of Turkish honesty if it were of any use, but -have been unable to collect a single instance of the like virtue on the -part of Greeks or Armenians. Every man’s word seems against them, though -their sharpness in trade and cleverness and activity in other ways are -admitted on all hands. I found that every one whose judgment I could at -all depend on, however much he might dislike the Turks, preferred -them to any other of the people of the country whenever there was any -question of trust. So, on the whole, notwithstanding their idleness, -their hatred of novelties and love of backsheesh, their false worship -and bigotry, and the evils which this false worship brings in its train, -I must say that the immense preponderance of oral evidence is in their -favour, as decidedly the most upright and respectable of the races who -inhabit Turkey in Europe. One does not put much faith in one’s own eyes -in a question of this kind, but, taking them for what they are worth, -mine certainly led me to the same conclusion. The Turkish boatmen, -porters, shopmen, contrast very favourably with their Greek and other -rivals. - -In short, they look particularly like honest self-respecting men, which -the others emphatically do not. - -If this be true, and so long as it continues to be true, I for one am -for keeping the Turks where they are. And this does not involve any -intervention on our parts. They are quite able to hold their own if no -foreign power interferes with them, and all we have to do is to see that -they are fairly let alone, which is not the case at present. For the -present Government of Fuad Pasha is the best and strongest Turkey -has seen for many a year. Fuad’s doings in Syria led one to expect -considerable things of him, for few living statesmen have successfully -solved such a problem as putting down the disturbances there, avenging -the Damascus massacre, quieting the religious excitement, and getting -the French out of the country. All this, however, he managed with great -firmness and skill, and since he has been Prime Minister he has given -proofs of ability in another direction equally important for the future -of his country. Turkish finance was in a deplorable state when he came -into power. I don’t suppose that it is in a very sound condition -now, but at any rate the first, and a very important, step has been -successfully made. Until within the last few months the paper currency -here, called _caimé_, has been the curse of the country. There were -somewhere about five million sterling’s worth of small notes, for sums -from ten piastres (2s.) to fifty piastres in circulation. The value of -these notes was constantly fluctuating, often varying thirty or forty -per cent in a few days. The whole of these notes have been called in by -the present Government and exchanged for small silver coin within the -last two months, so that now the value of the piastre in Turkey is -fixed. A greater blessing to the country can scarcely be conceived, -and the manner in which the conversion has been effected has been most -masterly. The English loan, no doubt, has enabled Fuad to do this, and -he has had Lord Hobart at his elbow to advise and assist him in the -operation. But, making all proper drawbacks, a very large balance of -credit is due to the Turkish Government, as will appear when the English -Commissioner’s Report appears in due course, the contents of which I -have neither the knowledge nor the wish to anticipate. The settlement, -for the present, at least, of the Servian and Montenegrin difficulties -are further proofs, it seems to me, of the vigour and ability of the -present Government. But still, giving the Turkish statesmen now in power -full credit for all they have done, one cannot help feeling that this -Eastern question is full of the most enormous difficulties, is, in -short, about the most complicated of all the restless, importunate, -ill-mannered questions that are crying out “Come, solve me,” in this -troublesome old continent of ours. - -For it hardly needs a voyage to the East to convince any man who cares -about such matters that this Turkish Empire is in a state of solution. -If one did want convincing on the point, a few days here would be enough -to do it. Let him spend a few hours as I did last week at the Sweet -Waters of Asia on a Turkish Sunday (Friday), and he will scarcely want -further proof. The Sweet Waters of Asia are those of a muddy little -rivulet, which flow into the sparkling Bosphorus some four miles above -Constantinople. Along the side of this stream, at its junction with the -Bosphorus, is a small level plain, which has been for I know not how -long the resort of the Turkish women. Here they come once a week on -their Sundays, to look at the hills and the Bosphorus without the -interference of blinds and jalousies, and at some other human beings -besides the slaves and other inmates of their own harems. You arrive -there in a caique, and find yourself at a jump plump in the middle of -the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments. The Sultan has built a superb kiosk -(summer-house) here, with a façade and balustrade of beautiful white -marble, one hundred yards long, fronting the Bosphorus. (They tell me, -by the way, that the whole kiosk is of the same white marble, and so -it may be, but, at any rate, if it be, it is most superfluously -covered with yellow stucco.) Outside the enclosure of his kiosk, at the -Bosphorus end of the little plain, and some fifty yards from the shore, -is a fine square marble fountain, with texts from the Koran in green and -gold upon it, and steps all round. A few plane-trees give a little shade -round it. On all the steps of the fountain, along the kiosk garden wall, -under the plane-trees, and out on the turf of the valley, are seated -Turkish women of every rank, from the Grand Vizier’s wife and family, -on superbly embroidered cushions and carpets, and cloaked in the most -fascinating purple and pink silks, down to poor men’s wives, in faded -stuffs, on old scraps of drugget which a rag-collector would scarcely -pick out of the gutter. Others of the veiled women are driving -slowly round the little plain in the strangest carriages, just like -Cinderella’s coach in the children’s books, or in arabas drawn by two -oxen, and ornamented with silk or cotton hangings. Here the poor women -sit, or drive, or walk for an hour or two, and smoke cigarettes, and eat -fruit and sweetmeats, and drink coffee, which viands are brought with -them or supplied by itinerant dealers on the ground. So far, the scene -is just what it might have been in the days of Haroun Alraschid, and the -black eunuchs standing about or walking by the carriages seem to warn -off all contact with the outer world. But what is the fact? There were -English and French ladies sitting on the carpets of the Grand Vizier’s -wife and talking with her. There were men and women of all nations -walking about or sitting close by the veiled groups, and plenty of -Turkish men looking on, or themselves talking to unbelievers, and -seeming to think that it was all quite natural. It is impossible in a -few words to convey the impression of utter incongruity which this and -other scenes of the same kind give one. Islamism and Frankism--Western -civilisation, or whatever you like to call it,--I dare not call it -Christianity,--are no longer at arm’s length. They are fairly being -stirred up together. What will come of it? At a splendid garden _fête_, -given by a great Pasha in the spring, amongst other novelties dancing -was perpetrated. The Pasha is a Turk of advanced ideas. His wife (he has -only one) and the other women of his household were allowed to look on -from the harem windows. “In two years they will be down here, in five -they will be dancing, and in ten they will wear crinolines,” said an -Englishman to one of the French Embassy with whom he was walking. “Et -alors l’empire serait sauvé,” replied the Frenchman. Not exactly so, -perhaps, but still the speakers were touching the heart of the Eastern -question. The harem or the Turks will have to go down in Europe in the -next few years. But as this letter is already too long, I hope you will -let me say what I have to say on the subject in my next. - - - - -Constantinople, 30th September 1862. - -Amongst the many awkward facts which the Turks in Europe have to look -in the face and deal with speedily, there is one which seems specially -threatening. They have no class of educated men. “Some remedy _must_ be -found for this,” say their friends; “things cannot go on as they are. -The body of your people may be, we believe they are, sound and honest as -times go, superior indeed in all essentials to the other races who -are mixed up with them, but this will not avail you much longer.” - Steamboats, telegraphs, railways, have invaded Turkey already. The great -tide of modern material civilisation is flooding in upon the East, with -its restless, unmanageable eddies and waves, which have sapped, and are -sapping, the foundations, and overwhelming the roof trees, of stronger -political edifices than that of the Sublime Porte. If you Turks cannot -control and manage the tide, it will very soon drown you. Now where are -your men to do this? You have just now Fuad Pasha, and three or four -other able men, and reasonably honest, who understand their time, and -are guiding your affairs well. Besides them you have a few dozen men--we -can count them on our fingers--who have educated themselves decently, -and who may possibly prove fit for the highest places. But that -is doubtful, and for all minor offices, executive, administrative, -judicial, you have no competent men at all. The places are abominably -filled, and for one Turk who is able to fill them even thus badly you -have to employ ten foreigners, generally renegades. This is what Turkish -patriots have to look to. You _must_ find a class of men capable of -dealing with this modern deluge, or you will have to move out of Europe, -all we can say or do to the contrary notwithstanding. - -All very true, say the enemies of the Turks. The facts are patent -enough, but the remedy! That is all moonshine. You _cannot_ have an -educated class of Turks, and you cannot stop the deluge; so you had -better stand back and let it sweep over them as soon as may be, and look -out for something to follow. - -I believe that this dispute does touch the very heart of the Eastern -question, for it goes to the root of their social life; and the answer -to it must depend, in great part, upon the future of their “peculiar -institution”--the harem. For, alas the day! the harem is the place -of education for Turkish boys of the upper classes. And how can it be -helped? The boys must be with the women for the first years of their -lives, and the women must be in the harems. We need not believe all the -stories which are current about the abominations of these places. It -is quite likely that the number of child-murders and other atrocities, -which one hears of on all sides, may be exaggerated. But where there -is a part of every rich man’s house into which the police cannot enter, -which is to all intents beyond the reach of the law--in which the -inmates, all of one sex, are confined, with no connection with the outer -world, and no occupations or interests whatever except food and dress -(they are not even allowed to attend mosque)--one can hardly be startled -by anything which one may be told of what is done in them; and it is -impossible to conceive a more utterly enervating and demoralising place -for a boy to be brought up in. There is nothing in Turkey answering to -the great schools, colleges, and universities of Western Europe. There -is no healthy home life to substitute for them. The harem is the place -of education, and, with very rare exception, the boys come out of its -atmosphere utterly unfitted for any useful active life. - -This is the great difficulty of the Turks in Europe. If they could break -the neck of it the others need not frighten them; and so the best of -them feel, and are doing something towards meeting the difficulty. Many -Turks are setting the example of taking only one wife, and of living -with her in their own houses as the men of Christian nations do. A few -have done away with the separate system, so far as they themselves are -concerned, and their harems are so only in name. They encourage foreign -ladies to call on their wives, and would gladly go further. Some of them -have even tried taking their wives with them into public; but this has -been premature. The nation will not stand it yet. The women themselves -object. The few who feel the degradation of their present lives, and -are anxious to help their husbands in getting rid of it, are looked upon -with so much suspicion that they dare not move on so fast. Honest -female conservatism has taken fright, and combines with vice, sloth, and -jealousy, to keep things as they are. However, the women will come -round fast enough if the men are only in earnest. They get all their -outer-world notions from the men, and as soon as the men will say, “We -wish you to live with us as the Giaours’ wives live with them,” the -thing will be done. - -I may say, then, from what I have myself seen and heard, that a serious -attempt is being made by the Turks--few in number, certainly, at -present, but strong in position and character--to break the chain -of their old customs, especially this of the harem, and to conform -outwardly to Western habits and manners. This is being done mainly for -political reasons, and if nothing more enters into the movement will -probably fail; for, in spite of the great changes which have taken -place in Turkey in Europe of late years, there is a tremendous power of -passive resistance and hatred of all change amongst the people, which -no motives of expediency will be able to break through. It will take -something deeper than political expediency to do that. Is there the sign -of any such power above the horizon? - -Well, sir, of course my opinion is worth very little. A fortnight’s -residence in a country, whatever opportunities one may have had, and -however one may have tried and desired to use them, cannot be of much -use in judging questions of this kind. Take my impressions, then, for -what they are worth, at any rate they are honest, and the result of -the best observation of a deeply interested spectator. Islamism as a -religious faith is all but gone in Turkey in Europe. Up to 1856 the -Turks were still a dominant and persecuting race, and Islamism a -persecuting creed. Since the Hatti humayoun, which was, perhaps, the -most important result of the Crimean war, there has been nominally -absolute religious toleration--actually something very nearly -approaching to it--in Turkey in Europe. Islamism was spread by the -sword, and the consequence of this method of propagation was that large -layers of the population were only nominally converted. These have never -since been either Moslem or Christians but a bad mixture of the two. -Since 1856 this has become more and more apparent. I will only mention -one fact bearing on the point, though I heard many. An American -missionary traveller in a part of Roumelia not very far from -Constantinople found the people, though nominally Turks, yet with many -Christian practices and traditions, to which they were much attached, -but which they had till lately kept secret. They did not seem inclined -to make any further profession of Christianity, or to give up their -Moslem profession, but were anxious that he should read the Bible to -them. They had not heard it for generations, but had preserved the -tradition of it. He did so; and afterwards parties of them would come -to the Bosphorus to his house to hear him read, and, I believe, do so -still. It is a curious story to hear of bodies of men sitting to hear -the old Book read, and weeping and going away. It takes one back to the -finding of the Book of the Law in Josiah’s day. Amongst the Turks proper -there is only one article of Islamism which is held with any strength, -and that is the hatred of any approach to image worship. In this they -are fanatics still. Thirty years ago the then Sultan nearly caused a -revolution by having his likeness put on coin. The issue was called in, -and to this day there is nothing but a cipher on the piastres and other -Turkish coin. The rest of their faith sits very lightly on them, and -is much more of a political than a religious garment. There is a strong -feeling of patriotism amongst the people (though it, and all else that -is noble, seems to have died out amongst the insignificant upper class, -if one may speak of such a thing here)--a patriotism of race more than -of country; and it is this, and not their faith, which is holding the -present state of things together. - -Now, I am not going to tell you, sir, that the Turks in Europe are about -to be converted to Christianity. I only say that Islamism is all but -dead on our continent; that the most able and far-seeing of the Turks -see and feel this more and more every day themselves; that they are -themselves adopting, and are trying to introduce, practices and habits -which are utterly inconsistent with their old creed; that they have, in -fact, already virtually abandoned it. “We must have a civilisation,” the -best men amongst them say; “but what we want is a Turkish civilisation, -and not a French, or Russian, or English civilisation.” Yes; but on -what terms is such a civilisation possible for you? Well, sir, I am -old-fashioned enough to believe myself that the Christian faith is the -only possible civiliser of mankind. The only civilisation which has -reached the East--the outside civilisation of steam, gas, and the -like--will do nothing but destroy, unless you have something stronger to -graft it upon. What is the good of sending messages half round the world -in a few seconds, if the messages are lies; of carrying cowards -and scoundrels about at the rate of fifty-miles an hour; of forging -instruments of fearful power for the hands of the oppressors of the -earth? Not much will come of this kind of civilisation alone for any -nation; and, as for these poor Turks, it is powerful enough to blow them -up altogether, and that is all it will do for them. - -When one stands in Great Sophia, and sees the defaced crosses, and the -names of Mahomet and his successors, on huge ugly green sign-boards, -hanging in the most prominent places of the noblest church of the East, -it is difficult not to feel something of the Crusading spirit. But, if -the Turks were swept out of Europe to-morrow, I doubt whether it would -not be a misfortune for the world. We should not only be expelling the -best race of the country, but they would retire into Asia sullen and -resentful, hating the West and its faith more than ever. Islamism would -gain new life from the reaction which would take place; for the Turks -will not go without making a strong fight, and Turkey in Europe would be -left to a riff-raff of nominal Christians, with more than all the vices -and none of the redeeming virtues of their late masters. It would be a -far higher and nobler triumph for Christendom to see the Turks restoring -the crosses and taking down the sign-boards. That sooner or later they -will become Christians I have no sort of doubt whatever, after seeing -them; for they are too strong a race to disappear. No nation can go -on long without a faith, and there is none other for them to turn to. -Modern Greeks may regret their old Paganism--here they say seriously -that many of them openly avow it; but for a Turk who finds Islamism -crumble away beneath him, it must be Christianity or nothing. The -greatest obstacle to the conversion of Turkey will be the degradation of -the subject Christian races. It is, no doubt, a tremendous obstacle, but -there have been tremendous obstacles before now which have been cleared -by weaker people. - -I daresay I shall seem lunatic to you, sir, though I know it will not be -because you think the Christian faith is itself pretty well used up, and -ought to be thinking of getting itself carried out and buried decently, -instead of making new conquests. But if you had been living for a -fortnight on the Bosphorus, you could not help wishing well to the old -Turks any more than I, and I don’t believe you, any more than I, -could by any ingenuity find out what good to wish them, except speedy -conversion. With that all reforms will follow rapidly enough. - -If you are not thoroughly outraged by these later productions of mine I -will promise to avoid the Eastern question proper, and will try to -give you something more amusing next week. Meanwhile, believe me ever -faithfully yours. - - - - -Athens, 1st October 1862. - -I am afraid, to judge by my own café, it is quite impossible to give -anything like a true idea of Constantinople to those who have never been -there; at any rate it would require a volume and not two columns to do -it, but I can’t help trying to impart some of my own impressions to your -readers. Miles away in the Sea of Marmora you first catch sight of -the domes and minarets (like huge wax candles with graceful black -extinguishers on them) of the capital of the East. As you near the mouth -of the Bosphorus, on the European side lies the Seraglio Point with its -palaces, Sublime Porte, and public offices and gardens full of noble -cypresses. On the Asiatic side lies Scutari, the great hospital, with -the English cemetery and Marochetti’s monument in front of it, occupying -the highest and most conspicuous point. Midway between the two shores -is a rock called Leander’s rock, on which is a picturesque little -lighthouse. Passing this you turn short to the left round Seraglio -Point, and open at once the view of the whole city. The Golden Horn runs -right away in front of you, and on the promontory between it and the Sea -of Marmora lies the old town of Stamboul, crowned with the mosques of -St. Sophia and Sultan Achmet. A curious old wooden bridge, some five -hundred yards in length, crosses the Golden Horn and connects it with -Galata, a mass of custom-houses, barracks and offices, broken by a -handsome open square, at one end of which is the Sultan’s mosque. Behind -these the houses are piled up the steep hill side, and at the top stands -the striking old tower of Galata, from which you get the finest view of -Constantinople. Beyond comes Pera, the European quarter, where are the -Embassies and Missouri’s Hotel. Of course a vast city lining such -a harbour and strait as the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus must be -beautiful, but there is something very peculiar in the beauty of -Constantinople, which the splendid site alone will not account for. I -tried hard to satisfy myself what it was, and believe that it lies in -the wonderful colouring of the place. The mosques are splendid, but -not so fine as many Gothic churches, and the houses in general are far -inferior to those of most other capitals; and yet, seen in the mass, -they are strikingly beautiful, for those which are not of wood are -almost all covered with boarding, which is stained or painted in many -different colours. Many of them are a deep russet brown, others slate -gray, or blue, or deep yellow, some pale green with the windows picked -out in red. The colours are not fresh, but toned down. Then very many -of the houses have court-yards, or small gardens, and you get the fresh -foliage of orange-trees, and figs, and cypresses, as a further contrast, -and for flooring and ceiling the blue of the Bosphorus water and of the -cloudless Eastern sky. The moment you get into the wretched, narrow, -unpaved streets, the charm goes; but while you keep to the great high -street of the Bosphorus, I don’t believe there is any such treat in -the world for the lover of colour. And the shape of the houses, too, is -picturesque: as a rule they have flat roofs and deep overhanging eaves, -and rows of many windows with open Venetian shutters. As we have no time -to spare, we will not attempt the town, but stick to the high street. - -There are three accepted ways of passing up and down the Bosphorus. -There is the common market-boat of the country--a huge, lumbering, -fiat-bottomed affair, about the size of a Thames lighter, but with high -bows and stern. It is propelled by six or eight boatmen, each pulling a -huge oar some eighteen feet long. They pull a long, steady stroke, each -man stepping up on to the thwart in front of him at the beginning of his -stroke, and throwing himself back till his weight has dragged his oar -through, and he finds himself back on his own seat, from which he at -once springs up and steps forward again for a fresh stroke. It must be -splendid training exercise, and they make a steady four miles an -hour against the stream;--no bad pace, for the boats are loaded with -fruit-baskets and packages and passengers--the veiled women sitting in -a group apart in the stern. Then there are the steamers, which ply every -hour up and down, the express boats touching at one or two principal -piers, and doing the twelve miles from the bridge at Stamboul to -Bajukdere in an hour and a quarter, the others stopping at every pier, -and taking two hours or more. They are Government boats, for passengers -only, and the fares are somewhat higher than those of our Thames -steamers. They have a long glazed cabin on the after-deck for the -first-class male passengers, and a small portion screened off further -aft, where the veiled women are crowded together. Until lately, all -women were accustomed to travel behind this screen, but the unveiled are -beginning to break the rule, and to intrude into the cabin of the lords -of creation. You see the Turks lift their eyebrows slightly as women in -crinoline squeeze by them and take their seats, but it is too late for -any further demonstration. An awning is spread over the whole deck, -cabin and all, and under it the passengers, who are too late to get -seats in the cabin, sit about on small low stools. Such a _colluvies -gentium_ and Babel of tongues no man can see or hear anywhere else I -should think. By your side, perhaps, sits a scrupulously clean old Turk, -with his legs tucked up under him and his slippers on the floor beneath. -He has the vacant hopeless look of an opium-eater, and you see him take -out his little box from his belt, and feel with nervous fingers how -large a pellet he may venture on in consideration of the bad company he -is in. On the other side an English sailor boy, delighted to be able to -talk broad Durham to somebody, is telling you how he has been down to -the bazaars and has bought a “hooble booble,” and a bottle of attar of -roses for the folk at home, and speculating how they would give £5, he -knows, at Sunderland, to see one of those women who look as if they were -done up in grave-clothes. Opposite you have a couple of silky-haired -Persians, with their long soft eyes and clear olive skins, high -head-dresses and sombre robes, and all about a motley crowd of Turks, -Circassians, and Greeks, Europeans with muslin round their wideawakes, -Maltese, English, and French skippers, soldiers in coarse zouave -and other uniforms, most of them smoking, and the waiters (Italians -generally), edging about amongst them all with little brazen -coffee-trays. An artist wishing to draw the heads of all nations could -find no richer field, and in the pursuit of his art would not of course -object to the crush and heat and odour; but as we are more bent on -comfort, we will go up the Bosphorus in the third conveyance indicated -above, a caique--and a more fascinating one can scarcely be conceived. -You may have your caique of any size, from one pair of sculls up to the -splendid twelve-oared state affairs of ambassadors and pashas; but that -with three caiquejees or rowers seems to be the most in use amongst the -rich folk, so we can scarcely do wrong in selecting it. - -Our three-manned caique shall belong to an English merchant, the happy -owner of a summer villa at Therapia or Bajukdere. He shall be waiting -for us, and shall board the steamer as it drops anchor opposite Seraglio -Point. While our portmanteau is being fished up from the hold, we have -time to examine critically his turn-out. The caique is about the size -of an old-fashioned four-oar, but more strongly built, with a high sharp -bow and a capital flat floor, and lies on the water as lightly as a wild -duck. The caiquejees’ seats are well forward. The stern is decked for -some eight feet, and in this deck is a hole, so that you can stow your -luggage away underneath. When the ladies use the caique, their _cavass_, -with his red fez, blue braided coat and scimitar, sits grimly with his -legs in the hole and gives their orders to the caiquejees. Comfortable -cushions lying on a small Turkey carpet, between the little deck and -the stretcher of the stroke oar, in the roomiest part of the boat, await -you. You will lounge on them with your shoulders against the deck, a -white umbrella over your head, and a cigarette in your mouth. In the -climate of the Bosphorus, cigarettes of Turkish tobacco supersede all -other forms of the weed. The caiquejees are wiry, bronzed Turks; their -costume, the red fez, a loose coloured jacket, generally blue, which -they strip off for work, and appear in Broussa shirts of camels’ hair -fitting to the body, with loose sleeves reaching only to the elbow, and -baggy white cotton drawers tied at the knee. The stroke wears stockings, -which the others dispense with; each of them keeps his slippers under -his own seat. They each pull a pair of straight sculls fastened to -a single thole pin by a greased thong. You follow your friend and -portmanteau down the gangway and start, and are at once delighted at the -skill with which your crew steer through the crowds of Maltese boats -and caiques, and under great steamers and merchant ships, and fall into -their regular stroke, twenty-eight to the minute, which they never vary -for the whole twelve miles. Their form, too, is all that can be desired, -and would not discredit a London waterman. Turning up the Bosphorus you -soon lose sight of the Golden Horn, and the old rickety bridge which -spans it from Stamboul to Galata. You pull away at first under the -European shore, past the magnificent palace of the present Sultan, -gleaming white in the sun; and then come other huge piles, some tumbling -to pieces, some used as barracks, and private houses of all sizes -and colours, in their little gardens, and warehouses, coffee-shops, -cemeteries, fruit-markets and mosques. Not a yard of the bank but is -occupied with buildings, and the houses are piled far up the hillside -behind. It is the same on the Asiatic side, except that there the houses -next to the water are chiefly those of the rich Turks, as you may guess -from the carefully barred and jalousied windows of the harems, and that -the line of houses is not so deep. And so on for five miles you glide -up the strait, half a mile or more wide, alive with small boats moving -about, and men-of-war steamers riding at anchor, through one continuous -street. Then comes the narrowest part, where the current runs like a -mill-tail against you. On the European side stand the three towers, -connected with battlemented walls, built by Mahomed’s orders in the -winter before the taking of Stamboul and the extinction of the Western -Empire. Roumelie Hissa the point is called now, and behind it rises the -highest hill on the Bosphorus. If it is not too hot, your friend will -land and walk up with you, and when you have reached the top you will -see Olympus and the distant Nicomedian mountains over the Sea of Marmora -to the south, and the whole line of the Bosphorus below you, and the -Giants’ Mountain and the Black Sea away to the north. Behind you lie -wild moorlands, covered with heather and gum cistus, and arbutus bushes, -and a small oak shrub. Here and there in the hollows are small patches -of vines and other culture, with occasional clumps of stone pine and -Scotch fir, and chestnut and beech, amongst which scanty herds of -buffaloes and goats wander, watched by melancholy, truculent-looking -herdsmen, in great yellow capotes and belts, from which a brace of long, -old-fashioned pistols and the hilt of a long straight dagger stick out. -But, desolate as the European side is, it is a garden compared to the -Asiatic. You look across there, and behind the little bright belt of -life along the Bosphorus, there is nothing between you and the horizon -but desert heathery hills, running away as far as the eye can reach, -without a house, a tree, a beast, or the slightest sign of life upon -them. I scarcely ever saw so lovely a view, and it is thrown out into -the most vivid contrast by the life at your feet. You descend to your -caique again, and now are aware of a towing-path which runs at intervals -along in front of the houses. A lot of somewhat wretched-looking Turks -here wait with ropes to tow the caiques and other boats up the rapids. -Your stroke catches the end of the rope, and fastens it, exclaiming, -“_Haidee babai_” (so it sounds), “Push on, my fathers; push on, my -lambs”; and two little Turks, passing the rope over their shoulders, -toil away for some hundred yards, when they are dismissed with a minute -backsheesh. And now the Bosphorus widens out: on the Asiatic side comes -the valley of the Sweet Waters of Asia, and the new kiosk of the Sultan, -which I spoke of before, and afterwards only occasional villages and the -palaces of one or two great pashas. On the European side the houses are -still in continuous line, but begin to get more elbow-room, and only in -the little creeks, where the villages lie, are the hillsides much -built on. Now you begin to see the summer villas of the Europeans, -and accordingly an esplanade faced with stone, and broad enough for -carriages to pass, begins. This upper part of the Bosphorus has its own -charm. The water is rougher, as there is generally a breeze from the -Black Sea; and porpoises roll about, and flocks of sea-swallows (âmes -damnées) flit for ever over the little restless waves. The banks between -the houses and the wild common land of the hill tops are now often taken -into the gardens and cultivated in terraces; and where this is not so -they are clothed with fine Scotch fir and stone pine, and avenues of -cypress of the height of forest trees, with magnificent old gray trunks, -marking where paths run up the hillside or standing up alone like sombre -sentinels. It is not until you get almost to Therapia that there is -any break in the row of houses. Therapia, where Medea is said to have -prepared her potions, is a Greek village, built round a little bay, -the busiest and almost the prettiest place on the Bosphorus. There -are always half a dozen merchantmen lying there, and a sprinkling of -European sailors appear amongst the fezzes frequenting the quays formed -by the esplanade, and there is a café restaurant, and a grog shop, -where the British sailor can be refreshed with the strong liquors of his -country. Behind the village is the little cemetery of the Naval Brigade, -sadly neglected and overshadowed with beech and chestnut trees, -where Captain Lyons and many another fine fellow lie, to whom their -countrywomen have raised a large, simple white marble cross, which -stands up mournfully amongst the tangled grass which creeps over the -rows of nameless graves. One grieves that it is shoved away out of sight -of the Bosphorus, up which the brave fellows all went with such stout -hearts. - -You pass more handsome villas and the summer residences of the English -and French ambassadors just above Therapia, and then comes the Bay of -Bajukdere, the broadest part of the Bosphorus, with the village of the -same name on its north shore, the last and handsomest of the suburbs -of Constantinople, where are the other embassies and the palaces of the -richest merchants. It was the place where Godfrey of Bouillon encamped -with his Crusaders. Beyond, the strait narrows again, and runs between -steep cliffs with a sharp turn into the Black Sea, and close to the -mouth are the storm-lashed Symplegades. - -You must fill up the picture with ships of all sorts under the flags of -all the nations of the earth passing up and down, and people the banks -with figures in all the quaint and picturesque costumes of the East; -but no effort of imagination, I fear, can realise the frame in which the -whole is set, the water of the Bosphorus, and the unfathomable Eastern -sky. I never had an idea of real depth before. I doubt if it be possible -to imagine it. I am sure it is impossible to forget it. - - - - -Athens, 4th October 1862. - -We left Constantinople for the Piraeus in a French packet. The sun set -behind Pera just before we started, and at the same moment a priest came -out into the little balcony which runs round each dizzy minaret some -three parts of the way up, and called the faithful to prayer. The poor -faithful! summoned there still at sunrise and sunset to turn towards -Mecca, and fall down before Him who gave that great city, and the fair -European countries behind it, to their fathers:--they must pray and work -hard too if they mean to stay there much longer. We steamed slowly out -from the Golden Horn, round Seraglio Point, and into night on the Sea of -Marmora. I was up early the next morning, and saw the sun rise over the -islands just as we were entering the Dardanelles. We stopped between -Lesbos and Abydos to take in cargo, time enough to charter one of the -fruit boats and pull off for a good swim in that romantic water. By ten -o’clock we were opening the Ægean Sea, with the road close under our -larboard bow and Tenedos in front of us. We saw the mounds on the shore, -known as the tombs of Achilles and Ajax, and so passed on wondering. -There were half a dozen young Englishmen on board, carrying amongst them -a Homer, a _Childe Harold_, and other classics. We had much debate as -we passed point after point as to the possible localities, but I am not -sure that we came to any conclusions which are worth repeating. About -noon, after we had become familiar with island after island, well -remembered as names from school and college days, but now living -realities, a faint peak was discovered in the far north-west. What could -it be? We applied to an officer, and found it was Athos. You may fancy -what the atmosphere was, sir, for Athos must have been at least sixty -miles from us at the time. - -Night came on before any of us were tired of the Ægean. Next morning -at daybreak we were off the southern point of Euboea, with the coast -of Attica in sight over the bows. By breakfast-time we were rounding -Sunium, with the fair columns of a temple crowning the height, the -bay of Salamis before us, and “Morea’s Hills” for a background; and -presently the cliffs on the Attic coast gave way to low ground, and one -of our company, who had been in these parts before, startled us with -“There is the Acropolis!” “Where?” Operaglasses were handed about, and -eager looks cast over the plain, till we were aware of a little rocky -hill rising up some three miles from the shore, and a town lying round -the foot of it. The buildings of the town gleamed white enough in the -sun, but the ruins on the Acropolis we could scarcely make out. They -were of a deep yellow, not easily distinguishable on this side, and -at this distance from the rock below. The first sensation was one of -disappointment--we were all candid enough to admit it. We had seen -barren coasts enough, but none so bare as this of Attica. Hymettus lay -on the right, and Pentelicus further away on the north, behind Athens -and the Acropolis; and from their feet right down to the Piraeus, no -tree or shrub or sign of cultivation was visible, except a strip of -sombre green, a mile or so broad, which ran along the middle of the -plain marking the course of the Ilyssus. In the early spring and summer -they do get crops off portions of the plain, but by the end of September -it is as dry, dusty, and bare as the road to Epsom Downs on a Derby Day. - -The little arid amphitheatre, not larger than a moderatesized English -county, with its capital and Acropolis, looked so insignificant, and -but for the bright sunshine would have been so dreary, that to keep from -turning away and not taking a second look at it, one was obliged to keep -mentally repeating, “It is Attica, after all!” Matters improved a little -as we got nearer, and before the Acropolis was hidden from our view by -the steep little hill crowned with windmills which rises up between -the Piraeus and Munychia, we could clearly make out the shape of the -Parthenon, and confessed that the rock on which it stood was for its -size a remarkable one, and in a commanding position. - -You see nothing of the Piraeus till you round this hill and open the -mouth of the harbour, narrowed to this day by the old Athenian moles, so -that there is scarcely room for two large vessels to pass in it. It is -a lively little harbour enough. Three men-of-war, English, French, and -Greek, were lying there when we entered, and an Austrian Lloyd steamer -and a dozen or two merchantmen. We were surrounded by dozens of boats, -the boatmen dressed in the white cotton petticoats and long red fezzes, -not mere scull-caps like those of the Turks--a picturesque dress enough, -but not to be named for convenience or beauty with that of the Bosphorus -boatmen. - -Most of our party started at once for Athens, but I and a companion, -resolved on enjoying the Mediterranean as long as we could, crossed the -hill, and descended to the Munychia for a bath, which we achieved in the -saltest and most buoyant water I have ever been in. The rocks (volcanic, -apparently), on which we dressed and were nearly grilled, were all -covered with incrustations of salt, looking as if there had been a -tremendous frost the night before. After our bath we strolled through -the little port town, hugely amused with the Greek inscriptions over -the shop-doors, and with the lively, somewhat rowdy look and ways of the -place; and, resisting the solicitations of many of the dustiest kind of -cab-drivers, who were hanging about with their vehicles on the look-out -for a fare to Athens, struck across the low marsh land, where the -Ilissus must run when he can find any water to bring down from the -hills, and were soon in amongst the olive groves. Here we were delivered -from the dust at any rate, and in a few minutes met a Greek with a -basket of grapes on his head, from whom, for half a franc, we purchased -six or seven magnificent bunches, and went on our way mightily -refreshed. We had made up our minds to be disappointed with the place, -and so were not sorry to be out of sight of it, and the olive groves -were quite new to us. Some of the old trees were very striking. They -were quite hollow, but bearing crops of fruit still quite merrily, as if -it were all right, and what was left of the trunk was all divided into -grisly old fretwork, as if each root had just run up independently into -a branch, and had never really formed part of the tree. They looked as -if they might be any age--could Plato have sat or walked under some of -them? - -Vines grow under the olives, just as currant and gooseberry bushes -under the fruit-trees in our market gardens. They were loaded with fine -grapes, and the vintage was going lazily on here and there. There were -pomegranates too scattered about, the fruit splitting with ripeness. It -was tremendously hot, but the air so light and fresh that walking was -very pleasant. Presently we came to an open space, and caught a glimpse -of the Acropolis; and now that we were getting round to the front of it, -and could catch the outline of the Parthenon against the sky, it began -to occur to us that we had been somewhat too hasty. - -In among the olive groves again, and then out on another and another -opening, till at last, when we came upon the _Via sacra_, we could -stand it no longer. The ruins had become so beautiful, and had such an -attraction, that giving up the grove of the Academy and Colonus, which -were not half a mile ahead of us, and which we had meant to visit, we -turned short to the right, and walked straight for the town at a pace -which excited the laughter of merry groups dawdling round the little -sheds where the winepresses were working. The town through which we had -to pass is ugly, dusty, and glaring. There are one or two broad streets, -with locust-trees planted along the sides of them, but not old enough -yet to give shade; and in the place before the palace, on which our -hotel looked, there are a few shrubs and plenty of prickly pears, -which seem to be popular with the Athenians, and are the most misshapen -hot-looking affairs which I have yet met with in the vegetable world. -But shade, shade--one longs for it, and there is none; and the glare and -heat are almost too much, even at the beginning of October--in summer -it must be unendurable. If the Athenians would only take one leaf out of -the book of their old enemies, and stain and paint their houses as the -Turks of the Bosphorus do! But though the houses are as ugly as those of -a London suburb, and there are no tolerable public buildings except -one church, the modern town is a very remarkable one, when one comes -to remember that thirty years ago there were only ten or twelve hovels -here. But you may suppose that one scarcely looks at or thinks of the -modern town; but pushing straight through it, makes for the Acropolis. A -fine broad carriage-road runs round the back of the hill, and so up with -a long sweep to the bottom of the western face, the one which we had -seen from the olive groves. You can manage to pass the stadium and the -columns of Jupiter on your left, as you ascend, without diverging, but -even to reach the Parthenon you cannot go by the theatre of Dionysus, -lying on your right against the northern face of the Acropolis, without -stopping. They are excavating and clearing away the rubbish every day -from new lines of seats; you can trace tier above tier now, right up the -face of the hill, till you get to precipitous cliff; and down below, in -the dress circle, the * marble seats are almost as fresh as the day they -were made; and most comfortable stalls they are, though uncushioned, -with the rank of their old occupants still fresh on them. You could -take your choice and sit in the stall of a [Greek phrase] as you fancied. -Below was the actual stage on which the tragedies of Sophocles and -Æschylus were played to audiences who understood even the toughest -chorus; and, for a background, Hymettus across the plain, and the sea -and islands! We passed yet another theatre as we went up the hill, but -nothing now could turn us from the Parthenon, and certainly it very far -exceeded anything I had ever dreamt of. Every one is familiar with -the shape and position and colour of the ruins from photographs and -paintings. We look at them and admire, and suppose they grew there, or -at any rate scarcely give a thought to how they did get there. - -But I’ll defy any man to walk up the Propylæa and about the Parthenon -without being struck with wonder at the simple question, how it all got -there. Can the stories we have all been taught be true? Leaving beauty -altogether out of the question, here you are in the midst of the wreck -of one of the largest buildings you ever were in. You see that it was -built of blocks of white marble; that the columns are formed of these -blocks, each some four feet high, and so beautifully fitted together -that at the distance of two thousand years you very often cannot find -the joints, except where the marble is chipped. You see that the whole -of this building was originally surrounded by most elaborate sculpture; -you see that the whole side of the hill up which you approach the -great temple was converted into a magnificent broad staircase of white -marble--in short, you see probably the greatest architectural feat that -has ever been done in the world, and are told that it was done by a -small tribe--not more numerous than the population of a big English -town--who lived in that little barren corner of earth which you can -overlook from end to end from your standing-place, in the lifetime of -one generation; that Pericles thought the idea out, and the Athenians -quarried the marble, carried it up there, carved it, and built it up, in -his lifetime. Well, it _is_ hard to believe; but when one has sat down -on one of the great blocks, and looked over Salamis and Ægina, and the -Isthmus of Corinth, and then down at the groves of the Academy and -the Pynx and the Areopagus, and remembered that at this very time the -thoughts, and methods of thought, of that same small tribe are still -living, and moulding the minds of all the most civilised and powerful -nations of the earth, the physical wonder, as usual, dwarfs and gives -way before the spiritual. We saw the sunset, of course, from the front -of the Parthenon, and then descended to the Areopagus, and stood on, -or at any rate within a few feet of, the place where the glorious old -Hebrew of the Hebrews stood, and looking up at those marvellous temples -made by man, spoke a strange story in the ears of the crowd, whose only -pleasure was to hear or tell some new thing. It is the only place where -I have ever come in my journeyings right across the Scripture narrative, -and certainly the story shines out with new light after one has stood on -the very rock, and felt how the scene before Paul’s eyes must have moved -him. - -We got to our inn after dark, and after dining went to a Greek play. -Theatre and acting both decidedly second-rate, the audience consisting -chiefly of officers--smart-looking young fellows enough. There were two -murders in the first act, but I regret to say that we could none of us -make out the story of the play. There were half a dozen young men, all -with good brains, none of whom had left our Universities more than two -years, at which the Greek language is all but the most prominent -study, and yet they might as well have been hearing Arabic. As for -myself--unluckily my ear is so bad that I can never catch words which -are not familiar to me--on this occasion, indeed, I could almost have -sworn the actors were using French words. But it really is a pity that -we can’t take to the modern Greek pronunciation in England. One goes -into Athens, and can read all the notices and signs, and even spell -through a column of newspaper with a little trouble, and yet, though one -would give one’s ears to be able to talk, cannot understand a word, -or make oneself understood. We managed, however, to get a clear enough -notion that something serious was going to happen; and from several -persons, French, Italian, and Greek, learned positively that Prince -Alfred was to be King of Greece shortly, which remarkable proposition -has since spread widely over the world. We sailed from Athens, after -a two days’ stay, in an Austrian Lloyd boat. The sailors were all -Italians, and there were certainly not much more than half the number -which we found on the French boat from Constantinople. And yet the -Austrian Lloyd Company has not lost a boat since it was a company, and -the Messageries Impériales have done nothing but lose theirs. Happily, -the French are not natural sailors, or there would be no peace on sea or -land. - - - - -The Run Home, October 1862. - -We ran from Athens to Syra through the islands, in a bright moonlight, -and half a gale of wind, the most enjoyable combination of circumstances -in the world for those who are not given to sea-sickness. The island is -a rock almost as bare as Hymettus, and that is the most barren simile I -can think of--any hill in the Highlands would look like a garden beside -it. But it has a first-rate small harbour, which has become the central -packet-station of the Levant; and the town which has sprung up round -the harbour is the most stirring place in the East, and the commercial -capital of Greece. A very quaint place to look at, too, is Syra, for -at the back of the lower town, which lies round the harbour, rises a -conical hill, very steep, right up to the top of which a second town is -piled, with the Bishop’s palace on the highest point. This second, or -pyramidal, town is built on terraces, and is only accessible to foot -passengers, who ascend by a broad stone staircase, running from the -lower town up to the Bishop’s palace, and so bisecting the pyramid. -As restless a place as ever I was in, in which nothing seems to be -produced, but everything in the world exchanged--a very temple of -the Trade Goddess, of whom I should say there are few more devout or -successful worshippers than the Greeks. Here we waited through a long -broiling day for the steamer, which was to take us westward--homewards. - -In travelling there is only one pleasure which can be named with the -start--that luxurious moment when one unstrings the bow, and leaving -one’s common pursuits and everyday life, plunges into new scenes--and -that is, the turning home. I had never been so far or so long away from -England before, so that the sensation was proportionately keen as -we settled into our places in the _Pluto_, one of the finest of the -Austrian Lloyd boats, which was to take us to Trieste. And a glorious -run we made of it. In the morning we were off the Lacedaemonian coast. -Almost as bare, this home of the Spartans, as that of their old rivals -in Attica; in fact, all the south of the Peloponnesus is barren rock. We -might almost have thrown a stone on to Cape Matapan as we passed. Above, -the western coast soon begins to change its character, and scanty pine -forests on the mountains, and not unfrequent villages, with more or less -of cultivated land round them, are visible. Towards evening we steam -past the entrance of Navarino Bay, scarcely wider than that of Dartmouth -harbour, but with room inside for four modern fleets to ride and fight; -as likely a place for a corsair to haunt and swoop out of, in old days, -as you could wish to see. Night fell, and we missed the entrance to the -Gulf of Corinth; and Ithaca, alas! was also out of sight astern before -we were on deck again. But we could not complain; the Albanian coast, -under which we were running, was too beautiful to allow us a moment for -regret--mountains as wild and barren, and twice as high, as those of -Southern Greece, streaked with rich valleys, and well-clothed lower -hills. By midday we were ashore at Corfu, driving through the old -Venetian streets, and on, over English macadamised roads, through olive -groves finer than those of Attica, up to the one-gun battery--the finest -view in the fairest island of the world. Bathing, and lunching, and all -but letting the steamer go on without us! Steaming away northward again, -leaving the shade of the union-jack under which we had revelled for a -few hours, and the delightful sound of the vernacular in the mouth of -the British soldiers, for a twenty-four hours’ run up the Adriatic, and -into Trieste harbour, just in time to baulk a fierce little storm which -came tearing down from the Alps to meet us. - -Trieste is the best paved town I was ever in, and otherwise internally -attractive, while in the immediate neighbourhood, on the spurs of the -great mountains and along the Adriatic shore, are matchless sites for -country houses, and many most fascinating houses on them. For choice, -the situation, to my mind, even beats the celebrated hills round Turin, -for the view of the Adriatic turns the scale in favour of the former. -But neither city nor neighbourhood held us, and we hurried on to Venice -by rail, with the sea on our left, and the great Alpine range on our -right--now close over us, now retiring--the giant peaks looking dreamily -down on us through a hot shadowy haze all the day long. Poor Venice! we -lingered there a few days amidst pictures and frescoes and marbles; at -night drinking our coffee in the Place of St. Mark, on the Italian -side, watching the white and blue uniforms on the other, and hearing the -Austrian military band play, or gliding in a gondola along the moonlit -grand canal. English speculators are getting a finger in house property -at Venice. There were placards up in English on a dozen of the palaces, -“To be let or sold,” with the direction of the vendors below. What does -this portend? Let us hope not restoration on Camberwell or Pentonville -principles of art. - -Then we sped westward again, getting an hour in the Giotto chapel -at Padua, a long day at Verona, amongst Roman ruins and Austrian -fortifications, and the grand churches, houses, and tombs of the -Scaligers. Over the frontier, then, into Italy. ‘While the Austrian -officials diligently searched baggage and spelt out passports, I -consoled myself with getting to a point close to the station, pointed -out by a railway guard, and taking a long look at the heights of -Solferino and the high tower--the watch-tower of Italy, a mile or two -away to the south. To Milan, through mulberries and vines--rich beyond -all fancy; the country looked as we passed as if peace and plenty had -set up their tent there. But little enough of either was there in the -people’s homes. The news of Garibaldi’s capture and wound was stirring -men’s minds fearfully; and all the cotton mills, too, of which there -are a good number scattered about, were just closing; wages, already -fearfully low, were falling in other trades. I came across a Lancashire -foreman, who had escaped the day before from the mill in which he had -been employed for five years, and only just escaped with his life. -Sixteen men had been stabbed and carried to the hospitals in the closing -row. He was making the best of his way back. “What was the state of -things in Lancashire to what he had just got out of,” he answered, when -I spoke of our distress. “He had been standing for three hours and more -in a dark corner, with two men within a few feet of him waiting to stab -him.” I rejoice to say that in the streets of Milan we saw everywhere -unmistakable signs that Italy is beginning to appreciate her faithful -ally. Some of the best political caricatures were as good as could -be--as Doyle’s or Leech’s--and bitter as distilled gall. At Turin we -had time to see the monuments of the two Queens, the mother and wife -of Victor Emmanuel, in a little out-of-the-way Church of Our Lady -of Consolation, where they used constantly to worship in life; their -statues are kneeling side by side in white marble--as touching a -monument as I have ever seen. Murray does not mention it (his last -edition was out before it was put up), so some stray reader of yours -may perhaps thank me for the hint. Over the Mount Cenis, and down into -Savoy, past the mouth of the tunnel which, in six years or so, is to -take us under the Alps to the lovely little town of St. Michael, where -the rail begins, we went, pitying the stout king from whom so beautiful -a birthplace had been filched by the arch robber; and so day and night -to Paris; and, after a day’s breathing, a drive along the trim -new promenades of the Bois de Boulogne, and a look round the -ever-multiplying new streets of the capital of cookery and gilded -mirrors, in ten hours to London. - -Poor dear old London! groaning under the last days of the Great -Exhibition. After those bright, brave, foreign towns, how dingy, how -unkempt and uncared for thou didst look! From London Bridge station we -passed through a mile and a half of the most hideous part of Southwark -to the west. Even in the west, London was out at elbows, the roads used -up, the horses used up; the omnibus coachmen and cads,--the cabbies, the -police, the public, all in an unmistakable state of chronic seediness -and general debility. In spic-and-span Paris yesterday, and here to-day! -Well, one could take thee a thought cleaner and more cheerful, and be -thankful, Old London; but after all, as we plunge into thy fog and reek -and roar, and settle into our working clothes again, we are surer than -ever of one thing, which must reconcile any man worth his salt to making -thee his home,--thou art unmistakably the very heart of the old world. - - - - -Dieppe, Sunday, 13th September 1863. - -I have just come away from hearing a very remarkable sermon at the -Protestant church here, of which I should like to give you some idea -before it goes out of my head. The preacher was a M. Bevel, a native of -Dieppe, now a minister at Amsterdam, where he has a high reputation. He -is here visiting his mother, which visit I should say is likely to be -cut short if he goes on preaching such sermons as he gave us to-day, or -else a liberty is allowed in the pulpit in France which is not to be -had elsewhere. The service began with a hymn. Then a layman read out -the Commandments at a desk. Then we sang part of Psalm xxv.; one of the -verses ran: - - Qui craint Dieu, qui veut bien, - - Jamais ne s’égarera, - - Car au chemin qu’il doit suivre - - Dieu même le conduira-- - - À son aise et sans ennui - - Il verra le plus long âge, - - Et ses enfans après lui - - Auront la terre en partage. - -Good healthy doctrine this, and an apt introduction to the sermon. While -we were singing, M. Revel mounted the pulpit. He is a man of thirty-five -or thereabouts; middlesized, bald, dark; with a broad brow, large -gray eyes, and sharp, well-cut features. After two short extempore -prayers--almost the only ones I have ever heard in which there was -nothing offensive--he began his sermon on a text in Ecclesiastes. As it -had little bearing on the argument, and was never alluded to again, I do -not repeat it. - -“There is much talk,” M. Revel began, “in our day about an order of -nature. All acknowledge it; as science advances it is found more and -more to be unchangeable. We ought to rejoice in this unchangeableness -of the order of nature, for it is a proof of the existence of a God -of order. Had we found the earth all in confusion it would have been a -proof that there could be no such God. But this God has established -a moral order for man as unchangeable as the order of nature. It was -recognised by the heathen who worshipped Nemesis. The whole of history -is one long witness to this moral order, but we need not go back far for -examples. Look at Poland, partitioned by three great monarchs, and at -what is happening and will happen there. Look at America, the land of -equality, of freedom, of boundless plenty, and what has come on her for -the one great sin of slavery. Look at home, at the story of the great -man who ruled France at the beginning of our new era, the man of -success--‘_qui éblouissait lui-même en éblouissant les autres_,’ who -answered by victory upon victory those who maintained that principle had -still something to say to the government of the world, and remember his -end on the rock in mid-ocean. - -“Be sure, then, that there is an unchangeable moral order, and this -is the first law of it, ‘_Qui fait du mal fait du malheur_.’ The most -noticeable fact in connection with this moral order which our time is -bringing out is the _solidarité_ of the human race. The _solidarité_ of -the family and the nation was recognised in old times. Now, commerce and -intercourse are breaking down the barriers of nations. A rebellion in -China, a war in America, is felt at once in France, and the full truth -is dawning upon us that nothing but a universal brotherhood will satisfy -men. But you may say that punishment follows misdoing so slowly that the -moral order is virtually set aside. Do not believe it. ‘_Qui fait du -mal fait du malheur_.’ The law is certain; but if punishment followed -at once, and fully, on misdoing, mankind would be degraded. On the other -hand, ‘_Qui fait du bon fait du bonheur_,’ and this law is equally fixed -and unchangeable in the moral order of the world. - -“You may wonder that I have scarcely used the name of Christ to you -to-day; but what need? I have spoken of humanity; He is the Son of Man, -of a universal brotherhood which has no existence without Him, of which -He is the founder and the head.” - -As we came out of church it was amusing to hear the comments of -the audience, at least of the English portion. Some called it rank -Socialism, others paganism, others good sound Christian teaching; but -all seemed to agree that it was very stirring stuff, and that this -would be the last time that M. Bevel would be allowed to address his old -fellow-townsmen from the pulpit. Indeed, his sketch of Napoleon I. was -much too true to be acceptable to Napoleon III., and though his doctrine -of universal brotherhood may be overlooked, I should scarcely think that -his historical views can be. I was utterly astonished myself to hear -such a sermon in a French pulpit. I had never heard M. Bevel before; but -his reputation, which seems to be very great, is thoroughly deserved. -The sermon of which I have tried to give you a skeleton lasted for fifty -minutes, and never flagged for a moment. Sometimes he was familiar and -colloquial, sometimes impassioned, sometimes argumentative, but always -eloquent. He spoke with his whole body as well as with his voice, which -last organ was managed with rare skill; and, indeed, every faculty of -the man was thoroughly trained for his work, and so well trained, that -notwithstanding my English dislike to action or oratory in a pulpit, I -never felt that it was overdone or in bad taste. In short, I never heard -such scientific preaching, and came away disabused of the notion that -extempore sermons must be either flat, or vulgar, or insincere. I only -wish our young parsons would take the same pains in cultivating their -natural gifts as M. Revel has done, and hope that any of them who may -chance to read this will take an opportunity the next time they are at -Amsterdam of going to hear M. Revel, and taking a lesson. I have been -trying to satisfy myself for the last three days what it is which makes -this town so wonderfully different from any English provincial town of -the same size. I do not mean the watering-place end of it next the sea, -which is composed of the crystal palace known as the _établissement des -bains_, great hotels, and expensive lodging-houses,--this quarter -is inhabited by strangers of all nations, and should be compared to -Brighton or Scarborough,--but the quiet old town behind, which has -nothing in common with the watering-place, and is as hum-drum a place -as Peterborough. As far as I can make out, the difference lies in the -enjoyment which these Dieppois seem to take in their daily business. We -are called a nation of shopkeepers now by all the world, so I suppose -there must be some truth in the nickname. But certainly the Englishman -does his shopkeeping with a very bad grace, and not the least as if he -liked it. He sits or stands at his counter with grim, anxious face, -and it requires an effort, after one has entered his trap and asked a -question as to any article, to retire without buying. The moment his -closing time comes, up go the shutters, and he clears out of the shop, -and takes himself off out of sight and hearing of it as fast as he can. -But here in Dieppe (and the rule holds good, I think, in all French -towns) the people seem really to delight in their shops, and by -preference to live in them, and in the slice of street in front of them, -rather than in any other place. In fact, the shops seem to be convenient -places opened to enable their owners to _causer_ with the greatest -possible number of their neighbours and other people, rather than places -for the receipt of custom and serious making of money. I doubt if any -man is a worse hand at shopping than I, and yet I can go boldly into any -shop here, and turn over the articles, and chaffer over them, and then -go out without buying, and yet feel that I have conferred a benefit -rather than otherwise on the proprietor of the establishment. And as to -closing time, there is no such thing. The only difference seems to be -that after a certain hour, if you choose to walk into a shop, you will -probably find yourself in a family party. No one turns off the gas until -he goes to bed, so as you loiter along you have the advantage of seeing -everything that is going on, and the inhabitants have what they clearly -hold to be an equivalent, the opportunity of looking at and talking -about you. The master of the shop sits at his ease, sometimes reading -his journal, sometimes still working at his trade in an easygoing way, -as if it were a pleasure to him, and chatting away as he works. His wife -is either working with her needle or casting up the accounts of the day, -but in either case is ready in a moment to look up and join in any -talk that may be going on. The younger branches of the family disport -themselves on the floor, or play dominoes on the counter, or flirt with -some neighbour of the opposite sex who has dropped in, in the further -corners. The pastrycooks’ seem favourite social haunts, and often you -will find two or three of the nearest shops deserted, and the inmates -gathered in a knot round the sleek, neatly-shaved citizens who preside -in spotless white caps, jackets, and aprons, over these temples of good -things. In short, the life of the Dieppe burgher is not cut into sharp -lengths as it would be with us, one of which is religiously set apart -for trade and nothing else. Business and pleasure seem with him to be -run together, and he surrounds the whole with a halo of small-talk -which seems to make life run off wonderfully easily and happily to him. -Whether his method of carrying on trade results in as good articles as -with us I cannot say, for the Dieppois is by no means guileless enough -to part with his wares cheap, so that I have had very little experience -of them. But certainly the general aspect of his daily life, so much -more easy, so much more social than that of his compeer in England, -has a good deal of fascination about it. On better acquaintance very -possibly the charm might disappear, but at first one is inclined -strongly to wish that we could take a leaf out of his book, and learn -to take things more easily. The wisdom which has learnt that there are -vastly few things in this world worth worrying about will, I fear, be a -long time in leavening the British nation. - -The people of Dieppe are a remarkably well-conducted and discreet -folk in every way--wonderfully so when one considers their close -neighbourhood to the richest and most fashionable crowd which frequents -any French watering-place. Of these, and their amusements, and habits, -and wonderful costumes in and out of the sea, I have no room to speak in -this letter. They are now gone, or fast going, and this is the time -for people of moderate means and quiet tastes, who wish to enjoy the -deliciously exciting air and pretty scenery of this very charming old -sea town, which furnished most of the ships for the invasion of England -eight hundred years ago, and will well repay the costs of a counter -invasion. Only let the English invader take care when he sets his foot -on the Norman shore, unless he thinks it worth while to be fleeced for -the honour and glory of being under the same roof with French dukes, -Russian princes, and English milords, to give a wide berth to the Hotel -Royal. I am happy to say I do not speak from personal experience, but -only give voice to the universal outcry against the extortion of this -huge hotel, the most fashionable in Dieppe. The last story is that -an English nobleman travelling with a courier, who arrived late one -evening, did not dine, and left early the next morning, had to pay a -bill of 75 francs for his entertainment. The bill must have been a work -of-high art. - -I hope in another letter to give you some notions of the watering-place -life, which is very quaint and amusing, and as unlike our seaside doings -as the old town is unlike our ordinary towns. - - - - -Bathing at Dieppe, 17th September 1863. - -That great work, the _Sartor Resartus_, should have contained a chapter -on bathing-dresses, and I have no doubt would have done so had the -author been a frequenter of French watering-places. Each of these--even -such a little place as Treport--has its _établissement des bains_, its -etiquettes and rules as to the dress and comportment of its bathing -populations; and Dieppe is the largest, and not the least quaint, of -them all. The _établissement_ here is a long glass and iron building -like the Crystal Palace, with a dome in the middle, under which there -are daily concerts and nightly balls; and a transept at each end, one -of which is a very good reading-room, while in the other a mild kind -of gambling goes on, under the form of a lottery, for smelling bottles, -clocks, and such like ware. I am told that the play here is by no means -so innocent as it looks, and that persons in search of investments for -spare cash can be accommodated to any amount, but to a stranger nothing -of this discloses itself. Between this building and the sea there runs a -handsome esplanade, the favourite promenade, and immediately underneath -are the rows of little portable canvas huts which serve as bathing -machines. The ladies bathe under one end of the esplanade, and the -gentlemen under the other, while the fashionable crowd leans over, -or sits by the low esplanade wall, inspecting the proceedings. -This contiguity is, no doubt, the cause of the wonderful toilets, -_spécialités des bains_, which fill the shops here, and are used by all -the ladies and many of the men. They consist of large loose trousers and -a jacket with skirts, made of fine flannel or serge, of all shades of -colour according to taste, and of waterproof bathing caps, all of which -garments are trimmed with blue, or pink, or red bows and streamers. Over -all the _baigneurs comme il faut_ throw a large cloak, also tastefully -trimmed. Thus habited the lady walks out of her hut attended by a maid, -to whom when she reaches the water’s edge she hands her cloak, and, -taking the hand of one of the male _baigneurs_, proceeds with such -plunges and dancings as she has a fancy for, and then returns to the -shore, is enveloped in her cloak by her maid, and re-enters her hut. -These male _baigneurs_ are a necessary accompaniment of the performance. -I have only heard of one case of resistance to the custom, which ended -comically enough. A young Englishman, well known in foreign society, was -here with his wife, who insisted on bathing, but vowed she would go into -the water with no man but her husband. He consented, and in due course -appeared on the ladies’ side with his pretty wife, in most discreet -apparel, went through the office of _baigneur_, and returned to his own -side. This raised a storm among the lady bathers, and the authorities -interfered. The next day the lady went to the gentlemen’s side; but this -was even more scandalous, and was also forbidden. The persecuted couple -then took; to bathing at six in the morning; but, alas! on the second -morning the esplanade was lined even at that untimely hour by young -Frenchmen, who, though by no means early risers, had made a point of -being out to assist at the bath of their eccentric friends, and as -these last did not appreciate the _éclat_ of performing alone for the -amusement of their friends, the lawless efforts of _ces Anglais_ came to -an end. In England, where dress for the water is not properly attended -to by either sex, one quite understands the rule of absolute separation; -but here, where every lady is accompanied by a man in any case, where -she is more covered than she is in a ballroom, and where all her -acquaintance are looking on, it does not occur to one why she should not -be accompanied by her husband. For, as on the land, here people are much -better known by their dress in the water than by anything else. A young -gentleman asked one of his partners whether she had seen him doing some -particular feat of swimming that morning; she answered that she had not -recognised him, to which he replied, “Oh! you may always know me by my -straw hat and red ribbon.” The separation here is certainly a farce, for -at sixty yards, as we know from our musketry instructors, you recognise -the features of the party; and the distance between the men and women -bathers is not so much. The rule is enforced, however, at any depth. A -brother and sister, both good swimmers, used to swim out and meet one -another at the boat which lies in the offing in case of accidents. But -this was stopped, as they talked together in English, which excited -doubts as to their relationship. I suppose it would be more improper for -girls and boys of marriageable age to swim together than to walk; but I -vow at this moment I cannot see why. - -You may fancy, sir, that in such a state of things as I have described, -good stories on the great bathing subject are rife. The last relates -to a beauty of European celebrity, who is known to be here and to be -bathing, but keeps herself in such strict privacy that scarcely a soul -has been able to get a look at her, even behind two thick veils. Had -she really wished to be unnoticed she could not have managed worse. The -mystery set all the female world which frequents the _établissement_ in -a tremor. They were like a knot of sportsmen when a stag of ten tines -has been seen in the next glen, or when a 30 lb. salmon has broken the -tackle of some cunning fisherman, and is known to lie below a certain -stone. Of course, they were sure that something dreadful must have -happened to her looks, which she who should be happy enough to catch her -bathing would detect. In spite of all, the beauty eluded them for some -time, but at last she has been stalked, and I am proud to say, sir, by a -sportswoman of our own country. By chance this lady was walking at eight -in the morning, when the tide was so low that no one was bathing. She -saw a figure dressed _en bourgeoise_ approaching the bathing-place, -apparently alone, but two women suspiciously like maids followed at a -respectful distance. It flashed across our countrywoman that this must -be the incognita; she followed. To her delight, the three turned to -the bathing-ground, and disappeared in two huts which had been placed -together apparently by accident. She took up a position a few yards from -the huts. After an agonising pause the door opened, and a head appeared, -which was instantly withdrawn, but now too late. The mystery was solved. -It was too late-to send maids to the _directeur_ of the baths to warn -off the spectator, and, moreover, useless, for she politely declined to -move, though there was nothing more to discover. The whole establishment -is ringing with the news that the beauty is _pale comme une morte_, and -the inference, of course, follows that paint has been forbidden. You -will also, sir, no doubt, be interested to know that she wears a red -rose on the top of her bathing-cap, which, having regard to her present -complexion, does not say much for her taste in the choice of colours. - -But if the water toilets here are fabulous, what shall I say of those on -the land? The colours, the textures, the infinite variety, and general -loudness of these bewilder the sight and baffle the pen of ordinary -mortals. The keenest rivalry is kept up amongst the fair frequenters -of the establishment. They sit by hundreds there working and casing of -afternoons, while the band plays from three to six, or sweeping about -on the esplanade; and in the evening are there again in ever new and -brighter colours. The _Dieppe Journal_ comments on the most striking -toilets. It noticed with commendation the purple velvet petticoats -of the ladies of a millionaire house; it glowed in describing the -“_toilette Écossaise_” of another rich Frenchwoman. An officer on -reading the announcement laid down the paper, and addressed a lady, his -neighbour, “Mais, madame, comment est que ça se fait?” He, worthy man, -had but one idea of the toilet in question, which he had gained from the -Highland regiments in the Crimea. I am happy to say, both for their own -sakes and their husbands and fathers, that the Englishwomen are by -far the most simply dressed. The men generally speaking are clad like -rational beings, but with many exceptions. I hear of a celebrity in gray -velvet knickerbockers and pink silk stockings, but have not seen him. A -man in a black velvet suit, and a red beard reaching his waist, has just -walked past, without apparently exciting wonder in any breast but that -of your contributor. - -Dieppe must be a paradise to the rising generation. The children share -all the amusements of their elders, and have also special entertainments -of their own, amongst which one notes specially two balls a week at the -establishment. The whole building is brilliantly lighted every evening, -and on these nights the space under the central dome is cleared of -chairs, and makes a splendid ballroom. Here the little folk assemble, -and go through the whole performance solemnly, just like their elders. -The raised permanent seats are occupied by mammas, nurses, governesses, -and the public. The girls sit round on the lowest seats, and the boys -gather in groups talking to them, or walking about in the centre. They -are of all nations, in all costumes--one boy in a red Garibaldian blouse -and belt I noted as the most dangerous flirt. There were common English -jackets and trousers, knickerbockers of many colours, and many little -blue French uniforms. There was no dancer older than fifteen, and some -certainly as young as seven. When the music began, the floor was at once -covered with couples, who danced quadrilles, waltzes, and a pretty dance -like the Schottische, to the tune of “When the green leaves come again.” - At the end of each dance the girls were handed to their chairs with bows -worthy of Beau Brummel. There were at least 200 grown folk looking -on, and a prettier sight I have seldom seen, for the children danced -beautifully for the most part. Should I like my children to be amongst -them? That is quite another affair. On the whole, I incline to agree -with the ladies with whom I went, that it would, perhaps, do boys good, -but must be utterly bad for the girls. I certainly never saw before so -self-possessed a set of young gentlemen as those in question, and doubt -if any one of them will ever feel shy in after-life. - -Last Sunday afternoon: again, we had a _fete des vacances_ for the -children. The _Gazette des Bains_ announced, “À deux heures, ascensions -grotesques, l’enlèvement du phoque; à deux heures et demie, distribution -de jouets et bonbons; à trois heures, course à ânes, montés par des -jockeys grosse-tête,”--a most piquant programme. Not to mention the -other attractions, what could the _enlèvement du phoque_ be? In good -time I went into the _établissement_ grounds at the cost of a franc, and -was at once guided by the crowd to the brink of a small pond, where -sure enough a veritable live seal was swimming about, asking us all as -plainly as mild brown eyes could speak what all the rout meant, and then -diving smoothly under, to appear again on the other side of the pond. -Were the cruel Frenchmen actually going to send the gentle beast up into -the air? My speculations were cut short by the first comic ascent and -the shouts of the juveniles. A figure very like Richard Doyle’s Saracens -in the illustrations to Rebecca and Rowena, with large head, bottle -nose, and little straight arms and legs, mounted suddenly into the -air, and went away, wobbling and bobbing, before the wind. Another and -another followed, as fast as they could be filled with gas. The wind -blew towards the town, and there was great excitement as to their -destiny, for they rose only to about the height of the houses. I own -I was surprised to find myself so deeply interested whether the absurd -little Punchinellos would clear the chimneys. One only failed, a fellow -in a three-cornered hat like a beadle’s, and, refusing to mount, was -soon torn in pieces by the boys. The last was a balloon of the figure -of a seal, and I was much relieved when we all trooped away to the -distribution of _bonbons_, leaving the real phoca still gliding about in -his pond with wondering eyes. The _bonbons_ were distributed in the most -polite manner, the handfuls which were thrown amongst the crowd only -calling forth a “Pardon Monsieur,” “Pardon Mademoiselle,” as they were -picked up, instead of the hurly-burly and scramble we should have had at -home. The donkey races might better be called processions, which went -three times round the _établissement_. The winner was ridden by a jockey -whose _grosse tête_ was that of a cock, in compliment, I suppose, to the -national bird; the lion jockey was nowhere, but he beat the cook’s boy, -who came in last. The figures were well got up, and some of the heads -really funny. At night we had fireworks, and a grand pyrotechnic drama -of the taking of the old castle, which stands on the chalk cliff right -over the _établissement_ and commanding the town. The garrison joined in -the fun, and assaulted the walls twice amidst discharges of rockets and -great guns. The third assault was successful, and the red-legged -soldiers swarmed on the walls in a blaze of light and planted the -tricolour. A brilliant scroll of “_Vive l’Empéreur_” came out on the -dark castle walls above their heads, and so the show ended. The castle, -by the way, is a most picturesque building. One of the towers has been -favourably noticed by Mr. Ruskin. It is also to be reverenced as the -stronghold of Henry IV. and the Protestants. It was here, just before -the battle of Arques, that he made the celebrated answer to a -faint-hearted ally, who spoke doubtfully as to the disparity of numbers, -“You forget to count God and the good cause, who are on our side.” It -will never be of any use in modern warfare, but makes a good barrack and -a most magnificent place for a pyrotechnic display for the delectation -of young folk, in which definition for these purposes may be included -the whole of the population of France. - -As I am writing, a troop of acrobats pass along the green between this -hotel and the sea, followed by a crowd of boys. There is the strong man -in black velvet carrying the long balancing triangle, on which he is -about to support the light fellow in yellow who walks by his side. - -There is an athletic fellow in crimson breeches, carrying a table on his -head, and a clown with two chairs accompanying. There they have pitched -on the green, and are going to begin, and the English boys are -leaving their cricket, and the French boys their kites and indiarubber -handballs, and a goodly ring is forming, out of which, if they are -decent tumblers, I hope they may turn an honest franc or two. - -They are not only decent but capital tumblers, the best I have seen for -many a day, especially the man in crimson. He has balanced three glasses -full of water on his forehead, and then lain down on his back, and -passed himself, tumblers and all, through two small hoops. He has placed -one chair upon the table, and then has tilted the second chair on -two legs upon the seat of the first, and on this fearfully precarious -foundation has been balancing himself with his legs straight up in the -air while I could count thirty! The strong man has just run up behind -the man in yellow, who was standing with his legs apart, and, stooping, -has put his head between the yellow man’s legs and thrown him a backward -somersault! I must positively go down and give them half a franc. It is -a swindle to look on at such good tumbling for nothing. - -P.S.--Imagine my delight, sir, when I got down on the green to find they -were the tumblers of my native land. They joined a French circus for a -tour some weeks back, but could get no money, and so broke off and -are working their way home. They can speak no French, and find it very -difficult to get leave to perform, as they have to do in all French -towns. The crowd of English boys seemed to be doing their duty by them, -so I hope they will speedily be able to raise their passage-money and -return to the land of double stout and liberty. - - - - -Normandy, 20th September 1863. - -To an Englishman with little available spare cash and time, and in want -of a thorough change of scene and air, which category I take to include -a very handsome percentage of our fellow-countrymen, I can recommend a -run in Normandy without the slightest hesitation. I am come to the age -when one learns to be what the boys call _cocksure_ of nothing in this -world, but am, nevertheless, prepared to take my stand on the above -recommendation without fear or reservation. For in Normandy he will get -an exquisitely light and bracing air, a sky at least twice as far off -as our English one (which alone will raise his spirits to at least twice -their usual altitude), a pleasant, lively, and well-to-do people, a -picturesque country, delicious pears, and, to an Englishman, some of the -most interesting old towns in the world out of his own island. All this -he may well enjoy for ten days for a five-pound note, or thereabouts, in -addition to his return fare to Dieppe or Havre. So let us throw up our -insular vacation wide-awakes, and bless the men who invented steam, and -pears, and Norman architecture, “and everything in the world beside,” - as the good old song of “the leathern bottèl” has it, and start for -the fair land from which our last conquerors came before the days get -shorter than the nights. Alas! how little of that blissful time now -remains to us of the year of grace 1863. - -It is some few years, I forget how many, since I was last in a Norman -town, and must confess that in some respects they have changed for the -better, externally at least, now that the Second Empire has had time -to make itself felt in them. All manner of police arrangements, the -sweeping, lighting, and paving, are marvellously improved, and there is -an air of prosperity about them which does one good. Even in Rouen, the -centre of their cotton district, there are scarcely any outward signs of -distress, although, so far as I could see, not more than one in three -of the mills is at work. I was told that there are still nearly 30,000 -operatives out of work in the town and neighbourhood, who have no means -of subsistence except any odd job they can pick up to earn a few sous -about the quays and markets, but if it be so they kept out of sight -during my wanderings about the town. But there is one characteristic -sign of the empire to be noted in all these same Norman towns, for -which strangers will not feel thankful, though the inhabitants may. The -building and improving fever is on them all. In Rouen, amongst other -improvements, a broad new street is being made right through some of the -oldest parts of the town, from the quays straight up to the boulevards, -which it joins close by the railway-station. This Grand Rue de -l’Empereur will be a splendid street when finished, to judge by the few -houses which are already built at the lower end. Meantime, the queer -gables of the houses whose neighbours have been destroyed, and a chapel -or two, and an old tower, standing out all by itself, which would make -the architectural fortune of any other city, and which find themselves -with breathing room now, for the first time, I should think, in the -last five hundred years, look down ruefully on the cleared space, in -anticipation of the hour rapidly approaching, when they will be again -shut out from human ken by four-storied stone palaces, and this time, -undoubtedly, for good and all. They can never hold up until another -improving dynasty arrives. - -At Havre the same process is going on. New houses are springing up all -along the new boulevards. Between the town and Frescati’s great hotel -and bathing establishment, which faces the sea, there used to stand a -curious old round tower of great size, which commanded the mouth of -the harbour, and some elaborate fortifications of more modern date. All -these have been levelled, old and new together, and the ground is now -clear for building, and will, no doubt, be covered long before I shall -see it again. Large seaports are always interesting towns, and Havre, -besides the usual attractions of such places, has a sort of shop in -greater perfection than any other port known to me. In these you can -buy or inspect curiosities, alive and dead, from all parts of the world. -Parrots of all colours of the rainbow scream at the door, long cages -full of love-birds, and all manner of other delicate little feathered -creatures one has never seen elsewhere, hang on the walls, or stand -about amongst china monsters, and cases of amber, and inlaid stools -from Stamboul, and marmoset monkeys, and goodness knows what other -temptations to solvent persons with a taste for collections or pets. -To neither of these weaknesses can I plead guilty, so after a short -inspection I stroll to the harbour’s mouth, and do wonder to think over -the astounding audacity of our late countryman, Sir Sidney Smith, who -ran his ship close in here, and proceeded in his boats to cut out a -French frigate under the guns of the old fortifications. His ship -got aground, and was taken; he also. But, after all, it was less of a -forlorn hope than throwing himself with his handful of men into Acre, -and facing Bonaparte there, which last moderately lunatic act made him a -name in history. _Audace! et encore d’audace! et toujours d’audace!_ was -the rule which brought our sailors triumphantly through the great war. -And there is another picture in that drama which Havre harbour calls up -in the English mind, to put in the scale against Sir Sidney’s failure--I -mean Citizen Muskein and his gunboats skedaddling from Lieutenant Price -in the _Badger_. Do you remember, sir, Citizen Muskein’s--or rather -Canning’s--inimitable address to his gunboats in the _Anti-Jacobin?_-- - - Gunboats, unless you mean hereafter - - To furnish food for British laughter, - - Sweet gunboats, and your gallant crew, - - Tempt not the rocks of St. Marcou, - - Beware the _Badger’s_ bloody pennant - - And that d----d invalid Lieutenant! - -Enough of war memories, and for the future the very last thing one -wishes to have to do with this simple, cheery, and, for all I can see, -honest people, is to fight them. - -There are packets twice a day from Havre across the mouth of the Seine, -a seven miles’ run, to Honfleur, described in guide-books as a dirty -little town, utterly without interest. I can only say I have seldom been -in a place of its size, not the site of any great historic event, which -is better worth spending an afternoon in, and I should strongly advise -my typical Englishman to follow this route. In the first place, the -situation is beautiful. From the steep wooded heights above the town, -where are a chapel, much frequented by sailors, and some villas, there -are glorious views up the Seine, across to Havre, and out over the sea. -Then, in the town, there is the long street, which runs down to the -lighthouse, and which, I suppose, the guide-book people never visit, as -it is out of the way. It is certainly as picturesque a street as can -be found in Rouen, or any other French town I have ever seen--except -Troyes, by the way. The houses are not large, but there is scarcely one -of them which Prout would not be proud to ask to sit to him. - -Then there is the church in the centre of the town by the market-place, -with the most eccentric of little spires. It seems, at an early period -of the Middle Ages, to have taken it into its clock--or whatever answers -to a spire’s head--that it would seer more of the world, and to have -succeeded in getting about thirty yards away from its nave. Here, -probably finding locomotion a tougher business than it reckoned on, it -has fallen asleep, and, while it slept, several small houses crept up -against its base and fell asleep also. And there it remains to this day, -looking down over the houses in which people live, and many apples and -pears are being sold, and crying, like the starling, “I can’t get out.” - There is a splendid straight avenue, stretching a mile and a half up the -Caen road, and a good little harbour full of English vessels, which -ply the egg and fruit trade, and over every third door in the sailors’ -quarter you see “Cook-house” written up in large letters, for the -benefit of the British sailor. - -The railway to Lisieux passes through a richly wooded, hilly country, -and then runs out into the great plain in which Caen lies. The city of -William the Conqueror is quite worthy of him, which is saying a good -deal. For, though one may not quite share Mr Carlyle’s enthusiasm for -“Wilhelmus Conquestor,” it must be confessed that he is, at least, one -of the three strongest men who have ruled in England, and that in the -long run he has done a stroke of good work for our nation. The church -of the Abbey _des Hommes_, which he began in 1066, and of which Lanfranc -was the first abbot, stands just as he left it, except the tops of two -towers at the west end, which were finished two centuries later. It is -a pure Norman church, 320 feet long, and 98 feet high in the nave and -transepts, and the simplest and grandest specimen of that noble style -I have ever seen. William’s grave is before the high altar, the spot -marked by a dark stone, and no king ever lay in more appropriate -sepulchre. The Huguenots rifled the grave and scattered his bones, but -his strong stern spirit seems to rest over the place. There is an old -building near the Abbey surmounted by a single solid pinnacle, under -which is a room which tradition says he occupied. It is now filled with -the wares of a joiner who lives below. Caen is increasing in a solid -manner in its outskirts, but seems less disturbed and altered by the -building mania than any of her sisters. There was an English population -of 4000 and upwards living here before 1848, but the English Consul -fairly frightened them away by assurances of his inability to protect -them (against what does not seem to have been settled) in that wild -time, and now there are not as many hundreds. One of the survivors is -the Commissionaire of the Hôtel d’Angleterre, West by name, a really -intelligent and serviceable man, well up to his work. It is scarcely -ever worth while to spend a franc on a commissionaire, but West is an -exception to the rule. His father was in the lace trade, which is active -in Caen, but his premises were burnt down some years since, and an -end put to his manufacture. West is now trying to revive the family -business, and one of his first steps was to get over a new lace machine, -and a man to work it, from England. It has not proved a good speculation -as yet, for no one else can manage the machine, and the Englishman -insists on being drunk half his time. - -We left by one of the steamers which ply daily from Caen to Havre. -The run down the river is chiefly interesting from the quarries on its -banks. They are not the principal quarries, but are of very considerable -extent; and from the quantities of tip, heaped into moderate-sized -grass-covered hills by the river side, it is plain that they must have -been in work here for centuries. You see the stone in many places lying -like rich Cheddar cheese, and cut as regularly in flakes as a grocer -would cut his favourite cheeses. The stone is very soft when it comes -first from the quarries, but gains its great hardness and sharpness -after a short exposure. After passing the quarries we got between salt -marshes haunted by abundance of jack snipe, and so we passed out to sea. - - - - -Gleanings from Boulogne - -There is one large portion of the French people which has improved -marvellously in appearance in the last few years, and that is the -army. The setting up of the French soldier of the line used to be much -neglected, but now you never see a man, however small and slight, who -does not carry himself and move as if every muscle in his body had been -thoroughly and scientifically trained. And this is the actual fact. They -have the finest system of military gymnastics which has ever been seen. -In every garrison town there is a gymnasium, in which the men have to -drill as regularly as on the parade-ground. The one close to the gate -of the old town of Boulogne is an admirable specimen, and well worth a -visit. Our authorities are, I believe, slowly following in the steps of -the French, but little has as yet been done. There is no branch of army -reform which may more safely be pressed on. We have undoubtedly the -finer material. The English soldier is a bigger and more muscular -man than the French soldier, but is far behind him in his physical -education, and must remain so until we provide a proper system of -gymnastic training, which, by the bye, will benefit the general health -of the men, and develop their intelligence as well as their muscles. - -During our stay at Boulogne there was some very heavy weather. A strong -sou’-wester came on one night, and by two o’clock next day, when I went -down, was hurling the angry green waves against the great beams of the -southern pier in fearful fashion. The entrance to the harbour, as most -of your readers will remember, is quite narrow, not one hundred yards -across between the two pier heads. The ebb-tide was sweeping down from -the north, and, meeting the gale right off the harbour’s mouth, made a -battling and raging sea which brought one’s heart into one’s mouth to -look at. The weather was quite bright, and though the wind was so strong -that I held my hat on with difficulty, the northern pier was crowded, -as the whole force of the sea was spent against the southern pier, over -which it was leaping every moment. We were in comparative shelter, and -could watch, Without being drenched with spray, the approach of one -of the fishing smacks of the port, which was coming home. I shall not -easily forget the sight. We stood there, jammed together, rough sailors, -fishwomen, Cockneys, weatherbound soldiers, well-dressed ladies, a crowd -of all ranks, the wind singing through us so that we could scarcely make -our nearest neighbours hear. Not that we wanted to talk. The sight of -the small black hull and ruddy brown sail of the smack, now rising on -the crest of a great wave, and the next moment all but disappearing -behind it, took away the desire, almost the power, of speech. Two boats, -manned with fishermen, pulled to the harbour’s mouth, and lay rolling -in the comparatively still water just within the shelter of the -southern pier head. It was comforting to see them there, though if any -catastrophe had happened they could never have lived in that sea. But -the gallant little smack needed no help. She was magnificently steered, -and came dancing through the wildest part of the race without shipping a -single sea, seeming to catch each leaping wave just in the spot where it -was easiest to ride over. As she slid out of the seething cauldron into -the smooth water past the waiting boats the crowd drew a long breath, -and many of us hurried back to get a close view of her as she ran into -her place amongst the other fishing boats alongside the quay. I envied -the grizzly old hero at the helm, as he left his place, threw off his -dreadnought coat, and went to help the two men and two boys who were -taking in the sail and coiling away the ropes. There was much shouting -and congratulation from above; but they made little answer, and no fuss. -Their faces struck me very much, especially the boys’, which were full -of that quiet self-contained look one sees in Hook’s pictures. There was -no other boat in the offing then, so I went home; but within a few hours -heard that a smack had capsized in the harbour’s mouth, with the loss of -one man. I only marvel how the rest could have been saved. - -On the 1st of October in every year there is a solemn festival of the -seafaring people of Boulogne, and the sea is blessed by their pastors. -I was anxious to wait for the ceremony, but was unable to do so. There -seems to be a strange mixture of trust in God and superstition in all -people who “occupy their business on the great waters.” There is a -little chapel looking down on Boulogne port full of thank-offerings of -the sailors’ wives, where the fishwomen go up to plead with God, -and pour out the agony of their souls in rough weather. There are -propitiatory gifts, too, by the side of the thank-offerings, and the -shadow of a tyrannous power in nature, to be bought off with gifts, -darkens the presence of the true Refuge from the storm. There are -traces, too, of a more direct idolatry in the town. In the year 643 of -our era the Madonna came to Boulogne in an open boat, so runs the -story, and left an image with the faithful, which soon became the great -religious lion of the neighbourhood, drawing largely, and performing a -series of miracles all through the Middle Ages. When Henry VIII. took -the town the English carried off the image, but it was restored in good -condition when peace came, and as powerful as ever for wonder-working. -The Huguenots got hold of it half a century later, and were supposed to -have destroyed it; but an image, which at any rate did duty for it, -was ultimately fished up out of a well. Doubts as to identity, however, -having arisen, the matter was referred to the Sorbonne, and a jury of -doctors declared in favour of the genuineness of the article which was -forthcoming. And so it continued to practise with varying success until -the Revolution, when the Jacobins laid hands on it, broke it up, -and burnt it, thinking to make once for all an end of this and other -idol-worships. But a citizen not so enlightened as his neighbours stayed -by the fire, and succeeded at last in rescuing what he declared to be an -arm of the original image, which remains an object of veneration still, -and is said not to have lost all healing power. But it is far inferior -in this respect to some drops of the holy blood, for the reception of -which a countrywoman of ours has built a little chapel in the suburbs. - -Boulogne has all the marks of rapidly increasing material prosperity -which may be seen now in every French town, one of the many fruits of -which is a wonderful improvement in the condition of the streets and -thoroughfares. The fine new buildings, the look of the shops and of the -people, all tell the same tale. In fact, one comes away from France -now with a feeling that, so far as surface polish and civilisation are -concerned, this is the country which is going to the front. Whether it -goes any deeper is a matter upon which a traveller flitting about for a -few weeks cannot venture an opinion. - -I came back in one of the daily packets to London Bridge, which, besides -carrying seventy passengers, was piled fore and aft with cargo. There -were 400 cases of wine on deck, besides other packages, which sorely -curtailed our walking privileges. But the boats are good boats, and the -voyage past Dover, through the Downs, round the North Foreland, and up -the Thames, is so full of life and interest that it is well worth making -a long day of it, if one is a moderately good sailor. The advertisements -call it eight and a half hours, which means eleven; but it is not a -moment too long. - - - - -Blankenberghe - -Yesterday (14th August) we were warned by meagre fare at the _table -d’hôte_ of our hotel that it was the vigil of some saint’s day. Our -gastronomic knowledge was enlarged by the opportunity of partaking -of boiled mussels. A small and delicate species of this little -fish--despised of Englishmen--is found in extraordinary quantities on -this coast. The sand is dotted with the shells after every ebb. The -wattles of the jetties are full of them. After the first shock of having -a salad bowl full of small black shells presented to one, following -immediately on a delicate _potage à l’oseille_, the British citizen may -pursue his education in this direction fearlessly, with the certainty of -becoming acquainted with a delicate and appetising morsel; and he will -return to his native country with at least a toleration for “winks” and -“pickled whelks,” when he sees them vended at corner stalls in Clare -Market or in the Old Kent Road, for the benefit of the dangerous classes -of his fellow-citizens who take their meals in the street. In these -Flemish parts they are eaten with bread and butter, and even as -whitebait, and by all classes. - -After the meal I consulted the calendar in my pocket-book as to the -approaching festival, not wishing to thrust my heretical ignorance -unnecessarily on the notice of the simple folk who inhabit the _Lion -d’Or_. That obstinately Protestant document, however, informed me simply -that the Rev. E. Irving was born on this day in 1792, probably not the -saint I was in quest of. A _Churchman’s Almanac_, with which the only -English lady in the place was provided, was altogether silent as to -the day. In the end, therefore, I was obliged to fall back upon the -bright-eyed little _demoiselle de la maison_, who informed me that it -was the vigil of the Assumption of the Virgin, and that the _fête_ was -one greatly honoured by the community of Blankenberghe. - -Thus prepared, I was not surprised at being roused at five in the -morning by the clumping of sabots and clinking of hammers in the street -below--my room is a corner one, looking from two windows on the Rue -d’Eglise, the principal street of the place, and from the other two -on the Rue des Pecheurs, or “Visschurs’ Straet,” which runs across the -northern end of the Rue d’Eglise. A flight of broad steps here runs up -on to the Digue, or broad terrace fronting the sea, and at the foot of -these steps they were erecting a temporary altar, and over it a large -picture of fishermen hauling in nets full of monsters of the deep. They -had brought it from the parish church, and, as such pictures go, it was -by no means a bad one. Presently tricoloured flags began to appear from -the windows of most of the houses in both streets, and here and there -garlands of bright-coloured paper were hung across from one side to the -other. As the morning advanced the bells from the church and convent -called the simple folk to mass at short intervals, six, half-past seven, -nine, and grand mass at ten. The call seemed to be answered by more -people than we had fancied the town could have held. At eleven there -was to be a procession, and now miniature altars with lighted candles -appeared in many of the ground-floor windows, both of shops and private -houses; and the streets were strewed with rushes and diamond-shaped -pieces of coloured paper. Punctual to its time the head of the -procession came round the corner of “Visschurs’ Straet,” half a dozen -small boys ringing bells leading the way. Then came the beadledom of -Blankenberghe, in the shape of several imposing persons in municipal -uniform, then three little girls dressed in white, with bouquets, more -boys, including a diligent but not very skilful drummer, six or seven -other maidens in white, somewhat older than their predecessors, of whom -the centre one carried some ornament of tinsel and flowers. Then -came the heavy silk canopy, supported by four light poles carried by -acolytes, and surrounded by choristers, of whom the leader bore a -large silver censer, and under the canopy marched a shaven monk in -cream-coloured brocade satin, carrying the pyx, and a less gorgeously -attired brother with an open missal. Around the whole of the procession, -to protect it from the accompanying crowd, were a belt of bronzed -fishermen in their best clothes, some carrying staves, some hymn-books, -and almost all joining in the chant which was rolled out by the priest, -in a powerful bass with a kind of metallic ring in it, as they neared -the altar at the foot of the steps. Here the whole procession paused, -and the greater part knelt, while the priest put incense in the censer, -and made his obeisances and prayed in an unknown tongue, and the censer -boy swung his sweet-smelling smoke about, and the fishermen and their -wives and children prayed too, in their own tongue, I suppose, and their -own way, probably for fair weather and plenty of fish, and let us hope -for brave and gentle hearts to meet whatever rough weather and short -commons may be in store for them by land or water, Then the procession -rose, and passed down the Rue d’Eglise, pausing at the corner of the -little market-place opposite a rude figure of the Madonna in a niche -over some pious doorway, -[Greek phrase] -and so out of sight. And the _bourgeois_ blew out the candles and took -away the chairs on which, while the halt lasted, they had been kneeling -from their shop windows, putting back the bathing dresses, and the shell -boxes, and other sea-side merchandise, while the whole non-shopkeeping -population, and the neighbours from Bruges, and the strangers who fill -the hotels and lodging-houses turned out upon the splendid sands and -on the Digue to enjoy their _fête_-day. In the afternoon the _corps de -musique_ of the communal schools of Bruges gave a gratuitous concert to -us all by the permission of the communal administration of that town, -as we bathed, or promenaded, or sipped coffee or liqueurs in the -broad verandahs of the _cafés_ which line the Digue. Gaily dressed -middle-class women (of upper classes, as we understand them, I see -none), in many-coloured garments and immense structures of false back -hair, such as these eyes have never before seen; a sprinkling of -Belgian officers in uniform, Russians, Frenchmen, Germans a few, and two -Anglo-Saxons, Englishmen I cannot say, for one is an American citizen -and the other your contributor, who compose the only English-speaking -males, so far as I can judge; groups of Flemish women of the people in -long black cloth cloaks, with large hoods lined with black satin, more -expensive probably, but not nearly so picturesque as the old red cloak -which thirty years ago was the almost universal Sunday dress of women in -Wiltshire, Berkshire, and other Western counties; little old-fashioned -girls in nice mob caps, and the fishermen in excellent blue broad-cloth -jackets and trousers, and well-blacked shoes or boots, instead of the -huge sabots of their daily life; in short, every soul, I suppose, in -Blankenberghe, from the Bourgmestre who sits on his throne, to the -donkey-boy who drives along his Neddy under a freight of children, at -half a franc an hour, whenever he can entice the small fry from the -superior attraction of engineering with the splendid sand, spends his -or her three or four hours on the Digue, enjoying whatever of the music, -gossip, coffee, beer, or other pastimes they are inclined to or can -afford; and in that whole crowd of pleasant holiday-making folk there is -not one single trace of poverty, not a starved face, not a naked foot, -not a ragged garment. It is the same on the week-days. The people, -notably the fishermen and _baigneurs_, dress roughly, but they have all -comfortable thick worsted stockings in their sabots, and their jerseys -and overalls are ample and satisfactory. Why is it that in nine places -out of ten on the Continent this is so, and that in England you shall -never be able to find a watering-place which is not deformed more or -less by poverty and thriftlessness? Right across the sea, there, on the -Norfolk coast, lie Cromer and Sherringham. More daring sailors never -manned lifeboat, more patient fishermen never dragged net, than the -seafaring folk of those charming villages. They are courteous, simple, -outspoken folk, too, singularly attractive in their looks and ways. -But, alas! for the rags, and the grinding poverty, declaring itself in -a dozen ways, in the cottages, in the children’s looks, in the women’s -premature old age. When will England wake up, and get rid of the curse -of her wealth and the curse of her poverty? When will an Englishman -be able again to look on at a fête-day in Belgium, or Switzerland, -or Germany, or France, without a troubled conscience and a pain in his -heart, as he thinks of the contrast at home, and the bitter satire in -the old, worn-out name of “Merry England?” It is high time that we -all were heartsick over it, for the canker grows on us. Those who know -London best will tell you so; those who know the great provincial towns -and country villages will tell you so, except perhaps that the latter -are now getting depopulated, and so contain less altogether of joy or -sorrow. However, sir, there are other than these holiday times in which -to dwell on this dark subject. I ought to apologise for having fallen -into it unawares, when I sat down merely to put on paper, if I could in -a few lines, and impart to your readers the exceeding freshness of the -feeling which the feast-day at this little Belgian watering-place leaves -on one. But who knows when he sits down, at any rate in the holidays, -what he is going to write? However good your intentions, at times you -can’t “get the hang of it,” can’t say the thing you meant to say. - -You may wonder, too, at this sudden plunge into the _fête_ of the -Assumption at Blankenberghe, when I have never warned you even that I -had flitted from my round on the great crank which grinds for us all so -ruthlessly in the parts about the Strand and the Inns of Court. Well, -sir, I plead in my defence the test that a very able friend of mine -applies to novels. He opens the second volume and reads a chapter; if -that tempts him, on he goes to the end of the book; if it is very good -indeed, he then goes back, and fairly begins at the beginning. So I hope -your readers will be inclined to peruse in future weeks some further -gossip respecting this place, which should perhaps have preceded -the _fête_-day. If they should get to take the least interest in -Blankenberghians and their works and ways, it is more than these latter -can be said to do about them, for in the two or three cheap sheets which -I find on the table here, and which constitute the press of this corner -of Belgium, there is seldom more than a couple of lines devoted to the -whole British Empire. The fact that there is not another Englishman -in the place, and that the American above mentioned, the only other -representative of our English-speaking stock here, went once to see the -Derby, and got so bored by two o’clock that he left the Downs and walked -back to Epsom station, enduring the whole chaff of the road, and finding -the doors locked and the clerks and porters all gone up to the race, -ought to be enough to make them curious--curious enough at any rate -for long-vacation purposes. There are plenty of odds and ends of life -a little out of our ordinary track lying about here to make a small -“harvest for a quiet eye,” which I am inclined to try and garner for -you, if you think well. And are not the new King and Queen coming next -week to delight their subjects, and witness many kinds of fireworks, -and a “_concours des joueurs de boule, dits pas baenbolders_,” whatever -these may be? - - - - -Belgian Bathing - -I should like to know how many grown Englishmen or Englishwomen, apart -from those unfortunates who are preparing for competitive examinations, -are aware of the existence of this place? No Englishman is bound to know -of it by any law of polite education acknowledged amongst us, for is it -not altogether ignored in Murray? - -Even Bradshaw’s _Continental Guide_ is silent as to its whereabouts. -This is somewhat hard upon Blankenberghe, sturdy and rapidly growing -little watering-place that she is, already exciting the jealousy of -her fashionable neighbour, Ostend. It must be owned, however, that she -returns the compliment by taking the slightest possible interest in the -contemporary history of the British Empire. Nevertheless, the place has -certain recommendations to persons in search of a watering-place out of -England. If you are content with an hotel of the country, of which there -is a large choice, you may have three good meals a day and a bedroom for -six and a half francs, with a considerable reduction for families. Even -at the fashionable hotels on the Digue the price is only eight or nine -francs; and when you have paid your hotel bill you are out of all danger -of extravagance, for there is literally nothing to spend money upon. -Your bathing machine costs you sixpence. There are no pleasure boats and -no wheeled vehicles for hire in the place, and no excursions if there -were; shops there are none; and the market is of the smallest and -meagerest kind. There are no beggars and no amusements, except bathing -and the Kursaal. These, however, suffice to keep the inhabitants and -visitors in a state of much contentment. - -But now for the geography. From Ostend harbour to the mouth of the -Scheldt is a dead flat, highly cultivated, and dotted all over with -villages and farmhouses, but somewhat lower than high-water mark. The -sea is kept out by an ancient and dilapidated-looking dyke, some fifty -feet high, on the slopes of which flourishes a strong, reedy sort of -grass, planted in tufts at regular intervals, to hold the loose soil -together. The fine sand drifts up the dyke and blows over it, lying just -like snow, so that if you half-close your eyes and look at it from fifty -yards’ distance, you may fancy yourself on a glacier in the Oberland. -Blankenberghe is an ancient fishing village, lying just under the dyke, -between eight and nine miles from Ostend. When it came into the minds -of the inhabitants to convert it into a watering-place they levelled the -top of their dyke for some 600 yards until it is only about twenty-five -feet above high-water mark. They paved the sea face with good stone, -and the fine flat walk on the top, thirty yards broad, with brick, and -called it the Digue, in imitation of Ostend. They built a Kursaal, -three or four great hotels, and half a dozen first-class lodging-houses, -opening on to the Digue, with deep verandahs in front, and they brought -a single line branch of the Flanders railway from Bruges, and the -deed was accomplished. There is no such a sea-walk anywhere that I can -remember as Blankenberghe Digue, from which you look straight away -with nothing but sea between you and the North Pole. From the Digue you -descend by a flight of twenty-four steps on one side to the sands, on -the other into the town, the chief of these latter flights being at the -head of the Rue d’Eglise, the backbone, as it were, of the place, -which runs from the railway station to the Digue. There may be -1500 inhabitants out of the season, when all the Digue hotels and -lodging-houses are shut up; at present, perhaps, another 1000, coming -and going, and attracted by the bathing. - -Of this institution an Englishman is scarcely a fair judge, as it is -conducted on a method so utterly unlike anything we have at home at -present. My American friend assures me that we are 100 years behind all -other nations in this matter, that the Belgians conduct it exactly -as they do in the States, and that theirs is the only decent mode of -bathing. It may be so. One sees such rapid changes in these days, and -advanced opinions of all kinds are being caught up so quickly by even -such Philistines as the English middle classes, that he is a bold man -who will assert that we shall not see the notions of Brighton and Dover -yield to the new ideas of Newport and Blankenberghe before long. In one -respect, indeed, it is well that they should, for the machines here are -convenient little rooms on wheels, with plenty of pegs, two chairs, a -small tub, a looking-glass, and everything handsome about them. But the -wheels are broad, and very-low; consequently you are only rolled down -to the neighbourhood of the water, thinking yourself lucky if you get -within five or six yards of it. Now, as the occupants of the machine on -your left and right are probably sprightly and somewhat facetious young -Belgian or French women, and as the beach shelves so gently that you -have at least a run of fifty yards before you can get into deep enough -water to swim with comfort, the root difference between Blankenberghian -and English habits discloses itself to you from the first. Of course, as -men, women, and children all bathe together, costumes are necessary, -but those in which the men have to array themselves only make bathing a -discomfort, without giving one the consciousness of being decently clad. -You have handed to you with your towels a simple jersey, with arms and -legs six or eight inches in length, reaching perhaps to the middle of -the biceps and femoral muscles. Into this apology for a dress you insert -and button yourself up (it is well for you, by the way, if one or two -buttons be not missing), and then are expected to walk calmly out -into the water through groups of laughing girls in jackets and loose -trousers. Having threaded your way through these, and avoided a -quadrille party on the one hand, and an excellent fat couple, reminding -you of the picture of Mr. and Mrs. Bubb in the one-horse “chay,” who are -bathing their family on the other, you address yourself to swimming. -As you descended from the Digue you read, “Bathers are expressly -recommended to hold themselves at least fifteen yards from the breakers -by buoys designed.” You do not see any breakers, but there is a line -of buoys about eighty yards out to which you contemptuously paddle, and -after all find that you are scarcely out of your depth. When you have -had enough you return, poor, dripping, forked mortal, to a last and -severest trial. For the universal custom is to sit about on chairs -amongst the machines; and on one side of your door are perhaps a couple -of nursemaids chatting while their children build sand castles, on the -other a matron or two working and gossiping. Now, sir, a man who has -been taking the rough and the smooth of life for a good many years -within half a mile of Temple Bar is not likely to be oversensitive, but -I would appeal to any contributor on your staff, sir, or to yourself, -whether you would be prepared to go through such an ordeal without -wincing? On my return from my first swim I recognised my American cousin -in his element. He was clad in a blue striped jersey,--would that I -could have sprinkled it with a few stars,--and was sauntering about with -the greatest coolness from group to group, enjoying the whole business, -and no doubt looking forward complacently to the time when differences -of sex shall be altogether ignored in the academies of the future. He -threw a pitying glance at me as I skedaddled to my machine, secretly -vowing to abstain from all such adventures hereafter. Since that time I -have taken my dip too early for the Belgian public to be present at the -ceremony, but, like the rest of the world, I daily look on, and, unlike -them, wonder. As to the morality of it, I can’t say that I think the -custom of promiscuous bathing as practised here seems to me either -moral or immoral. Occasionally when the waves are a little rough you see -couples clinging together for mutual support more than the circumstances -perhaps strictly require; but there is very little of this. The whole -business seemed to me not immoral, but in our conventional sense vulgar, -much like “kissing in the ring,” which I have seen played by most -exemplary sets of young men and women on excursions in Greenwich or -Richmond Park, but which would not do in Hamilton Gardens or a May Fair -drawing-room. Meanwhile, I hope that as long at least as I can enjoy -the water we shall remain benighted bathers in the eyes of our American -cousins and of the brave Belgians. To a man the first requisite of a -really enjoyable bath is surely deep water, and the second, no clothes, -for the loss of either of which no amount of damp flirtation can -compensate, in the opinion at least of your contributor, who, -nevertheless in these Belgian parts, while obliged to record his -opinion, has perhaps a great consciousness that he may be something of -an old fogey. - -I suppose that a man or nation is to be congratulated about whom their -neighbours have nothing to say. If so, the position of England at this -time is peculiarly enviable out here. I read the _Indépendance Belge_ -diligently, but under the head “Nouvelles d’Angleterre,” for which that -journal retains, as it would seem, a special correspondent, I never -learn anything whatever except the price of funds. We occupy an average -of perhaps twelve lines in its columns, and none at all in those of the -_La Vigie de la Côte_, the special production of Blankenberghe, or of -the Bruges and Ostend journals. - - Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us, - - To see oursels as ithers see us! - -Certainly a short residence at Blankenberghe should be taken in -conjunction with the volume of essays on international policy by Mr. -Congreve and his fellow Comtists, which I happen to have brought with -me for deliberate perusal, if one wants to feel the shine taken out of -one’s native land. I don’t. - - - - -Belgian Boats - -Blankenberghe has one branch of native industry, and one only. From -time immemorial it has been a fishing station. The local paper declares -that there has been no change in the boats, the costumes, or the -implements of this industry since the sixteenth century, with the -exception noticed below. One can quite believe it, as far as the boats -are concerned. They are very strongly built tubs, ranging from twenty to -thirty tons, flat-bottomed, the same breadth of beam fore and aft, built -I should think on the model of the first duck which was seen off this -coast, and a most sensible model too. They have no bowsprit, but a short -foremast in the bows, carrying one small sail, and a strong mainmast -amidships, carrying one big sail. Each of these sails is run up by a -single rope, rigged through a pulley in the top of the masts, and of -other rigging there is none. The boats are all of a uniform russet-brown -colour, the tint of old age, looking as if they had been once varnished, -in the time, let us say, of William the Silent, and had never been -touched since. There is not a scrap of paint on the whole fleet. In -short, I am convinced that the local paper by no means exaggerates their -antiquity. Instead of finding it hard to believe that sixteenth-century -men went to sea in them, I should not be startled to hear that our first -parents were the original proprietors, or at any rate that the present -fleet was laid down by Japhet, when the Ark was broken up. The habits of -the fleet are as quaint as their looks. There is no scrap of anchorage -or shelter of any kind here, the sands lie perfectly open to the north -and west, and the surf seems about as rough as it is elsewhere. But the -Blankenberghe fishermen are perfectly indifferent, convinced no doubt -that neither sea nor sand will do anything to hurt them or their boats, -for old acquaintance’ sake. To me, accustomed to the scrambling, -and shouting, and hauling up above high-water mark, the running of -naked-legged boys into the water, and the energetic doings of the crew -when a fishing boat comes to land at home, there is something of the -comically sublime in the contrast presented by these good Flemings. As -one of the old brown tubs rolls towards the shore, looking as if she -scarcely had made up her mind which end to send in first, you see a man -quietly pitch a small anchor over the bows, and then down come the two -sails. Sometimes the anchor begins to hold before the boat grounds, but -just as often she touches before the anchor bites, but nobody cares. The -only notice taken is to unship the rudder and haul it aboard; then comes -a wave which swings her round, and leaves her broadside to the surf. -Nobody moves. Bang comes the next breaker, lifting her for a moment, and -bumping her down again on the sand, her bows perhaps a trifle more to -sea, but the crew only smoke and hold on. And so it goes on, bang, bump, -thump, till sooner or later she swings right round and settles into her -place on the sand. When she has adjusted this to her own satisfaction -one of the crew just drops over the stern with another anchor on his -shoulder, which he fixes in the sand, and then he and the rest leave -her and walk up to the Digue, and generally on to vespers at the church, -which is often three parts filled with these jolly fellows. Getting off -again is much the same happy-go-lucky business. The men shoulder the -anchor which is out at the stern, or, as often as not, leave it on shore -with their cable coiled, ready for their return. Then they clamber into -their tub, which is bumping away, held only by the anchor out at the -bows. They wait for the first wave that floats them, then up go the -sails, on goes the rudder, they get a haul on the anchor, and after -heading one or two different ways get fairly off. - -Their costume is picturesque,--thick red flannel shirts, the collars of -which fold over their tightly buttoned blue jackets, and give a tidy, -uniform appearance to a group of them. The old stagers still wear huge -loose red knickerbockers and pilot boots, but the younger generation are -degenerating into the common blue trousers and sabots, the latter almost -big enough to come ashore on in case of wreck. Altogether they are -the most well-to-do set of fishermen to look at that I have ever seen, -though where their money comes from I cannot guess, as they seem to take -little but small flounders and skate. There used to be good cod-fishing -in the winter, they say, but of late years it has fallen off. The elder -fishermen attribute this to the disgust of the cod at an innovation -in the good old ways of fishing. Formerly two boats worked together, -dragging a net with large meshes between them, but this has been of late -superseded by the English bag-net system, which brings up everything -small and great, and disturbs the _pâture accoutumée_ of the cod, -whereupon he has emigrated. - -Disastrous islanders that we are, who never touch anything, from Japan -to Blankenberghe, without setting honest folk by the ears and bringing -trouble! The “Corporation of Fishers,” a close and privileged body, who -hold their heads very high here, are looking into the matter, and it -seems likely that this destructive _chalut, d’origine Anglaise_, may yet -be superseded. It remains to be seen whether the cod will come back. - -We have had abominable weather here, but nothing in the shape of a -storm. I confess to have been looking out for a good north-wester with -much interest. Assuming that the effect as to breakers and surf would -be much the same as elsewhere, one is curious to ascertain whether these -fishing boats are left to bump it out on the sands. If so, and no harm -comes to them, the sooner our fishermen adopt the Blankenberghe model of -boat the better. I fear, however, that with all their good looks and old -traditions, the seafaring folk on this coast are wanting in the splendid -daring of our own ’long-shore people. On Monday night the mail packet -from Ostend to Dover went out in a stiffish breeze, but nothing which -‘we should call a gale, at eight o’clock. By some curious mismanagement -both her engines got out of order and came to a dead stop almost -immediately. Strange to say, her anchors were down in the hold under the -luggage (the boats are Belgian, not English manned), and she had a very -narrow escape of drifting right on shore. Luckily the crew, managed to -get up an anchor in time to prevent this catastrophe, and there she -lay right off the harbour, perfectly helpless, throwing up rockets and -burning blue lights for hours. Neither tug, nor lifeboat, nor pilot boat -stirred, and she rode at anchor till morning, when the wind went down. I -venture to think that such a case is unheard of on our coasts. It occurs -to one to ask whether there is such an official as a harbourmaster at -the port of Ostend, and if so, what his duties are. There were sailors -enough in harbour to have manned fifty lifeboats, for the Ostend fishing -fleet of 200 boats had come back from their three months’ cruise on that -very afternoon. The contingency of riding out a stormy night in a mail -packet within a few hundred yards of a lee shore, in front of a great -port full of seamen, is scarcely one of those on which we holiday folk -reckon when we book ourselves for the Continent. - -Coming out on the Digue one night, soon after my arrival, I was brought -to a stand-still by the appearance of the sea. It was low water, so -that I was about 200 yards off, and at first I could scarcely believe -my eyes, which seemed to tell me that every breaker was a flood of pale -fire. I went down close to the water to confirm or disenchant myself, -and found it more beautiful the nearer I got. Of course one has seen the -ordinary phosphorescence of the sea in a hundred places, but this was -quite a different affair. The sand under one’s feet even was molten -silver. The scientific doctor says it is simply the effect of the -constant presence on this coast of great numbers of an animalcule which -can only be seen through a microscope, called the _Noctiluca miliaris_. -It looked on that evening as if huge fiery serpents were constantly -rising and dashing along. People here say that they have it always, but -this is certainly not so. On several other evenings the breaking waves -were slightly luminous, but scarcely enough to attract attention. If you -could only make sure of seeing sea and shore ablaze as it was on -that particular night, you ought at once, sir, to pack traps and off, -notwithstanding these abominably high winds. I cannot help thinking -that, besides a monster gathering--probably a Reform League meeting--of -the Noctiluca miliaris, there must have been something very unusual in -the atmosphere on that particular night. It was a kind of “eldritch” - night, in which you felt as if you had got into the atmosphere of -Tennyson’s _Morte d’Arthur_, and a great hand might come up out of the -water without giving you a start. There was light right up in the -sky above one’s head, a succession of half luminous rain clouds were -drifting rapidly across at a very low elevation from the northwest, not -fifty yards high, as it seemed, while the smoke of my cigar floated -away slowly almost in the opposite direction. Luckily, sir, my American -friend was with me on the night in question, to whom I can appeal as -to the truth of my facts, and we had had nothing but one bottle of -very moderately strong _vin ordinaire_ at the _table d’hote_. If your -scientific readers say that the thing is impossible, I can only answer -that so it was. - -Parson Wilbur, when he is considering the question whether the ability -to express ourselves in articulate language has been productive of more -good than evil, esteems his own ignorance of all tongues except Yankee -and the dead languages as “a kind of martello tower, in which I am safe -from the furious bombardments of foreign garrulity.” There is something -comforting and fascinating in this doctrine, but still on the whole -it is decidedly disagreeable to be reduced to signs for purposes of -intercourse, as is generally the case here. Not one soul in a hundred -can speak French. Their talk sounds like a sewing machine, with an -occasional word of English interspersed in the clicking. I am told that -if you will only talk broad Durham or Yorkshire they will understand -you, but I do not believe it, as the sounds are quite unlike. The -names of these people are wonderful. For instance, those on the bathing -machines just opposite my hotel are, Yan Yooren, Yan Yulpen, Siska -Deneve, Sandelays, and Colette Claes, abbreviated into Clotty by two -English schoolboys who have lately appeared, and are the worst dressed -and the best bathers of all the young folk here. They are fast friends, -I see, with a young Russian, whose father, an old officer, sits near me -at the _table d’hôte_. Poor old boy! I never saw a man so bored, in fact -he has disclosed to me that he can stand it no longer. Blankenberghe -has been quite too much for him. Lest it should also prove so to your -readers, I will end with his last words (though I by no means endorse -his judgment of the little Flemish watering-place), “_Maintenant je n’y -puis plus!_” - - - - -AMERICA - - -_My father in 1870 went to America for the first time. His time was so -much occupied there that he could write only home letters. My mother -has allowed me to make extracts from these, thinking that they serve to -introduce his later letters from America, which were addressed to the -_Spectator_._ - -_It was owing to the fact of my father’s having publicly taken the side -of the North in the Civil War that his reception in the United States in -1870 was so particularly warm and hearty._ - - - - -Peruvian, 6.45 p.m. - -Here I am, in my officer’s cabin, a small separate hole in our little -world on the water, all to myself. At this moment I look out of my -porthole and see the Welsh mountains coming out against a bed of -daffodil sky, for though it has been misty all day it is now a lovely -clear evening. The sea is quite calm, and there is scarcely any motion -in the ship. The tea-bell is ringing, so I must stop for a little, but -I shall have plenty of time to tell you all that has happened as yet, -as we shall be lying off Londonderry nearly all day to-morrow. The mail -does not come off to us till about 5 P.M., and we shall be there about -nine in the morning or thereabouts. I may perhaps run up to Derry to -see the old town and the gate and walls, etc., sacred to the glorious, -pious, and immortal memory of the great and good king William. - - - - -8.45 p.m. - -Tea was excellent, and afterwards R------ and I went on deck, and saw -the sun go down gloriously in the line of our ship’s course; we were -steaming right up a great road of fire. The sea gets calmer and calmer, -and, in fact, there couldn’t be less movement if we were in Greenwich -reach. So now for the narrative of all my adventures since I left you at -the window. The moment we got on board, there was the rush and scramble -for places at the saloon table, which Harry I------ warned me about. We -were on board amongst the first, but agreed not to join the scramble, -taking any places that might happen to be going. There is something so -ludicrously contemptible to me in seeing people eagerly and seriously -struggling about such matters that I am quite unable to join in the -worry. I doubt if I could even if the ship were going down, and we were -all taking to the boats. It isn’t the least from any virtuous or -heroic feeling, but simply from the long dwelling in the frame of mind -described in a chapter in _Past and Present_. When every one had taken -the seats they liked, we settled down very comfortably into two which -were vacant, and which, for all I can see, are as good as any of the -rest. - - - - -8 a.m., Friday. - -Off the north coast of Ireland, and a splendid coast it is. A stout -party, on whom I do not the least rely, told me an hour or so ago, when -I first went on deck, that we were passing the Giant’s Causeway. The -morning is deliciously fresh, and there is just a little roll in the -vessel which is slightly discomforting some of the passengers, I see. I -slept like a top without turning, for which, indeed, I haven’t room in -my tray on the top of the drawers. My only mishap has been that when -they were sluicing the decks this morning, the water running down the -ship’s side naturally turned into my wide-open porthole to see if I was -getting up. The device was quite successful, as I shot out of bed at -once to close it up and save my things lying on the sofa below. No -damage done fortunately. - - - - -9.30 a.m., Friday. - -Here we are lying quietly at anchor in Lough Foyle after an excellent -breakfast. We wait here for the mails, but as it is nineteen miles -I find by road up to Derry, I shall not make the attempt. The plot -thickens on board, and I am already deeply interested. There are 150 -emigrants from the East End, who are being taken over by their parson -and a philanthropist whose name I haven’t caught yet. I have been -forward amongst these poor folk, and have won several hearts or at least -opened many mouths by distributing some few spare stamps I luckily had -in my pocket. Lovely as the morning is, and delicious as the contrast -between the exquisite air on deck, where they are all sitting, when -contrasted with Whitechapel air, I can’t help looking at them with very -mingled feelings. They are a fine steady respectable class of poor. The -women nursing and caring for their children with grave, serious, sweet -faces, and the men really attentive. All of them anxious to send off -scraps of letters to their friends in Great Babylon. There is one -slip of the foredeck roped off entirely for nursing mothers and small -children, and there are a lot of quaint little plumps rolling and -tumbling about there, with some of whom I hope to make friends. A -bird-fancier from the East End has several cages full of larks and -sparrows, and a magpie and jay in state cabins by themselves, all of -which he hopes to make great merchandise of in Canada, where English -birds are longed for, but are very hard to keep. He had lost his -hempseed in Liverpool, but luckily a boat has gone ashore, and I think -there is good hope of getting him a fresh supply. There is a little -gathering of the emigrants for service at eight in the evening forward. -I didn’t know of it last night, but shall attend henceforth. No thought -of such a thing in the state saloon! “How hardly shall they that have -riches”! - -Here, as elsewhere, the truest and deepest life, because the simplest, -lies amongst those who have little of the things of this world lying -between them and their Father and this invisible world, with its -realities. - - - - -On board the Peruvian. - -We are well out on the broad Atlantic, which at present we are inclined -to think a little of an imposture. There is certainly a swell of some -kind, for the ship pitches more or less, but to the unpractised eye -looking out on the waste of waters it is quite impossible to account for -the swell, for, except for the better colour, the sea looks very much -as it does off the Isle of Wight; great waves like the slope of a chalk -down, following one another in solemn procession, up which the long ship -climbs like a white road. However, it is early days to grumble about -the want of swell, and when it comes I may not like it any more than -another. After finishing my letter to you this morning, I went ashore -to post it, and found that after all it wouldn’t reach London till -to-morrow night. So I sent you a telegram, which I hope you got before -bed-time at any rate, and redirected my letter to Cromer. To pass the -time I took a jaunting car with two other passengers, and we drove to -an old castle looking over Lough Foyle, formerly a stronghold of the -O’Doherty’s till it was sacked and knocked about their ears by an -expedition of Scotch Campbells, who did a good work for the district by -destroying it. We found lots of shamrock in the ruins, and enjoyed -the drive and still more a bathe afterwards. The country seems very -prosperous. The people, strapping, light-haired, blue-eyed Celts, -handsome and well-to-do; in fact, evidently much better fed and better -educated than almost any English country district I know. The mails -came down from Derry in a tender, which brought us the news of the first -battle and the Prussian victory, which I for one always looked for, and -we got away by seven, two hours later than we expected. However, the -wind is fair and we are making famous way, and by the time I get up in -the morning I expect we shall be 200 miles from the Irish coast. - - - - -9.30 p.m., Saturday. - -A long calm day and we have made a splendid run--shall be in Quebec in -good time to-morrow week if this weather holds; but knowing persons say -it won’t, and that we have seen the last of fine weather, and must look -out for squalls--for why? the wind has gone round against the sun, and -it has settled to rain hard with a barometer steadily going down. The -Roman Catholic bishop (who is not very expert in weather that I know of, -but is a very, jovial party, who enjoys his cigar and gossip, and -was one of the first to go in for a game of shovel-board on deck this -morning) declares that we shall have it fine all the way, as he has made -the passage six times and has never had bad weather yet. In any case I -hope it won’t be rough to-morrow, for we are to have a real treat in the -way of spiritual dissipation. First, the bishop is to have some kind -of mass and preach a short sermon at nine (N.B. a time-table conscience -clause is to run all day, so that only latitudinarians like me will go -in for it all). Then the captain who is a rare good fellow, with a -spice of sentiment about him, which sits so well on such a bulletheaded, -broad-shouldered, resolute Jack-Tar, has his own service at eleven, in -which he will do the priest himself, an excellent example, with a sermon -by the emigrant parson, whose name is H------, afterwards. These in the -saloon; then at 2.30 a service in the steerage by H------, or G------, -the other parson, and a final wind up, also in the steerage at 7.30. -G------is the clergyman of Shaftesbury, George Glyn’s borough; was -formerly in the Navy, and was in the Ragged School movement of ’48, ’49, -when I used to go off twice a week in the evening to Ormond Yard, when -poor old M------ had the gas turned out, and his hat knocked over his -eyes by his boys. He knew Ludlow and Furnival, but I don’t remember -him. However, he is a right good fellow, and gave us a really good -_extempore_ prayer last night at the midships’ service. The steerage is -certainly most interesting. There are now nearly 500 emigrants on board -there, and the captain says they are about the best lot he has ever -had. Going round this morning I was struck by a dear little light-haired -girl, who was standing with her arm round the neck of a poor woman very -sick and ill, and such tenderness and love in her poor little face -as she turned it up to us as almost brought tears into one’s eyes. Of -course I thought the woman was her mother. No such thing; she was no -relation at all. The little dear had never seen her till she met her -on board, but was attracted by her misery, and had never left her side -since she had been so ill. The poor woman had two strapping daughters -on board who had never been near her. How strangely folk are fixed up in -this queer world. - - - - -Monday. - -We know what a good swell in mid-Atlantic means at last. We were -pitching when I went to bed, finding it hard to get on with my -penmanship. Off I went as fast as usual, and never woke except for one -moment to grunt and turn round, or rather, try to turn round, in my tray -on top of the drawers at something which sounded like a crash. In the -morning we were swinging and bowing and jerking, so that I had to wait -for a favourable moment to bolt out of bed for fear of coming a cropper -if I didn’t mind. - -As soon as I was out I saw what the crash had been in the night. My big -portmanteau, which had been set on its end the night before, had had a -jumping match with my water-jug in the night. Both of them had thrown a -somersault across the cabin against the door, but the jug being brittle -(jugs shouldn’t jump against portmanteaus), and coming down undermost, -had gone all into little bits, and the water, all that wasn’t in my -shoes at least, had soaked my carpet at the door end. But it was a -glorious bright morning and the dancing hills of water and the bounding -ship sent me up dancing on the deck. My high spirits were a little -subdued after breakfast, for I had scarcely got on deck when parson -H------ came to me to say the emigrants wanted me to give them an -address. Well, I couldn’t refuse, as my heart is full of them, poor dear -folk, so down I went to get my ideas straight, and put down the heads -on paper. I thought I wouldn’t miss the air, though, so set open my -porthole window, which as I told you is about a foot across, and set -to work--as I write, this blessed porthole is about a yard away from my -right ear, and perhaps two feet above my head. Well, I was just getting -into swing with my work, when suddenly a great pitch, and kerswash! in -comes all of a wave that could squeeze through my porthole, right on -to my ear and shoulder, over my desk, drenching all my papers, -lucifer-match boxes, hair-brushes, wideawake, tobacco-pouch and other -chattels, and flooding all of my floor which my water-jug had left dry. -I bolted to the porthole and closed him up before another curious wave -could come prying in, and soon rubbed everything dry again with the help -of the Captain’s cabin-boy, and no harm is done except that I have to -sit with my feet up on my portmanteau while I write. This sheet was -dowsed in my shower-bath this morning, but I laid it on my bed, and it -seems all right now and doesn’t even blot; I shall however envelope it -now with another sheet for safety, as I’m not going to keep my porthole -shut notwithstanding the warning, and I don’t want my letters to you -floated again. - - - - -Peruvian, 9th August 1870. - -Since I put my last sheet into No. 1 envelope, everything in the good -ship _Peruvian_ has been dancing. The long tables in the saloon, at -which we are always eating and drinking, have been covered with a small -framework, over which the cloth is laid, and which has the effect of -dividing them into three compartments; a sort of trough down each side -in which are the dishes. Notwithstanding these precautions there are -constant catastrophes in the shape of spoons, forks, tumblers, and -sometimes plates, jumping the partitions suddenly as the ship heels -over. The story of the Yankee skipper saying to the lady on his left, -“I’ll trouble you, marm, for that ’ere turkey--” the bird in question -having fled from the table into her lap as he was beginning to serve -it--becomes quite commonplace. How the steward’s men get about with -plates and dishes, goodness knows; but though there is a constant -clatter and smash going on all over the ship I haven’t seen them drop -anything. I am almost the only passenger who hasn’t even had a twinge -of squeamishness, but we muster pretty well considering all things. The -Captain is one of the cheeriest fellows alive, and keeps up the spirits -of all the women. If he sees any one of them who is still about looking -peeky, he whisks her off under his arm and walks her up and down the -deck, where they stagger along together, and the fresh breeze soon -revives the damsel. He is a sort of temporary father to all the girls, -and constantly has, it seems, three or four entrusted to him to take -over or bring back. - -Of course there is a great deal of discomfort on board, but I have -visited the steerage and am delighted with the arrangements for feeding, -ventilation, etc. To poor seasick people, however, it must be very -trying. This morning I carried off to my cabin a poor forlorn young -married couple, whom I had noticed on shore at Moville, and afterwards -on board. I am sure they hadn’t been married a week, and they were -evidently ready to eat one another. When I saw them settling down on -a large bench in a covered place amidships where were twenty or thirty -folk, mostly ill, and several men smoking, she with her poor head tied -up tidily in a red handkerchief nestling on to his shoulder, I couldn’t -stand it, and took them off to my cabin, where they could nurse one -another for a few hours’ in peace. We have had a birth too on board, and -mother and child, I am glad to say, are doing well. She is a very nice -woman, I am told by one of the ladies who visits her, the wife of a -school teacher. The baby is to have Peruvian for one of its names. I -have really enjoyed the rough weather much; it has never been more than -half a gale, I believe, though several men have been thrown from the -sofas to the cabin floor, and more or less bruised. The cheery Captain -has comforted us all by announcing that we shall be through the storm -before midnight. - -Up the St. Lawrence they say we shall want light summer clothing. If the -weather settles down we are to have an amateur concert on board, which -will be, I take it, very lame on the musical side, but amusing in other -ways. - -R------ was entrusted by the Captain with the task of getting it up, -and before we got into rough weather had booked some six or seven -volunteers. I daresay he will be well enough to-morrow morning to go on -with it. My address is of course postponed for the present. - - - - -Wednesday. - -The Captain was quite right--we sailed clear out of the storm before -midnight yesterday, and though to-day some swell is left, it is so calm -that the saloon tables have quite filled up again at meal-times. I was -of course nailed by the parson for my address in the afternoon, and -placed on one of the flat skylights amidships, as no other equally -convenient and fixed stump could be found. As I know you would sooner -get rubbish of mine than poetry of any one else, I give the outline. “I -was there,” I said, “at their parson’s request, to talk, but it seemed -to me that in the grand scene we were in, the great waves, the bright -sky, the free breezes, could talk to them more eloquently than human -lips. We were wont to use proverbs all our lives without realising their -meaning. ‘We’re all in the same boat’ had never impressed me till now. -Our week’s experience showed us before all things that the first duty -of those in the same boat was to help, comfort, and amuse the rest. If I -could do either I should be glad. What were we to talk about? (Shouts of -‘Canada.’) Well we would come to Canada, but first a word or two of the -old country they were leaving. Love of our birthplace, otherwise called -patriotism, is one of the strongest and noblest passions God has planted -in man’s heart. You have a great birthright as Englishmen, are members, -however humble, of the nation which has spread free speech and free -thought round the world, which was the first to declare that her -flag never should fly over a slave. Fellow-countrymen of Wycliffe, -Shakespeare, Milton. Wherever you go cherish these memories, be loyal -to the old country, keep a soft place in your heart for the land of your -birth. You are now making the passage from the old world to the new, -enjoying one of those rare resting-places which God gives us in our -lives. It is time for bracing up the whole man for new effort, for -casting off old, bad habits. One strong resolution made at such times -often is the turning-point in men’s lives. As to the land you are going -to, Remember you are getting a fresh start in life and all will depend -on yourselves. In the old land there is often not enough work for strong -and willing hands; in the new there are a hundred openings, and in all -more work than hands. One thing wanted is honest, hard work. Whatever -your hands find to do, do it with all your might, and you are sure of -comfort and independence. Your new home is England’s eldest child and -has a great destiny to work out. Be loyal therefore and true to your -birthplace, keeping old memories alive and giving her a share of your -love; be loyal to your new home, giving her your best work; above all, -be loyal and true to yourselves and you shall not be false to any man or -any land.” This, spread over half an hour, was my talk. - -When I had finished I called on the Captain, who warned them against -drink in a straightforward sailor’s speech. Then a grizzled old boy, -who had been calling out “That’s true” whenever I spoke of hard work, -scrambled up on the skylight and told them that he had come out thirty -years ago from England with nine shillings in his pocket and seven -children. He had given each of his daughters fifteen hundred dollars on -their marriage, and helped each of his sons into a farm, and had a farm -of his own, which he was going back to after visiting his old home in -Cornwall. All this he had done by hard work. He was a blacksmith, but -would turn his hand to anything. Times were just as good now as then, -and every one of them might do the same. This was a splendid clencher to -the nail I had tried to drive in. The parson wound up with more advice -as to liquor, and an account of how well the sixteen hundred he had -already sent out had done. The whole was a great success, and we all -went off to dinner in the cabin in high spirits. If the fair weather -lasts we shall see land to-morrow afternoon. To-morrow night we are to -have our concert. My young couple have turned up trumps: he plays the -old piano in the saloon famously, being an excellent musician, and she -sings, they say, nicely when not sea-sick. The Canadians on board assure -him he will be caught up as an organist directly to help out his other -means of livelihood. Then for Friday we are to have “Box and Cox” in the -cabin, played by the Captain and R------, who knows the part of - -Cox perfectly already, having played it at Cambridge. Mrs. Bouncer has -not yet been fixed on, but a nice little Canadian girl will, I think, -play it. - - - - -Tuesday evening. - -We had a fog this morning which lost us a couple of hours, seeing -however, as compensation, a fog rainbow--a colourless arch, which as you -looked over the side seemed to spring from the two ends of the ship. As -the fog cleared away and we went ahead we saw an iceberg to the north, -which soon looked like a great white lion lying on the horizon. During -the day, which has been wonderfully bright and cold, we have seen -several more icebergs and a lot of whales, one of which came quite -close to the ship. We sighted land about seven, and in six miles more -we should have passed into the Bay of St. Lawrence, when a rascally fog -came on and forced us to lay-to. The Captain can’t leave the deck, so we -didn’t have our concert, and we are all going to bed anxious to hear the -screw at work again. - - - - -Friday. - -We lay-to all last night, the jolly Captain up on the bridge, to watch -for any lifting of the fog, so that he might go ahead at once; but the -fog wouldn’t lift, and so we lay until eight this morning. Just before -breakfast it cleared, and away we went, and soon entered the strait -between Newfoundland and Labrador. By the time we had done breakfast -we were running close by a huge iceberg, like a great irregular wedding -cake, except near the water, where the colour changed from sugary white -into the most delicious green. There were nine other icebergs in sight -to the north, and a number of others round us, just showing above the -water, one like a great ichthyosaurus creeping along the waves, or a -white bear with a very long neck. Had we gone on last night it would -have been a perilous adventure. Soon afterwards we sighted the _North -American_, a companion ship belonging to the same Company, running some -miles in front of us to the north. We had a most exciting race, coming -abreast of her about twelve, and communicating by signals. Then we drew -ahead, and shall be in Quebec nearly a day before her. Then we played -shovel-board on deck, the air getting more balmy every minute as we drew -out of the ice region. We had a grand gathering of emigrants amidships, -and sung hymns, “Jesus, lover of my soul,” and others, with a few -words from G------, the busy parson, who has recovered from his long -sea-sickness at last, and is a famous fellow. The concert of the -Peruvians came off with a great _eclat_ after dinner. They put me in the -chair, and I introduced the performers with a slight discourse about the -Smith family (the Captain’s name is Smith), and at the end they voted -thanks to me, imparting the great success of the voyage to my remarkable -talent for making folk agree and pull together--very flattering, but -scarcely accurate. Then somebody discovered that it was a glorious -moonlight, so up we all went, and very soon there was a fiddler and a -dance on deck, which is only just over. We are well in the Gulf of St. -Lawrence, and all going as well as possible. - - - - -Mouth of the St. Lawrence. - -I am much pleased with the specimens of Canadians whom we have on -board. There are some twenty of them, with their wives, daughters, and -small boys. They are a quiet, well-informed, pleasant set of men, -and ready and pleased to talk of their country and her prospects. My -conversation runs to a great extent, as you may suppose, on the chances -of farming in Canada West, which is the part of the colony with the -greatest future, and I am much pleased with what I hear. Any man with a -capital of from £2000 to £3000 may do very well, and make money quite as -fast as is good for him, if he will only keep steady and work; and the -life is exceedingly fascinating for youngsters. - -There is a very nice fellow on board, a gentleman in the conventional -sense, who is returning from a run to Gloucestershire to see his -friends. He has been out for seven years only, two of which he spent as -an apprentice with a farmer, learning his trade. He is quite independent -now, and I would not wish to meet a better specimen of a man. - -I doubt whether you, being so orderly a party, would quite appreciate -what appears to be the favourite form of pleasuring amongst the -up-country farmers, but I own that it would have suited my natural -man down to the ground. Half a dozen of them, in the bright, still -wintertime, will agree that they haven’t seen Jones for some weeks, so -will give him “a surprise.” Accordingly they all start from their own -houses so as to meet at his farm about 9.30 or 10 o’clock--the time he -would be going to bed. - -They drive over in sledges, each taking his wife, sister, or sweetheart, -a good hamper of provisions and plenty of buffalo robes. Jones finds his -yard full of neighing horses and sledges as he is going to bed. If he -has already gone they knock him up. They then take possession of his -house and premises. The men litter down their horses, the women light -his fire and lay the supper, the only absolute rule being, that Jones -and his family and servants do nothing at all. - -They all sit down to supper and then dance till they are tired, and -then the women go to bed; and the men, if there are no beds for them, -as generally happens, roll themselves in their buffalo robes and go to -sleep. In the morning they breakfast, and then start away home again -over the snow in their sledges, after the men have cut up firewood -enough to keep Jones warm for a week. - -There is magnificent trout and salmon fishing, and deer, wolf, and bear -shooting, for those who like to seek it in the backwoods, and plenty of -time for sport when the farm work is over, or in the winter. At the big -towns, such as Montreal and Toronto, there is plenty of society, -and evidently cultivated society, though young Guardsmen may speak -shudderingly of colonists. - -Box and Cox, by the way, went off very well considering that the -Captain, who played Box, had been up on the bridge almost the whole of -the two previous nights, and consequently did not quite know his part. - - - - -Sunday 14th. - -Last night we danced on deck till nearly eleven under the most lovely -soft moon I have ever seen. This morning we are running up the St. -Lawrence along the southern bank, the northern being dim in the extreme -distance. There is a long continuous range of hills covered entirely -with forest, except just along the water’s edge, where it has been -cleared by the French-Canadian settlers. They live along the shore, too -close, I should say, to the water line for comfort; but as their chief -occupation is fishing, I have no doubt they have good reasons for their -selection. There is scarcely a quarter of a mile for the last twenty -or thirty miles, I should say, in which there is not a cottage, but the -villages are far between. The people are a simple, quiet folk, living -just as their fathers lived, happy, clean, contented, and stationary. -This last quality provokes the English of Upper Canada dreadfully, who -complain that the French make everything they require at home, and buy -nothing whatever which contributes to the revenue of the Dominion except -a little cheap tea. However, there is much to be said for the Frenchmen, -and I am very glad that our English people have constantly before them -the example of such a self-sufficing and unambitious life. In two or -three hours, probably before our morning service is over, the pilot will -be on board with papers, and we shall know what has been doing in the -great outside world. I was thinking of telegraphing to you, but as the -Company telegraph, and publish our arrival “all well” in the English -papers, it seems scarcely worth while. - -The pilot has just come on board and brought us Canadian papers with -copies of telegrams, and general vague rumours of terrible reverses for -France. I always looked for them, as you know. This frightful reign -of eighteen years, begun in perjury and bloodshed, and continued by -constant pandering to the worst tendencies of France, must have taken -the power and heart out of any nation. I pity the poor Canadians who -still hold themselves more French than anything else, as indeed they -are. They gather on deck and tell one another that the news is German, -that it is all mere rumour. They will find it too true in another day or -two. I am very glad to hear that the Orleans princes are now to go back. -They are a family of very gallant and able gentlemen, and ought to be -with France at this moment. Wrong as I think her, I hope she may soon be -able to rally, shake off the charlatans whom she has allowed to misrule -her, and conclude an honourable peace. The pilot-boat went back at once, -and when she lands our safe arrival will be telegraphed at once, so that -I hope you may see it before to-morrow evening--if you only know where -to look in the newspaper. I often think how very different those short -announcements at the head of the Shipping news will seem to me in the -future. - -“Allan Line. The _Peruvian_ arrived off Father Point yesterday. All -well.” - - - - -Wednesday. - -Events have been crowding us during the last thirty-six hours--bless -me, I mean the last sixty hours--I had positively written Tuesday -instead of Wednesday at the top of this. I let my watch run down on the -_Peruvian_, as it was too provoking to have to put it back thirty-five -minutes every morning. Since then time has gone all whiz! however, I -shall pick up the time now and get to my bearings, at least I shall try. -Well, all Sunday afternoon we ran up the glorious St. Lawrence, past -the mouths of what we should call big rivers, past the Canadian -watering-places, past one long straggling village except where the hills -are too steep or the soil absolutely barren. The view is not unlike many -Scotch ones, substituting scrub or stunted forest for heather. This of -course is a great disadvantage in a picturesque point of view, but it is -more than compensated by the great river. I am very glad I came to the -new world up the St. Lawrence. Nothing could have brought the startling -contrast of the old and new world so vividly home to me as this steaming -literally day after day up the stream, and finding it still at 700 miles -from the mouth two miles broad, with anchorage for the largest ships -that float. We went the round of the ship with the Captain after dinner, -to see the wonderful detail of the storerooms, and the huge fire-system -which goes glowing on through all the voyage. The sight of the -twenty-five great furnaces glowing, and consuming fifty-two tons of coal -a day, quite scared several of the ladies, who seemed to think that the -Peruvian was flying, I should say sailing, presumptuously in the face -of Providence not to have caught fire during the voyage. Luckily we were -within a few hours of port, so their anxiety was not of long duration. -I went to bed for the last time in my crib on the top of the drawers, -leaving word for the quartermaster to call me when we were getting near -Quebec. Accordingly I was roused at about three from one of the sleeps -without a turn even (by reason that there is no room to turn) which one -gets on board ship, and scuffled up on deck in my trousers and fur coat -to find myself in the most perfect moonlight rounding the last point -below Quebec. Then up went three rockets, and as we slacked our speed -at the side of the wharf right opposite the citadel, two guns were fired -and the voyage of the Peruvian was over. My packing was all done, so -while the vessel was being unladen I went quietly to bed again and slept -for another two or three hours amid all the din. Between six and seven -I turned out again and had a good breakfast on board, after which came -leave-takings, and then those of us who were not going on by train and -were ready to start, went on board a little tug ferry-boat and were -paddled across to Quebec. I have sent a small map to show you how the -land lies. Our ferry-boat took us over from Port Levi to the quay just -under the Citadel along the line I have dotted, and we at once chartered -two carriages to visit the falls of Montmorency, to which you will see a -line drawn on the map and which is about six miles from Quebec. Oh, the -air! You know what it is when we land at Dieppe, or at Brussels, or -Aix. Well, all that air is fog, depressing wet blanket compared to this -Canadian nectar. I really doubt whether it would not be almost worth -while to emigrate merely for the exquisite pleasure of the act of living -in this country. - - - - -Montreal, 19th August 1870. - -I must get on with my journal or shall fall altogether astern--you -have no idea how hard it is even to find time to write a few lines home; -however if I can only make up the time to-day I hope to keep down the -arrears more regularly hereafter. We had a long day of sightseeing in -and about Quebec. First we drove down to the Montmorency Falls, 220 feet -high and very beautiful, then back to the Citadel, which rises some 600 -or 700 feet right above the river--a regular little Gibraltar; -then we went off to the Heights of Abraham, at the back of the -Citadel, where Wolfe fought his battle and was killed after scaling the -cliffs in the early morning. Then we drove down into the town, and had -lunch at a restaurant, and walked about to see the place. Well worth -seeing it is; a quaint, old, thoroughly French town of the last century -dropped down into the middle of the new world. In the evening we went -on board the great river steamer, and came away all night up the St. -Lawrence to Montreal. There were 1000 passengers on board, every one of -whom had an excellent berth--mine was broader and lighter than that on -the _Peruvian._ We were not the least crowded in the splendid saloon -(some 150 feet long), and the open galleries running all round the ship -in two tiers. I preferred the latter, though there was music, Yankee and -Canadian, in the saloon, and spent my evening till bedtime out in the -stern gallery looking at the most superb moonlight on the smooth water -you can conceive. We had a small English party there, and there were -half a dozen constantly changing groups round us. The girls have -evidently much more freedom than at home, at least more than they had -in our day--two or three would come out with as many young men, and sit -round in a ring. The men lighted cigars, and then they would all set to -work singing glees, songs, or what not, and chaffing and laughing away -for half an hour perhaps, after which they would disappear into the -saloon. There was a regular bar on board at which all manner of cool -drinks were sold. We tried several, which I thought, I must say, very -nasty, especially brandy-smash. After a most comfortable night I awoke -between five and six as we were nearing Montreal. The city is very fine, -the river still two miles broad, and ocean steamer drawing twenty feet -and more of water able to lie right up against the quay. S------, a -friend of Sir J. Rose’s, a great manufacturer here, whom I had taken to -the “Cosmopolitan,” was in waiting on the landing-place, and took us at -once up to his charming house on the hill (the mountain they call it) -at the back of the city. He is a man of forty-three or forty-four; his -wife, a very pleasant woman a little younger, and adopted daughter, -Alice (a very sweet girl of nineteen, just home from an English school), -form the whole family. I can’t tell you how kind they are and how -perfectly at home they have made us. After breakfast we went down to see -the city, got photographed with the rest of the above-named Peruvians, -had a delicious lunch of fried oysters at a luncheon shop kept by a -Yankee, washed it down with a drink called John Collins, a pleasant, -cold, weak, scented kind of gin and water. Sir Geo. Carter and Sir Fras. -Hinks, two of the present Government, both of whom I had met in England, -came to dinner, also Holton the leading senator of the Opposition, and -the two young Roses, one bringing his pretty young wife, and we had a -long and very interesting political talk afterwards. Nothing could have -suited me better, as there are many points of Canadian politics I am -very anxious to get views on. We didn’t get to bed till 12.30, so I had -no time to write. On Wednesday we saw more of the city which I shan’t -attempt to describe till I can sit by you with photographs and explain, -lunched at the Club, of which we have been made honorary members, with -a large party of merchants and other big folk, and then at three were -picked up by Mrs. S.---, who drove us up the river to a place called -Lachine, past the rapids (see Canadian boat-song), “The rapids are near -and the daylight’s past.” Lachine gets its queer name from the first -French Missionaries who started up the St. Lawrence to get to China, and -for some unaccountable reason thought they had reached the flowery land -when they got to this place, so settled down and called it China. The -air was still charming, but the sky was beginning to get less bright, -and Mrs. S---- and A------agreed that there must be a forest burning -somewhere. And so it proved, for in a few hours the whole sky was -covered with a smoke-cloud, light but not depressing, like our fogs, but -still so dense that we could scarcely see across the river. We got back -in time for dinner, to which came Colonel Buller, now commanding the -Rifles here; Hugh Allan, the head of the great firm of ship-owners to -whom the _Peruvian_ and all the rest of the Allan line packets belong; -and several young Canadians. It was very pleasant again, and again I -got a heap of information on Canadian subjects from Allan, who is a -longheaded able old Scotchman, the founder of the immense prosperity of -himself and all his family. He has his private steam yacht and a great -place on a lake near here, wherein is a private telegraph, so that he -can wire all over the world from his own hall. Prince Arthur went to -stay with him when he was out here in the late autumn and spring, and -the Queen wired him every day while he was there. Early next morning -S------, - -Miss A------, I, and R------ were off by rail to a station ten or twelve -miles up the river, where we waited till the Montreal market-boat came -down and picked us up to shoot the rapids. We had a very pleasant run -to Quebec, and the shooting the rapids is very interesting, but neither -dangerous nor even exciting. The river widens out perhaps to two and a -half miles in width, and for some mile or mile and a half breaks into -these rapids, which boil and rush along at a great pace, and in quite a -little boat would no doubt keep the steerer and oarsmen on the stretch. -The approach to Montreal under the great Victoria Bridge, two miles -long, is very noble. We got back to breakfast at ten, and afterwards -went up the mountain at the back of the town, but the haze from the -burning forest quite spoiled the view. The carriage is announced, so I -must close. - - - - -Montreal, 20th August 1870. - -I hurried up my letters yesterday, so as to bring my journal down to -the day I was writing on, fearing lest otherwise I should never catch -the thread again. I doubt whether I told you anything about this very -fine city, in the suburbs of which we are stopping, and which we leave -to-day. Well, I scarcely know how to begin to give you an idea of it. It -isn’t the least like an English or indeed any European town, the reason -being, I take it, that it has been built with the necessity of meeting -extremes of heat and cold, which we never get. Except in the heart of -the city, where the great business streets are, there are trees along -the sides of all the thoroughfares--maples, which give real shade, and -are in many places indeed too thick, and too near the houses for comfort -I should say--as near as the plane-tree was to our drawing-room window -at 33. This arrangement makes walking about very pleasant to me, even -when the thermometer stands at 90° in the shade as it did yesterday. -Then instead of a stone foot-pavement you have almost everywhere boards, -timber being the most plentiful production of the country. Walking along -the boards in the morning you see at every door a great lump of ice, -twenty pounds weight or so, lying there for the maid to take in when -she comes out to clean. This is supplied by the ice merchants for a -few shillings a year. The houses are square, built generally of a fine -limestone found all over the island (Montreal is an island thirty-six -miles long by nine wide), and have all green open shutter-blinds, which -they keep constantly shut all day, as in Greece, to keep out the heat, -and double windows to keep out the cold. The roofs are generally covered -with tin instead of tiles or slates, and all the church steeples, of -which there are a very large number, are tinned, as you remember we saw -them in parts of Austria and Hungary. There are magnificent stores of -dry goods, groceries, etc., but scarcely any shops in our sense. No -butcher, milkman, greengrocer, etc., calls at the door, and the ladies -have all to go down to the market or send there. Nothing can be better -than the living, but Mrs. S------ complains that it is very hard work -for _hausfraus_, and I have heard Lady K------ say the same thing. This -house is in one of the shaded avenues on the slopes of the mountain, -two miles I should say from the market. Mrs. S------- drives down every -marketday and buys provisions, market-days being twice a week, but the -stalls are open on other days also, so that if a flood of company -comes in on the intermediate days, the anxious housewife need not be -absolutely done for. The living is as good as can be, not aspiring -to first-rate French cookery, but equal to anything you find in good -English houses. Prices are very reasonable except for fancy articles of -clothing, etc. Furs, which you would expect to find cheap, are at least -as high as in London, and R------made an investment in gloves for which -he paid six shillings a pair. The city is the quietest and best-behaved -I ever was in. We dined at the mess of the 60th Rifles last night, and -walked home through the heart of the city at 10.30. Every one had gone -to bed, apparently, for there wasn’t a light in fifty houses and we -literally met no one--not half a dozen people certainly in the whole -distance. Altogether I am very much impressed with the healthiness of -the life, morally and physically, and can scarcely imagine any country I -would sooner start in were I beginning life again. - - - - -Tuesday morning, 23rd August 1870. - -Well, to continue, on Saturday we broke up from Montreal, having I -think seen very thoroughly all the persons and things best worth seeing -in the place. Our host had arranged that we should go and spend Sunday -with Mr. Hugh Allan, the head of the family which has established the -line of mail steamers to Liverpool and Glasgow. He has been forty years -out here, and when he came Montreal had only 17,000 inhabitants, now it -has 150,000; there was scarcely water for a 200 ton ship to lie at the -wharf, now you can see steamers of 2000 tons and upwards always there. -Hugh Allan is evidently a very rich man now. He has a big house on the -mountain behind Montreal, and this place where I am now writing from, on -Memphremagog Lake, which if you have a good map, you will find half -in Canada and half in the New England state of Vermont. It is a lovely -inland sea, about thirty-five miles long and varying from one to three -miles broad. Mr. Allan’s house, where he entertained Prince Arthur in -the spring, stands on the top of a high well-wooded promontory, about -half-way up. It is a good, commodious, gentleman’s house, with deep -verandahs, thoroughly comfortable, but without pretence or show of any -kind. There is a large wooden out-building called the Hermitage, about -one hundred yards off, divided entirely into bedrooms, so that there is -room for lots of guests besides the family, seven or eight of whom are -here. In another building there is an American bowling-alley, and an -excellent croquet ground before the house. Mr. Allan keeps a nice steam -yacht, which runs about the lake daily with any one who likes to go, and -there are half a dozen rowing boats, so time need not hang heavily on -the most restless hands. I accepted the invitation, as a few days at -Memphremagog is evidently considered the thing to do by all Canadians, -and the last twenty miles or so of the railway to Newport (Vermont), the -place at the foot of the lake at which you embark, has only just been -finished, right through the forest, so that it was a good chance of -seeing the beginnings of colonial life in the bush. And I am very glad -that I did come, for certainly if the journey (120 miles altogether) had -been planned for the purpose, it couldn’t have been more interesting. -After leaving Montreal we travelled I should say for from thirty to -forty miles through reclaimed country, dotted with French villages and -the homesteads of well-to-do farmers. Then we gradually slipped into -half-cleared woods, and then into virgin forest. Presently we came -across a great block of the forest on fire, but in broad daylight the -sight is not the least grand, though unpleasant from the smoke, and -melancholy from the waste and mischief which the fires do. I think I -told you in my last that the forests about Ottawa, the capital of the -Dominion, were on fire last week. The fire became so serious that great -fears were entertained for the town, the militia and volunteers were -called out, and a special train with fire-engines was sent up from -Montreal. Scores of poor settlers were in the streets, having with -difficulty escaped with their lives, and last of all several wretched -bears trotted out of the burning woods into the town. The fire we passed -through was not at all on this scale, and didn’t seem likely to get -ahead. There were the marks of fires of former years on all sides in -these forests. Tall stems by hundreds, standing up charred and gaunt out -of the middle of the bright green maple underwood, which is fast growing -up round them, and in a very short time makes the tangle as thick as -ever. Before long we came to small clearings of from three to four -acres, on each of which was a rough wooden shanty, with half a dozen -wild, brown, healthy-looking children rolling and scrambling about it, -and standing up in their single garments to cheer the train. On these -plots the trees had all been felled about two feet from the ground, and -the brushwood cleared away, and there were crops of Indian corn, oats, -or buckwheat growing all round the stumps. Then we came to plots which -had been occupied longer, where the shanty had grown into a nice-sized -cottage, with a good-sized outhouse near. Here all the stumps had been -cleared, and the plot divided by fences, and three or four cows would -be poking about. Then we came to a fine river and ran along the bank, -passing here and there sawmills of huge size, and stopping at one or two -large primitive villages, gathered round a manufactory. In short, in -the day’s run we saw Canadian life in all its phases, ending with a -delicious twelve miles’ run up the lake in Mr. Allan’s steam yacht, with -the whole sky flickering with Northern lights, which shot and played -about for our special delight. Our railway party were Mr. - -Allan; Mr. and Mrs. S------, and Miss B------, their adopted daughter; -General Lindsay, whom I knew well in England and like very much; Colonel -Eyre, his military secretary, and ourselves. Then there are eight -children here. “We had a most luxurious car, with a little sitting-room -in which we each had an easy chair, and there were two most -enticing-looking little bedrooms, everything as clean and neat as you -could have it, and we could walk out on to a platform at either end to -look at the view. There was a boy also in attendance in a little sort -of spare room where the luggage went, who ministered any amount of -iced water to any one who called. This is decidedly the most luxurious -travelling I ever had, but then the car was the private one of the -manager of the Grand Trunk Railway; and the democratic cars in which -every one else went, and in which indeed we had to travel for the last -few miles, were very different affairs. Fancy my intense delight on -Sunday morning, as I walked from the Hermitage up to the house to -breakfast through some flower-beds, to see two humming-birds, poising -themselves before flower after flower while probing and trying the -blooms with their long bills, and then springing back with a stroke of -their lovely little tails, and whisking off to the next bloom. They -were green and brown, not so lovely in colour as many you have seen in -collections, but exquisite as eye need ask to look at. The humming-birds -have been certainly my greatest natural history treat as yet, not -excepting the whales. I had seen a whale before, a small one, in the -Hebrides, and I had never seen a hummingbird except stuffed; moreover -I expected to see whales, but not humming-birds. We saw a fine great -bald-headed eagle to-day, too, sailing over the lake, but his flight was -not anything like so fine as those we saw soaring over the Iron Gates as -we went spinning down the Danube nine years ago. We have a very charming -visit here steaming about the lake, driving along the banks, playing -croquet and bowls and billiards, and laughing, chaffing, and loafing to -any extent. The family are very nice, and I hope he will soon be made a -baronet and one of the first grandees of the Dominion. To-morrow morning -at five we start for Boston in the steam yacht, which takes us down to -Newport at the end of the lake. So by the evening I shall perhaps get -a letter from you. How I do thirst for home news after three weeks’ -absence. - - - - -Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 25th August 1870. - -I forget just where I left off, whether I had brought my journal up to -our leaving Memphremagog or not. The last day there was as pleasant -as the rest. The young folks played croquet and American bowls all the -morning, while I lay on the grass watching for humming-birds and talking -occasional politics to any one who would join me. At about twelve a -retired judge, Day by name, who lives four or five miles off, drove over -with a member of the Government (I forget his name) who was to start -from the pier below the house in the lake steamer. Mr. Allan owns this -steamer, which stops at his pier whenever he runs up a flag; so you -see the privileged classes are not extinct by any means in the British -dominion in the new world. Now the Judge, having a seat in his light -sort of phaeton, proposed to drive me over to the post-office, about -four miles off, where he was going, and to bring me back to luncheon. -So I embarked behind his two strong little trotting nags and had a most -interesting drive. The roads were not worse than many Devonshire lanes, -and where the pitches were steepest, the stout little nags made nothing -of them. - -The views of the lake were exquisite, and the Judge one of the -pleasantest of men. He had been employed in 1865 on a mission to -Washington, and gave me very graphic accounts of his interviews with -Lincoln and the other leading men there, and confirmed many of my own -views as to the comparative chances of the two great sections of our -race in the new world in the future. He is less apprehensive of Canada -joining the United States than most men of his standing, and I think -has good reason for his confidence. Material interest will perhaps for -a time (or rather, after a time, for at present it is very doubtful on -which side they weigh) sway in the direction of annexation to the United -States, but the ablest and most energetic of the younger men of the -cultivated classes are so strongly bent on developing a distinct -national life, that I expect to see them carry their country for -independence rather than annexation, when the time comes, if it ever -should, of a final cutting of the ropes which bind them to us. After -luncheon we went off in the steam yacht to a bay in the lake, and then -in row boats four or five miles up the bay into the heart of the hills, -where we saw bald-headed eagles, and black and white king-fishers -five times the size of ours, and after a very interesting and pleasant -excursion got back to dinner, finishing the evening with dancing. At -five next morning we heard the steamer’s whistle calling us. The young -ladies were up to give us a cup of coffee and parting good words, and -then we-steamed down for Newport, where we were to take the rail through -the Connecticut valley to Boston. On the Newport wharf which joins the -station we said good-bye to Allan and Stephen, and shall carry away most -charming memories of our stay in Canada. General Lindsay and Eyre went -with us, and their companionship made the journey very agreeable, though -it was as hot as the Lower Danube, and the dust more uncomfortable and -dirtying than any we have at home. Most part of the way the soil is -as light and sandy as that about Dorking, and the trains seem to raise -greater clouds of it. - -The greater part of the journey was along the banks of the Merrimac, a -fine river with as much water as the Thames at Richmond, I should -say, but spread over a bed generally twice as broad. We saw the White -Mountains at a distance on our left, and passed through a number of -flourishing towns. The thing that struck me most was the apparent fusion -into one class of the whole community. As you know, every one goes into -the same long carriages, holding from sixty to eighty people. Of these -there were four or often five on our train, and I often passed through -them (as you may do, up the middle, without disturbing the passengers, -who sit in pairs with their faces to the engine on each side of the -passage), as there was a great deal of local traffic, seventy people -often getting out at a station, I thus saw really a very considerable -number of people on this first day in the States, and certainly should -have been exceedingly puzzled to sort them in the broadest way, either -into rich and poor, gentlemen or ladies (in the conventional sense) and -common people, or any other radical division. I certainly saw at some -stations children running about without shoes, and workmen in as -dirty blouses as those of Europe; but in the trains they were all well -dressed, quiet, self-respecting people, without any pretence to polish, -or any approach to vulgarity. The bad taste in women’s dress, which I am -told to expect elsewhere, does not certainly prevail in New England. All -the women wore neat short dresses, with moderate trimmings according to -taste; but I did not see an extravagant garment or, I am bound to add, a -really pretty one along the whole line. On the whole I thought the women -as good looking as any I have ever travelled amongst, but paler and -sadder, or at any rate quieter, than a like number of Englishwomen. -Once or twice men in stove-pipe hats (the ordinary tile of so-called -civilisation), and wearing perhaps better cloth and whiter linen than -the average, got in, but not one whom you would have picked out as a -person bred and brought up in a different way, and occupying a station -above or apart from the rest, as you see in every train in England. -It may have been chance, but certainly it was startling. Then another -surprise. They are certainly the least demonstrative people so far -as strangers are concerned that I have ever been amongst. I had the -prevailing idea that a Yankee was a note of interrogation walking about -the world, and besides craving for all sorts of information about you, -was always ready to impart to you the particulars of his own birth, -parentage, and education, and his opinion on everything, “from Adam’s -fall to Huldy’s bonnet.” Well, I left our party purposely several times -on the journey to try the experiment of sitting on one of the small -seats carrying two only with a Yankee. In not one single case did either -of those I sat by say a single word to me, and when I commenced they -just answered my question very civilly and relapsed into total silence. -I may add that this first experience has been confirmed since, both in -street and railway cars. - -We got to Boston at about seven, and then had our first experience of -the price of things here. It is only four miles out to Lowell’s, who -lives on the other side of Cambridge, but we were obliged to pay five -dollars for a carriage to get out there. We could get nothing but a -great handsome family coach with two horses, and in that, accordingly, -out we lumbered. Cambridge is a very pretty suburb of Boston, the centre -point of it being Harvard College, consisting of four or five large -blocks of red brick building and a stone chapel, standing in the midst -of some fine trees. Elmwood Avenue in which Lowell lives is about half -a mile beyond the College--a broad road shaded on both sides by tows -of trees planted as in the Boulevards, as indeed is done along all the -roads. The Professor’s house is a good, roomy, wooden one standing in -the midst of some thirty acres of his own land, on which stand many good -trees, and especially some pre-revolutionary English elms of which he is -very proud. He was sitting on the piazza of the house with his wife and -Holmes’ brother, taking a pipe and not the least expecting us. The Irish -maid told us to “_sit right down_” while she went to fetch him. In a -minute he and his wife came and put us at our ease, explaining that no -letter had ever come since we had landed. Mabel was away at the sea for -a few days. - - - - -Elmwood Avenue, Cambridge, 31s£ August 1870. - -I managed with some difficulty and scramble to get off a letter to -you by yesterday’s post, which _ought_ to go by steamer from New York -to-day, bringing my narrative up to our arrival here. We found Lowell on -his verandah with his wife and friend, and sat there talking till ten. I -am not the least disappointed with him, Henry Cowper notwithstanding. I -have never met a more agreeable talker, and his kindness to me is quite -unbounded. Then he has not a grain of vanity in his composition, but is -as simple and truthful as the best kind of boy. The house is a wooden -one, as four-fifths of the houses in New England are. It is roomy, airy, -and furnished with quaint old heavy pieces, bureaus like ours, and solid -heavy little mahogany tables, all dating from the last century. The -plate in the same way is all of the Queen Anne shape, like your little -tea-service and my grandmother’s milk jugs and tea-pots which -George has. The plainness and simplicity of the living, too, is most -attractive. We breakfast at 8.30, beginning with porridge, and following -up with eggs, some hot dish, corn cakes, toast and fruit. Then there is -no regular meal till six--a terribly late and fashionable dinner hour -here, as the prevalent hour is two or three--and afterwards we have a -cup of coffee and crackers (good plain biscuits) and a glass of toddy -at ten. Miss Mabel and others have given us a desperate idea of the -difficulties as to service, but they certainly do not exist in this -establishment just now. The principal servant that we see is an Irish -girl, Rose by name, who reminds me of one of Mrs. Cameron’s servants -except that she is far more diligent. The ingenious way in which she hid -away all my wardrobe in the ample cupboards and recesses of the bureau -in my room was a perfect caution, and she whisks away my things and gets -them beautifully washed, wholly refusing to allow me to pay for them. -The parlour-maid is a little, slight, ladylike girl, who certainly is -not a first-rate waiter, but then there is no need of one. The dinner -is confined to one thing at a time--soup, sometimes fish, a joint, or -chickens, and a sweet. The Professor opens his own wine at the table and -passes it round, and very good it is, but one scarcely needs it in this -climate. A cook whose acquaintance I have also made, and an Irishman who -has been thirty years on the place in a roomy cottage, and attends to -the cows, garden, and farm of thirty acres, complete the establishment. -Mrs. Lowell, who is a very nice, quiet, and clever woman, is very fond -of flowers, and manages to keep a few beds going about the house, -and there are a number of very fine trees, so that though there is no -pretence to the neatness and finish of English grounds and garden, the -place has a thoroughly homely, cultivated atmosphere and look which is -very attractive, and the whole town of Cambridge seems to be made up of -just such houses. We have lost no time in lionising men and places. -On Thursday we took the car into Boston and ascended the monument on -Bunker’s Hill, 290 steps up a dark spiral staircase. Lowell had never -been up it before, nor indeed has any native as far as I can find -out. The view at the top repays you thoroughly for the grind with the -thermometer at eighty in the shade. Boston Harbour, where the tea was -thrown out of the English ships in 1775, and> the whole town and suburbs -lie below you like a map, and are very striking. After descending we -hunted up a number of people, including young Holmes, our Colonel, -who was as charming as ever, absorbed in his law at which he is doing -famously, and resolved in his first holiday to revisit England. He came -out to dine, and fraternised immensely with R----, and with him a young -Howells, the editor of the Atlantic Monthly, whom Conway had brought to -our house years ago, and I had entirely forgotten. However he is a very -nice fellow, and I don’t think I betrayed my obliviousness. Next day, -Friday, we had a long country drive in the morning through broad avenues -lined with three fascinating wooden houses, each standing with plenty of -elbow-room in its own grounds, up to a wooded hill from which we got -a splendid view of the city. Then I went into Boston and called on the -Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, who is one of the best talkers I ever -met, and quite worthy to be the Colonel’s father. He is one of Motley’s -oldest friends, and deeply grieved, as all good men here, at his recall. -His chief talk was of his memories of his English visits, and the -folk he met, and so I find it with all the best men and women here. -Notwithstanding the bitterness which our press created during the war, I -am convinced that with a very little tact and judicious handling on our -side the international relations may be easily made all we can wish as -far as New England is concerned. Afterwards I sauntered about the town, -looking at some good statues in their park (Boston Common), and letting -the place sink into me. The Common is about the size, I should say, of -Green Park, but of a regular shape. It lies on the side of a hill at the -top of which are the State House and other public buildings and -private houses. It is well wooded with fine American and English elms -(pre-revolutionary, they say, but I don’t believe it. They are not used -to our elms, and I doubt whether any of these are 100 years old) on the -upper part and along the sides; the middle is a great playground for the -boys, who are diligent there all day at base-ball, our rounders, which -I should think must spoil the enjoyment of the place for ladies and -children. However they can always take to the pretty gardens at the -lower end, in which is a very fine equestrian statue of Washington, and -one of Everett by Story, by no means fine in my opinion. How should it -be, when he insisted on being taken with his arm right up in the air, -his favourite attitude in speaking, and stands up in that attitude -in ordinary buttoned frock coat and trousers? Everett has not been a -trustworthy public man to my mind, and is simply nothing unless it is -an orator, and I can’t say I think it wise to put him up there on the -palpable stump. But we have made so many mistakes in our public statues -that I suppose it must run in the blood. The best houses in the town, -really charming residences, line the two sides and top of the Common, -and fine stores the bottom. I have never seen a place I would so soon -live in out of England as in one of these houses looking on to Boston -Common. The old business town is being rebuilt just as London--red brick -two or three story houses giving way everywhere to five or six stories -of granite or stone. The town has as old and settled a look and feeling -about it as any I know; but they have few old buildings, and I am afraid -are going to pull down the most characteristic, the old State House, -because it has ceased to be used for public purposes, and its removal -will make a fine broad place and relieve the traffic of several -narrow streets in the heart of the town. It will be a sad pity, and so -unnecessary here, for they might carry it off bodily to any other site. -You know how we have often heard, and wondered, scarce believing, of the -raising bodily of the great hotels, etc., at Chicago. Well, suddenly, in -Boston I came across a great market, three stories high (the upper part -being occupied as houses) and 150 or 200 feet long, as big, say, as -three houses in Grosvenor Square, which they were moving bodily back on -rollers so as to widen the street. There were the wooden ways and -the rollers, and the great block with all its marketing and living -inhabitants lying on them, and already some twelve feet on its journey. -It did not look any the worse for its journey unless it were in the -foundations, where there were a few places which had been filled up, I -saw, with new brickwork. The long pit twelve feet deep which has been -left between the market and the street will now be turned into cellars, -over which the new pavement will pass. On the Saturday we dined with the -Saturday Club at 2.30 P.M., where were all the New England notables now -in town. I sat on the right of Sumner, the State Senator, who was in the -chair, with Boutwell, the Secretary of the Treasury, on my right, and -Emerson on the other side of Sumner. So you may fancy how I enjoyed -the sitting. Emerson is perfectly delightful: simple, wise, and full -of humour and sunshine. The number of good Yankee stories I shall bring -back unless they burst me will be a caution. Forbes, a great Boston -merchant who owns an island seventy-two miles long off the coast close -to Nantucket and Cape Cod, which you will find in the map, came up and -claimed to have seen me for five minutes when I had the small-pox in -1863. - -He knows J------ well, and insisted on carrying us off to his island -that night, that we might attend a huge campmeeting on a neighbouring -island on Sunday. So he drove up here with us and we packed--the dear -Professor agreeing that we ought to do it--went down sixty miles by -rail, slept on his yacht, and found ourselves in the morning at his -wharf on the island. Your second letter came to hand from Cromer when we -returned here, and has as usual lighted up my life. - - - - -Cambridge, 2nd September 1870. - -We are off this afternoon for Newport on our way to New York, and so -south and west. The express man will be here directly for my luggage, -which will be a little curtailed, as these dear kind people insist on -our returning, and leaving all we don’t want in our rooms. So I shall -drop my beaver, leaving it with the most serious admonitions in the -charge of Rose, the Irish girl, who is a character. I will now take up -the thread of my story, merely remarking that what you seem to think -a dull catalogue of small doings at a small watering-place is quite -unspeakably delightful to me away here. On the wharf at Nashont Island -we found the two young F------s, the elder a colonel in the war, and -five months a prisoner in the South, the younger, Malcolm, just left -college. I never saw two finer young men, both of them models of -strength. They had come down to meet us and bathe, so we stopped and -had a splendid header off the wharf and a swim in the bay, after careful -inquiries by R------ as to sharks, to which young F------ replied with -a twinkle in his eye, that they didn’t lose _many_ friends that way. We -walked up to the house after our dip, a large wooden building, with deep -verandahs and sun-blinds, furnished quite plainly, even roughly, but -capable of holding nearly any number of people. We were about eighteen -at breakfast: Mrs. F------ a handsome, clever, elderly lady, born a -Quaker, and with their charm of manner, who made tea for the party, and -on whose right I sat. Opposite her was her husband with Mrs. L------, -the young widow of Lowell’s nephew Charles, the famous soldier, on his -left, and therefore opposite me. On my right, a young woman, a cousin of -the F------s, a Mrs. P------, whose husband sat down towards the end of -the table, the manager of a Western railway, who has given us free -passes over his line. Colonel F------, the eldest son, was Lowell’s -major, and served with distinction in the war, in which he was taken -prisoner, and spent five months in Southern prisons; his wife, a buxom -young woman with very good eyes, is Emerson’s daughter, and her brother, -a bright boy of twenty-two or twenty-three, was near me. There were two -daughters of the family, and two other girls and several boys, all -pleasant and easy in hand; but the gem of the party was the young widow. -She is not actually pretty, but with a face full of the nobleness of -sorrow, which has done its work. I have seldom been more touched than in -watching her gentle, cheerful ways, and her sympathy with all the bright -life around her. Since the war, in which her husband and only brother R. -S------(who commanded the first coloured regiment from Massachusetts, -and was buried under his negroes at Fort Wagner) were killed, she has -devoted herself to the Freedmen, and is Honorary Secretary to the -Society for educating them. After breakfast we started in the yacht for -the neighbouring island, on which the great Methodist camp-meeting was -going on. This Sunday was the great day. They have occupied this island -for some years, and have built there a whole town of pretty little -wooden houses like big Chinese toys, dotted about amongst the trees. -Most of them consist of only one long room, divided by curtains in the -middle. The front half opens to the street, but raised one step above it -is the sitting-room, and the inmates sleep in the back, behind the -curtains. A few houses have a story above; but F------ bought a lot of -photographs for us, which will show you the style of house better than a -page of description. There were literally thousands of people on the -island, upwards of two thousand collected in a huge circular tent in the -middle of the houses, where a preacher was shouting to them. We sat on -the skirts of the congregation and listened for some time, but as he was -only talking wildly about Nebuddah, Positivism, Theodore Parker, and -other heresies and heretics, I was not edified, and got no worship till -he had done, when we all stood up and sang the doxology, which was very -impressive. I was much disappointed at the gathering in a religious -point of view. It was a rare chance for a man with a living word in him, -those thousands of decent, sober, attentive New England men and women. -They told me that in the evening it would be much more interesting, when -there would be great singing of hymns, and many persons would tell how -they came to experience religion as they call it; but we could not stay -for this. The meeting lasts for weeks, and is in fact an excuse for the -gathering at a pretty sea-place in the early autumn of a number of good -folk who would think the ordinary watering-places ungodly, but have a -longing for a break in their ordinary colourless lives. We sailed back -in time for early dinner, meeting on the way huge steamers packed with -passengers for the campmeeting, till they were top heavy. Next day we -spent in, fishing off the rocks for blue-fish, and in a beautiful little -lake of three-quarters of a mile long (one of several in the island) for -bass. I caught a blue fish of nine lbs., the biggest and strongest I -have ever caught, also the only bass which was taken; so I naturally -crowed loudly. The island hours are: breakfast, eight o’clock or half -past eight; dinner, two or three; tea, with cold meat, half-past six or -seven. After tea on both evenings we got into full swing on the war. I -found Mr. F------ and his wife deeply grieved and prejudiced as to our -conduct, our feeling to them as a nation, etc., and set myself to work -hard to remove all this as far as I could. As he is a very energetic and -influential man it is worth taking any amount of trouble about, and I -think I succeeded. In the evenings the young folk sang a number of the -war songs, several composed by or for the negro soldiers, going to -famous airs, and full of humour and pathos. The March through Georgia is -very spirited, and a version of the “John Brown” March, which seems to -have superseded “We’ll hang Jef Davies,” etc., exceedingly touching--at -least I know it was so to me, as all the young folk sang-- - - He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat, - - He is sifting out the souls of men before His judgment seat: - - Be swift, my soul, to welcome Him! be jubilant, my feet. - - In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea, - - With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me. - - As he died to make men holy, let us die to make them free. - - Our God is marching on. - -To think of what that sweet young woman had gone through (the news of -her husband’s death at the head of his brigade, was read by her in a -newspaper), and to see her sitting there calmly and trying to join -in the chorus, was quite too much for me. However, nobody noticed my -emotion. Our last morning, Tuesday, was spent in a famous wild ride over -the island. After breakfast we found seven very excellent riding horses -(three with sidesaddles) at the door. At home there would have been -three grooms, here each horse has a leathern strap fixed to the bit, -which you just buckle round his neck till you want to stop, and then -fasten it to the nearest tree or lamp-post. The whole turn-out is of -course rough, but I don’t wish to see nicer ladies’ hacks than the three -which the two Miss F------s and Mrs. P------ rode. We sailed back in the -yacht to another little port, a few miles north of New Bedford, F------ -having provided us as a parting present with free passes over almost all -the Western railways, which will save me at least £20 I should think. He -is Chairman of several, and so can do it without any trouble. We found -the dear Lowells expecting us, and my second letter also waiting, so you -may think that I had a joyful evening. Next day, Wednesday, we drove to -Concord to dine with Judge Hoar, the late Attorney-General of the United -States, a very able, fine fellow. We passed over classic ground, the -very road along which the English troops marched in April 1776 to -destroy the stores, when the first collision of the War of Independence -took place at Concord Bridge and in the village of Lexington. You may -perhaps remember in the second series of the _Biglow Papers_ “Sumthin’ -in the Pastoral Line,” in which old Concord Bridge and the monument -which has been put up to commemorate the fight, talk together over the -_Trent_ affair. The Judge’s two sons, very nice young fellows, pulled us -up Concord River, which runs at the bottom of their garden, to the spot, -and on the way (which is very pretty) we saw lots of tortoises sitting -and basking on the stones, and popping in when we approached, and heard -a lot of capital Yankee stories from the Judge. Dinner at three; Emerson -came, and there were two Miss H------s, and a Miss S------, a handsome -girl, sister of the best oar in the Harvard boat of last year. I enjoyed -the dinner and smoke afterwards immensely, and am at last quite sure -that I am doing some good with some of these men, all of whom are -influential, and most of them sadly prejudiced against us still as a -nation. For myself it is quite impossible to express their kindness. -They seem as if they can never do enough for me. When we got back to -Cambridge, we found Miss M------ and Dr. Lowell, brother to James, an -English clergyman, and quite charming too in his way. - - - - -New York. - -I think I have told you already the sort of royal progress I am making. -Some principal citizen always comes to the station to meet us in his -carriage, books our luggage by the express (an admirable institution -which saves you all the trouble with luggage), drives us up to his -house, lodges us in the best rooms, has all the best folks in the -neighbourhood to meet us at breakfast, dinner, tea, takes us to the -sights of the neighbourhood, keeps all his servants out of sight when we -are going, so that we can’t give any one a penny or even pay our washing -bills, and finally sends us and our luggage down to the next boat or -steamer, when we are booked already probably by a new friend. Certainly -I never saw, heard of, or could imagine anything like the hospitality. -It is no doubt in some degree, and in individual cases, owing to -the part I took during the war in England, but Democrats as well as -Republicans have been amongst our warmest hosts; in fact, I am fairly -puzzled, and allow the tide at last to carry me along, floating down it -and enjoying everything as well as I can. I think in my last I got to -our start from Boston. No! was it? At any rate, I wrote about our day at -Concord, I know, as to which I shall have to tell you more when we meet. -After we got home Miss Mabel rushed upstairs, got into her photographing -dress, the quaintest turn-out you can conceive, and commenced a series -of groups, etc., which you shall have specimens of when I get back. She -is endless fun; has the most arch way of talking to her father as “sir” - every now and then; is charming with her stepmother; and altogether as -bright a bit of life about a house as you would meet on a summer’s day. -I parted from Lowell and his home feeling that the meeting had been more -than successful. For these eighteen or nineteen years I have revelled -in his books--indeed, have got so much from them and learned to love -the parent of them so well, as I imagined him, that I almost feared -the meeting, lest pleasant illusions should be broken. I found him much -better than his books. We had a pleasant three hours’ rail to Newport, -finding Mr. Field, a Philadelphian banker, at the station with -his carriage. We were friends at once, for he is a famous, frank, -goodlooking, John Bullish man of the world, who has travelled all over -Europe and retained his new world simplicity and heartiness. He drove -us all round the fashionable watering-place, the description of which -I must postpone or I never shall get through (as we say here). His -cottage, as he calls it, in accordance with the fashion here, is a -charming villa, on the most southern point of Newport, close to the -rocks on which the grand Atlantic roll was beating magnificently as we -drove up. - -Saturday morning a lot of men came to breakfast, including Colonel -H------, the officer who had been the first to volunteer to take -command of negroes in Virginia, before the New England States even began -mustering them. I was delighted to make his acquaintance, as I knew his -name in my anti-slavery standard as a real, advanced Radical, and I was -anxious to realise that type of Yankee of which I had only seen Lloyd -Garrison in England. He was very fascinating to my mind, and the -most refined man in manners and look I have yet met, but I should -say decidedly a cracked fellow in the good sense. We adjourned to the -spouting rock, just at the point where the surf was beating gloriously, -and as I continued talking with H------, of course I got a ducking by -getting too near this rock, which is hollow underneath, so that it -sends a spout of water up like a huge whale some second or two after the -breaker hits it. The sight was superb, and well worth the payment of an -unstarched waistcoat and shirt. We got home, and I changed at 11.30 -or thereabouts, and when I came in to dress for dinner there was my -waistcoat, washed and starched, on the bed. Mrs. Field had heard me -say in joke that I should be out of white waistcoats. We went to the -Episcopal Church on Sunday morning and had a good sermon of a quarter -of an hour, sitting in the pew of an acquaintance of the previous day, -a Mrs. H------ of New York, who drove us about in her handsome carriage, -and insisted on giving me two books--one being extracts from Lincoln’s -_Speeches and Letters_, which I am very glad to have. In the evening -we were sent down to the pier, where we were picked up by the most -magnificent steamer ever seen in the world, I should think, and by -six next morning were running along the north river, one of the many -entrances by sea to New York harbour. The approaches to the city are -superb, but the first view of it disappointed me, the buildings along -the water-side being for the most part poor and almost mean. We found -Hewitt’s carriage waiting, he being out of town for his Sunday, and -drove up through Broadway and Fourth Avenue to his house, which is a -splendid roomy one, belonging to his father-inlaw, Mr. Cooper. The dear -old gentleman, a hearty veteran of seventy-nine, is the founder of the -Cooper’s Institute, a working-man’s college on a large scale. He has -spent nearly a million dollars upon it, and it is certainly the -best institution of the kind I have ever seen. He is one of the most -guileless and sweetest of old men, and I shall have much to tell you of -him. Mr. Hewitt, my friend, who is in partnership with him, and his wife -and family live with the old gentleman. Here I found free admission to -the four best clubs in New York--the Union League, the Century, and -even the Manhattan, a democrat club of which Hewitt is a distinguished -member. The nice brisk woman in the house gave us an excellent -breakfast, and we started for the town about eleven. One of the -first places I went to was Roebuck’s store, where I found him very -flourishing. But I can’t go on to catalogue our doings or shan’t get -this off. As very few folk are in New York, we are off to-day to West -Point up the Hudson, where we stay for a military ball to-morrow night; -on Friday we get to Niagara, and then away west, certainly as far as -Omaha, to see prairies, etc., and possibly to San Francisco. We must -be back here or in New England on the 1st of October, on the 6th is -the Harvard Memorial ceremony, laying the first stone of their memorial -building, on the 11th I am in for an address, and after that shall set -my face homewards. I have looked at myself in the glass at your request -and believe I look fabulous. - - - - -Garrison’s Landing, opposite West Point, Friday, 9th September 1870. - -I already look wistfully along the pages of my pocket-book which -intervene between this and the beginning of November, and feel very like -bolting home instead of going west. The only moments I have for writing -are early (it is now 6.30) or after I come up to bed, as the dear, good -folk provide occupation for all the rest of the time. Well, we got to -New York on Monday mornings by the East River, and left it on Wednesday -afternoon by the Hudson, having, I think, seen it superficially, so that -I should retain a clear idea of it if I never saw it again. We dined -on Monday at the Union League Club, Tuesday at the Manhattan, going in -afterwards to the Century--all three clubs as complete, I think, as ours -and open to strangers in every corner. We left New York on Wednesday -afternoon with Mr. O------, Chairman of the Illinois Central Railway, -who has this delicious place on the slope of the mountain opposite -West Point. As usual there were carriages at the pier, and all trouble, -expense, etc., has been taken off our hands. Mrs. O------ is the nicest -Yankee lady we have seen (except Mabel), like Mrs. Goschen in face and -charmingly appreciative. Her husband, staunch American, about fifty. The -more fanatic Americans they are the more they seem to like to do for me, -and as I spend the greater part of my time in showing them how mistaken -they must be in their views as to England, else how is it that we didn’t -interfere and get to war, I feel I am doing good work. They take to me, -I can see, apart from my proclivities. - -I am obliged to give up poor old Pam, the mercantile community of -England, and the majority of the aristocracy; but when I have made a -Jonah of these, I always succeed in bringing these good, simple, -candid, impulsive fellows to admit that we did them no bad turn in their -troubles. We leave to-day for Niagara, and during the next fortnight I -hardly know how or when I can write. - - - - -Clifton Hotel, opposite Niagara Falls, 11th September 1870. - -I am glad to find that I shall be able to get off this one more -letter to you by regular post before we plunge away west for nearly -a fortnight. I do so long for you every now and then when there is -something to see which you would specially appreciate, not only then as -you well know, but then specially, in the glorious reaches of the Hudson -near West Point, for instance, where you have all the beauty of the -Scotch Highlands, with a hundred well-kept rich men’s houses, and a -monster hotel or two crowning some high point,--an excellent substitute, -in my view, for the ruined keeps of robber barons on the Rhine,--and -endless steamers and sloops, with their white sails and great tows, as -they call them, of a dozen large flats lashed together and bringing down -lumber and corn from the west, passing up and down; but, above all, -last night, when we went under the light of a glorious full moon and saw -these mighty falls from above, and then went down some 200 steps, and -along under the overhanging cliffs, till we actually got under the end -of the horse-shoe fall on the Canadian side, and looked up and saw -the moon through the falling water. Just as we descended, an American -gentleman and his daughter and an English girl with them came up, to -whom we gave our seats, and when we came back they were still there, so -we told them what we had seen and offered to escort them down. They were -delighted, and “papa” did not object, so down we all went, and so we had -a second treat behind the cataract, and being with these ladies made -me horribly wishful to get you there. The girl (Philadelphian) was very -pretty and simple, so I handed her over to R------, and gave my arm to -the English one. To-day we went across the ferry amid a great turbulence -of waters, and looked up at the descending rivers, to the English Church -on the opposite side. An American bishop preached, and afterwards we -walked on Goat Island, above and between the two falls, and saw such -effects of rainbows, and lilac and green and purple and pure white -surges, as it is utterly impossible to describe, but I shall try to do -it by the help of photographs when I get back. Then we had a bath in the -rush just above the Falls; you have a little room through which a slice -some four feet wide of the water is allowed to rush; you get in at the -side, in the back water, and then take hold of a short rope fixed close -above the rush, and let the waters seize and tear at you, which it does -with a vengeance, tugging as if it would carry off your legs and pull -you in two in the middle. You can get out of it in a moment by just -slewing yourself round, and the sensation is marvellously delicious. I -forget whether you had one of the baths at Geneva, where the blue Rhone -rushes through at about a third of the pace. That is the only bath I -ever remember the least to be compared to this above Niagara. But let me -see, I hadn’t got farther with you than our chateau on the Hudson. -Well, we left it on Friday after breakfast at about nine o’clock, and -travelled away steadily with only twenty minutes’ stop at Albany, where -we dined, and a quarter of an hour at Rochester. The greater part of the -road was decidedly pretty, especially the earlier part which ran along -the banks of the Hudson. We stopped at Rome, Syracuse, and Utica amongst -other places, all busy, stirring places apparently, with their streets -all converging on and open to the line of rail. Every one has to look -out for themselves, and you get in and out of the trains at your own -peril. I have heard of very few accidents, and I don’t believe there are -as many as with us; but I should think a good many people must often -be left behind, as the train starts without any signal, leaving you to -climb in as you can, an easy enough feat for an active man, but scarcely -for any one else. This journey was our first really long one; we did -not get to Suspension Bridge, where we slept, till past midnight, but I -didn’t find it very tiring. There was a drawing-room car on, but I would -not go in it. The other cars are quite comfortable enough, and I like -seeing and being with the people, though they continue to be the most -silent and reserved of any race I have ever been amongst. Next day -(Saturday) just glanced at the Falls; we ran round the west of Lake -Ontario, by Hamilton, to Toronto, the capital of the province, and were -exceedingly struck and pleased with the signs of vigour and prosperity -both in the country and cities. The farming is certainly cleaner and -better than on the American side of the lake, and the towns don’t lose -by comparison with those of the same size over the border. At Toronto -I found Dymond, one of my best Lambeth supporters, in the Globe Office, -and we called on one of our _Peruvian_ acquaintances, who regaled us -with champagne in his huge store; we went over the law courts and -other public buildings, dined, and then on to the boat to cross back to -Niagara. It is about two hours’ sail and very pleasant. There were quite -a number of young and pretty girls on board going across for the trip, -as you might drive out in a carriage to any suburb. It seems the regular -afternoon amusement and lounge, and the heads of families take season -tickets which pass all their belongings. There were three Canadian -M.P.’s also on board, with whom I got a good deal of useful and pleasant -chat; one of them (M.P. for Niagara) induced me to “drink” twice in -ginger-ale and brandy, and again in champagne, which was the first -instance of that pressingly convivial habit supposed to be universal -on this side that I have seen. I am uncommonly glad it doesn’t really -prevail, as nothing I detest more than this irregular kind of drinking. -The pick-me-up is decidedly one of the most loathsome inventions of -a decrepit civilisation. We got to our hotel here, right opposite -the Falls, by about six, saw them first before tea and afterwards by -moonlight, as I have already narrated. In an hour’s time we start for -Chicago. Our late host, Mr. O------, the President of the Illinois -Central Kail, one of the greatest of the Western’s system of railways, -has followed us here, and is going round a tour of inspection of his -line, and to open 150 miles of new way for traffic. So we shall go round -in an express train with him, seeing everything in the most luxurious -and easiest manner--a wonderful piece of luck. It was his nice wife who -persuaded him to come off and do it now at once while he could have us -with him. I am sitting at my open window, outside of which is a broad -verandah with a magnificent view of the Falls. I am getting what I take -to be my last look at them, and for the last time the sound of many -waters, the finest to be heard in the world, I suppose, is in my ears. -The mid-Atlantic when the waves were highest struck me more, but nothing -else I have ever seen in Switzerland or elsewhere comes near this. It is -the first great hotel we have been in, and not a bad specimen I imagine. -We get heaps of meals, and though the cooking is not all one could wish, -there is nothing to hinder your living very well. We are waited on by -some fifteen or twenty real darkies--good, grinning, curly-pated -Sambos and Pompeys--so, of course, I am happy so far as service goes. -Seriously, though, they are much more obliging and quite as intelligent -as their white compeers here and in the States. - - - - -Storm Lake, 13th. September 1870. - -One line from this odd little station, right in the middle of the Iowa -prairies, which slope away right out of sight in every direction. It is -the highest point between Fort Dodge and Sioux City. Fifteen months ago -there were not three settlers’ cabins on the whole 140 miles; now -they are dotted along every mile or so, sometimes turf huts, sometimes -wooden, with generally a group of barefooted, healthy children tumbling -about the doors. We are sitting in the little wooden post-office here, -on the walls of which hang maps of the splendid town which is to be -run up in the next three or four years, and notices of a meeting of the -citizens of Storm Lake to hear the addresses of Captain Jackson Orr, -the Republican candidate for Congress of the district, and of Governor -G------, who comes to support him. The whole place at present consists -of some ten or twelve wooden huts, with two more ambitious buildings -running up, one an hotel and the other a big store. The settlers are a -fine rough set of fellows, but full of intelligence, and determined -to make their place the most important city in the State. It is a most -exquisite climate, with a lake four miles by two, in which there are -plenty of pickerel, and as we came along in our express train we have -put up lots of coveys of prairie hens, like big tame grouse, most -delicious eating too. _Express train_, you will look at with wondering -eyes. Well, or rather wâàl, as they pronounce it here, that is the -explanation of the whole _city_, and accounts for all that is going to -happen on this glorious prairie. A line of rail has been _built_ right -across it by some enterprising folk in New York, who want now to lease -it to the Illinois Central Railway, with which it makes connections at -Fort Dodge. We left Chicago yesterday morning, got to Dubuque on the -Mississippi by night, travelled all through the night to Fort Dodge, -and are on here now fifty-three miles farther inspecting. It is regal -travelling. We have two carriages,--one a charming sleeping-car, in -which I have a beautiful little state-room, another carriage for dining, -etc., equally commodious, all our stores on board, so that we live -splendidly, two negro boys to wait on us. O------, the present -president, and the vice-president of the line, are our only -fellow-passengers, each of whom is as well lodged as I am. We go along -as we please, sometimes at forty, sometimes at ten miles an hour, -talking to the people at each little log-house station, and enjoying -the confines of civilisation in the most perfect luxury. While they are -talking about the price of land round here I have just this ten minutes, -and find I can fire off this note with some chance that it may get off -by the New York boat of Saturday, so that I shan’t lose a post or you a -letter. - - - - -Fort Dodge, 13th September 1870. - -Here we are! September 15, 2 p.m. You will see, if you have got my last -from Sioux City, that the above heading is somewhat wild. The fact is, -that just as I had written the three first words (in fact, while I was -writing them, which accounts for their jerky look), our little train -moved on from Fort Dodge and I couldn’t write, even on our superb -springs. Now we are at Council Bluffs, opposite Omaha. Why, hang it! -here we go again moving on, and I must stop again. - -3 p.m.--We only ran three miles and then stopped to lunch and let a -Union-Pacific train pass. Now after a famous lunch in our second or -commissariat car, I am getting a smoke and a few more lines to you -before we are off eastward again. Thank Heaven! after all the wonderful -new sights and sensations of the last three and a half days since we -left Niagara, I confess to the utmost delight at feeling that we have -made our farthest point, and that I am already some three miles plus the -breadth of the Missouri River and Omaha City on my way back to you. It -is still more than a month before we embark for home (if I can hold out -as long); still, we are on our way! However, you must not think that -I am not enjoying myself wonderfully. I am, and am also, I hope, good -company, for when one is treated like the Grand Turk or the Emperor of -Russia, the least one can do is to be pleasant. But if I go on with my -sensations, I shall never pick up my narrative; as it is, I shall be -obliged to leave thousands of things till we meet, when I do hope I -shan’t have forgotten anything. Well, didn’t I leave off at Niagara? -We left the hotel in front of the Falls there on Monday morning after -breakfast with O----, who had no power except for himself till we got -to Chicago; we had been furnished with free passes, and rode in the -ordinary cars through Ontario province to Windsor, opposite Detroit. -In Canada, again, the difference was at once visible between the two -peoples; but I am not at all prepared to admit that the Canadians have -the worst of it, certainly not in the roadside cookery, for we had the -best joint of beef we have seen since we left home at dinner, and the -best bread and butter at tea. At Windsor the train ran quietly on to the -huge ferry-boat-steamer, and we had a moonlight passage to the railway -station at Detroit. Here we secured berths in the Pullman sleeping car, -for which you pay rather more than you would for a bed at a first-class -hotel. However, they are an admirable institution, and enable one to get -through really wonderful travelling feats. We were at Chicago early -next morning, and transferred ourselves directly into our small express -train, getting glimpses of the city of forty years, which within living -men’s memory was a small Indian station. - -It is enormous, spreading over certainly three times the space which an -English city of 250,000 inhabitants would occupy. We shall see the town -on our return; meantime, as we ran out of the suburbs, we saw a house of -considerable size waiting at the crossing for our train to pass before -it went over, as coolly as a farmer’s waggon of hay would wait in -England. O------told us that all the old houses in Chicago are moved in -this way. As building is very expensive, when one of the big folk wants -to put up some splendid new structure--bank, store, or the like--there -are always men ready to buy the old house as it stands. They then just -cut away its foundation, put it on rollers, and tote it away to the -site they have bought in the suburbs. We fell upon breakfast in a -half-famished state as we steamed away westward, and through the whole -day were kept on the stretch. Not that there was any great beauty in the -scenery, but the interest of getting actually into half-settled country -was exceedingly absorbing. The most notable town we passed was Galena, -in Northern Illinois, from which Grant went to the war, leaving his -leather yard for that purpose. The citizens of Galena have bought and -presented him a good square house of red brick on the top of the hill -there. Then we ran along a tributary of the Mississippi, and about 4.30 -came out on the father of waters; where we struck the mighty stream it -was not impressive. We came upon a mighty swamp, not a river, miles and -miles of trees, some of them fine large ones, standing in the water and -covered with creepers. The river was luckily high, so that we had this -effect of a forest rising out of water to perfection. Then there were -miles of swamp, half water, half land, dreary and horrible to look at, -sometimes sound enough for cattle to pick about, and then only fit for -alligators and wild-fowl; of the latter we saw a number, including a -white heron. At last we came upon the river, some three-quarters of a -mile wide-up there, 1600 miles from the sea, and crossed by a gossamer -bridge, a real work of high art. On the opposite side we stopped for -tea-dinner at Dubuque, one of the largest towns in Iowa, and the first -border city we had seen,--very quaint to behold, with streets laid out -as broad as Regent Street, here and there a huge block of stores full of -dry goods or groceries, and then a lot of wooden hovels, a vacant plot -perhaps, and then a big hotel, or another great store,--the streets all -as soft as Rotten Row, and much deeper in dirt, side pavements of wood, -every house placarded in huge letters with the name and business of the -owner. Here, for the first time, we saw emigrants’ waggons packed with -their household goods and lumber (sawed planks) for their houses, bound -for the prairies beyond, on which they settle under the homestead -acts. In short, the pushing slipshod character of the great West was -thoroughly mirrored in the place, and above all the other buildings was -a fine common school open to every child in the place. This is the one -universal characteristic of these towns and villages; almost the first -thing they do is to build a famous big school. The member of Congress -for the place and one or two other notables came down to see us after -tea, and smoked a cigar with us in our saloon car before we started. -The talk was, of course, on the wonders of the West, and the chances of -Dubuque to be a big city in a year or two. Then we turned in and ran -all night to Fort Dodge, from which the first line of this letter was -written, a village with the same characteristics as the towns, except -that the only building not of wood was the station, which, strange to -say, was built of gypsum, found in great quantities here, and the only -sort of stone they have. The president of the line--a shrewd, honest, -Western man named Douglas, one of our party--guessed that in another -five years they would have to pull the station down and manure the land -with it. From this place we ran right up into the wild prairies, and at -the highest point between the Mississippi and Missouri, at Storm Lake, -I wrote you the hasty note which, I hope, you have received from those -unknown parts. It is about the largest settlement in the 180 miles, -consisting of perhaps twelve or fourteen wooden houses, one of which -was a billiard saloon kept by an old Cornish man. He said that quite -a number of Cornish miners are over in this district, some at lead and -coal mines of a very primitive kind, others farming. On the whole, the -people seemed a good, steady, independent lot, and the children looked -wonderfully healthy, running about barefooted on the shore of the little -lake or amongst the prairie grass. We made acquaintance with prairie -chicken and the little earth squirrel, a jolly little dog, with a -prettily marked back, who frisks into his hole instead of up a tree like -ours. Then we dropped down, still through wild prairie, over which the -single line of rail runs with no protection at all, till we came to -Sioux City on the Missouri, and the biggest town on the river for 2000 -miles from its source. There are 12,000 inhabitants, and precisely the -same features as at Dubuque, except that it is a far more rowdy place, -being still almost under the dominion of Judge Lynch. Only the day -before we arrived, a border ruffian had been swaggering about the town, -pistol in hand, and defying arrest. However, they did take him at last, -and he was safe in prison. A fortnight earlier a rascal, who confessed -to nine murders, had been taken and hung on the other side of the -river. There are sixty-three saloons, at most of which gambling goes -on regularly every night. The editor of the _Sioux Tribune_, an Irish -Yankee of queer morals and extraordinary “go,” took us into one, stood -drinks round, and expounded the ingenious games by which the settlers -and officers of the Indian fort up the stream are cleared of their -money. A rowdy, loafing, vagabond city, but there they have three or -four fine schools (one had just cost 45,000 dollars), for which they -tax the saloons mercilessly. I have no doubt the place will be quite -respectable in another five years. We slept quietly and dropped down -south along the Missouri to Council Bluffs, from which the earlier part -of this was written. The Missouri is a doleful stream, shallow, with -huge sandbanks in the middle, and great swamps at the side, but striking -green bluffs rising above on the east bank under which we went; and -behind them I saw the sun rise in great beauty. We just crossed the -river to Omaha to say we had been in Missouri and seen the terminus -of the Union-Pacific Railway, and a fine go-ahead place it is, like -Dubuque, only twice as big and finely situate on hills above the -Missouri River. We are now back at Chicago, having seen more frontier -towns and prairies on our way here, and in five days, by the good -fortune of this private train, have done more than we could have managed -otherwise in nine. - - - - -Chicago, September 1870. - -I am so afraid that I shan’t get off a letter regularly twice a week -from this run in the West, that I begin this in a spare three minutes -between packing and a testimonial which is to be given me here by a -lot of young graduates of the American Universities at the Club at four -o’clock. This place is the wonder of the wonderful West, as you know -already. A gentleman I met to-day tells me he came up to this place in -1830, when it consisted of a fort with two companies, a dozen little -wooden huts, and an encampment of 3000 or 4000 Indians who had come in -to get their allowances under treaty with the United States. Now it is -one of the handsomest cities I ever saw, with 300,000 inhabitants, and -progressing at the rate of 1500 a week or thereabouts. We have had our -first experience of a first-rate American hotel, the Fremont House here. -It is decidedly not cheap. At present rates about fifteen shillings -or four dollars a day; but you can eat and drink anything but wine and -spirits all day, with the exception of one hour in the afternoon between -lunch and dinner. I ordered a peach just now for lunch, and they brought -me a whole plateful, not so good as our hot-house ones, but very fine -fruit. Yesterday I went twice to hear Robert Collyer, a famous -Unitarian minister here. He was born in Yorkshire, where he worked as -a blacksmith, preaching as a Methodist, and finally, twenty years ago, -came out to the West and established himself here. He has great and -deserved influence, and is altogether the finest man of the kind I have -ever met. His text was out of Job: “Dost thou know the springs of the -deep?” I forget the exact words, but you will find them in the splendid -38th chapter, where God is showing Job who is master (as the cabman put -it). He had been for his holiday at the sea, and was full of thoughts -which, as he said, he wanted to get off to his people. He began by a -quotation from Ruskin as to the fantastic power and beauty of the sea, -said that no trace of love for the sea could be found in the Bible, only -fear of it. In the New Jerusalem, St. John dreamed “there shall be no -more sea.” Same with all great poets, even English, illustrated by Burns -and Shakespere, and Dr. Johnson’s saying, “That a ship was a prison with -a chance of being drowned.” Even sailors don’t really look on sea as -home, and fear it, and weave mystical notions of all kinds round it. Yet -the sea has its sweet and gentle side too; it nourishes every plant and -flower that grows by its exhalations, and keeps the rivers sweet and -running; and look at one of the exquisite little shells which you may -find after the fiercest storm, or the bit of sea-weed lying on the -shore, or the limpet on the rock. The lashing of the storm has done them -no harm, and there they lie as perfect as if it had never been raging. -about them. So the great stormy sea of life has its gentle and loving -side for every one of us so long as we trust in God and just obey His -laws and do His will. I have given you the very barest outline of a very -striking sermon. In the evening I went to tea with him, and there was -a large bunch of grapes on my plate with the enclosed little paper, “To -Mr. Hughes from the children,” which touched me much. The children are -very nice. Robert Lincoln, Abe’s son, and a lot of his friends are our -entertainers to-day, and in the evening we go by the night train to St. -Louis. I laid aside the other sheet to go off to this club dinner with -the young Chicago men, and I have never had a more hearty greeting or -kinder words and looks than amongst these youngsters, all graduates of -some university, most of them officers in the late war, who are settled -down in the great money-making town, and are living brave and sterling -and earnest lives there. I really can’t tell you the sort of things they -said (they drank your health, and the proposer made one of the -prettiest little speeches in proposing it I ever heard); in short, I was -positively ashamed, and scarcely knew how to meet it all or what to say -to them; but it was less embarrassing than it would have been with any -other young men, for this kind of young American (like Holmes) is so -transparently sincere that you can come out quite square with him before -you have known him an hour. Our good friends of the Illinois Central -gave us free passage to St. Louis, to which we travelled all night. -It is the biggest town in Missouri, was a great slave-holding place in -1860, and very “secesh” during the war. A fine city it is too, with -its grand quay lined with huge steamers, and its miles of fine streets. -Rowdy though, still, full of low saloons and gambling-houses. The most -drunken town in the United States, the gentleman who met us, and drove -us about and got us free papers here to Cincinnati, told us. The most -characteristic thing that happened to me was that I was shaved by a -negro (and better shaved than I ever was in my life before). He had been -body servant to his master, a rich Southern planter, through the first -three years of the war. His master was at last shot and he managed to -get taken, and so “I’se no slave now,” as he said, with all his ivories -shining. His education has not been much improved, however, for he -thought England was at war, as being somehow part either of France or -Germany, he couldn’t just say which, and would scarcely believe me -when I declared that we were separated by the sea from both. Then we -travelled all night again (I sleep splendidly in these palace cars, so -don’t be alarmed), and got here to the queen city of Ohio this morning, -after the most glorious sunrise I ever saw. This also is a very fine -city on the Ohio, with fine hills all round and a magnificent suspension -bridge. The most characteristic sight I have seen here, however, was -two small boys trotting along together barefooted, with a piece of -sugar-cane between them, each sucking one end. I had a note to Force, -one of Sherman’s generals, now a judge here, who kindly sent us round in -a carriage, but was too busy to come with us. To-night we make another -long run to Philadelphia. We should have gone to Washington and so -worked north, but Philadelphia is the next place where I shall get -letters, and I can’t do any longer without hearing from you, so that’s -all about it. I have lots of friends in Philadelphia, so shall probably -make two days’ stay there. - - - - -Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, 23rd September 1870. - -Where was I in my narrative? I guess (I am getting a thorough Yankee -in my vernacular) I gave you a short account of the queen city, as they -call Cincinnati. We left Cincinnati at ten o’clock on Wednesday night -and came right away for 600 miles to Philadelphia. - -The most interesting part of the road was the crossing the Alleghanies, -up which we wound through vast forest tracks for some thirty miles, and -down the eastern slopes in the sunset, getting daylight for all the most -beautiful parts. As we were rushing up one of the finest gorges, some -200 yards wide, we were suddenly aware of a huge eagle (bigger than -those we saw on the Danube as we steamed through the Iron Cates) sailing -up on the opposite side, perhaps 100 yards from the train. We were going -eighty miles an hour at the least, and the grand old fellow swept along -without the least apparent effort, keeping abreast of our car for I -should think a couple of miles, when he suddenly turned and settled on a -fine pine-tree. - -After breakfast we had a real field-day in this splendid city, which -rivals Boston in interest and character. Outside it is built of red -brick and white marble, the contrast of which materials is to me -singularly taking, though I daresay it is very bad art. - -Then the chief streets run away long and straight, and as you look down -them all seem to dive into groups of trees. Walnut Street, Chestnut -Street, and Spruce Street are the names of the oldest and handsomest -avenues. Our friend Field, the banker, was all ready for us, and a dozen -new friends, including General Meade, the first Federal general who -won the battle in the East, and a charming, tall, handsome, -grizzled, gentlemanly soldier. We went over the old State House, a -pre-revolutionary building, from the top of which there is a splendid -view of the town, with the two rivers, the Delaware and Schuylkill, -on which it stands. There is the hall in which the Declaration of -Independence was signed, and the chair in which Hancock sat, and the -table on which it lay for signature. The square is charming, with its -old trees and turf, just as it has always stood, and I am happy to say -the Pennsylvanians are very proud «of the old place, won’t allow it to -be touched, and are likely to keep it there till it burns, as I suppose -the State House, with all the old-fashioned timbers in wall and roof, -will some day. Then we went to the great Normal School for girls here, -five hundred strong, the daughters of all sorts of folk, from physicians -and lawyers to labourers. I was exceedingly interested and instructed -in many classes, especially in the history class. The handsome, -self-possessed young woman who was teaching was just beginning the -Revolutionary War as we came in, and “felt like” changing the subject -as she said, but I begged her to go on, and heard the old story from -Lexington down to Cornwallis’s surrender without turning a hair. After -classes, at two, the whole school was gathered for Scripture reading -and singing a hymn. After the hymn, in compliment to us, they began “God -save the Queen”; Rawlins and I got up by a sort of instinct, and to my -immense amusement up got the whole company. Then I was asked to say -a few words; and talked about the grand education they were getting, -referred to the history class and told them no Englishman worth the name -now regretted the end of the struggle one hundred years old, but only -that any of the bitterness should still be left; spoke of the grand -country which has been entrusted to them to be filled with the poor of -the whole world, told them that we had a woman’s rights movement at -home as well as they, which I hoped would not fall into any great -absurdities, but there were two rights they would always insist on--the -right of every girl in the States to such an education as they were -getting, and their own right (they are all being educated as teachers) -to go and give this education to those who want it most in West and -South. Then the girls all filed out to march music, played by a senior -girl, winding in and out of the rows of benches on which they had sat, -and so away downstairs and to all parts of the town, the prettiest sight -you can imagine. The girls are at the most awkward age, and, of course, -many of them plain, but altogether as comely as the same sort would be -with us, and not a sign of poverty amongst them, though many were quite -plainly dressed. My democratic soul rejoiced at the sight as you may -fancy. What a chance for straining the nonsense out of a girl if she has -any! We adjourned from the great training-school for girls to the -Girard College for orphan boys, founded by a queer old French Voltairian -citizen of Philadelphia, who died some forty years ago and left property -worth half a million of our money to found this college, with the -express _proviso_ that no parson of any denomination was ever to -be admitted within the walls. I am happy to say, however, that, -notwithstanding this provision, which is observed to the letter, the -Bible is read and every day’s instruction is begun and ended by a -religious service. This, by the way, is the case almost everywhere in -the States. Notwithstanding all the assertions to the contrary, I have -found only one place in which the education is purely secular. This was -Cincinnati, where the result is obtained by a combination of the Roman -Catholics with the German town population. Well, this college, as it is -called, is simply a vast boys’ home, just like our own, except that -the boys live in a most superb white marble building, copied from the -Parthenon. The classes were being taught, and kept in right good order -by women, who indeed almost monopolise teaching in this State, and -they are in the proportion of more than ten to one. The fault of Girard -College is that it is not wanted; the public school system which has -grown up since its foundation being open to every one, and offering at -least as good an education. If its funds could have been used to support -the boys while at the public schools it would have been better. The -whole arrangements are decidedly more luxurious than those at Rugby in -my time, and they have not yet established workshops. After our round -of institutions we were entertained at the Union League Club. The dinner -was good and the company better, Mr. MacMichael, the mayor, who had -been the chief mover in establishing the club in the dark days of 1861, -presided, with General Meade, who commanded at Gettysburg on his left -and me on his right. Dear old Field, the most furious and impulsive -of Republicans, and the most ardent lover and abuser of England and -Englishmen, vice-president, and the rest of the company, staff-officers -in the war or marked men in some other way. The club had sent eleven -regiments to the war at its own expense, and had exercised immense -influence on the Union at the most critical time. At last I was fairly -cornered; I had often before had to defend our position in sharp -skirmishes, but now, for the first time, was in for a general -engagement. Well, I just threw away all defensive arms, and attacked -them at once. “You say we were led by our aristocracy, who were savagely -hostile to you; I admit they were hostile, though with many notable -exceptions, such as the Duke of Argyll, Lord Carlisle, Howards and -Cavendishes; but what did you expect? I have taken in three or four -American papers for years, and in your debates in Congress, in your -newspapers, in every utterance of your public men, I have never heard or -read anything but savage abuse of our aristocracy. They don’t reply to -your insults, but they don’t forget them, so when you got into such hard -lines they went in heartily for your enemies. Well, you say the -South were England’s real enemies for the last forty years. True, but -aristocracy did not care for that, democracy was represented by you, and -that was what they went against.” There was an outcry: “Why, here’s a -pretty business, we thought you were a Democrat.” - -“So I am, in our English sense, but I am before all things an -Englishman. I have nothing to do with our aristocracy (except knowing a -few of them), and I fought as hard against them in England through the -war as you did against the rebels; but I am not going to allow you to -separate them from the nation, or to suppose that they can be punished -except through the nation.” - -“Well, but what do you say for all your great commercial world--bankers, -merchants, manufacturers, our correspondents, look how they turned on -us!” - -“It’s no part of my business to defend them; they were mean, I allow, -but their business was, as they supposed, and as all of you agree, -to make money; besides, after all, who fought your battle better -than Cobden, Bright, Forster, and such men as Kirkman-Hodson, and Tom -Baring?” Then they fell back on the general position that our Government -was hostile to them, and I went through what had really happened -in Parliament, and made them admit that if we had listened to Louis -Napoleon, and the blockade had been broken, it would have been a narrow -squeak for the Union. On the whole, I think, I made a good deal of -impression on most of them. General Meade and the soldiers were on my -side throughout, and admitted at once that, after all the abuse their -press heaped on our governing classes, it was childish to cry out when -they proved that they knew of the abuse and didn’t love the abusers. We -all parted the warmest friends, and I went off to tea at Mrs. W------s’, -where we met Dr. Mitchell, a scientific man, and his sister, and other -very pleasant folk, and heard many interesting stories of the war. The -next morning we started for Gettysburg. I had always made a point with -myself of seeing this one at any rate of the great battlefields. It was -the real turning-point of the war, fought on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of -July 1863, after the series of defeats and failures under M’Clellan, -Pope Hooker, Burnside. I well remember what a long breath we (the -Abolitionists) drew in England when the news came of Lee’s defeat at -the farthest point he had ever made to the North, and felt sure, for the -first time, that the war would be put through, and slavery be abolished -right down to the Gulf of Mexico. We had the best escort possible in -the person of Rosengarten, who was aide-decamp to General Reynolds, -commander of the corps which came up first and sustained the whole -weight of battle on the first day. Field also “came along,” and we had -a first-rate time on our journey over the Susquehanna bridge, which the -Northern militia burnt behind them as they escaped from Lee’s advance. -Then we stopped for an hour or two, waiting for a train at York, a nice -shady quiet country town of 11,000 inhabitants. The rebels had occupied -the place for three days and levied a matter of 80,000 dollars on the -people; in all other respects they seem to have behaved excellently and -to have been well under command. The old Episcopalian clergyman, a warm -friend of England, who had been Rosengarten’s tutor, and to whom we paid -a visit, gave us a capital description of the three days’ occupation, -and of the relief the York folk experienced when the poor ragged rebels -marched off for Gettysburg, and left the town very little poorer than -they had found it. We didn’t get to our inn, a huge wooden building on -the first day’s battlefield, till after sunset. Tea over, we came out -on the wooden platform which runs all round the house, and saw the most -glorious sight I have ever seen, I think, in the skies. Steaming up -Memphremagog we saw the aurora borealis splendidly, but that was nothing -to this. In Canada there was no colour in the pure flashes of light -which lit and pulsed over the whole sky, but on Saturday the changes of -colour were splendid, and I should say for half an hour the heavens were -throbbing with the most lovely rose-coloured streamers and sheets and -flashes. With my view of the importance to the poor old world of -the struggle which was descending there, you can fancy that such an -introduction to it was welcome and impressive. Next day we devoted to -the battlefield: began at the beginning where, on Thursday the 1st July -1863, Rosengarten himself, as Reynolds’s aide-decamp, had ridden forward -and placed the first Federal regiments which came on the ground in -position between the town of Gettysburg, which contains about 3000 -inhabitants and lies in a hollow, and the advancing rebels. Gettysburg -is at the junction of three roads and was a point which both armies were -bent on seizing. The fight on this the north-east side of the town began -early on Thursday. Rosengarten, after carrying out his orders, rode -back, and was just in time to see his General fall from his horse, shot -through the neck by a sharpshooter, and helped to carry him off the -field. After many hours’ hard fighting the Federals were driven back -through the town with heavy loss. Our friend, General Barlow, who -commanded a brigade, was also badly wounded. Luckily, during the day -two more corps of the army of the Potomac had come up and been placed in -position on a hill just to the south of the town, on part of which -the cemetery now stands, which was made immortal by Lincoln’s glorious -speech at the inauguration. Behind these fresh troops the broken 1st and -11th corps rallied and prepared for the next day. Reinforcements came up -to Lee also, and in the town the shopkeepers and other inhabitants -heard them making certain of an easy victory in the morning. Meade is -evidently a man who gains and holds the confidence of his troops; but -as he was slightly outnumbered, and the rebels had the prestige of the -first day’s victory, I take it he must have been beaten but for the -splendid position he had selected. His troops lay along two lines of -hills, covered in many places with wood which sloped away from the point -overlooking the town, leaving a space between them secure from fire, in -which he could move his troops without being seen, while every move of -Lee’s was open to him. The Confederates began attacks early and kept -them up throughout the day, but could not force the position except at -one point, where, after dark, they succeeded in making a lodgment and -spent the night within Meade’s lines. In the morning they were driven -out after a desperate struggle, and later in the day Lee made a -determined attempt with Longstreet’s corps to break the line again. He -lost three generals and about 4000 men in the great effort, and when -it failed, and he had to fall back to his own lines, the back of the -Rebellion was broken and the doom of slavery sealed for ever in North -America. At night he went away south, leaving most of his wounded, but -Meade was too much exhausted to do more than follow slowly. I am writing -in hot haste to catch the post, so can give you no clear idea, I fear, -of the great day. The hotel was a nice, clean, reasonable place, with -a landlord and servants really civil, and we enjoyed our excursion more -than I can tell you. - -Next day we came on to Baltimore, drove as usual in the beautiful park -and about the town in a carriage sent for us by some patriotic citizen, -dined at the Union Club, to which they gave us the _entrée_, and came on -to Washington. - - - - -Washington, Friday. - -You ask whether I read our papers and the news from Europe. No, except -just so far as to keep abreast of the bare facts. You know how I hate -details of battlefields, and that I have never got over my intense -dislike to the glowing and semi-scientific descriptions of “our own -correspondents,” sitting down in the midst of dying and agonised men to -do their penny or guinea a line. The dry report of a general or staff -officer, whose sad duty it is to be there, I follow with the deepest -interest, and recognise a battlefield as one of the very noblest places -from which a true man may make a “bee-line track” to heaven. The noblest -death in our times was Robert Shaw’s at the attack on Fort Wagner, at -the head of his niggers, under whom he was buried; but, for all that, -war and its details are a ghastly and horrible evil, which the faith of -our Master is going yet to root out of this silly old world, and which -none of His servants should touch unless it is the clear path of supreme -duty. - -I pity the poor French, utterly unmanned as they seem to be by this -nineteen years of the rule of Mammon, and heartily wish they could find -their manhood again, though I see no glimmer of it yet. Trochu seems a -fine fellow, and I can’t help believing that many of my acquaintance and -the members of the Paris associations, will be found ready to die like -men on the walls of the city if they get a chance. By the way, where is -N------? I wonder if he has gone back? If so, there is another brave and -true man in Paris, and perhaps ten may save it. But I must be getting -back to my journal or I shall be dropping stitches. If I don’t forget, -my last brought you with us to Willard’s Hotel, Washington, a great -three-hundred-roomed hotel, mixed, if not of Southern proclivities -during the war, before the door of which more than one duel was fought -in those searching times. At breakfast we found ourselves next the -Wards, father and son, G. B------‘s friends, to whom I had given some -letters. I found they had been even farther west than we; in fact, up to -Denver City, in the bosom of the Rocky Mountains, and had also managed -to get into four or five Southern states; but they had done it at the -sacrifice not only of comfort but of the chance of seeing the home-life -of the Americans, and I value the latter infinitely higher than mere -sight-seeing, so do not regret the least that we didn’t get through the -extra 1500 miles, which at the cost of five days’ more travel would have -let us see the Rocky Mountains and shoot at buffaloes. - -We went after breakfast to leave some of my letters, and over the White -House, a fine residence of white marble splendidly situated some one -and a half miles from the Capitol, with which it is connected by -Pennsylvania avenue, wider than Portland Place. I shall keep the details -till we meet; the house is as big as the Mansion House I should say, -and not very unlike it. Luckily, soon after we got outside we were -recognised (at least I was) in the street by Blackie, who was over in -England with the Harvard crew. He is in the attorney-general’s office, -and consequently has the run of all the public apartments, and he took -us in hand and lionised us splendidly. The Capitol Patent Office and -Treasury I shall bring you photographs of, and describe at leisure in -our winter evenings. The view from the top, over the city and Maryland -to the north, and across the Potomac over Virginia to the south, is as -fine as any I ever saw, General Lee’s house at Arlington Heights, now -a national cemetery, being the most conspicuous point in the southern -view. The thing that struck one most was the staff of women, mostly -young and many pretty, serving in the Treasury. They say there are -upwards of two thousand, and that for counting, sorting, and repairing -the paper currency, they are far superior to men. They earn one thousand -dollars (or £200) a year on an average. Fancy the boon to the orphan -girls of soldiers and sailors. One of the first we saw was the daughter -of a very distinguished Colonel of Marines, who had left her quite -destitute, as ladylike, pretty-looking a girl as you ever saw, and she -was running over bundles of dollar notes with her fingers as fast as if -she were playing the overture to _Semiramide_ with you on the piano. -It nearly took my breath away, and yet I was assured she never made an -error in counting. I wish we could get off a lot of our poor girls in -some such way in Somerset House, and send a lot of our Government clerks -to till the ground or hammer or do some hard, productive work. - -Perhaps, however, the pleasantest part of the day was the end, when he -took us off on the street-cars down to the Potomac, where we found -a boating club, with their boat-house, etc., just like an Oxford or -Cambridge College. There were eight or ten of them down there who -received us with open arms, and in a few minutes manned a heavy -eight-oared boat with room enough for me and R------ to sit in the -stern, and away we went up under the long bridge, over which the armies -used to cross in the war time, and saw a glorious sunset on the river, -with the stars and stripes floating proudly over our stern. I enjoyed -the row vastly and liked the men, who are just training for a race with -the Potomac club. Boating flourishes all over the states I have been in, -and they have learnt a lesson from their defeat two years ago and pull -now in just as good style as our boys. Oxford and Cambridge must mind -their hits, for they will have a tough job of it the next time they have -to meet a crew from this side. - -Next morning I called on our minister after breakfast, having heard by -chance that he was in town. I am very glad I did, as I had the pleasure -of hearing him praise C------, his ability, willingness, and capacity -for work, in a strain which would have rejoiced the heart of poor, dear -R. F------ and of the F------ family. He seems to think C------ will -come back here, and desires it most earnestly. I got from him Lord -Clarendon’s last despatch on the Alabama claims, which will be most -useful to me in my stump in the Boston Music Hall on the 11th. It is -the room and the course in which Wendell Phillips, Emerson, and all the -orators and philosophers figure. I have taken for my subject, “John to -Jonathan,” suggested by Lowell’s famous “Jonathan to John.” They won’t -get any eloquence or oratory out of me, as you know; but I am sure I can -say some things in a plain, straightforward way which will do good and -help to heal wounded pride and other sorely irritating places in the -over-sensitive, but simple and gallant Yankee mind. They have treated me -so like a spoilt child from Boston to Omaha and back, that I know they -will let me say anything and will listen to it affectionately. I really -love them too well to say anything that will really hurt them, and when -they see that this kind of feeling and appreciation is genuine, the more -thorough John Bull you are the better they like it; that is, all the -best of them, who rule the nation in the long run though not directly. -When I got back from our embassy, it was just time to be starting -for the train to Philadelphia, and lo! there were a dozen folk, from -secretaries of state downwards, waiting to offer lodgings, dinners, -excursions, lecturings, every sort of kindness in creation. It was hard -work to get off, but I managed somehow to make tracks, suppressing, I -fear, the fact that I was not likely to get to Washington again. The -journey to Philadelphia is very interesting along the coast, though -seldom within sight of the sea, but crossing huge inlets and rivers -(the abode of canvas-backs) on spider bridges. We didn’t change cars at -Baltimore, but were dropped by our engine in the outskirts of the town. -Six fine horses in a string were then hitched on to each long car, and -away we went through the crowded streets along the tramway rails, our -driver, or rather, conductor, for he had no reins, blowing his horn -loudly to warn all good people, and shouting to the train of horses -who trotted along by instinct between the rails. How we missed fifty -collisions I can’t conceive; at last we had one--crash into a confusion -of carts and drays, driven by shouting negroes who had got them all into -a hopeless jam as we bore down on them. Bang we went into the nearest; I -saw the comical, scared look of the grisly old Sambo who was driving, as -he was shot from his seat, but no harm was done except knocking off our -own step, and as we shot past I saw his face light up into a broad grin -as he sat on the bottom of his cart. We had cleared him right away from -his dead-lock with two other vehicles, and he went on his way delighted. -At Philadelphia we found our kindest of hosts, Field, waiting supper for -us in his delightful house, where he is living for a few days’ business -as a bachelor. Quiet evening, with talk till eleven o’clock on all -manner of places, people, and things, mostly English. Lippincott, the -great American publisher, and Rosengarten to breakfast, then a visit -from Morrison’s friend Welsh, reproachful that we had not occupied his -house, and full of interesting stories of the Indian commission, of -which he is the moving spirit. Then more schools, workmen’s houses, -etc., with Rosengarten, and a drive in the park, five miles long on both -sides of the river Schuylkill (as broad as the Thames at Putney), and -with views combining Richmond Hill and Oxford. The Central Park is -nothing to it, or any other I ever saw on heard of. The Quaker city -of white marble and red brick fascinated me more and more. A most -interesting dinner at Dr. Mitchell’s, a scientific man--talk of the war, -prairie stories, Yankee stories, wonderful old Madeira and excellent -cigars. This morning, after seeing Lippincott’s store, and a most -interesting talk with Sheridan’s adjutant-general on the last -campaigns (he came to breakfast), we literally tore ourselves away from -Philadelphia and came on here to this splendid, great, empty house, to -be received most hospitably by Maria, the big, handsome, good-natured -Irishwoman in charge. - -Everything is getting so crowded with me that I have hardly time to turn -round. All sorts of kind friends urging me to stop just for one day here -or there, a few hundred miles making no difference with them, hundreds -(almost) of applications for lectures or addresses, and the engagements -already made driving me nearly wild to know how I am to get through with -them. I shall never get my journal straight. Where was I? With dear old -Peter Cooper, the simplest, most utterly guileless of old men who ever -made a big fortune in this world or any other, I should think. That -I remember, but can’t the least get further. Nothing, however, very -particular happened, except that I was again caught and had to speak a -few words to the Normal Training School of New York, consisting of nine -hundred girls. I managed to get out of going with the beautiful Miss -P------ to her school, but thought I should be safe in going with the -dear old gentleman to the Normal School to be present at the morning -service. We were of course on the dais, and Mr. Cooper, after the -singing of a hymn, read a chapter of the Bible, then another hymn, and -then, instead of the adjournment to their classes at once, as I had -expected, I was called upon. You must imagine what I said, for I really -don’t remember. Then I was photographed alone, and with Mr. Cooper. I -enclose a proof of the latter which, I hope, will not quite fade on -the way. They tell me the prints will be very good, and I hope to have -several to bring home. We left on Wednesday by the afternoon boat to -Fall River, the finest boat in the States, the great cabin of which -I shall bring you a photograph, all the family grouped round the door -breaking one down with their kindness. I slept as usual famously on -board the _Bristol,_ and waked at Fall River about three, and so on by -rail to Boston, and by car up here, where I feel quite at home. Miss -Mabel appeared at breakfast, and produced her photographs made at the -time of our last visit with great triumph. They are excellent, and -I shall bring you lots of them. At eleven was the Harvard memorial -ceremony on the laying of the corner-stone of the hall they are building -in honour of the members who died in the war. I walked in with Mr -A------ and heard a good account of his wife and family. They want me -to go out there for a quiet day or two, but, I fear, it is quite -impossible. Two of his sons, the Colonel, and our friend Henry, who is -just named as one of the lecturers, were there also, and Emerson, Dana, -and a number of old and new friends. The ceremony was very simple, -Luther’s hymn, a short _extempore_ prayer, a report, and two addresses, -and the benediction, and then we just broke up and left the great -tent as we pleased. The point of greatest interest was, of course, the -gathering of some seventy or eighty of those who had been in the army, -almost all in their old uniforms, and many of them carrying the marks of -war about them too plainly. Colonel Holmes amongst them as nice as ever, -and young F------ and General M------, with half a dozen other generals. - -Lunch afterwards at a very quaint and attractive little club founded in -1792, and recruited by a few of the best fellows in each year, like the -Apostles at our Cambridge. Longfellow and our friend Field came to dine -here, and the poet was fascinating, full of his English doings, and -genial and modest as a big man should be. To-day I have been preparing -for my lecture, “John to Jonathan,” which comes off next Tuesday, as to -which I am considerably anxious, as it is exceedingly difficult to get -a line which will have the healing effect I intend. Let us hope for the -best. I go for Sunday to Lowell’s brother’s school, twenty miles away. -On Monday evening I meet the Harvard undergraduates, and on Wednesday -spend the day with Emerson at Concord. On Thursday I hope to get away, -but where? All our plans are changing. We now propose, if it can be so -arranged, to go first to Montreal for two or three days to pick up our -things, returning to Ithaca to Goldwin Smith for a long day about the -18th, and so to New York, from which we should sail about the 22nd. -You will, I daresay, be glad that we don’t go from Quebec; but I don’t -believe there is the least more danger at this time of year by this -route than any other. All I have resolved on is, that nothing shall keep -me beyond my time. - - - - -St. Mark’s School, Southborough, Mass., Tuesday, 9th October. - -We have had a very charming visit to this little village, twenty -miles from Boston, in which is established a Church of England -boarding-school, modelled as nearly as possible on our public school -system, and intended to do for American boys precisely what Eton, Rugby, -etc., do for ours. I am not sure that such schools are wanted here. - -Were I living here I should certainly try the public schools first for -my boys. But they say that the teaching there is too forcing in the -earlier stages, and afterwards not liberal enough in the direction of -“_the humanities_,” so that the boys get trained more into competitive -money-making machines than into thinking cultivated men. There is a very -considerable demand at any rate for this kind of school, as this is only -one of several in New England. There is an objection too amongst New -England mothers. I find that the high schools (as I ought to call them, -and not public schools) being open to every one, a large class of Irish -and other recent arrivals go there whose manners and language make them -dangerous class-mates for their own children. At any rate, St. Mark’s -school is a successful fact, and seeing how fast they go ahead here -I shouldn’t be astonished to hear that in a few years it is as big as -Rugby. Dr. Lowell is the principal, and a first-rate one, a High Church -of England clergyman, not a ritualist. The school is founded as a -denominational one, with a little chancel, which opens from the end of -the big schoolroom, and in which the doctor, in his robes, reads our -prayers morning and evening to the boys. He and his family live entirely -with the boys, taking all their meals in the hall, and there is no -fagging, the monitors having no power or responsibility, except just -to keep order in the schoolroom at certain hours. They have a monthly -reception of the friends from the neighbourhood, which took place on -Saturday evening. All the boys were there, and handed round ices, cakes, -and tea to some thirty ladies and gentlemen who came in, including -several of the trustees, a judge whom I had met in England, a -neighbouring squire (Boston merchant by profession), who is farming -largely down there, reclaiming the stony lands and getting up a most -beautiful herd of cattle. Of course I had to “address a few words” to -them, all which they took most kindly. On Sunday we had two Church of -England services in the pretty parish church, a copy of one in England, -the plans of which the Squire, Bartlett, had brought over. We dined in -the middle of the day at his house, which would be a good squire’s house -at home. The family were very nice--a sweet, pretty wife, a strapping -great eldest son now at Harvard, and good in all ways. He is bent on -going out West as soon as he is through college, and, as a preparation, -hired himself out to a farmer this summer vacation, earned ten dollars -a week for some two months at hoeing and other hard work, and then had -a sporting run to Canada. Two more big sons and any number of younger -children. The house was tastefully furnished with some really good -pictures, and altogether it was as nice a home as I have seen here. -On Monday we got back to dear Elmwood, and I went hard at work on my -lecture. Newspaper men came buzzing about all day and seizing my MS. as -I got through with it. Also came up Julian H------, one of the Chartist -prisoners of 1848. I had known him in the socialist times, and I had -always a respect and liking for him, but he had quite slipped out of -sight for some eighteen years. His errand touched me. He reminded me -(which I had entirely forgotten) that he had applied to Lord R------ -in 1851 for a loan of £20 which had been advanced to him through me. He -told the long story of his life since, full of interest; I must keep it -till we meet. At last he landed in the Massachussets state house, where -he is a Government clerk, on a small salary for this country, but out of -it he has saved a few hundred dollars, and the object of his visit was -to say that he was now anxious to pay his old debt with many hearty -thanks to Lord R------. Would I settle whether he should pay for -interest, and he would go and draw it out and send it by me? I said I -couldn’t say whether our friend would take interest, or at what rate, -but promised to let him know when I got back, so that he can remit the -exact amount to London. Even he has never taken up his citizenship here, -but remains an Englishman, and means at any rate to come back and die in -the old country. In the evening we went down to a gathering of all the -Harvard students who had petitioned me to come and talk to them. They -were gathered some five hundred strong in the Massachusetts Hall, and -a finer and manlier set of boys I have never seen. I talked to them on -Muscular Christianity and its proper limits, as they are likely to run -into professional athletics like our boys at home. Told them they lived -in a land which had “struck ile” and was so overflowing with wealth that -every one was hasting to get rich too quick. Exhorted to patience and -thoroughness; read to them Lowell’s “Hebe” (you remember the little gem -of a poem); told them they ought to take more part in public affairs -than their class usually do. All which they swallowed devoutly, and -cheered vehemently, like good boys, and then sang a lot of their college -songs: “Marching through Georgia” splendid, the rest much like our own. -The war has given a magnificent lift to all the young men and boys of -this country, and I think the rising generation will put America in a -very different place from that which she holds now. Last night I gave -my lecture in the Music Hall, which was crammed, and the whole affair a -brilliant success. “John to Jonathan” is printed verbatim in the morning -newspapers, so you will probably see it before I get back, and I think -like it. No more time for the moment. - - - - -Ithaca, N.Y., 16th October 1870. - -I missed the last mail through stress of work, chiefly on my lecture, -which I mentioned in my last. The applications for lectures were so -numerous and urgent that I really felt that I ought not to leave the -country without giving one at any rate, and all my friends said that -the Music Hall at Boston was the place if I only spoke once. It is the -largest room in New England, holds nearly three thousand people, is -easy to speak in, though it has great deep galleries running round three -sides, and in it all the big folk talk and lecture, Wendell Phillips and -Sumner follow me, so you see the class of thing at once. Well, as I was -in for it much against my will, I was determined to talk out with -the whole Yankee nation the controversy which. I had been carrying on -already with many of them in private. I was anxious not to leave them -with any false impressions, and to let them see clearly that in our -national differences I think that we have a very good case, and that -even if I didn’t think so, I am too good a John Bull not to stand by my -own country. Lowell agreed as to the title and object, but I think had -serious misgivings as to how the affair might turn out. Mundella thought -it very risky and so did most other folk. However, as you know, I don’t -care a straw for applause, and do care about speaking my own mind, so -whether it made me unpopular or not I determined to have my say. In -order that I might say nothing on the spur of the moment, I wrote out -the whole address carefully, and I am very glad I did, as the reporters -all copied from my MS., and consequently I was thoroughly well reported. -The _Tribune and Boston Advertiser_ printed it in full, and I will bring -you home copies. I was a little nervous myself when I got to the hall. -Two ex-Governors and the present Governor of the State were on the -platform, the two Senators (Sumner and Wilson), Longfellow, Judge Hoare, -Dana, Wendell Holmes, Wendell Phillips, Lowell, and, in short, pretty -nearly all the Boston big wigs. The great organ played “God save the -Queen” as I came in, and the audience, generally, I am told, a very -undemonstrative one, cheered heartily. My nervousness, however, wore off -at once, when I got on my legs. I found that my voice filled the hall -easily, and so was at my ease and got through just within the hour, -without once losing the attention of the audience for a minute. They -were indeed wonderfully sympathetic and hearty, and gave me three rounds -of cheers at the end, far more warmly than at the beginning. Every one -came and said that it was a great success; that they had never heard -our side fairly stated before; that this and that fact were quite new to -them, etc. In fact, if I didn’t know how soon the reaction comes in -such cases, I should think I had done some good work towards a better -understanding between the nations, and, as it is, I am sure I have done -no harm, and have at any rate made my own position perfectly clear, and -shown them that in the event of a quarrel, they can’t reckon upon me for -any kind of sympathy or aid. After the lecture whom should I meet as I -went out but Craft, the negro who had been the cause of one of the most -exciting meetings ever held in that hall some twenty years before, -when the attempt was made to seize him and his wife in Boston. I was -delighted to see him and to hear a capital account of his experiment -at association in Georgia. Then I went to Field’s, the publisher, to -supper, where were Longfellow, Holmes, Dana, and others, and so home by -the last car, thankful that it was all well over. Next morning I got a -cheque for 250 dollars (£50). I had, of course, never said a word about -any payment, so it was an agreeable surprise. The post brought me I know -not how many letters, begging me to lecture in a dozen states on my own -terms, so when all trades fail, I can come over here and earn a good -living easily enough, which is a consolation. Wednesday, our last whole -day with the dear Lowells, I spent peaceably. Went to his lecture in the -University on Arthurian legends; Miss Mabel photographed the house and -us in groups, and we talked and loafed. In the evening a supper at -the house of one of the professors, to meet the whole staff, and a -pleasanter or abler set of men I have never come across. Thursday, lunch -with Longfellow after packing, then a run down on the car to Boston, to -change my cheque, to take a berth on a packet, so as to be armed against -any appeals for another day or two in New York, and to get a last look -at the favourite points in the old Puritan capital, the place where -I should certainly settle if I ever had to leave England. We drove -a rather sad party to Mrs. Lowell’s sister, and the mother of the -beautiful boy whose photograph we have, and who was killed early in -the war, to tea, and from her house went to the station and took -sleeping-car for Syracuse. I cannot tell you how I like Lowell and all -his belongings. It is a dangerous thing to make acquaintance in the -flesh with one with whose writings one is so familiar, but he has quite -come up to my idea of him, and his wife and Miss Mabel are both very -charming in their own ways. I slept well, woke at Albany, breakfasted, -and then on to Syracuse, where Mr. Wansey, Mrs. Hamilton’s uncle, lives. -We got there at two, and I was immediately seized at the station by -Wilkinson, the local banker, whom I had just met at Ned’s this summer. -He drove us all through and round the most characteristic town in -America. Great broad streets lined with lovely maple trees, all turned -now to clouds of scarlet and gold; down the principal one the railway -runs without any fence. Old Mr. Wansey and others came to dine, he a -dear old man of eighty, but hale and handsome, rather like my dear -old grandfather’s picture, the rest pleasant country folk. We played -billiards, and told stories after dinner, and had a decidedly good time -till nearly midnight. The next morning we breakfasted with Mr. White, -the President of this new University, and came on here with him. He is -a young man of about thirty-five, and one of the finest scholars America -has to boast of at present. By the way, he was a classmate of Smalley -at Yale. He is a rich man, and he has nothing whatever to gain by -undertaking this work. In short, he is quite worthy of having Goldwin -Smith as a fellow-worker, and between them, with the excellent staff -of professors and teachers they have got round them, I expect they will -make this place in a wondrous short time a great working-men’s college. -Everything is of course rough at present, as the buildings are still -in progress, but two blocks are completed, and there are about seven -hundred pupils living in them and in the town at the bottom of the hill -on which Cornell stands. It is a most magnificent situation, looking -over a large lake, forty miles long, and two splendid valleys, which are -now ablaze with the crimson and purple colours of the maples, shumachs, -American walnuts, and other trees, which make the hillsides here glow -all the later autumn through. We found Goldwin Smith waiting for us at -the wharf and looking much stronger than he used to do in England, and -quite warm in his welcome. All the professors, with their wives and -families, if married, live for the present in a huge square block of -buildings originally intended for a hydropathic establishment, in which -they have a private sitting-room and bedrooms and dine and take all -meals in the hall. You may fancy how much I am interested in this great -practical step towards association. - - - - -New York, Tuesday. - -Here I am in the great city again, to spend the last few days before -my start for home. The reception in the great hall, speech, visit to -lecture rooms, etc., enthusiasm of boys, baseball games, and football -given in my honour, must all keep till we meet. For, alas! I have no -time to spend here for writing, as I have another address to give before -I start, on Friday evening, and I must write it carefully, as it is -to be on the labour question, which is mightily exercising our cousins -here. They are getting into the controversy which we are nearly through -at home, and if I can give them a little good advice before I come away, -I shall be very glad. As I am engaged every evening, it will not be easy -to find time to do it as I should like, but I can give the morning, I -think, and can at any rate make sure of not talking nonsense. - - - - -AMERICA--1880 to 1887 - - - - -The Cumberland Mountains - - - - -East Tennessee, 1st September 1880. - -Here I am at my goal, and so full of new impressions that I must put -some of them down at once, lest they should slip away like the new kind -of recruits, and I should not be able to lay my hand on them again when -I want them. The above address is vague, as this range of highlands -extends for some 200 miles through this State and Kentucky; but, though -fixed as fate myself, I can for the moment put no more definite heading -to my letters. The name of the town that is to be, and which is already -laid out and in course of building here, is a matter of profound -interest to many persons, and not to be decided hastily. The only point -which seems clear is that it will be some name round which cluster -tender memories in the old Motherland. We are some 1800 feet above the -sea, and after the great heat of New York, Newport, and Cincinnati, -the freshness and delight of this brisk, mountain air are quite past -describing. For mere physical enjoyment, I have certainly never felt its -equal, and can imagine nothing finer. - -And now for our journey down. We left Cincinnati early in the morning by -the Cincinnati Southern Railway, a line built entirely by the city, -and the cost of which will probably make the municipality poor for -some years to come. But it seems to me a splendid and sagacious act of -foresight in a great community, to have boldly taken hold of and opened -up at once what must be one, if not the main, artery of communication -between North and South in the future. I believe the impelling motive -was the tendency of the carrying trade of late years to settle along -other routes, leaving the metropolis of the south-west out in the cold. -If this be so, the result justifies the prompt courage of the citizens -of Cincinnati, for the tide has obviously set in again with a vengeance. -The passenger-cars are filled to the utmost of their capacity, and -freight, as we know here too well, is often delayed for days, in spite -of all the efforts of the excellent staff of the road. Besides its -through traffic, the line has opened up an entirely new country, -of which these highlands seem likely to prove a profitable, as they -certainly are the most interesting, tract. This section has not been -open for six months, and already it is waking up life all over these -sparsely-settled regions. Down below on the way to Chatanooga I hear -that the effect is the same, and that in that great mineral region -blast-furnaces are already at work, and coal-mines opening all along the -line. At Chatanooga there are connections with all the great Southern -lines, so that we on this aerial height are, in these six months, in -direct communication with every important seaport from Boston to New -Orleans, and almost every great centre of inland population; and the -settlers here, looking forward with that sturdy faith which seems to -inspire all who have breathed the air for a week or two, are already -considering upon which favoured mart they shall pour out their abundance -of fruits and tobacco, from the trees yet to be planted and seed yet to -be sown. All which seems to prove that Cincinnati, at any rate, has -done well to adopt the motto, “L’audace, toujours l’audace,” which is, -indeed, characteristic of this country and this time. - -And the big work has not only been done, but done well and permanently. -The engineering difficulties must have been very great; the cuttings and -tunnels had to be made through hard rock, and the bridges over streams -which have cut for themselves channels hundreds of feet deep. We crossed -the Kentucky river, on (I believe) the highest railway bridge in -the world, 283 feet above the water; and rushed from a tunnel in the -limestone rock right on to the bridge which spans the north fork of the -Cumberland river, 170 feet below. The lightness of the ironwork on which -these bridges rest startles one at first, but experience has shown them -to be safe, and the tests to which they have been put on this line would -have tried most seriously the strength of far more massive structures. -But it is only in its bridges that the Cincinnati Southern Railway has -a light appearance. The building of the line has a solid and permanent -look, justifying, I should think, the very considerable sum per mile -which has been spent on it above the ordinary cost in this country. And -by the only test which an amateur is as well able to apply as an expert, -that of writing on a journey, I can testify that it is as smoothly laid -as the average of our leading English lines. For the last fifty miles we -ran almost entirely through forests, which are, however, falling rapidly -all along the side of the line, and yielding place to corn-fields in -the rich bottoms, wherever any reasonably level ground bordered the -water-courses, up which we could glance as we hurried past. I was -surprised, and, I need not say, greatly pleased, to see the apparently -excellent terms on which the white and coloured people were, even in -the Kuklux regions through which we came. A Northern express man, our -companion at this point, denounced it as the most lawless in the United -States. About one hundred homicides, he declared, had taken place in the -last year, and no conviction had been obtained, the juries looking on -such things as regrettable accidents. This may be so, but I can, at any -rate, testify, from careful observation of the mixed gangs of workmen -on the road, and the groups gathered at the numerous stations, to the -familiar and apparently friendly footing on which the races met. As -for the decrease of the blacks, it must be in other regions than those -traversed by the Cincinnati Southern Railway, for the cabins we passed -in the clearings and round the stations swarmed with small urchins, clad -in single garments, the most comic little figures of fun, generally, -that one had ever seen, as they stood staring and signalling to the -train. There is something to me so provocative of mirth in the race, -and I have found them generally such kindly folk, that I regret -their absence from this same Alpine settlement,--a regret not shared, -doubtless, by the few householders, to whom their constant small -peculations must be very trying. - -About five we stopped at the station from which this place is reached, -and turning out on the platform were greeted by four or five young -Englishmen, who had preceded us, on one errand or another, every one -of whom was well known to me in ordinary life, but whom for the -first moment I did not recognise. I had seen them last clothed in the -frock-coat and stove-pipe hat of our much-vaunted civilisation, and -behold, here was a group which I can compare to nothing likely to be -familiar to your readers, unless it be the company of the _Danites_, as -they have been playing in London. Broad-brimmed straw or felt hats, the -latter very battered and worse for wear; dark-blue jerseys, or flannel -shirts of varying hue; breeches and gaiters, or long boots, were the -prevailing, I think I may say the universal costume, varied according -to the taste of the wearer with bits of bright colour laid on in -handkerchief at neck or waist. And tastes varied deliciously, two of -the party showing really a fine feeling for the part, and one, our -geologist, 6 ft. 2 in. in his stockings, and a mighty Etonian and -Cantab, in brains as well as bulk, turning out, with an heroic scorn of -all adornment, in woefully battered nether-garment and gaiters, and a -felt which a tramp would have looked at several times before picking -it out of the gutter. There was a light buggy for passengers and a -mule waggon for luggage by the platform; but how were nine men, not -to mention the manager and driver, both standing over 6 feet, and the -latter as big at least as our geologist, to get through the intervening -miles of forest tracks in time for tea up here? Fancy our delight when -a chorus of “Will you ride or drive?” arose, and out of the neighbouring -bushes the Danites led forth nine saddle-horses, bearing the comfortable -half-Mexican saddles with wooden stirrups in use here. Our choice was -quickly made, and throwing coats and waistcoats into the waggon, which -the manager good-naturedly got into himself, surrendering his horse for -the time, we joined the cavalcade in our shirts. - -A lighter-hearted party has seldom scrambled through the Tennessee -mountain roads on to this plateau. We were led by a second Etonian, also -6 ft. 2 in. in his stockings, whose Panama straw hat and white corduroys -gleamed like a beacon through the deep shadows cast by the tall pine -trees and white oaks. The geologist brought up the rear, and between -rode the rest of us--all public schoolmen, I think, another Etonian, two -from Rugby, one Harrow, one Wellington--through deep gullies, through -four streams, in one of which I nearly came to grief, from not following -my leader; but my gallant little nag picked himself up like a goat from -his floundering amongst the boulders, and so up through more open ground -till we reached this city of the future, and in the dusk saw the bright -gleam of light under the verandahs of two sightly wooden houses. In one -of these, the temporary restaurant, we were seated in a few minutes at -an excellent tea (cold beef and mutton, tomatoes, rice, cold apple-tart, -maple syrup, etc.); and during the meal the news passed round that -the hotel being as yet unfurnished and every other place filled with -workpeople, we must all (except the geologist and the Wellingtonian, -who had a room over the office) pack away in the next cottage, which had -been with difficulty reserved for us. If it had been a question of men -only, no one would have given it a thought; but our party had now been -swollen by two young ladies, who had hurried down by an earlier train -to see their brother and brother-in-law, settlers on the plateau, and -by another young Englishman who had accompanied them. A puzzle, you will -allow, when you hear a description of our tenement. It is a four-roomed -timber house, of moderate size, three rooms on the ground floor, and one -long loft upstairs. You enter through the verandah on a common room, 20 -ft. long by 14 ft. broad, opening out of which are two chambers, 14 -ft. by 10 ft. One of these was, of course, at once appropriated to the -ladies. The second, in spite of my remonstrances, was devoted to me, -as the Nestor of the party, and on entering it I found an excellent bed -(which had been made by two of the Etonians), and a great basin full of -wild-flowers on the table. There were four small beds in the loft, for -which the seven drew lots, and two of the losers spread rugs on the -floor of the common room, and the third swung a hammock in the verandah. -Up drove the mule waggon with luggage, and the way in which big and -little boxes were dealt with and distributed filled me with respect and -admiration for the rising generation. The house is ringing behind -me with silvery and bass laughter, and jokes as to the shortness of -accommodation in the matter of washing appliances, while I sit here -writing in the verandah, the light from my lamp throwing out into strong -relief the stems of the nearest trees. Above, the vault is blue beyond -all description, and studded with stars as bright as though they were -all Venuses. The katydids are making delightful music in the trees, and -the summer lightning is playing over the Western heaven; while a gentle -breeze, cool and refreshing as if it came straight off a Western sea, is -just lifting, every now and then, the corner of my paper. Were I young -again,--but as I am not likely to be that, I refrain from bootless -castle-building, and shall turn in, leaving windows wide open for the -katydid’s chirp and the divine breeze to enter freely, and wishing as -good rest as they have all so well earned to my crowded neighbours in -this enchanted solitude. - - - - -Rugby, Tennessee, 10th September 1880. - -I take it I must have “written you frequent” (as they say here), at -this time of year, in the last quarter-century on this theme, but, if -you let me, should like to go back once more on the old lines. “Loafing -as she should be taken” is likely, I fear, to become a lost art, -though to my generation it is the one luxury. A country without good -loafing-places is no longer a country for a self-respecting man in -his second half-century. The rapid deterioration of our poor dear old -England in this respect fills me with forebodings far more than the -Irish Question, which we shall worry through on the lines so staunchly -advocated by you. No fear of that, to my thinking; but, alas! great fear -of our losing the power and the means of loafing. Time was when John -Bull, in his own isle, was the best loafer in Christendom--(I may say in -the world, the Turk and Otaheitan loafer doing nothing else, and he who -does nothing but loaf loses the whole flavour of it)--and I can -remember the time when at the seaside--for instance, Cromer, and inland, -Betwys-y-Coed, Penygurd, and the like--the true loafer might be happy, -gleaning “the harvest of a quiet eye,” and far from any one who wanted -to go anywhere or do anything in particular. The railway has come -to Cromer, and I hear that the guardian phalanx of Buxtons, Hoares, -Gurneys, and Barclays, all good loafers in the last generation, have -thrown up the sponge and gone with the stream. I was at Betwys and -Penygurd last year, and at the former there were three or four long -pleasure-vans meeting every train; at the latter, three parties came in, -in a few hours, to do Snowdon and get back to dinner at Capel Curig or -Bethgellert. Indeed, I was sore to mark that even Henry Owen, landlord -and guide, once a good loafer, has succumbed., Over here it is still -worse in the Atlantic States; but this is a big country, in which oases -_must_ be left yet for many a long year for the loafer, of which this -is one. It lies on a mountain plateau, seven miles from the station, -to which a hack goes twice daily to meet the morning and evening mails -(once too often, perhaps, for the highest enjoyment of the loafer); -but otherwise the outer world, its fidgets and its businesses, no more -concern us than they did Cooper’s jackdaw. I am conscious that regular -work here must be done by some one, as daily meals at 7 A.M., and -12.30 and 6 P.M., never fail, with abundance of grapes and melons--the -peaches, alas! were cut off by frosts when the trees were in blossom. -But beyond this, and the presence of a young Englishman in the house, -who, in blue shirt and trousers, tends and milks the cows, and puts -in six or eight hours’ work a day at one thing or another in the -neighbouring fields, there is nothing to remind one that this world -doesn’t go on by itself, at any rate in these autumn days. Almost every -cottage, or shanty, as they call these attractive wooden houses, has -a deep verandah (from which you get a view, over the forest, of the -southern range of mountains, with Pilot Knob for highest point), and, -in the verandah, rocking-chairs and hammocks, in one or other of which -a chatty host or hostess is almost sure to be found, enjoying air, view, -rocking, and the indescribable depth of blue atmosphere which laps us -all round. There is surely something very uplifting in finding the sky -twice as far off as you know it at home. I felt this first on the Lower -Danube and in Greece; but I doubt if Bulgarian or Greek heavens are as -high as these. Every now and again, a merry group of young folk go by -in waggon or on horseback; but even they are loafers, as they have no -object in view beyond enjoying one another’s company, and possibly lunch -or tea at the junction of the two mountain-streams, the only lion we -have within a day’s journey. Their parents may be found for the most -part in and round the hotel, for they are wise enough to let the young -ones knock about very much as they please, while they take their own -ease in the verandahs or shady grounds of “The Tabard.” That hostelry -of historic name stands on an eminence next to this shanty, and my -“loaf-brothers,” when I get any, are generally saunterers from amongst -its guests, and the one who comes oftenest is perhaps the best loafer I -have ever come across. He is a rancheman on the Rio Grande, and has been -out here ever since he left Marlborough, some fourteen years ago. Since -then I should think he has done as hard work as any man, in the long -drives of 2000 miles which he used to make from Southern Texas up to -Colorado or Kansas, before the railway came. Even now, I take it that -for ten months in the year he covers more ground and exhausts more -tissue than most men, which makes him such a model loafer when he gets -away. Yesterday, for instance, he started after lunch from “The Tabard,” - 300 yards off, under a sort of engagement, as definite as we make -them, to spend the afternoon here. On the way he came across a hammock -swinging unoccupied in the hotel grounds, and a volume of Pendennis, -and only arrived here after supper, in the superb starlight (the moon is -objectionably late in rising just now), to smoke a pipe before bed-time. -His experience of Western life is as racy as a volume of Bret Harte. -Take the following, for instance:--At a prairie-town not far from his -ranche, as distances go in the West, there is a State Court of First -Instance, presided over by one Roy Bean, J.P., who is also the owner of -the principal grocery. Some cowboys had been drinking at the grocery one -night, with the result that one of them remained on the floor, but with -sense enough left to lie on the side of the pocket where he kept -his dollars. In the morning, it appeared that he had been -“rolled”--_Anglicè_, turned over and his pocket picked--whereupon a -court was called to try a man on whom suspicion rested. Roy Bean sat on -a barrel, swore in a jury, and then addressed the prisoner thus: “Now, -you give that man his money back.” The culprit, who had sent for the -lawyer of the place to defend him, hesitated for a moment, and then -pulled out the money. “You treat this crowd,” were Roy’s next words; -and while “drinks round” were handed to the delighted cowboys at the -prisoner’s expense, Roy pulled out his watch and went on: “You’ve got -just five minutes to clear out of this town, and if ever you come in -again, we’ll hang you.” The culprit made off just as his lawyer came up, -who remonstrated with Roy, explaining that the proper course would have -been to have heard the charge, committed the prisoner, and sent him to -the county town for trial. “And go off sixty miles, and hang round with -the boys [witnesses] for you to pull the skunk through and touch the -dollars!” said Roy scornfully; whereupon the lawyer disappeared in -pursuit of his client and unpaid fee. - -It occurs to one to ask how much of the litigation of England might be -saved if Judges of First Instance might open with Roy’s formula: “Now, -you give that man his money back.” I am bound to add that his practice -is not without its seamy side. When the railway was making, two men -came in from one of the gangs for a warrant. A brutal murder had been -committed. Roy told his clerk (the boy in the grocery, he being no -penman himself) to make out the paper, asking: “Wot’s the corpse’s -name?” “Li Hung,” was the reply. “Hold on!” shouted Roy to his clerk; -and then to the pursuers: “Ef you ken find anything in them books,” - pointing to the two or three supplied by the State, “about killin’ a -Chinaman, it ken go,” and the pursuers had to travel on to the next -fount of justice. - -Here is one more: my “loaf-brother” heard it himself as he was leaving -Texas, and laughed at it nearly all the way up. A group of cowboys at -the station were discussing the problem of how long the world would last -if this drought went on, the prevailing sentiment being that they would -rather it worruted through somehow. A cowboy down on his luck here -struck in: “Wall, if the angel stood right thar,” pointing across the -room, “ready to sound, and looked across at me, I’d jest say, ‘Gabe! -toot your old horn!’” - - - - -Rugby, Tennessee. - -I was roused at five or thereabouts on the morning after our arrival -here by a visit from a big dog belonging to a native, not quite a -mastiff, but more like that than anything else, who, seeing my window -wide open, jumped in from the verandah, and came to the bed to give me -goodmorning with tail and muzzle. I was glad to see him, having made -friends the previous evening, when the decision of his dealings with the -stray hogs who came to call on us from the neighbouring forest had won -my heart; but as his size and attentions somewhat impeded my necessarily -scanty ablutions, I had to motion him apologetically to the window when -I turned out. He obeyed at once, jumped out, laid his muzzle on the -sill, and solemnly, and, I thought, somewhat pityingly, watched my -proceedings. Meantime, I heard sounds which announced the uprising of -“the boys,” and in a few minutes several appeared in flannel shirts and -trousers, bound for one of the two rivers which run close by, in gullies -200 feet below us. They had heard of a pool ten feet deep, and found it -too; and a most delicious place it is, surrounded by great rocks, lying -in a copse of rhododendrons, azaleas, and magnolias, which literally -form the underwood of the pines and white oak along these gullies. The -water is of a temperature which allows folk whose blood is not so hot -as it used to be to lie for half an hour on its surface and play -about without a sensation of chilliness. On this occasion, however, -I preferred to let them do the exploring, and so at 6.15 went off to -breakfast. - -This is the regular hour for that meal here, dinner at twelve, and tea -at six. There is really no difference between them, except that we get -porridge at breakfast and a great abundance of vegetables at dinner. -At all of them we have tea and fresh water for drink, plates of beef or -mutton, apple sauce, rice, tomatoes, peach pies or puddings, and several -kinds of bread. As the English garden furnishes unlimited water and -other melons, and as the settlers--young English, who come in to see -us--bring sacks of apples and peaches with them, and as, moreover, the -most solvent of the boys invested at Cincinnati in a great square box -full of tinned viands of all kinds, you may see at once that in this -matter we are not genuine objects either for admiration or pity. I must -confess here to a slight disappointment. Having arrived at an age myself -when diet has become a matter of indifference, I was rather chuckling as -we came along over the coming short-commons up here, when we got fairly -loose in the woods, and the excellent discipline it would be for the -boys, especially the Londoners, to discover that the human animal can be -kept in rude health on a few daily crackers and apples, or a slap-jack -and tough pork. And now, behold, we are actually still living amongst -the flesh-pots, which I had fondly believed we had left in your Eastern -Egypt; and I am bound to add, “the boys” seem as provokingly indifferent -to them as if their beards were getting grizzled. One lives and learns, -but I question whether these states are quite the place to bring home -to our Anglo-Saxon race the fact that we are an overfed branch of the -universal brotherhood. Tanner, I fear, has fasted in vain. - -Breakfast was scarcely over, when there was a muster of cavalry. -Every horse that could be spared or requisitioned was in demand for an -exploring ride to the west, and soon every charger was bestrid by “a -boy” in free-and-easy garments, and carrying a blanket for camping out. -Away they went under the pines and oaks, a merry lot, headed by our -geologist, who knows the forest by this time like a native, and whose -shocking old straw blazed ahead in the morning sun like, shall we say, -“the helmet of Navarre,” or Essex’s white hat and plumes before the -Train Bands, as they crowned the ridge where Falkland fell and his -monument now stands, at the battle of Newbury. Charles Kingsley’s lines -came into my head, as I turned pensively to my table in the verandah to -write to you:-- - - When all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are green; - - And every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen; - - Then hey for boot and horse, lad, and round the world away; - - Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog his day. - -Our two lasses are, undoubtedly, queens out here. The thought occurs, -are our swans--our visions, already so bright, of splendid crops, and -simple life, to be raised and lived in this fairyland--to prove geese? I -hope not. It would be the downfall of the last castle in Spain I am ever -likely to build. - -On reaching our abode, I was aware of the Forester coming across from -the English garden, of which he has charge, followed by a young native. -He walked up to me, and announced that they were come across to tidy -up, and _black the boots_. Here was another shock, that we should -be followed by the lumber of civilisation so closely! Will boots be -blacked, I wonder, in the New Jerusalem? I was at first inclined to -protest, while they made a collection, and set them out on the verandah, -but the sight of the ladies’ neat little high-lows made me pause. -These, at any rate, it seemed to me, _should_ be blacked, even in the -Millennium. Next minute I was so tickled by a little interlude between -the Forester and the native, that all idea of remonstrance vanished. The -latter, contemplating the boots and blacking-pot and brushes--from under -the shapeless piece of old felt, by way of hat, of the same mysterious -colour as the ragged shirt and breeches, his only other garments--joined -his hands behind his back, and said, in their slow way, “Look ’ere, Mr. -Hill, ain’t this ’ere pay-day?” The drift was perfectly obvious. -This citizen had no mind to turn shoe-black, and felt like discharging -himself summarily. Mr. Hill, who was already busily sweeping the -verandah, put down his broom, and after a short colloquy, which I did -not quite catch, seized on a boot and brush, and began shining away with -an artistic stroke worthy of one of the Shoeblack Brigade at the London -Bridge Station. The native looked on for a minute, and then slowly -unclasped his hands. Presently he picked up a boot and looked round -it dubiously. I now took a hand myself. If there was one art which -I learned to perfection at school, and still pride myself on, it is -shining a boot. In a minute or two my boot was beginning “to soar and -sing,” while the Forester’s was already a thing of beauty. The native, -with a grunt, took up the spare brush, and began slowly rubbing. The -victory was complete. He comes now and spends two hours every morning -over his new accomplishment, evidently delighted with the opportunity it -gives him for loafing and watching the habits of the strange occupants, -for whom also he fetches many tin pails of water from the well, in a -slow, vague manner. He has even volunteered to fix up the ladies’ room -and fill their bath (an offer which has been declined, with thanks), but -I doubt whether he will ever touch the point of a genuine “shine.” - -They are a curious people, these natives, as the Forester (an -Englishman, reared in Lord Denbigh’s garden at Newnham Paddocks, and -thirty years out here) told me, as we walked off to examine the English -garden, but I must keep his experiences and my own observation for -separate treatment. The English garden is the most advanced, and, I -think, the most important and interesting feature of this settlement. -If young Englishmen of small means are to try their fortunes here, it is -well that they should have trustworthy guidance at once as to what are -the best crops to raise. With this view, Mr. Hill was placed, in the -spring of this year, in charge of the only cleared space available. All -the rest is beautiful, open forest-land. You can ride or drive almost -anywhere under the trees, but there is no cultivated spot for many -miles, except small patches here and there of carelessly sown maize and -millet, and a rood or two of sweet potatoes. The Forester had a hard -struggle to do anything with the garden at all this season. He was only -put in command in May, six weeks at least too late. He could only -obtain the occasional use of a team, and his duties in the forest and in -grading and superintending the walks interfered with the garden. Manure -was out of the question, except a little ashes, which he painfully -gathered here and there from the reckless log-fires which abound in the -woods. He calls his garden a failure for the year. But as half an acre -which was wild forest-land in May is covered with water-melons and -cantalupes, as the tomatoes hang in huge bunches, rotting on the vines -for want of mouths enough to eat them, as the Lima beans are yielding at -the rate of 250 bushels an acre, and as cabbages, sweet potatoes, beets, -and squash are in equally prodigal abundance, the prospect of making a -good living is beyond all question, for all who will set to work with a -will. - -In the afternoon, I inspected the hotel, nearly completed, on a knoll -in the forest, between the English garden and this frame-house. It is a -sightly building, with deep verandahs prettily latticed, from which -one gets glimpses through the trees of magnificent ranges of blue -forest-covered mountains. We have named it “The Tabard,” at the -suggestion of one of our American members, who, being in England when -the old Southwark hostelry from which the Canterbury Pilgrims started -was broken up, and the materials sold by auction, to make room for a hop -store, bought some of the old banisters, which he has reverently kept -till now. They will be put up in the hall of the new Tabard, and -marked with a brass plate and inscription, telling, I trust, to -many generations of the place from which they came. The Tabard, when -finished, as it will be in a few days, will lodge some fifty guests; -and, in spite of the absence of alcoholic drinks, has every chance, if -present indications can be trusted, of harbouring and sending out as -cheery pilgrims as followed the Miller and the Host, and told their -world-famous stories five hundred years ago. - -The drink question has reared its baleful head here, as it seems to do -all over the world. The various works had gone on in peace till the last -ten days, when two young natives toted over some barrels of whisky, and -broached them in a shanty, on a small lot of no-man’s land in the woods, -some two miles from hence. Since then there has been no peace for the -manager. Happily the feeling of the community is vigorously temperate, -so energetic measures are on foot to root out the pest. A wise state -law enacts that no liquor store shall be permitted under heavy penalties -within four miles of an incorporated school; so we are pushing on our -school-house, and organising a board to govern it. Meantime, we have -evidence of unlawful sale (in quantities less than a pint), and of -encouraging gambling, by these pests, and hope to make an example of -them at the next sitting of the county court. This incident has decided -the question for us. If we are to have influence with the poor whites -and blacks, we must be above suspicion ourselves. So no liquor will be -procurable at the Tabard, and those who need it will have to import for -themselves. - -A bridle-path leads from the hotel down to the Clear Fork, one of the -streams at the junction of which the town site is situate. The descent -is about 200 feet, and the stream, when you get to it, from thirty -feet to fifty feet wide,--a mountain stream, with deep pools and big -boulders. Your columns are not the place for descriptions of scenery, so -I will only say that these gorges of the Clear Fork and White Oak are -as fine as any of their size that I know in Scotland, and not unlike in -character, with this difference, that the chief underwood here consists -of rhododendron (called laurel here), azalea, and a kind of magnolia I -have not seen before, and of which I cannot get the name. I passed huge -faggots of rhododendron, twelve feet and fourteen feet long, lying by -the walks, which had been cleared away ruthlessly while grading them. -They are three miles long and cost under £100, a judicious outlay, I -think, even before an acre of land has been sold. They have been named -the Lovers’ Walks, appropriately enough, for no more well-adapted place -could possibly be found for that time-honoured business, especially in -spring, when the whole gorges under the tall pines and white oak are one -blaze of purple, yellow, and white blossom. - -On my return to the plateau, my first day’s experiences came to an end -in a way which no longer surprised me, after the boot-blacking and the -Lovers’ Walks. I was hailed by one of “the boys,” who had been unable to -obtain a mount, or had some business which kept him from exploring. He -was in flannels, with racquet in hand, on his way to the lawn-tennis -ground, to which he offered to pilot me. In a minute or two we came upon -an open space, marked, I see on the plans, “Cricket Ground,” in which -rose a fine, strong paling, enclosing a square of 150 feet, the uprights -being six feet high, and close enough to keep, not only boys out, -but tennis-balls in. Turf there was none, in our sense, within the -enclosure, and what there must have once been as a substitute for turf -had been carefully cleared off on space sufficient for one full-sized -court, which was well marked out on the hard, sandy loam. A better -ground I have rarely seen, except for the young sprouts of oak, and -other scrub, which here and there were struggling up, in a last effort -to assert their “ancient, solitary reign.” At any rate, then and there, -upon that court, I saw two sets played in a style which would have done -credit to a county match (the young lady, by the way, who played far -from the worst game of the four, is the champion of her own county). -This was the opening match, the racquets having only just arrived from -England, though the court has been the object of tender solicitude for -six weeks or more to the four Englishmen already resident here or near -by. The Rugby Tennis Club consists to-day of seven members, five English -and two native, and will probably reach two figures within a few days on -the return of the boys. Meantime the effect of their first practice has -been that they have resolved on putting a challenge in the Cincinnati -and Chatanooga papers offering to play a match--best out of five -sets--with any club in the United States. Such are infant communities, -in these latitudes! - -You may have been startled by the address at the head of this letter. -It was adopted unanimously on our return in twilight from the -tennis-ground, and application at once made to the State authorities -for registration of the name and establishment of a post-office. It was -sharp practice thus to steal a march on the three Etonians, still far -away in the forest. Had they been present, possibly Thames might have -prevailed over Avon. - - - - -A Forest Ride, Rugby, Tennessee. - -There are few more interesting experiences than a ride through these -southern forests. The scrub is so low and thin, that you can almost -always see away for long distances amongst pine, white oak, and chestnut -trees; and every now and then at ridges where the timber is thin, or -where a clump of trees has been ruthlessly “girdled,” and the bare, -gaunt skeletons only remain standing, you may catch glimpses of mountain -ranges of different shades of blue and green, stretching far away to the -horizon. You can’t live many days up here without getting to love the -trees even more, I think, than we do in well-kempt England; and this -outrage of “girdling,” as they call it--stripping the bark from the -lower part of the trunk, so that the trees wither and die as they -stand--strikes one as a kind of household cruelty, as if a man should -cut off or disfigure all his wife’s hair. If he wants a tree for lumber -or firewood, very good. He should have it. But he should cut it down -like a man, and take it clean away for some reasonable use, not leave it -as a scarecrow to bear witness of his recklessness and laziness. Happily -not much mischief of this kind has been done yet in the neighbourhood -of Rugby, and a stop will now be put to the wretched practice. There -is another, too, almost as ghastly, but which, no doubt, has more to be -said for it. At least half of the largest pines alongside of the sandy -tracts which do duty for roads have a long, gaping wound in their sides, -about a yard from the ground. This was the native way of collecting -turpentine, which oozed down and accumulated at the bottom of the gash; -but I rejoice to say it no longer pays, and the custom is in disuse. It -must be suppressed altogether, but carefully and gently. It seems that -if not persisted in too long, the poor, dear, long-suffering trees will -close up their wounds, and not be much the worse: so I trust that many -of the scored pines, springing forty or fifty feet into the air before -throwing out a branch, which I passed in sorrow and anger on my first -long ride, may yet outlive those who outraged them. Having got rid of my -spleen, excited by these two diabolic customs, I can return to our ride, -which had otherwise nothing but delight in it. - -The manager, an invaluable guest from New York, a doctor, who had served -on the Sanitary Commission through the war, and I, formed the party. -The manager drove the light buggy, which held one of us also, and the -handbags 3 while the other rode by the side, where the road allowed, or -before or behind, as the fancy seized him. We were bound for a -solitary guest-house in the forest, some seventeen miles away, in the -neighbourhood of a cave and waterfall which even here have a reputation, -and are sometimes visited. We allowed three and a half hours for the -journey, and it took all the time. About five miles an hour on wheels -is all you can reckon on, for the country roads, sandy tracts about ten -feet broad, are just left to take care of themselves, and wherever there -is a sufficient declivity to give the rain a chance of washing all the -surface off them, are just a heap of boulders of different sizes. But, -after all, five miles an hour is as fast as you care to go, for the play -of the sunlight amongst the varied foliage, and the new flora and fauna, -keep you constantly interested and amused. I never regretted so much -my ignorance of botany, for I counted some fourteen sorts of flowers in -bloom, of which golden-rod and Michaelmas-daisy were the only ones I was -quite sure I knew,--and by the way, the daisy of Parnassus, of which -I found a single flower growing by a spring. The rest were like home -flowers, but yet not identical with them--at least, I think not--and the -doubt whether one had ever seen them before or not was provoking. The -birds--few in number--were all strangers to me; buzzards, of which we -saw five at one time, quite within shot, and several kinds of hawk and -woodpecker, were the most common; but at one point, quite a number of -what looked like very big swifts, but without the dash in their flight -of our bird, and with wings more like curlews’, were skimming over the -tree-tops..1 only heard one note, and that rather sweet, a cat-bird’s, -the doctor thought; but he was almost as much a stranger in these woods -as I. Happily, however, he was an old acquaintance of that delightful -insect, the “tumble-bug,” to which he introduced me on a sandy bit -of road. The gentleman in question took no notice of me, but went on -rolling his lump of accumulated dirt three times his own size backwards -with his hind legs, as if his life depended on it. Presently his lump -came right up against a stone and stopped dead. It was a “caution” to -see that bug strain to push it farther, but it wouldn’t budge, all he -could do. Then he stopped for a moment or two, and evidently made up his -small mind that something must be wrong behind, for no bug could have -pushed harder than he. So he quitted hold with his hind legs, and turned -round to take a good look at the situation, in order, I suppose, to see -what must be done next. At any rate, he presently caught hold again on -a different side, and so steered successfully past the obstacle. There -were a number of them working about, some single and some in pairs, and -so full of humour are their doings that I should have liked to watch for -hours. - -We got to our journey’s end about dusk, a five-roomed, single-storied, -wooden house, built on supports, so as to keep it off the ground. We -went up four steps to the verandah, where we sat while our hostess, a -small, thin New Englander, probably seventy or upwards, but as brisk -as a bee, bustled about to get supper. The table was laid in the middle -room, which opened on the kitchen at the back, where we could see the -stove, and hear our hostess’s discourse. She boiled us two of her fine -white chickens admirably, and served with hot bread, tomatoes, sweet -potatoes, and several preserves, of which I can speak with special -praise of the huckleberry, which grows, she said, in great abundance all -round. _The boys_, we heard, had been there to breakfast, after sleeping -out, and not having had a square meal since they started. Luckily for -us, her white chickens are a very numerous as well as beautiful family, -or we should have fared badly. She and her husband supped after us, and -then came and sat with us in the balcony, and talked away on all manner -of topics, as if the chances of discourse were few, and to be made the -most of. They had lived at Jamestown, close by, a village of some -eight or ten houses, all through the war, through which the Confederate -cavalry had passed again and again. They had never molested her or hers -in any way, but had a fancy for poultry, which might have proved fatal -to her white family, but for her Yankee wit. She and her husband managed -to fix up a false floor in one of their rooms in which they fed the -roosters, so whenever a picket came in sight, her call would bring the -whole family out of the woods and clearing into the refuge, where they -remained peacefully amongst corn-cobs till the danger had passed. She -had nothing but good to say of her native neighbours, except that they -could make nothing of the country. The Lord had done all He could for -it, she summed up, and Boston must take hold of the balance. We heard -the owls all night, as well as the katydids, but they only seemed to -emphasise the forest stillness. The old lady’s beds, to which we retired -at ten, after our long gossip in the balcony, were sweet and clean, and -I escaped perfectly scatheless, a rare experience, I was assured, in -these forest shanties. I was bound, however, to admit, in answer to our -hostess’s searching inquiries, that I had seen, and slain, though not -felt, an insect suspiciously like a British B flat. - -The cave which we sought out after breakfast was well worth any trouble -to find. We had to leave the buggy and horses hitched up and scramble -down a glen, where presently, through a tangle of great rhododendron -bushes, we came on a rock, with the little iron-stained stream just -below us, and opposite, at the top of a slope of perhaps fifteen or -twenty feet, was the cave, like a long black eye under a red eyebrow, -glaring at us. I could detect no figure in the sandstone rock (the -eyebrow), which hung over it for its whole length. The cave is said to -run back more than 300 feet, but we did not test it. There would be good -sitting-room for 300 or 400 people along the front, and so obviously -fitted for a conventicle, that I could not help peopling it with -fugitive slaves, and fancying a black Moses preaching to them of their -coming Exodus, with the rhododendrons in bloom behind. Maidenhair grow -in tufts about the damp floor, and a creeping fern, with a bright red -berry, the name of which the doctor told me, but I have forgotten, on -the damp, red walls. What the nook must be when the rhododendrons are -all ablaze with blossom, I hope some day to see. - -We had heard of a fine spring somewhere in this part of the forest, -and in aid of our search for it presently took up a boy whom we found -loafing round a small clearing. He was bare-headed and bare-footed, -and wore an old, brown, ragged shirt turned up to the elbows, and old, -brown, ragged trousers turned up to the knees. I was riding, and in -answer to my invitation he stepped on a stump and vaulted up behind me. -He never touched me, as most boys would have done, but sat up behind -with perfect ease and balance as we rode along, a young centaur. We -soon got intimate, and I found he had never been out of the forest, was -fourteen, and still at (occasional) school. He could read a little, but -couldn’t write. I told him to tell his master, from me, that he ought -to be ashamed of himself, which he promised to do with great glee; also, -but not so readily, to consider a proposal I made him, that if he would -write to the manager within six months to ask for it, he should be paid -$1. I found that he knew nothing of the flowers or butterflies, of which -some dozen different kinds crossed our path. He just reckoned they were -all butterflies, as indeed they were. He knew, however, a good deal -about the trees and shrubs, and more about the forest beasts. Had seen -several deer only yesterday, and an old opossum with nine young, a -number which took the doctor’s breath away. There were lots of foxes in -the woods, but he did not see them so often. His face lighted up when he -was promised $2 for the first opossum he would tame and bring across to -Rugby. After guiding us to the spring, and hunting out an old wooden cup -amongst the bushes, he went off cheerily through the bushes, with two -quarter-dollar bits in his pocket, an interesting young wild man. Will -he ever bring the opossum? - -We got back without further incident (except flushing quite a number of -quail, which must be lovely shooting in these woods), and found the boys -at home, and hard at lawn-tennis and well-digging. The hogs are becoming -an object of their decided animosity, and having heard of a Yankee -notion, a sort of tweezers, which ring a hog by one motion, in a second, -they are going to get it, and then to catch and ring every grunter who -shows his nose near the asylum. Out of this there should come some fun, -shortly. - - - - -The Natives, Rugby, Tennessee. - -When all is said and sung, there is nothing so interesting as the man -and woman who dwell on any corner of the earth; so, before giving you -any further details of our surroundings, or doings, or prospects, let me -introduce you to our neighbours, so far as I have as yet the pleasure of -their acquaintance. And I am glad at once to acknowledge that it _is_ a -pleasure, notwithstanding all the talk we have heard of “mean whites,” - “poor, white trash,” and the like, in novels, travels, and newspapers. -It may possibly be that we have been fortunate, and that our neighbours -here are no fair specimens of the “poor whites” of the South. This, and -the next three counties, are in the north-western corner of Tennessee, -bordering on Kentucky. They are entirely mountain land. There are very -few negroes in them, and they were strongly Unionist during the war. -At present, they are Republican, almost to a man. There is not one -Democratic official in this county, and I am told that only three votes -were cast for the Democratic candidates at the last State elections. -They are overwhelmed by the vote of western and central Tennessee, which -carries the State with the solid South; but here Union men can speak -their minds freely, and cover their walls with pictures in coloured -broad-sheet of the heroes of the war,--Lincoln, Governor Brownlow, Grant -and his captains. They are poor almost to a man, and live in log-huts -and cabins which, at home, could scarcely be rivalled out of Ireland. -Within ten miles of this place there are possibly half a dozen (I have -seen two) which are equal in accommodation and comfort to those of good -farmers in England. The best of these belongs to our nearest neighbour, -with whom a party of us dined, at noon, the orthodox hour in the -mountains, some weeks since. He is a wiry man, of middle height, -probably fifty-five years of age, upright, with finely cut features, and -an eye that looks you right in the face. He has been on his farm twenty -years, and has cleared some fifty acres, which grow corn, millet, and -vegetables, and he has a fine apple orchard. We should call his farming -very slovenly, but it produces abundance for his needs. He sat at the -head of his table like an old nobleman, very quiet and courteous, but -quite ready to speak on any subject, and especially of the five years -of the war through which he carried his life in his hand, but never -flinched for an hour from his faith. His wife, a slight, elderly person, -whose regular features showed that she must have been very good-looking, -did not sit down with us, but stood at the bottom of the table, -dispensing her good things. Our drink was tea and cold spring water; our -viands, chickens, ducks, a stew, ham, with a profusion of vegetables, -apple and huckleberry tarts, and several preserves, one of which (some -kind of cherry, very common here) was of a lovely gold colour, and of -a flavour which would make the fortune of a London pastry-cook; a -profusion of water-melons and apples finished our repast; and no one -need ask a better,--but I am bound to add that our hostess has the name -for giving the best square meal to be had in the four counties. It -would be as fair to take this as an average specimen of the well-to-do -farmers’ fare here, as that of a nobleman with a French cook of -the gentry at home. Our host is a keen sportsman, and showed us his -flint-lock rifle, six feet long, and weighing 16 lbs.! He carries a -forked stick as a rest, and, we were assured, gets on his game about -as quickly as if it were a handy Westley-Richards, and seldom misses -a running deer. The vast majority of these mountaineers are in very -different circumstances. Most, but not all of them, own a log cabin and -minute patch of corn round it, probably also a few pigs and chickens, -but seem to have no desire to make any effort at further clearing, and -quite content to live from hand to mouth. They cannot do that without -hiring themselves out when they get a chance, but are most uncertain and -exasperating labourers. In the first place, though able, to stand great -fatigue in hunting and perfectly indifferent to weather, they are not -physically so strong as average English or Northern men. Then they are -never to be relied on for a job. As soon as one of them has earned three -or four dollars, he will probably want a hunt, and go off for it then -and there, spend a dollar on powder and shot, and these on squirrels and -opossums, whose skins may possibly bring him in ten cents as his week’s -earnings. It is useless to remonstrate, unless you have an agreement in -writing. An Englishman who came here lately, to found some manufactures, -left in sheer despair and disgust, saying he had found at last a place -where no one seemed to care for money. I do not say that this is true, -but they certainly seem to prefer loafing and hunting to dollars, and -are often too lazy, or unable, to count, holding out their small change -and telling you to take what you want. Temperate as a rule, they are -sadly weak when wild-cat whisky or “moonshine,” as the favourite illicit -beverage of the mountains is called, crosses their path. This is the -great trouble on pay nights at all the works which are starting in -this district. The inevitable booth soon appears, with the usual -accompaniment of cards and dice, and probably a third of your men are -thenceforth without a dime and utterly unfit for work on Mondays, if -you are lucky enough to escape dangerous rows amongst the drinkers. The -State laws give summary methods of suppressing the nuisance, but they -are hard to work, and though public sentiment is vehemently hostile to -whisky, the temptation proves in nine cases out of ten too strong. The -mountaineers are in the main well-grown men, though slight, shockingly -badly clothed, and sallow from chewing tobacco; suspicious in all -dealings at first, but hospitable, making everything they have in the -house, including their own beds, free to a stranger, and generally -refusing payment for lodging or food. They are also very honest, crimes -against property (though not against the person) being of very rare -occurrence. The other day, a Northern gentleman visiting here expressed -his fears to a native farmer, who, after inquiring whether there were -any prisons and police in New England, what these were for, and whether -his interrogator had locks to his doors and his safes, and bars to his -window-shutters, remarked, “Wal, I’ve lived here man and boy for forty -year, and never had a bolt to my house, or corn-loft, or smoke-house, -and I’ll give you a dollar for every lock you can find in Scott county.” - The cattle, sheep, and hogs wander perfectly unguarded through the -forest, and I have not yet heard of a single instance of a stolen beast. - -There is a rough water-mill on a creek close by, called Back’s Mill, -which was run by the owner for years--until he sold it a few months -ago--on the following system. He put the running gear and stones up, and -above the latter a wooden box, with the charge for grinding meal marked -outside. He visited the mill once a fortnight, looked to the machinery, -and took away whatever coin was in the box. Folks brought their corn -down the steep bank if they chose, ground it at their leisure, and then, -if they were honest, put the fee in the box; if not, they went off with -their meal, and a consciousness that they were rogues. I presume Buck -found his plan answer, as he pursued it up to the date of sale. - -In short, sir, I have been driven to the conclusion, in spite of all -traditional leanings the other way, that the Lord has much people in -these mountains, as I think a young English deacon, lately ordained -by the Bishop of Tennessee, will find, who passed here yesterday on a -buggy, with his young wife and child, and two boxes and ten dollars -of the goods of this world, on his way to open a church mission in a -neighbouring county. I heard yesterday a story which should give him -hope as to the female portion, at any rate, of his possible flock. They -are dreadful slatterns, without an inkling of the great Palmerstonian -truth that dirt is matter in its _wrong_ place. A mountain girl, -however, who had, strange to say, taken the fancy to go as housemaid -in a Knoxville family, gave out that she had been converted, and, upon -doubts being expressed and questions asked as to the grounds on which -she based the assurance, replied that she knew it was all right, because -now she swept underneath the rugs. - -When one gets on stories of quaint and ready replies in these parts, one -“slops over on both shoulders.” Here are a couple which are current in -connection with the war, upon which, naturally enough, the whole mind -of the people is still dwelling, being as much occupied with it as with -their other paramount subject, the immediate future development of the -unbounded resources of these States, which have been really opened for -the first time by that terrible agency. An active Secessionist leader in -a neighbouring county, in one of his stump speeches before the war, had -announced that the Southerners, and especially Tennessee mountain men, -could whip the white-livered Yanks with pop-guns. Not long since, having -been amnestied and reconstructed again to a point when he saw his way -to running for a State office, he was reminded of this saying at the -beginning of his canvas. “Wal, yes,” he said, “he owned to that and -stood by it still, only those mean cusses [the Yanks] wouldn’t fight -that way.” - -The other is of very different stamp, and will hold its own with many -world-wide stories of graceful compliments to former enemies by kings -and other big-wigs. General Wilder, one of the most successful and -gallant of the Northern corps commanders in the war, has established -himself in this State, with whose climate and resources he became so -familiar in the campaign which ended under Look-out Mountain, and has -built up a great iron industry at Chatanooga, in full sight of the -battlefields from which 14,000 bodies of Union soldiers were carried to -the national cemetery. Early in his Southern career he met one of the -most famous of the Southern corps commanders (Forrest, I believe, but -am not sure as to the name), who, on being introduced, said, “General, -I have long wished to know you, because you have behaved to me in a way -for which I reckon you owe me an apology, as between gentlemen.” - -Wilder replied in astonishment that to his knowledge they had never met -before, but that he was quite ready to do all that an honourable man -ought. “Well now, General,” said the other, “you remember such and -such a fight (naming it)? By night you had taken every gun I had, and I -consider that quite an ungentlemanly advantage to take, anyhow.” By the -way, no man bears more frank testimony to the gallantry of the Southern -soldiers than General Wilder, or admits more frankly the odds which the -superior equipment of the Federals threw against the Confederate armies. -His corps, mounted infantry, armed with repeating rifles, were equal, -he thinks, to at least three times their numbers of as good soldiers -as themselves with the ordinary Southern arms. There are few pleasanter -things to a hearty well-wisher, who has not been in America for ten -years, than the change which has taken place in public sentiment, -indicated by such frank admissions as the one just referred to. In -1870, any expression of admiration for the gallantry of the South, or -of respect or appreciation of such men as Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, or -Johnson, was received either silently, or with strong disapproval. How -it is quite the other way, so far as I have seen as yet, and I cannot -but hope that the last scars of the mighty struggle are healing up -rapidly and thoroughly, and that the old sectional hatred and scorn lie -six feet under ground, in the national cemeteries:-- - - No more shall the war-cry sever, - - Or the inland rivers run red; - - We have buried our anger for ever, - - In the sacred graves of the dead. - - Under the sod and the dew, - - Waiting the Judgment Day; - - Love and tears for the blue! - - Tears and love for the gray! - -No man can live for a few weeks on these Cumberland Mountains, without -responding with a hearty “Amen!” - - - - -Our Forester, Rugby, Tennessee. - -Nothing would satisfy our Forester but that some of us should ride over -with him, some nine miles through the forest, to see Glades, the farm -upon which he has been for the last eight years. He led the way, on his -yellow mare, an animal who had nearly given us sore trouble here. The -head stableman turned all the horses out one day for a short run, and -she being amongst them, and loving her old home best, went off straight -for Glades through the woods, with every hoof after her. Luckily, -Alfred, the Forester’s son, was there, and guessing what was the -matter, just rode her back, all the rest following. The ride was lovely, -glorious peeps of distant blue ranges, and the forest just breaking out -all over into golds, and vermilions, and purples, and russets. We only -passed two small farms on the way, both ramshackle, and so the treat of -coming suddenly on some one hundred acres cleared, drained, with large, -though rough, farm buildings, and bearing the look of being cared for, -was indescribably pleasant. Mrs. Hill and her son Alfred received us, -both worthy of the head of the house; more I cannot say. They run the -farm in his absence with scarcely any help, Alfred having also to attend -to a grist and saw mill in the neighbouring creek. There were a fine -mare and filly in the yard, as tame as pet dogs, coming and shoving -their noses into your pockets and coaxing you for apples. The hogs are -good Berkshire breed, the sheep Cotswolds. The cows (it is the only -place where we have had cream on the mountains), Alderney or shorthorns. -The house is a large log-cabin, one big room, with a deep, open -fireplace, with a great pine-log smouldering at the back across plain -iron dogs, a big hearth in front, on which pitch-pine chips are thrown -when you feel inclined for a blaze. The room is carpeted and hung with -photographs and prints, a rifle and shot gun, and implements of one kind -or another. A small collection of books, mostly theological, and founded -on two big Bibles, two rocking and half a dozen other chairs, a table, -and two beds in the corners furthest from the fire, complete the -furniture of the room, which opens on one side on a deep verandah, and -on the other on a lean-to, which serves for kitchen and diningroom, -and ends in a small, spare bedroom. A loft above, into which the family -disappeared at night, completes the accommodation. I need not dwell on -our supper, which included tender mutton, chickens, apple-tart, custard -pudding, and all manner of vegetables and cakes. Mrs. Hill is as notable -a cook as her husband is a forester. After supper we drew round the big -fireplace, and soon prevailed on our host to give us a sketch of his -life, by way of encouragement to his three young countrymen who sat -round, and are going to try their fortunes in these mountains:-- - -“I was born and bred up in one of Lord Denbigh’s cottages, at Kirby, in -Warwickshire. My father was employed on the great place, that’s Newnham -Paddocks, you know. He was a labourer, and brought up sixteen children, -not one of whom, except me, has ever been summonsed before a justice, -or got into any kind of trouble. I went to school till about nine, but I -was always longing to be out in the fields at plough or birdkeeping; so -I got away before I could do much reading or writing. But I kept on -at Sabbath School, and learnt more than I did at the other. The young -ladies used to teach us, and they’d set us pieces and things to learn -for them in the week. My Cæsar (the only ejaculation Amos allows -himself; he cannot remember where he picked it up), how I would work at -my piece to get it for Lady Mary! I’ve fairly cried over it sometimes, -but I always managed to get it, somehow. After a bit, I was taken on at -the house. At first, I did odd jobs, like cleaning boots and carrying -messages; and then I got into the garden, and from that into the stable, -and then for a bit with the keepers, and then into livery, to wait on -the young ladies. So you see I learnt something of everything, and was -happy, and earning good wages. But I wanted to see the world, so I took -service with a gentleman who was a big railway contractor. I used to -drive him, and do anything a’most that he wanted. I stayed with him nine -years, and ’twas while going about with him that I met my wife here. -We got married down in Kent, thirty-six years ago. Yes (in answer to -a laughing comment by his wife), I wanted some one to mind me in those -days. That poaching trouble came about this way. I had charge for my -master of a piece of railway that ran through Lord--------‘s preserves, -in Wales. There were very strict rules about trespassing on the lines -then, because folks there didn’t like our line, and had been putting -things on it to upset the trains. One day I saw two keepers coming down -the line, with a labourer I knew between them. He was all covered with -blood, from a wound in his head. ‘Why,’ said I, ‘what’s the matter now?’ -‘I’ve been out of work,’ he said, ‘this three weeks, and I was digging -out a rabbit to get something to eat, when they came up and broke my -head.’ From that time the keepers and I quarrelled. I summonsed them, -and got them fined for trespassing on the line; and then they got me -fined for trespassing on their covers. We watched one another like -hawks. I’d often lie out at night for hours in the cold, in a ditch, -where I knew they’d want to cross the line, and then jump up and catch -them; and they’d do the same by me. Once they got me fined £3: 10s. for -poaching. I remember it well. I was that riled, I said to the justices -right out, ‘How long do you think it’ll take me, gentlemen, to pay -all that money, with hares only 1d. apiece?’ Then I went in for it. -I remembered the text, ‘What thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy -might.’ I did it. I used to creep along at night, all up the fences, and -feel for the places where the hares came through, and set my wires; and -I’d often have ten great ones screaming and flopping about like mad. And -that’s what the keepers were, too. I’ve given a whole barrowful of -hares away to the poor folk of a morning. Well, I know (in answer to an -interpellation of Mrs. Hill), yes, ’twas all wrong, and I was a wild -chap in those days. Then I begun to hear talk about America, and all -there was for a man to see and do there, so I left my master, and we -came over, twenty-seven years ago. At first I took charge of gentlemen’s -gardens, in New York and New Jersey. Then we went to Miscejan, where I -could earn all I wanted. Money was of no account there for a good man -in those days, but the climate was dreadful sickly, and we had our baby; -the first we had in twelve years, and wanted to live on bread and water, -so as we could save him. So we went up right amongst the Indians, to a -place they call Grand Travers, a wonderful healthy place, on a lake -in the pine-forest country, as it was then. I went on to a promontory, -where the forest stood, not like it does here, but the trees that thick, -you had scarce room to swing an axe. Well, it was a beautiful healthy -place, and we and baby throve, and I soon made a farm; and then folk -began to follow after us, and before I left, there were twenty-three -saw-mills, cutting up from 80,000 to 150,000 feet a day, week in and -out. They’ve stripped the country so now, that there’s no lumber for -those mills to cut, and most of them have stopped. I used to have a -boat, with just a small sail, and I’d take my stuff down in the morning, -and trade it off to the lumber-men, and then sail back at night, for -the wind always changed and blew back in the evenings, most part of -the year. Well, then, the war came, and for two years I kept thinking -whether I oughtn’t to do my part to help the Government I’d lived under -so long. Besides, I hated slavery. So in the third year I made up my -mind, and ’listed in the Michigan Cavalry. I took the whole matter -before the Lord, and prayed I might do my duty as a soldier, and not -hurt any man. Well, we joined the Cavalry, near 60,000 strong down in -these parts; and I was at Knoxville, and up and down. It was awful, the -language and the ways of the men, many of them at least, swearing, and -drinking, and stealing any kind of thing they could lay hands on. Many’s -the plan for stealing I’ve broken up, telling them they were there to -sustain the flag, not to rob poor folks. I spoke very plain all along, -and got the men, many of them any way, to listen. I got on famously, -too, because I was never away plundering, and my horse was always ready -for any service. An officer would come in, after we had had a long day’s -work, to say a despatch or message must go, and no horse in our company -was fit to go but mine, so the orderly must have him; but I always said -no, I was quite ready to go myself, but would not part company from my -horse. The only time 1 took what was not mine was when we surprised a -Confederate convoy, and got hold of the stores they were carrying. There -they were lying all along the roads, greatcoats and blankets, and meal -bags, and good boots, with English marks on them. My Cæsar, how our men -were destroying them! I got together a lot of the poor, starving folk -out of the woods that both sides had been living on, and loaded them up -with meal and blankets. My Cæsar, how I loved to scatter them English -boots! They never had seen such before. No, sir (in reply to one of us), -I never fired a shot all that time, but I had hundreds fired at me. I’ve -been in the rifle-pits, and now and again seen a fellow drawing a bead -on me, and I’d duck down and hear the bullet ping into the bank close -above. They got to employ me a good deal carrying despatches and -scouting. That’s how I got took at last. We were at a place called -Strawberry Plains, with Breckenridge’s division pretty near all round -us. I was sent out with twelve other men, to try and draw them out, to -show their force and position; and so we did, but they were too quick -for us. Out they came, and it was a race back to our lines down a steep -creek. My horse missed his footing, and down we rolled over and over, -into the water. When I got up, I was up to my middle, and, first thing -I knew, there was a rebel, who swore at me for a G--d d------Yankee, and -fired his six shooter at me. The shot passed under my arm, and before he -could fire again an officer ordered him on, and gave me in charge. I was -taken to the rear, and marched off with a lot of prisoners. The rebels -treated me as if I’d been their father, after a day or two. I spoke out -to them about their swearing and ways, just as I had to our men; and -I might have been tight all the time I was a prisoner, only I’m a -temperance man. They put me on their horses on the march, and I was glad -of it, for I was hurt by my roll with my horse, and had about the chest. -After about six days I got my parole, with five others. They were hard -pressed then and didn’t want us toting along. Then we started north, -with nothing but just our uniforms, and they full of vermin. The first -house we struck I asked where we could find a Union man about there. -They didn’t know any one, didn’t think there was one in the county. I -said that was bad, as we were paroled Union soldiers,--and then all -was changed. They took us in and wanted us to use their beds, which we -wouldn’t do, because of the vermin on us. They gave us all they had, -and I saw the women, for I couldn’t sleep, covering us up with any spare -clothes they’d got, and watching us all night long. They sent us on to -other Union houses, and so we got north. I was too ill to stay north at -my old work, so I sold my farm, and came south to Knoxville, where I had -come to know many kind, good people, in the war. They were very kind, -and I got work at the improvements on Mr. Dickenson’s farm (a model farm -we had gone over), and in other gentlemen’s gardens. But I didn’t get my -health again, so eight years ago I came to this place on the mountains, -which I knew was healthy, and would suit me. Well, they all said I -should be starved out in two years and have to quit, but before three -years were out I was selling them corn and better bacon than they’d ever -had before. Some of ’em begin to think I’m right now, and there’s a -deal of improvement going on, and if they’d only, as I tell ’em, just -put in all their time on their farms, and not go loafing round gunning, -and contented with corn-dodgers and a bit of pork, and give up whisky, -they might all do as well as I’ve done. I should like to go back once -more and see the old country; but I mean to end my days here. There’s no -such country that I ever saw. The Lord has done all for us here. And -it seems like dreams, that I should live to see a Rugby up here on the -mountains. I mean to take a lot in the town, or close by, and call it -Newnham Paddocks. So I shall lay my bones, you see, in the same place, -as it were, that I was reared in.” - -I do not pretend that these were his exact words,--the whole had to be -condensed to come within your space,--but they are not far off. It was -now past nine, the time for retiring, when Amos told us that he always -ended his day with family prayers. A psalm was read, and then we knelt -down, and he prayed for some minutes. Extemporary prayers always excite -my critical faculty, but there was no thought or expression in this I -could have wished to alter. Then we turned in, I, after a pipe in the -verandah, in one clean white bed, and two of the boys in the big one -in the opposite corner. There I soon dozed off, watching the big, -smouldering, white pine-log away in the depth of the chimney-nook, and -the last flickerings of the knobs of pitch pine in front of it, between -the iron dogs, and wondering in my mind over the brave story we had just -been listening to, so simply told (of which I fear I have succeeded in -giving a very poor reflection), and whether there are not some--there -cannot, I fear, be many--such lives lying about in out-of-the-way -corners, on mountain, or plain, or city. My last conscious speculation -was whether the Union would have been saved if all Union soldiers had -been Amos Hills. - -I waked early, just before dawn, and was watching alternately the embers -of the big log, still aglow in the deep chimney, and the white light -beginning to break through the honeysuckles and vines which hung over -the verandah, and shaded the wide, open window, when the clock struck -five. The door opened softly, and in stepped Amos Hill in his stockings. -He came to the foot of our beds, picked up our dirty boots, and stole -out again, as noiselessly as he had entered. The next minute I heard the -blacking brushes going vigorously, and knew that I should appear at -breakfast with a shine on in which I should have reason to glory, if I -were preparing to walk in Bond Street, instead of through the scrub on -the Cumberland Mountains. I turned over for another, hour’s sleep -(breakfast being at 6.30 sharp), but not without first considering for -some minutes which of us two--if things were fixed up straight in this -blundering old world--ought to be blacking the other’s boots. The -conclusion I came to was that it ought _not_ to be Amos Hill. - - - - -The Negro “Natives”, Rugby, Tennessee, 30th October 1880. - -There is one inconvenience in this desultory mode of -correspondence,--that one is apt to forget what one has told already, -and to repeat oneself. I have written something of the white native of -these mountains; have I said anything of his dark brother? The subject -is becoming a more and more interesting and important one every day, -through all these regions. In these mountains, the negro, perhaps, can -scarcely be called a native. Very few black families, I am told, were to -be found here a year or two since. My own eyes assure me that they are -multiplying rapidly. I see more and more black men amongst the gangs -on roads and bridges, and come across queer little encampments in the -woods, with a pile of logs smouldering in the midst, round which stand -the mirth-provoking figures of small black urchins, who stare and grin -at the intruder on horseback, till he rides on under the gold and russet -and green autumnal coping of hickories, chestnuts, and pines. - -I am coming to the conclusion that wherever work is to be had, in -Tennessee, at any rate, there will the negro be found. He seems to -gather to a contractor like the buzzards, which one sees over the -tree-tops, to carrion. And unless the white natives take to “putting in -all their time,” whatever work is going will not long remain with them. -The negro will loaf and shirk as often as not when he gets the chance, -but he has not the same craving for knocking off altogether as soon -as he has a couple of dollars in his pocket; has no strong hunting -instinct, and has not acquired the art of letting his pick drop -listlessly into the ground with its own weight, and stopping to admire -the scenery after every half-dozen strokes. The negro is much more -obedient, moreover, and manageable,--obedient to a fault, if one can -believe the many stories one hears of his readiness to commit small -misdemeanours and crimes, and not always small ones, at the bidding of -his employers. There is one thing, however, which an equally unanimous -testimony agrees in declaring that he will not do, and that is, sell his -vote, or be dragooned into giving it for any one but his own choice; he -may, indeed, be scared from voting, but cannot be “squared,” a singular -testimony, surely, of his prospective value as a citizen. Equally -strong is the evidence of his resolute determination to get his children -educated. In some Southern States the children are, I believe, kept -apart, but in the only school I have had the chance of seeing, black and -white children were together. They were not in class, but in the front -of the barn-like building, used both for church and school, having just -come out for the dinner hour. There was a large, sandy, trampled place -under the trees, by no means a bad play-ground, on which a few of the -most energetic, the blacks in the majority, were playing at some game as -we came up, the mysteries of which I should have liked to study. But the -longer we stayed, the less chance there seemed of their going on, and -the game remains a mystery to me still. Where these children, some fifty -in number, came from, is a problem; but there they were, from somewhere. -And everywhere, I hear, the blacks are forcing the running, with respect -to education, and great numbers of them are showing a thrift and energy -which are likely to make them formidable competitors in the struggle for -existence in all states south of Kentucky, at any rate. - -In one department (a very small one, no doubt), they will have crowded -out the native whites in a very short time, if I may judge by our -experience in this house. We number two ladies and six men, and our -whole service is done by one boy. Our first experiment was with a young -native, who “reared up” on the first morning at the idea of having to -black boots. This prejudice, I think I told you, was removed for the -moment, and he stayed for a few days. Where it was he “weakened on us” - I could not learn for certain, but incline to the belief that it was -either having to carry the racquets and balls to the lawn-tennis ground, -or to get a fire to burn in order to boil the water for a four-o’clock -tea. Both these services were ordered by the ladies, and I thought I saw -signs (though I am far from certain) that his manly soul rose against -feminine command. Be that as it may, off he went without warning, and -soon after Amos Hill arrived, with almost pathetic apologies and a negro -boy, short of stature, huge of mouth, fabulous in the apparent age of -his garments, named Jeff. He had no other name, he told us, and did not -know whether it signified Jefferson or Geoffrey, or where or how he got -it, or anything about himself, except that he had got our place at $5 a -month,--at which he showed his ivory, “some!” - -From this time all was changed. Jeff, it is true, after the first two -days, gave proofs that he was not converted, like the white housemaid -who had learned to sweep under the mats. His sweeping and tidying were -decidedly those of the sinner, and he entirely abandoned the only hard -work we set him, as soon as it was out of sight from the Asylum. It was -a path leading to a shallow well, which the boys had dug at the bottom -of the garden. The last twenty yards or so are on a steeper incline than -the part next the house, so Jeff studiously completed the few feet that -were left to the brow, and never put pick or shovel on the remainder, -which lay behind the friendly brow of the slope. But in all other -directions, where the work was mainly odd jobs, a respectable kind of -loafing, Jeff was always to the fore, acquitting himself to the best, -I think, of his ability. We did not get full command of him till the -arrival of a young Texan cattle-driver, who taught us the peculiar cry -for the negro, by appending a high “Ho” to his name, or rather running -them together, so that the whole sounded, “Hojeff!” as nearly -as possible one syllable. Even the ladies picked up the cry, and -thenceforward Jeff’s substitute for the “Anon, anon, sir!” of the -Elizabethan waiter was instantaneous. He built a camp-oven, like those -of the Volunteers at Wimbledon, and neater of construction, from which -he supplied a reasonably constant provision of hot water between six -and six, of course cutting his own logs for the fire. His highest -achievement was ironing the ladies’ cotton dresses, which they declared -he did not very badly. Most of us entrusted him with the washing of -flannel shirts and socks, which at any rate were faithfully immersed in -suds, and hung up to dry under our eyes. The laundry was an army tent, -pitched at the back of the Asylum, where Jeff spent nearly all his time -when not under orders, and generally eating an apple, of which there was -always a sack, a present from some ranche-owner, or brought over from -the garden, lying about, and open to mankind at large. I never could -find out whether he could read. One evening he came up proudly to ask -whether his mail had come, and sure enough when the mail arrived there -was a post-card, which he claimed. We thought he would ask one of us to -read it for him, but were disappointed. He had a habit of crooning over -and over again all day some scrap of a song. One of these excited my -curiosity exceedingly, but I never succeeded in getting more than two -lines out of him-- - - Oh my! oh my! I’ve got a hundred dollars in a mine! - -One had a crave to hear what came of those 100 dollars. It seems it is -so almost universally. The nearest approach to a complete negro ditty -which I have been able to strike is one which the Texan gives, with -a wonderful roll of the word “chariot,” which cannot be written. It -runs:-- - - The Debbie he chase me round a stump, - - Gwine for to carry me home; - - He catch me most at ebery jump, - - Gwine for to carry me home. - - Swing low, sweet chay-o-t, - - Gwine for to carry me home. - - The Debbie he make one grab at me, - - Gwine, etc., - - He missed me, and my soul goed free, - - Gwine, etc. - - Swing low, etc. - - Oh! won’t we have a gay old time, - - Gwine, etc. - - A eatin’ up o’ honey, and a drinkin’ up o’ wine. - - Gwine, etc. - - Swing low, etc. - -This, sir, I think you will agree with me, though precious, is obviously -a fragment only. It took our Texan many months to pick it up, even in -this mutilated condition. But after all, Jeffs character and capacity -come out most in the direction of boots. It. is from his attitude with -regard to them that I incline to think that the Black race have a great -future in these States. You may have gathered from previous letters that -there is a clear, though not a well marked, division in this settlement -as to blacking. Amos Hill builds on it decidedly, and would have every -farmer appear in blacked boots, at any rate on Sunday. The opposition -is led by a young farmer of great energy and famous temper, who, having -been “strapped,” or left without a penny, 300 miles from the Pacific -coast, amongst the Mexican mines, and having made his hands keep his -head in the wildest of earthly settlements, has a strong contempt for -all amenities of clothing, which is shared by the geologist and others. -How the point will be settled at last, I cannot guess. It stands over -while the ladies are still here, and I have actually seen the “strapped” - one giving his wondrous boots a sly lick or two of blacking on Sunday -morning. But, anyhow, the blacks will be cordially on the side of polish -and the aristocracy. This one might, perhaps, have anticipated; but what -I was not prepared for, was Jeffs apparent passion for boots. I own -a fine, strong pair of shooting-boots, which he worshipped for five -minutes at least every morning. As my last day in the Asylum drew on, -I could see he was troubled in his mind. At last, out it came. Watching -his chance, when no one was near, he sidled up, and pointing to them -on the square chest in the verandah which served for blacking-board, he -said, “I’d like to buy dem boots.” After my first astonishment was over, -I explained to him that I couldn’t afford to sell them for less than -about six weeks of his wages, and that, moreover, I wanted them for -myself, as I could get none such here. He was much disappointed, and -muttered frequently, “I’d like to buy dem boots!”--but my heart did not -soften. - -Perhaps I ought rather to be giving your readers more serious -experiences, but somehow the negro is apt to run one out into chaff. -However, I will conclude with one fact, which seems to me a very -striking confirmation of my view. All Americans are reading the _Fool’s -Errand_, a powerful novel, founded on the state of things after the -war in the Kuklux times. It is written by a Southern judge, a fair and -clever man, clearly, but one who has no more faith in the negro’s power -to raise himself to anything above hewing wood and drawing water for -the “Caucasian” than C. J. Taney himself. In all that book there is no -single instance of the drawing of a mean, corrupt, or depraved negro; -but the negroes are represented as full of patience, trustfulness, -shrewdness, and power of many kinds. - - - - -The Opening Day, Rugby, Tennessee. - -Our opening day drew near, not without rousing the most serious -misgivings in the minds of most of us whether we could possibly be -ready to receive our guests. Invitations had been issued to our -neighbours--friends, as we had learnt to esteem them--in Cincinnati, -Knoxville, Chatanooga, whose hospitalities we had enjoyed, and who had -expressed a cordial sympathy with our enterprise, and a desire to visit -us. We looked also for some of our own old members from distant New -England, in all probability seventy or eighty guests, to lodge and -board, and convey from and back to the railway, seven miles over our new -road,--no small undertaking, under our circumstances. But the hotel was -still in the hands of the contractor, from whom, as yet, only the upper -floors had been rescued. The staircase wanted banisters, and the -hall and living-rooms were still only half-wainscotted, and full of -carpenters’ benches and plasterers’ trays; while the furniture and -crockery lumbered up the big barn, or stood about in cases on the broad -verandah. As for our road, it was splendid, so far as it went, but some -two miles were still merely a forest track, from which all trees and -stumps had been removed, but that was all; and the bridge over the Clear -Fork stream, by which the town site is entered, had only the first cross -timbers laid from pier to pier, while the approaches seemed to lie in -hopeless, weltering confusion, difficult on horseback, impossible on -wheels. However, the manager declared that we should drive over the -bridge on Saturday afternoon, and that the contractor should be out of -the hotel by Monday midday. With this we were obliged to be content, -though it was running things fine, as we looked for our guests on that -Monday afternoon, and the opening was fixed for the next morning. And -so it came to pass, as the manager said. Bridge and road were declared -passable by the named time, though nervous persons might well have -thought twice before attempting the former in the heavy omnibuses hired -for the occasion; and we were able to get possession and move furniture -and crockery into the hotel, though the carpenters still held the -unfinished staircase. - -So far so good; but still everything, we felt, depended on the weather. -If the glorious days we had been having held, all would be well. The -promise was fair up to Sunday evening, but at sunset there was a change. -Amos Hill shook his head, and the geologist’s aneroid barometer gave -ominous signs. They proved only too correct. Early in the night the rain -set in, and by daybreak, when we were already astir, a steady, soft, -searching rain was coming down perpendicularly, which lasted, with -scarcely a break, clear through the day, and till midnight. With -feelings of blank despair we thought of the new road, softened into a -Slough of Despond, and the hastily thrown-up approaches to the bridge -giving way under the laden omnibuses, and waited our fate. It was, as -usual, better than we looked for. The morning train from Chatanooga -would bring our southern guests in time for early dinner, if no -break-down happened; and sure enough, within half an hour of the -expected time up came the omnibuses, escorted to the hotel door by the -manager and his son on horseback; and the Bishop of Tennessee, with his -chaplain, the Mayor of Chatanooga, and a number of the leading citizens -of that city and of Knoxville, descended in the rain. In five minutes -we were at our ease and happy. If they had all been Englishmen on a -pleasure-trip, they could not have taken the down-pour more cheerily as -a matter of course, and pleasant, rather than otherwise, after the -long drought. They dined, chatted, and smoked in the verandah, and then -trotted off in _gum_ coats to look round at the walks, gardens, streets, -and cots, escorted by “the boys.” The manager reported, with pride, -that they had come up in an hour and a quarter, and without any kind of -_contretemps_, though, no doubt, the new road _was_ deep, in places. - -All anxiety was over for the moment, as the Northern train, bringing our -Cincinnati and New England friends, was not due till after dark. We sat -down to tea in detachments from six to eight, when, if all went well, -the northerners would be about due. The tables were cleared, and relaid -once more for them, and every preparation made to give them a warm -welcome. Nine struck, and still no sign of them; then ten, by which -time, in this early country, all but some four or five anxious souls -had retired. We sat round the stove in the hall, and listened to the -war-stories of the Mayor of Chatanooga, and our host of the Tabard, who -had served on opposite sides in the terrible campaigns in the south of -the State, which had ended at Missionary Ridge, and filled the national -cemetery of Chatanooga with 14,000 graves of Union soldiers. But neither -the interest of the stories themselves, nor the pleasure of seeing how -completely all bitterness had passed out of the narrators’ minds, could -keep our thoughts from dwelling on the pitch-dark road, sodden by this -time with the rain, and the _mauvais pas_ of the bridge. Eleven struck, -and now it became too serious for anything but anxious peerings into the -black night, and considerations as to what could be done. We had ordered -lanterns, and were on the point of starting for the bridge, when faint -sounds, as of men singing in chorus, came through the darkness. They -grew in volume, and now we could hear the omnibuses, from which came a -roll of, “John Brown’s body lies mouldering in the grave,” given with a -swing and precision which told of old campaigners. That stirring melody -could hardly have been more welcome to the first line waiting for -supports, on some hard-fought battle-ground, than it was to us. The -omnibuses drew up, a dense cloud rising from the drenched horses and -mules, and the singers got out, still keeping up their chorus, which -only ceased on the verandah, and must have roused every sleeper in the -settlement. The Old Bay State, Ohio, and Kentucky had sent us a set of -as stalwart good fellows as ever sang a chorus or ate a beef-steak at -midnight; and while they were engaged in the latter operation, they told -how from the break-down of a freight-train, theirs had been three hours -late, how the darkness had kept them to a foot’s-pace, how the last -omnibus had given out in the heavy places, and had to be constantly -helped on by a pair of mules detached from one of the others. “All’s -well that ends well,” and it was with a joyful sense of relief that we -piloted such of our guests as the hotel could not hold across to their -cots in the barracks at one in the morning. By nine, the glorious -Southern sun had fairly vanquished rain and mist, and the whole plateau -was ablaze with the autumn tints, and every leaf gleaming from its -recent shower-bath. Rugby outdid herself and “leapt to music and to -light” in a way which astonished even her oldest and most enthusiastic -citizens, some half dozen of whom had had something like twelve months’ -experience of her moods and tempers. Breakfast began at six, and ended -at nine, and for three hours batches of well-fed visitors were turned -out to saunter round the walks, the English gardens, and lawn-tennis -grounds, until the hour of eleven, fixed by the Bishop for the opening -service. The church being as yet only some six feet above ground, this -ceremony was to be held in the verandah of the hotel. Meantime, Bishop -and chaplain were busy among “the boys,” organising a choir to sing the -hymns and lead the responses. The whole population were gathering -round the hotel, some four or five buggies, and perhaps twenty horses, -haltered to the nearest trees, showed the interest excited in the -neighbourhood. In addition to the seats in the verandah, chairs and -benches were placed on the ground below for the surplus congregation, -behind whom a fringe of white and black natives regarded the proceedings -with grave attention. Punctual to time, the Bishop and his chaplain, in -robes, took their places at the corner of the verandah, and gave out the -first verses of the “Old Hundredth.” There was a moment’s pause, while -the newly-organised choir exchanged glances as to who should lead off, -and the pause was fatal to them for the moment. For on the Bishop’s -left stood the stalwart New Englander who had led the pilgrims of -the previous evening in the “John Brown” chorus. He, unaware of the -episcopal arrangements, and of the consequent vested rights of “the -boys,” broke out with “All people that on earth do dwell,” in a voice -which carried the whole assembly with him, and at once reduced “the -boys” to humble followers. They had their revenge, however, when it came -to the second hymn at the end of the service. It was “Jerusalem, the -golden,” which is apparently sung to a different tune in Boston to -that in use in England, so though our musical guest struggled manfully -through the first line, and had almost discomfited “the boys” by sheer -force of lungs, numbers prevailed, and he was brought into line. The -service was a short one, consisting of two psalms, “Lord, who shall -dwell in thy tabernacle?” and “Except the Lord build the house,” the -chapter of Solomon’s prayer at the dedication of the Temple, half a -dozen of the Church collects, and a prayer by the Bishop that the town -and settlement might be built up in righteousness and the fear and love -of God, and ‘prove a blessing to the State. Then, after the blessing, -the gathering resolved itself into a public meeting after American -fashion. The Board spoke through their representatives, and Bishop, -judge, general manager, and visitors exchanged friendly oratorical -buffets, and wishes and prophecies for the prosperity of the New -Jerusalem in the Southern highlands. A more genuine or healthier act of -worship it has not been our good-fortune to attend in these late years. - -Dinner began immediately afterwards, and then the company scattered -again, some to select town lots, some to the best views, the Bishop to -organise a vestry, and induce two of “the boys” to become lay readers, -pending the arrival of a parson (in which he was eminently successful); -the chaplain to the Clear Fork with one of “the boys’” fishing-rods, -after black bass; and a motley crowd to the lawn-tennis ground, to see -some set played which would have done no discredit to Wimbledon, and -excited much wonder and some enthusiasm amongst natives and visitors. -A cheerful evening followed, in which the new piano in the hotel -sitting-room did good service, and many war and other stories were told -round the big hall stove. Early the next morning the omnibuses began -carrying off the visitors, and by night Rugby had settled down again to -its ordinary life, not, however, without a sense of strength gained -for the work of building up a community which shall know how to comport -itself in good and bad times, and shall help, instead of hindering, its -sons and daughters in leading a brave, simple, and Christian life. - - - - -Life in an American Liner - -It is some years since I addressed you last over this signature--indeed -I should doubt if five per cent of your present readers will remember -the “harvests” of a quiet (ought I to say “lazy” rather than “quiet”?) -eye, which I was wont in those days, by your connivance, to submit to -them in vacation times. Somehow to-day the old instinct has come back on -me, possibly because I happen to be on an errand which should be of no -small interest to us English just now; possibly because the last days of -an Atlantic crossing seem to be so naturally provocative of the instinct -for gossiping, that one is not satisfied with the abundant opportunities -one gets on board the vessel in which one is a luxurious prisoner for -ten days. - -We have been going day and night since we left Queenstown harbour at -an average rate of 18 (land) miles an hour. We are more than 1300 -passengers (roughly 200 saloon, and the rest steerage), whose baggage, -when added to the large cargo of dry goods we are carrying, sinks our -beautiful craft till she draws 24 feet of water. She herself is more -than 150 yards long, and weighs as she passes Sandy Hook,--well, I am -fairly unable to calculate what she weighs, but as much, at any rate, -as half a dozen luggage-trains on shore. We have had our last, or the -captain’s dinner, at which fish, to all appearance as fresh as if the -sailors had just caught them over the side, and lettuces, as crisp as if -the steward had a nursery garden down below, have been served as part -of a dinner which would have done no discredit to a first-class hotel; -beginning with two sorts of soup, and ending with two sorts of ices. -Similar dinners, with other meals to match--four solid ones in the -twenty-four hours, besides odds and ends--have been served day by day, -without a hitch, in a cabin kept as sweet as Atlantic air, constantly -pumped into it by the engine, can make it. - -By the way, sir, I may remark here, in connection with our feeding, -that if we might be taken as average specimens of our race, there is no -ground whatever for anxiety as to the Anglo-Saxon digestion, of -which some disagreeable philosophers have spoken with disrespect and -foreboding in recent years. There were, perhaps, ten persons whose -native tongue was not English, and yet we carried our four solid meals a -day with resolution bordering on the heroic. The racks were never on the -tables, and we had only for a few hours a swell, which thinned our ranks -for two meals; and yet when I look round, and make such inquiry as -I can, I can see or hear of nothing more than a very slight trace of -dyspepsia here and there. The principal change I remarked in the manners -and customs on the voyage was the marked increase of play and betting on -board. When I first crossed, ten years ago, there was nothing more than -an occasional game at whist in the saloon or smoking-room. This voyage -it was not easy to get out of the way of hard play except on deck. The -best corner of the smoking-room was occupied from breakfast till “Out -lights” by a steady poker party, and other smaller and more casual -groups played fitfully at the other tables. There were always whist and -other games going on in the saloon, but of a soberer and (in a pecuniary -sense) more innocent character. There were “pools” of a sovereign or -a half sovereign on every event of the day, “the run” being the most -exciting issue. The drawer of the winning number seldom pocketed less -than £40, when it was posted on the captain’s chart at noon. I heard -that play is rather favoured now than otherwise on all the lines, as -a percentage is almost always paid to the funds of the Sailors’ Orphan -Asylum, for which excellent charity a collection is also legitimately -made during every passage. We were good supporters, and collected nearly -£70 at our entertainment, which I attribute partly to the fact that we -had on board a leading American actor, who most good-naturedly “turned -himself loose” for us, and that the plates at the two doors were held -by the daughters of an English earl, and an (late, alas!) American -ambassador of great eminence. The countries could not have been more -characteristically or charmingly represented, and the charity owes them -its best thanks. - -There was the usual mine of information and entertainment, to be struck -with ease by the merest novice in conversational shaft-sinking. Why is -it that folk are so much more ready to talk on an Atlantic steamer than -elsewhere? I myself “struck ile,” in several directions, one of a sad -kind--Scotch farmers of the highest type going out to select new homes, -where there will be no factors. The most remarkable of these appeared to -have made up his mind finally when he had been told that he would not be -allowed a penny at the end of his lease for the addition of three rooms -he was obliged to make to his house, as his family were growing up. Have -landlords and factors gone mad, in face of the serious times which are -on them? - -There were quite an abundance of parsons, of many denominations, and all -of mark. Prayers on Sunday were read by a New England Episcopalian, -and the sermon preached by a Scotch Free Kirk minister. All were men of -broad views, in some cases verging on Latitudinarianism to a point which -rejoiced my heretic soul, e.g. a Protestant minister in a great American -western city, whose church had recently been rebuilt. Looking round -to find where his flock could be best housed on Sundays, pending -reconstruction, he found the neighbouring synagogue by far the most -convenient, and proposed to go there. His people cordially agreed, and -despite the furious raging of the (so-called) religious press, into the -synagogue they went for their Sunday services, stayed there six months, -and when they left, were only charged for the gas by the Rabbi. An -intimacy sprung up. It appeared that the Rabbi looked upon our Lord -as the first of the inspired men of his nation, greater than Moses or -Samuel, and in the end the two congregations met at a service conducted -partly by the Rabbi and partly by my informant!--a noteworthy sign of -the times, but one at which I fear many even of your readers will shake -their heads. - -There were some Confederate officers, ready to talk without bitterness -of the war, and I was very glad to improve the occasion, having never -had the chance of a look from that side the curtain. Anything more grim -and humorous than the picture of Southern society during those awful -four years I never hope to meet with. The entire want of regular -medicines, especially bark, was their greatest trouble in his eyes. In -his brigade their remedy for “the shakes” came to be a plaster of raw -turpentine, just drawn from the pine woods, laid on down the back. -Some one suggested that pills were very portable, and easily imported. -“Pills!” he said scornfully; “pills, sir, were as scarce in our brigade -as the grace of God in a grog shop at midnight.” Nothing so much -brought out to me the horrors of civil war as his account of the perfect -knowledge each side had of the plans and doings on the other. A Northern -officer, he had since come to know, was leaning against a post within -three yards of Jeff. Davis when he made his famous speech announcing the -supersession of Joe Johnson as the general fronting Sherman. Sherman had -heard it in a few hours, and was acting on the news before nightfall. -The most terrible example was that of the mining of the Richmond lines. -The defenders knew almost to a foot where the mines were, and when they -were to be fired. Breckenbridge’s division, in which he fought, were -drawn up in line to repel the attack when the earthworks went up in the -air, and the assailants rushed into the great gap which had been made, -and which was nearly filled, before they fell back, with the bodies of -Northern soldiers. For the last two years, in almost every battle he had -all he could do to hold his own against the front attack, knowing and -feeling all the while that the enemy was overlapping and massing on both -flanks, and that he would have to retire his regiment before they could -close. And yet they held together to the last! - - I pity mothers, too, down South, - - Altho’ they sat amongst the scorners. - -It is a curious experience, and one well worth trying, this ten days’ -voyage. When you go on board at Liverpool, and look round at the first -dinner, there are probably not half a dozen faces you ever saw before. -By the time you walk out of the ship, bag in hand, on to the New York -landing-place, there are scarcely half a dozen with» whom you have not -a pleasant speaking acquaintance; while with a not inconsiderable number -you feel (unless you have had singularly bad luck) as if you must have -known them intimately for years, without having been aware of it. As -you touch the land, the express men and hotel touts rush on you, and the -spell is broken. The little society resolves itself at their touch into -separate atoms, which are whirled away, without time to wish one another -God-speed, into the turbulent ocean of New York life, never again to be -gathered together as a society in this world, for worship, for food, or -fun. “The present life of man, 0 king!” said a Saxon thane in Edwin’s -Witenagemot, when they were consulting whether Augustine and his priests -should be allowed to settle at Canterbury, “reminds me of one of your -winter feasts where you sit with your thanes and counsellors. The hearth -blazes in our midst, and a grateful heat is spread around, while storms -of rain and snow are raging without. A little sparrow enters at one door -and flies delighted around us, till it departs through the other. Such -is the life of man, and we are as ignorant of the state which went -before us as of that which will follow it. Things being so,” went on -the thane, “I feel that if this new faith can give us more certainty, it -deserves to be received,”--which last sentiment has, I allow, no bearing -on the present subject, nor, perhaps you will say, has the rest of it. -But somehow the old story came into my head so vividly as I was leaving -the steamer, that I feel like tossing it on to your readers, to see -what they can make of it; though I own, on looking at it again, I am not -myself clear as to the interpretation, or whether I am the sparrow or -the thane. - -New York is more overwhelming than ever,--surely the most tremendous -human mill on this planet; but I must not begin upon it at the end of a -letter. - - - - -Life in Texas, Ranche on the Rio Grande, 16th September 1884. - -It must be many years now (how they do shut up in these latter days -like a telescope) since I confided to you in these columns the joy--not -unmixed with reverence--of my first interview with that worthy small -person (I am sure he must be a person) the tumble-bug of the U.S.A. I -looked upon him in those days as on the whole the most industrious and -athletic little creature it had ever been my privilege to encounter. I -am obliged now to take most of that back, for to-day I have discovered -that he isn’t a circumstance to his Mexican cousin on this side the Rio -Grande. At any rate, the specimens I have met with here are not only -bigger, but work half as hard again, and about twice as quick. I was -sitting just now in the verandah in front of this ranche cabin, waiting -for the horses to be saddled-up at the corral just below, and looking -lazily, now eastward over the river and the wide Texan plains beyond, -fading away in the haze till the horizon looked like the Atlantic in a -calm, now westward to the jagged outline of the Sierra Nevada, gleaming -in the sunshine sixty miles away, when I became aware of something -moving at my feet. Looking down I found that it was a tumble-bug rolling -a ball of dirt he had put together, till it was at least four times -as big as himself, towards the rough stony descent just beyond the -verandah, at a pace which fairly staggered me. In a few seconds he was -across the floor, and in amongst the stones which lay thickly over -the slope beyond. Here his troubles began. First he pushed his ball -backwards over a big stone, on the further side of which it fell, and he -with it, headlong--no, not headlong, stern foremost--some five inches, -rolling over one another twice at the bottom. But he never quitted hold, -and began pushing away merrily again without a moment’s pause. Then he -ran the ball into a _cul-de-sac_ between two stones, some inches high. -After two or three dead heaves, which lifted the ball at least his own -length up the side of the stones--and you must remember, to judge of the -feat, that he was standing on his head to do it--he quitted hold, -turned round, and looked at the situation. I am almost certain I saw him -scratch his ear, or at least the side of his head, with his fore-claw. -In a second or two he fixed on again with his hind-claws, pushed the -ball out of the _cul-de-sac_, and continued his journey. If that bug -didn’t put two and two together, by what process did he get out of that -_cul-de-sac?_ “Cogito, ergo sum.” Was I wrong in calling him a person? -Well, I won’t trouble you further with particulars of his journey, but -he ran his big ball into his hole under a mesquite-bush, 19 1/2 yards -from the spot on the verandah where I first noticed him, in eleven -minutes and a few seconds by my watch. I made a calculation before -mounting that, comparing my bug with an average Mexican, five feet eight -inches high, and weighing ten stone, the ball of dirt would be at least -equal to a bale of cotton, eight feet in diameter, and weighing half -a ton, which the man would have to push or carry 2 1/2 miles in eleven -minutes, to equal the feat of his tiny fellow-citizen. In the depressed -condition of Mexico, might not this enormous bug-power be utilised -somehow for the benefit of the Republic? - -I had barely finished my ciphering when I was called to horse, and in a -few minutes was riding across a vast plain, nearly bare of grass in this -drought, but dotted with mesquite-bushes, prickly pear, and other scrub, -so that the general effect was still green. The riding was rough, as -much loose stone lay about, and badgers’, “Jack Rabbits’” and other -creatures’ holes abounded; but the small Mexican horse I rode was -perfectly sure-footed, and I ambled along, swelling with pride at my -quaint saddle, with pummel some eight inches high, and depending lasso, -showing that for the time I was free of the honourable fraternity of -“gentlemen cow-punchers.” Besides myself, our party consisted of the -two ranche-men--an Englishman and an American, aged about thirty, old -comrades on long drives 1000 miles away to the North, but now -anchored on this glorious ranche on the Bio Grande--and a cowboy. The -Englishman’s yellow hair was cropped close to his head, and his fair -skin was burnt as red, I suppose, as skin will burn; the Marylander’s -black hair was as closely cropped, and his skin burnt an equally deep -brown. The cowboy, an English lad of about twenty, reconciled the two -types, having managed to get his skin tanned a deep red, relieved by -large dark brown freckles, from the midst of which his great blue eyes -shone out in comical contrast. I fear-- - - The very mother that him bare, - - She had not known her child. - -They were all attired alike, in broad felt sombreros, blue shirts, and -trousers thrust into boots reaching to the knees. Each had his lasso at -pummel, and between them they carried a rifle, frying-pan, coffee-pot, -big loaf, and forequarter of a porker--for we were out for a long day. A -more picturesque or efficient-looking group it would be hard to find. -I must resist the temptation of telling all we did or saw, and come at -once to our ride home shortly before sunset. The ranche-men and I were -abreast, and the cowboy a few yards behind, when we came across a bunch -of cattle, conspicuous amongst which strode along a stalwart yearling -bull calf, whose shining brindle hide and jaunty air showed that he, at -least, was not suffering from the scanty food which the drought has left -for the herds on these wide plains. He was already as big as his poor -raw-boned mother, who went along painfully picking at every shrub and -tuft in her path, to provide his evening meal at her own expense. Now -these dude calves (who insist on living on their parents, and will do -nothing for their own livelihood) can only be cured by the insertion of -a horse-ring in the upper lip, so that they cannot turn it up to take -hold of the maternal udder, and it is often in bad times a matter of -life or death to the cows to get them ringed. After a conference of -a few seconds, the Marylander shifted the rifle to the saddle of the -Englishman (already ornamented with the frying-pan and the coffee-pot), -and calling to the cowboy, dashed off for the bunch of cattle. Next -moment the cowboy shot past us at full speed, gathering up his lasso as -he went; the bull-calf was “cut out” of the bunch as if by magic, and -went straight away through mesquite-brush and prickly pears, at a pace -which kept his pursuers at their utmost stretch not to lose ground. It -was all they could do to hold it, never for a full mile getting within -lasso-reach of Boliborus, the ranche-man following like fate, upright -from shoulder to toe (they ride with very long stirrups), bridle hand -low, and right hand swinging the lasso slowly round his head, awaiting -his chance for a throw; the cowboy close on his flank; ranche-man number -two clattering along, pot, kettle, and rifle “soaring and singing” round -his knees, but availing himself of every turn in the chase, so as to -keep within thirty or forty yards. I, a bad fourth, but near enough to -see the whole and share the excitement (if, indeed, I hadn’t it all -to myself, the sport being to the rest a part of the daily round). The -crisis came just at the foot of a mound, up which Boliborus had gained -some yards, but in the descent had slackened his pace and the pursuers -were on him. The lasso flew from the raised hand, and was round his -neck, a dexterous twist brought the rope across his forelegs, and next -moment he was over on his side half, throttled. I was up in some five -seconds, during which his lassoer had him by the horns, ranche-man -number two was prone with all his weight upon his shoulders, and the -cowboy on his hind quarters, catching at his tail with his left hand. -That bull calf’s struggle to rise was as superb as Bertram Risingham’s -in _Rokeby_, and as futile; for the cowboy had caught his tail and -passed it between his hind legs, and by pulling hard kept one leg -brandishing aimlessly in the air, while the weight of the ranche-men -subdued his forequarters. The ring was passed through his upper lip, -and the lasso was off his neck in a few seconds more, and the ranche-men -turned to mount, saying to the cowboy, “Just hold on a minute.” The -cowboy passed the tail back between the hind legs, grasped the end -firmly, and stood expectant. Boliborus lay quiet for a second or two, -and then bounded to his feet, glaring round in rage and pain to choose -which, of his foes to go for, when he became aware of something wrong -behind, and looking round, realised the state of the case. Down went his -head, and round he went with a rush for his own tail end, but the tail -and boy were equal to the occasion, and the latter still holding on -tight by the former, sent back a defiant kick at the end of each rush, -which, however, never got within two feet of the bull’s nose, and could -be only looked upon as a proper defiance. Then Boliborus tried stealing -round to take his tail by surprise, but all to as little purpose, when -the ranche-men, who were now both mounted, to end the farce, rode round -in front of the beast, caught his eye, and cried, “Let go.” Whisking his -freed tail in the air he made a rush, but only a half-hearted one, at -the nearest, who just wheeled his horse, and as he passed administered -a contemptuous thwack over his loins with a lasso. Boliborus now stood -looking down his nose at the appendant ring, revolving his next move, -with so comic an expression that I burst into a roar of laughter, in -which the rest joined out of courtesy. This was too much for him, as -ridicule proves for so many two-legged calves, so he tossed his head in -the air, gave a flirt with his heels, and trotted off after his mother, -a sadder, and let us hope, wiser bull-calf; in any case, a ringed one, -and bound in future to get his own living. - -On my ride home my mind was much occupied by that cowboy, who rode -along by me--telling how he had been reading _Gulliver’s Travels_ again -(amongst other things), found it wasn’t a mere boy’s book, and wanted -to get a Life of Swift--in his battered old outfit, for which no Jew in -Rag-Fair would give him five shillings. The last time I had seen him, -two years ago, he had just left Hallebury, a bit of a dandy, with very -tight clothes, and so stiff a white collar on, that on his arrival he -had been nicknamed “the Parson.” - -At home he might by this time be just through responsions by the help -of cribs and manuals, having contracted in the process a rooted distaste -for classical literature. Possibly he might have pulled in his college -boat, and won a plated cup at lawn tennis, and all this at the cost -of, say, £250 a year. As it is, besides costing nothing, he can cook a -spare-rib of pork to a turn on a forked stick, hold a bull-calf by the -tail, and is voluntarily wrestling (not without certain glimmerings of -light) with _Sartor Resartus_. Which career for choice? How say you, Mr. -Editor? - - - - -Crossing the Atlantic, 4th September 1885. - -A mug-wump! I should like to ask you, sir--not as Editor, not even as -English gentleman, but simply as vertebrate animal--what you would do -if a stranger were all of a sudden to call your intimate friends -“mug-wumps,” not obscurely hinting that you yourself laboured under -whatever imputation that term may convey? I don’t know what the effect -might have been in my own case, but that the story of O’Connell, as -a boy, shutting up the voluble old Dublin applewoman by calling her a -“parallelopiped,” rushed into my head, and set me off laughing. I -haven’t been able to learn more of the etymology of the word than that -it is said over here to have been first used in a sermon (?) by Mr. Ward -Beecher, and now denotes “bolters” or “scratchers,” as they were called -last autumn, or in other words, the Independents, who broke away from -the party machine of Republicanism and carried Cleveland. More power to -the “mug-wump’s” elbow, say I; and I only wish we may catch the -“mugwumps,” “mug-wumpism,” or whatever the name for the disease may be, -in England before long. One of the groups on the deck of the liner, -amongst whom I first heard the phrase, was a good specimen of the -machine-politician, a democrat of the Tammany Hall type. “You bet” I -stuck to him till I got at his candid account of the campaign of last -autumn, most interesting to me, but I fear not so to the general English -reader, so I will only give you his concluding sentence:--“Well,” with a -long suck at the big cigar he was half-eating, half-smoking, “I tell you -it was about the thinnest ice you ever saw before we were over,--but, _I -got to land!_” From what I heard on board and since, I believe the -President is doing splendidly; witness his peremptory order for the -great ranche-men to clear out of the Reserves which they had leased from -the Indians, and fenced to the extent of some millions of acres; the -righteousness of which presidential action is proved (were proof needed) -by the threatened resistance of General B. Butler, one of the largest -lessees. I can see too clearly looming up a determined opposition to the -President’s Civil Service reform from politicians of both parties, -mainly on the ground that he is “establishing a class” in these U.S.--a -policy which “the Fathers” abhorred and guarded against, and which their -only legitimate heirs, the machine politicians, will fight to the death. -You may gauge the worth of this opposition by contrasting their two -principal arguments--(1) Nine-tenths of the work of the Departments -(Post Office, Customs, etc.) can be learnt just as well in three months -as in ten years; and (2) the other tenth, requiring skilled and -experienced officers, has never been interfered with by either side. -But, if argument two is sound, _cadit quostio_, as there is _ex -hypothesi_ already a permanent class of civil servants, I conclude that -were I an American I would accept “mug-wump” as a title of honour -instead of resenting it, and help to get up a “Mug-wump” club in every -great city. - -We had a splendid crossing, deck crowded all the way, and the company -gloriously cosmopolitan and communicative during the short intervals -between the orthodox four full meals a day. There is surely no place in -the world where that universal instinct, the desire to get behind -the scenes of one’s neighbours’ lives, is so easily and abundantly -gratified. Here is one of my rather odd discoveries. On reaching -the deck, after my bath on the first morning, for the tramp before -breakfast, I was joined by a fine specimen of an old Yorkshireman. It -seems we had met years ago, at some political or social gathering, -and as he looked in superb health and fit to fight for his life, I -congratulated. Yes, he said, it was all owing to his having discovered -how to pass his holiday. He used to go to some northern seaside place, -one as bad as the other, for “whenever the wind blew on shore you might -as well be living in a sewer.” So he saved enough one year to buy a -return-ticket on a Cunard liner, calculating that whatever way the wind -blew he must be getting sea-air all the time. He has done it every year -since, having found that besides sea-air he gets better food and company -than he could ever command at home. My next “find” was a pleasant -soldierly-looking man who called to me from the upper deck to come up -and see a sword-fish chasing a whale. Alas! I arrived too late. The -uncivil brutes had both disappeared by the time I got up; but I was much -consoled by the talk which ensued with my new acquaintance. He was a -Lieutenant of Marines in the Admiral’s flag-ship off Palermo in King -Bomba’s last days, and was sent ashore to arrest and bring on board all -sailors found with the Garibaldini. He seems to have found it necessary -to be present himself at the battle of Metazzo (I think that was -the name) and at the storming of the town afterwards, in which the -Garibaldini suffered severely. The dead were all laid out before the -gate after the town was taken, and he counted no less than seventy -bluejackets amongst them! They used to drop over the sides of the ships -and swim ashore, or smuggle themselves into the bum-boats which came -off to the fleet with provisions. No wonder that we have been popular in -Italy ever since. - -Then, attracted by a crowd on the fore part of the deck, roped off to -divide steerage from saloon passengers, I became one of a motley -group assisting at a sort of moral “free-and-easy,” got up for the 300 -steerage folk by two ecclesiastics, whom I took at first for Romish -priests from their costume. I found I was mistaken, and that they were -the Principal and a Brother of “the Fraternity of the Iron Cross,” an -order of the American Episcopal Church, which, it seems, has taken root -in several of the large cities. The Brethren are vowed to “poverty, -purity, and temperance” (or obedience, I am not sure which); and these -two were crossing in the steerage to comfort and help the poor folk -there--no pleasant task, even in so airy a ship and such fine weather. -One can imagine what power this kind of fellowship must give the Iron -Cross Brethren with their rather sad fellow-passengers, to whom they -could say--one of them, indeed, did say it--“We are just as poor as the -poorest of you, for we own no property of any kind, and never can -own any till our deaths.” This Brother (a strapping young fellow of -twenty-five, who I found had been an athlete at Oxford) waxed -eloquent to them on his experiences in Philadelphia, especially on the -working-men Brethren there. One of these, a big, rough chap, with a -badly broken nose, he had rather looked askance at, first, till he found -that the broken nose had been earned in a rough-and-tumble fight with a -fellow who was ill-using a woman. Now they were the closest friends, and -he looked on the broken nose as more honourable than the Victoria Cross, -and hoped none of the men there would fail to go in for that decoration -if they ever got the same chance. - -In melancholy contrast to the Iron Cross Brethren were two other -diligent workers in quite another kind of business. They haunted the -smoking-room from breakfast till “lights out,” officious to help to -arrange the daily sweepstakes on the ship’s run; gloating over, and -piling caressingly as they rattled down on the table, the dollars and -half-crowns; always on the watch and ready to take a hand at cards, just -to accommodate gents with whom time hung heavily. Bagmen, they were -said to be; but I doubt if they travel for any industry except plucking -pigeons on their own account--unmistakable Jews of a low type, who never -looked any man in the face:-- - - In their eyes that stealthy gleam, - - Was not learned of sky or stream, - - But it has the hard, cold glint - - Of new dollars from the mint. - -Their industry was pursued cautiously, as the fine old captain is known -to hold strong views about gambling, and there was less on this ship -than any other I have crossed on. No baccarat-table going all day, with -excited youngsters punting their silver (gold, too, now and then) over -the shoulders of the players,--only a quiet hand at euchre or poker at -a corner table, in the afternoon and after dinner; but even with -such straitened opportunities, youngsters may be plucked to a fairly -satisfactory figure. From £10 to £20 was often at stake on one deal at -poker, and, I was told, not seldom much higher sums. I saw myself one -mere boy inveigled into blind-hookey for a minute or two while the poker -party was gathering. He won the first cut; and two minutes later I -saw “Iscariot Ingots, Esq., that highly respectable man,” looking -abstractedly across the room, and dreamily gathering up a large handful -of silver which the boy rattled down as he flung off to take his seat at -the poker-table; and so on, and so on. - -It occurs to one to ask, not without some indignation, why this sort of -thing is allowed on these Atlantic steamers. My own observation confirms -the general belief that professionals cross on nearly every boat; and, -on every boat, there are youngsters fresh from school or college, out of -leading-strings for the first time, and with considerable sums in their -pockets. It is a bad scandal, and might be stopped with the greatest -ease. Prohibit all cards, except whist for small points in the -smoking-room; and let it be the purser’s or some other officer’s duty -to see the rule enforced. As things stand, I do not know of a more -dangerous place for youngsters--American or English--than an Atlantic -steamer. - -One never gets past Sandy Hook, I think, without some new sensation. -This time, for me, it was the harbour buoys, each of which carried a -brilliant electric lamp. They are lighted from the shore! - - - - -Notes from the West, Cincinnati, 24th September 1886. - -I never come to this country without stumbling over some startling -differences between our kin here and ourselves, which it puzzles me to -account for. Take this last. Some days ago, I met a young Englishman -from a Western ranche. He had run down some six hundred miles, from -Kansas City, into which he had brought a “bunch” of steers from the -ranche. As he would not be wanted again for a fortnight, he had taken -the opportunity of looking in on his friends down South. In our talk the -question of railway fares turned up. “Oh, yes,” he said, “the fare is -$25; but I only paid $16.” - -“How is that?” - -“Why, I just went to the ‘ticket-scalpers’,’ right opposite the railway -dépôt--here is their card (handing it to me); and, you see, my ticket is -to Chatanooga; so I might go on for another hundred and fifty miles if I -wanted to.” There was the business card, “Moss Brothers, ticket-brokers, -opposite central dépôt, Kansas City, members of the Ticket Brokers’ -Union.” It went on to say that every attention is paid to travellers, -inquiries made, and information given, by these enterprising Hebrews; -and on the back, a list of the towns to which they could issue tickets, -including nearly every important centre in the Northern and Western -States. Since then I have made inquiries at several towns, and find that -the “scalper” is an institution in every one of them; and, apart from -the saving of money, is much in favour with the travelling public, on -account of his civility and intelligence. The ordinary railway clerk is -a remarkably short-tempered and ill-informed person, out of whom you can -with difficulty extract the most trifling piece of information, even as -to his own line; while the despised “scalper” across the road (generally -a Jew) will take any amount of trouble to find out how you can “make -connections,” while furnishing you with a ticket, which he guarantees, -at a third less, on the average, than his legitimate but morose rival -in “the dépôt.” But the strangest thing of all is, that even the railway -directors seem to think it all right; or, at any rate, that it is not -worth their while to try to stop this traffic. One friend, a first-rate -business man, actually said that he should have no scruple what, ever in -going to the “scalpers” when off his own system, over which, of course, -he is “dead-headed.” I heard several explanations of the phenomenon, the -only plausible one being that it is impossible to control the enormous -issues of cheap excursion tickets which are made by all the main lines. -But surely, then, the question occurs, “Why impossible!” At any rate, -the average Briton is inclined to think that if such establishments -appeared opposite the Euston Square or Waterloo termini, they would -soon hear something from Mr. Moon and Mr. Ralph Dutton not to their -advantage. - -I gleaned other items of information from my young friend from Kansas -which may be useful to some of your readers, now that there is scarcely -a family in England (so it seems to me, at least) which is not sending -out one or more of its younger members to try their fortunes in the -Far West. This, for instance, seems worth bearing in mind: When a young -fellow comes out from home, he shouldn’t go and hire himself out at once -to a farmer. If he does, he’ll find they’ll make the winter jobs for -an Englishman pretty tough. He’ll get all the hardest work laid out for -him, and mighty poor pay at the end. Let him go and board with a farmer. -Any one will be glad to take him for a few dollars. Then he can learn -all he wants, and they’ll be glad of his help, because they’ll see it’s -a picnic. If you like it, you can buy and settle down. If not, you can -just pull out, and go on somewhere else. - -The administration of justice on the plains is still in a primitive -condition. The difficulty of getting a jury of farmers together makes -a gaol delivery a troublesome matter. Another youngster from Dakota -illustrated this from his section. There was a turbulent member of the -community who, after committing other minor offences, at last got lodged -in the shanty which does office for a gaol, on the serious charge of -a murderous attack on a girl who refused any longer to receive his -attentions, and on her father when he came to the rescue. He had lain -in gaol for some weeks, waiting for a judge and jury, when 4th July came -round. The Sheriff-Constable, with all the rest of the neighbours, was -bound for the nearest railway-station, some ten miles off, where the -anniversary of “the glorious Fourth” was to be commemorated, with -trotting marches and other diversions. He had one other prisoner in -charge, and so, after weighing the matter well, and taking the length -of their incarceration into account, came to the ingenious conclusion to -let them out for the day, each going bail for the return of the other on -the following day. On the morrow, however, it was found that the chief -culprit had not turned up, and the fathers of the little community -gathered in indignant council to consider what was to be done. After -some debate the Sheriff-Constable gave it as his opinion that, on the -whole, Dogberry’s advice was sound, and they should let him go, and -thank God they were rid of a knave, “the country having spent too much -already over the darned cuss.” To this the _patres conscripti_ -agreed, and went home to their farms. Even stranger is another -well-authenticated story from one of the most active and important of -the new cities in the North-West. Amongst the first settlers there was -one who had dabbled in real estate, and grown with the growth of the -city, until he had become “one of our principal citizens.” No one seemed -to know whether he was a lawyer by profession, and he never conducted a -case in Court. But one thing was quite clear, that he was intimate with -all the judges, had the _entrée_ to their private rooms, and, especially -in the case of the Judges of the Supreme Court, scarcely ever failed to -avail himself of this privilege when the Courts were sitting. He had a -capital cook and good horses, which were always freely at the service -of the representatives of justice. Gradually it began to be quietly -understood, no one quite knew how, amongst suitors, that it was -possible, and very desirable, to interest the gentleman in question in -their cases. He was ready, it would seem, to accept a retaining-fee. -His charge was fixed at a very moderate percentage on the value of the -property in dispute, which nobody need pay unless they thought it worth -while. Moreover, the system was one of “No cure, no pay.” He gave every -one an acknowledgment in writing of the amount paid in their respective -cases, with an undertaking to return the full sum in the event of their -proving unsuccessful. It therefore naturally appeared to the average -Western suitor about as profitable an investment as he could make. -Strange to say, this queer practice seems to have gone on for years, and -no shadow of suspicion ever fell on this “principal citizen,” whatever -might have been the case as to his friends the judges. The strong -individuality and secretiveness which marks the Western character may -probably account for the fact that during his life no one would seem to -have taken any public notice of this peculiar industry. If a suitor was -successful, he was content; if not, he got back his money, and it was -nobody’s affair but his own. Well, the good man died, and was buried, -and his executors, in administering his estate, were astonished to -find bundles of receipts from suitors of all classes and degrees, -acknowledging the repayment to them of sums varying in amount from $5 -and upwards “in the case of Brown v. Jones,” “in the matter of United -States v. Robinson,” “_ex parte_ White,” etc. This led to further -inquiry, and the facts came ~ gradually to light. The sagacious testator -had, in fact, taken his percentage _from both sides_ in almost every -case of any importance which had been heard in the Courts for years. He -had never mentioned suit or suitor to any of the judges, his visits to -them being simply for the purpose of asking them to dinner, offering -them a drive, or a bed if they were on circuit away from home, or -interchanging gossip as to stocks, railways, or public affairs. And so -for years five honest men had been presiding in the different Courts, -entirely innocent of the fact that almost every suitor was looking upon -each of them as a person who had received valuable consideration for -deciding in his favour. I own that my experience, though, of course, -narrow, is decidedly favourable as to the ability and uprightness of the -judges in out-of-the-way districts; so that nothing but what I could not -but regard as quite unimpeachable evidence would have satisfied me that -a whole-community of litigants should have gone on paying black-mail in -this egregiously stupid manner. - -I was considerably astonished, and a little troubled, to find so many -of my friends among Northern Republicans--men who had gone through and -borne the burden of the War of Secession--not, indeed, sympathising with -the Irish, whom they dislike and distrust more than we do, but saying: -“Oh, you had better let them have their own way. Look at our experience -of twenty years after the war. Until we let the Southern States -have their own way, and withdrew the troops, and threw over the -carpetbaggers, we had no peace; and now they are just as quiet as -New England.” To which, of course, I made the obvious reply: “Let -the seceding States have their own way, did you? Why, I had always -understood that they went out because you elected a free-soil President, -pledged to oppose any further extension of their peculiar institution, -and that at the end of the war that institution had not only been -confined within its old limits, but had absolutely disappeared. The -parallel would have held if you had said to Mr. Jefferson Davis and his -backers in the spring of 1861, ‘Do what you please as to your negroes; -take them where you will; it is a purely domestic matter for you to -settle in your own way.’ Instead of this, you said, ‘You shall not take -your slaves where you please, and you shall not go out of the Union.’ -In the same way, we have to say now to the Irish, ‘You shall not do what -you please with the owners of property in Ireland, and you shall not go -out of the Union.’” - -You will be glad to hear that, wherever I went, there seemed to be -the expectation of a revival of trade in the near future. I can see no -ground myself for the expectation, so long as all industry remains -in its present competitive phase, and the power of production goes on -increasing instead of diminishing. Why should men not desire as eagerly -to take each other’s trade this next year as they did last year? But -the knowing people think otherwise, and I suppose that is good for -something. - - - - -Westward Ho! 2nd April 1887. - -It must be nearly thirty years since I first wrote to you over -this signature, but never before except in long vacations, and from -outlandish parts. Why not keep to a good rule? you may ask, at this -crowded time of year. Well, the fact is I really want to say something -as to this “Westward Ho!” gadfly, which seems to have bitten young -England with a vengeance in these last months. I am startled, not to -say alarmed, at the number of letters I get from the parents and -guardians--generally professional men--of youngsters eagerly bent on -cattle-ranches, horse-ranches, orange-groves in Florida, vineyards, -peach and strawberry-raising, and I know not what other golden dreams of -wealth quickly acquired in the open air, generally with plenty of wild -sport thrown in. I suppose they write from some fancy that I know a good -deal about such matters. That is not so; but I do know a very little -about them, and may possibly do some good by publishing that little just -now in your columns. - -First, then, as to cattle and horse-raising on ranches. This is -practically a closed business on any but a small scale, and as part of -farm work. All the best ranche-grounds are in the hands of large and -rich companies, or millionaires, with whom no newcomer can compete. It -will, no doubt, be a valuable experience for any young man to work for -a year or two on a big ranch as a cowboy; but he must be thoroughly able -to trust his temper, and to rough it in many ways, or he should not try -it. At the end, if prudent, he will only have been able to save a few -hundred dollars. But this is not the kind of thing, so far as I see, -that our youngsters at all expect or want. Orange-groves are excellent -and profitable things, no doubt, and there are parts in Florida and -elsewhere where there is still plenty of land fit for this purpose, -though the choice spots are probably occupied. But an orange-grove -will not give any return till the sixth year, cautious people say the -seventh. - -Vineyards may, with good luck, be giving some return in the third or -fourth year; but the amount of hard work which must be put into the soil -in breaking up, clearing out stumps, and ploughing, even if there is -no timber to fell, is very serious; and the same may be said of -peach-orchards and early, fruit and vegetable-rearing. Moreover, the -choice places for such industry, such as Lookout Mountain, are for the -most part occupied. In a word, though it is quite possible to do well -in other industries, and in ordinary farming, nothing beyond a decent -living can be earned, without at any rate as free an expenditure of -brain and muscle as high farming requires at home. On the other hand, -sport, except for rich ranche-men who can command waggons, horses, and -men, and travel long distances for it, is not to be had generally, and -apt to disappoint where it can be had. - -So much for the working side of the problem. The playing side--outside -whisky-shops, which I will assume the young Englishman means to -keep clear of--ought also to be looked fairly in the face before the -experiment is tried. Perhaps the most direct way to bring it home -to inquirers will be to quote from the letter of a young English -public-school boy who has lately finished his first year as a cowboy on -the cattle-ranche of one of the big companies:-- - -_Friday night_ we had quite a time. We went to an exhibition of the home -talent of----, and really of all shows this was the worst I ever saw. -One man, the town barber, and our greatest “society man,” played a -nigger, and played it so well that one could not help fancying he has at -one time been a “profesh.” The rest were so dull and such sticks that -it made him shine more than ever. After the home talent, there was a -“social hop,” at which Jerry and I shone as being the “bored young men.” - You can, of course, see why I was bored; and Jerry, he is from Ohio, and -of course------ cannot compete with Ohio. However, as Jerry was somewhat -of a great man, the quadrilles being all called by him--i.e. he stood -on the stage and shouted, “balance all,” “swing your partners,” “lady’s -chain,” at the right time--we had to stay, and more or less to dance. -Jerry took great pains to find me partners worthy of a man who had -danced in a dress-coat. He did not succeed but once, when he introduced -me to a very lively little school-lady, “marm,” I should say; the rest -were very wooden in movement and conversation. The school-marm amused me -very much. She had not long returned from the--------- University, where -all the young ladies, though they met the other sex at school, were not -allowed to speak to them at other times. The girls were allowed to give -dances, but she and three or four others thought that a “hen-pie” dance -was too much of a fraud, so they contrived a plan by which they could -get three or four dancing men in without going to the door. They -fastened a pulley on to the beam where the bell hung, and with the aid -of a clothes-basket and a rope they spoiled the “hen-pie” with two or -three young men. This plan worked well several times, till one night -three or four of them were exerting themselves to get a very heavy -boy up, when instead of a boy they perceived the bearded face of the -head-master. In horror they turned loose the rope and fled, leaving -him twelve feet from the ground, hanging on by his fingers to the -window-sill, from which, as no one would respond to his call for help, -he finally dropped. The young lady told it much better than I have. -Jerry was very popular as a “caller.” I noticed he understood his -audience well, and whenever they got a figure they didn’t know, he came -in with “grand chain,” which they all knew and performed very nicely; so -you would see a whole set lost in the intricate feat of “visiting” (say) -and all muddled up, when you would hear the grand voice of Jerry, “grand -chain,” and all the dancers would smile and go to it, and Jerry was -quite the boss. We however lost our reputation as good young men, as -towards midnight we were overcome with a great thirst; so wicked I, a -hardened sinner, persuaded the social barber to let me have half-a-pint -of whisky; and J------ and I were caught in the barber’s shop, eating -tinned oysters with our pocket-knives, and biscuits, and indulging -in whisky-and-water. We were caught by three young men who had “got -religion” last fall, and who were, of course, highly shocked; but I -think they would have overcome all their scruples but for the -stern mothers in the background, and they not only envied us our -whisky-and-water, but also our mothers. Half the fight in drinking, I -think, is to have been “raised” to look upon it as an every-day -luxury, and not as a thing to be had as a great treat on the sly. Well, -good-bye! I have written a lot of rubbish, but beyond that am fatter -than I have ever been in America. - -This will probably give readers a pretty clear notion of the social -life available in the West. It is, as they will see at a glance, utterly -unlike anything they have been used to. If this kind of social life -(and there is something to be said for it) is what they want, in the -interludes of really hard manual labour and rough board and lodging, let -them start by all means, and they may do very well out West. Otherwise -they had better look the thing round twice or thrice before starting. In -any case, no young man ought to take more ready money with him than will -just keep him from starving for about a month. - -If he cannot make his hands keep him by that time, he has no business, -and will do no good, in the West. - - - - -The Hermit, Rugby, Tennessee, 19th September 1887. - -I have always had a strong curiosity about hermits--remember I paid -a shilling as a small boy, when I could ill afford it, to see one, -somewhere up by Hampstead, a cruel disappointment--used to make shy -approaches to lonely turnpike keepers before they were abolished, with -no success; finding them always, like Johnson’s “hoary sage,” inclined -to cut sentiment short with, “Come, my lad, and drink some beer,” I came -to the conclusion long since that the genuine hermit is as extinct as -the dodo in the British Isles. I was almost excited, therefore, the -other morning, to get a note on a dirty scrap of paper here, asking for -the loan of a book on geology, for, on inquiry, I found it came from -“the Hermit.” He had suddenly appeared to the man who drives the hack, -and sent it in by him. No one could tell me anything more except that -the writer was “the Hermit,” and lived, no one knew how, in a shanty -four miles away in the forest. I got the book out of the library, -“loaned” a pony, and in due course found myself outside a dilapidated -snake-fence, surrounding some three acres of half-cleared forest, and -the rudest kind of log-hut; evidently the place I was in search of, but -no hermit. While I was meditating my next move, a dismal howl, like, -I should think, the “lulilooing” of Central Africa, came from out the -neighbouring bush. I shouted myself, and in a few moments “the -Hermit” appeared, and certainly at first glance “filled the bill” - satisfactorily. His head was a tangled mass of long hair and beard, out -of which shone two big, blue eyes; a long, lean figure, slightly -bent, and clothed in a tattered shirt, and trousers which no old Jew -clothesman would have picked off a dunghill. I explained my errand and -produced the book. - -He thanked me, excused his dress; had other clothes, he said, in -the house, which he would have put on had he expected me; was rather -excited, so I must excuse him, as his “buck” had gone right off, in -disgust, he believed, at the smallness of his flock, as he had only -eight ewes. “Buck” I found to be _Anglice_ “ram,” and that it was in the -hope of luring back the insufficiently married lord of his flock that -he had been howling when I came up. On my doubting whether such a call -would not be more likely to speed the flight of the truant “buck,” he -rushed awray in the other direction and uplifted it again; and in two -or three minutes the eight ewes, with several lambs, were all round him, -rubbing against his legs, while an Angora goat looked on with dignity -from some yards off. From our talk I found that he was a Shrewsbury man, -knew three or four languages, and mathematics up to the differential -calculus; found England “too noisy,” and, moreover, could get no land -there; had come out and gone to the agricultural class at Cornell -University; had now bought this bit of land, on which he could live -well, as he was a vegetarian (pointing round to some corn, turnips, -etc., in his enclosure); had indigestion at first, but now had found -out how to make bread which agreed with him. His trouble was the forest -hogs, which were always watching to get at his crops, and his fence, -having weak places, would not keep them out, so he had to be always on -the watch. If he had any one to keep out the hogs, he could go and find -his “buck,” he said, wistfully. The better man within me here was moved -to offer to keep watch and ward against hogs while he sought his “buck”; -but, on the whole, as the sun was already westering, and I had doubts -as to when he might think of relieving guard, my better man did not -prevail, and I changed the subject to the book I had brought. He glanced -at the title-page, was pleased to find that it was of recent date, as -his geology was rusty. Then, as he did not invite me into his log-hut, -I rode away. Next evening, as I was strolling down our street, my -attention was called to the noticeboard outside the chief store, kept by -an excellent, kindly New Englander, Tucker by name, who very liberally -allows any of his neighbours to use it. Here I found the following -notice from “the Hermit,” which had been sent up by the hackman, to be -posted. It opens, you will remark, in the true prophetic style. It ran: -“Ho! all ye passers by! Strayed--like a fool!--a Ram (a male sheep,) -butts like a nipper, and runs after! God will bless the seer if he -lets Isaac Williams, of Sedgemoor Road, know. That is all. Please, Mr. -Tucker, post this. Oh, I forgot,--Buy of Tucker!” I think you will agree -that I have struck a _bona fide_ hermit in my old age. - -But to return to my loafing idyll. Perhaps, if I had to select out of -several the ideal loafing haunt in these parts, it would be the verandah -of our doctor, another bright New Englander, a graduate of Harvard, and -M.D., who, after fourteen years’ practice at Boston, was driven South -by threatenings of chest troubles, and happily pitched on this tableland -amongst the mountains. Not that he is a loaf-brother, except on rare -occasions; a man diligent in his business, and prompt to answer any -professional call; but as nobody seems ever to be ill, his leisure is -abundant. The greater part of this he spends in the study and practice -of grape-culture, in which he has, in the five years since he took -it up, earned a high reputation. But in these autumn months, all the -pruning, thinning, and tending are over in the forenoon, and in the -hours which follow, which are delightfully hot and enjoyable to all -sun-lovers, he is generally to be found in his verandah, well supplied -with rocking-chairs. In front of the verandah is his principal vineyard, -sloping south, and at the bottom of the slope, right away to the distant -mountain-range (with Pike’s Peak soaring to the clouds, the centre -of the military telegraph system in the war, from which messages were -flashed to Look-out Mountain, over Chattanooga, in the critical days -of battle, before Sherman started on his march to the sea), wave beyond -wave, as it were, of many-coloured forest, each taking fresh tints as -clouds flit over, and the triumphant old sun slopes to the West. There -one may find the doctor in his rocker, his feet higher than his head on -one of the verandah supports--and all who have learnt to appreciate the -rocking-chair will agree that “heels up” is half the battle--his tobacco -and a book on vines on a small table by his side, and over his head, -within easy reach, a rope depending from the verandah roof. At first I -took it for the common domestic bell-pull, but soon discovered its -more subtle bearing on the luxury of loafing. The doctor had been much -exercised by the visits of birds of outrageous appetite to his “Norton’s -Virginia,” and other precious vines. At first he had resorted to his -double-barrelled gun and small shot--indeed, it yet stood in a corner of -the balcony, loaded--but had soon abandoned it. Its use was compatible -neither with his love for birds nor the enjoyment of his rocking-chair. -So, by an ingenious arrangement, he had hung bells at five or six points -in the vineyard, connecting each and all with the depending-rope, so -that no sooner did a bird settle with a view to lunch or dinner, than it -was saluted by a peal from a bell close by, which sent it skirling back -to the forest, while the doctor had neither to lower his heels nor take -the pipe from his mouth. - -Watching the entire discomfiture of the birds adds, I must own, a keener -zest even to the delicious view and air, and to the racy stories of -Western life poured out by one or another of the loaf-brethren. A -specimen or two may amuse your readers. Placard over the piano in a -favourite resort of Texan cowboys: “Don’t shoot the musician; he is -doing his best.” Cowboy entering the cars at midnight, thermometer below -zero, after snorting for a minute, lets down a window, is remonstrated -with, and replies, “Wal, I’d as soon sleep with my head in a dead -horse as in this car with the windows shut!” Another tale I repeat with -hesitation, though it was seriously vouched for by the narrator as going -on in his neighbourhood, and within his own cognisance. An eccentric -settler, who played the fiddle powerfully, and lived next a man who had -thrown a bridge over a creek, in respect of which the knotty question -of “right of way” had arisen between them, read, or discovered somehow, -that excessive vibration was the cause of the fall of bridges, and that -a well-known railway iron bridge had been distinctly felt to vibrate to -the notes of a fiddle, all that was necessary being to find the right -chord and play up. Thereupon he set himself on the peccant bridge, -and fiddled till he had hit on the sympathetic chord to his own -satisfaction; since which he has put in all his spare time at the -bridge, fiddling on the right chord and looking for the signs of a crash -and the discomfiture of his neighbour. A mad world, my masters! And -lucky for the world, say I. But for the cracked fellows going up and -down, what a dull place it would be! - -The whole neighbourhood, or, at any rate, the men of hunting age, -have suddenly been roused into unwonted excitement and activity by the -presence of a specimen of the larger carnivora close to this town. It is -either a large panther or what they call a Mexican lion--at any rate, as -big a beast of this kind as are bred over here, as his footprint, seen -of many persons, clearly proves. He has been heard to roar by numbers, -and Giles, the saw-mill man, who, passing along wholly unarmed, saw him -gliding through the bush close by, puts him at five feet from nose to -tail (root, not tip) at least. Giles adds that, at the sight, his hair -stood up and distinctly lifted his straw hat--so perhaps his evidence -must be discounted considerably. Any way, a party, now collecting dogs -to bring him to bay, start to-morrow at dawn to give an account of -him. It is more than a year since one has ventured down this way. A -slaughter-house which has lately been set up in the woods near by would -seem to have drawn him. Let us hope that no cunning old sportsman will -watch there to-night and bag him single-handed, and I may possibly have -to tell you of a memorable hunt next week. - - - - -American Opinion on the Union, SS. Umbria, 5th October 1887. - -That panther-hunt went off in a “fizzle.” Our contingent of determined -sportsmen kept tryst at daylight, fully armed, but some neighbours who -were to bring the proper dogs failed. The sun rose, broad and bright, -and so, after a short advance in skirmishing order over the ground -where the sawmill man had been so scared--just to save their credit -as Nimrods--the chase was abandoned; wisely, I should think, for I -can scarcely imagine a more hopeless undertaking than the pursuit of a -panther in a Tennessee forest in broad daylight without dogs. Whether -Sawyer Giles had grounds for his scare, and what was the length of -that panther, must now remain for all time in that useful category of -insoluble questions--like the identity of “Junius,” and Queen Mary’s -guilt--which innocently employ so much of the spare time of the human -race. - -I have been back for the last fortnight “in amongst the crowd of men,” - and if the things they have done are but “earnest of the things that -they shall do,” well, our grandchildren will have a high old time of it! -At any rate, our cousins hold this faith vigorously. Take, for instance, -the case of a leading dry-goods man who has been sitting by me in the -smoking-room of this ship, which has been carrying us for the last four -days against a head-wind at the average rate of twenty miles an hour. -Recollect, sir, that this ship is about 400 feet in length, of 8800 tons -register, with engines of 14,000 horse-power, and must at this moment be -as heavy as (say) lour big luggage-trains. I ventured to suggest that, -whatever may be in store for us in the way of flying, science has about -said her last word in the direction of driving steam or any other ships -on the Atlantic. I felt almost inclined to resent the pity tinged -with scorn with which he said, “Why, _sir!_ this is the hundred and -twenty-eighth time I have crossed this ocean. The first time it took me -twenty-two days. This vessel does it in six days and a half, and I shall -do it in half that time yet,--yes, _sir!_” My friend must be at least -sixty! - -The New York hotels were crammed as I came through with men who had -come from all parts of the States for the yacht-race. I went out on a -friend’s steam-yacht on the Thursday, when the second day’s race should -have come off. There was fog and no wind off Sandy Hook, so after -lying-to in a lopping sea for a couple of hours, we just steamed -back, some hundred of us. But the game had been well worth the candle. -Anything so beautiful as the movements of those two yachts in and out -amongst the expectant fleet of sightseers, I never beheld. There were -several old yachtsmen (Americans) on board, who seemed rather to think -the _Thistle_ the more perfect of the two, and when the second and -deciding race had been sailed, still guessed that if their Commodore, -Pain, or Malcolm Forbes had sailed the _Thistle_, she would not have -been twelve, or any, minutes behind. - -As to more serious matters, you may be sure I lost no chance of talking -on our crisis with every intelligent American or Canadian,--and I -happened upon a great number of the latter. Amongst the majority of -Americans I was much struck, and, I own, surprised, to find a sort of -lazy fatalism prevailing, so far as they troubled their heads at all -about the Irish question. Not a man of them believed in the tyranny of -the British Government or the wrongs of the Irish; but they seemed to -think it was somehow destiny. They knew the Irish--were likely to have -at least as bad a time with them as we are having--but, unless you made -up your minds to shoot, there was no putting them down or bringing them -to reason. They had had to shoot--in New York during the war, and at -other times--and might probably have to shoot again \ but then, that -was over vital matters. We should never make up our minds to shoot over -letting them have a Parliament at Dublin, and so they would get it by -sheer insolence and intrigue. Such views would have depressed me had -I not found, on the other hand, that the few men who had mastered -the situation, without a single exception saw that it was a matter, -nationally, of life or death, and hoped our Government would shrink -from no measure necessary to restore the rule of law, and preserve the -national life. - -Amongst the Canadians, on the other hand, I did not happen upon a single -Home-ruler--in fact, was obliged to own to myself that they seemed -to set more store by the unity of the Empire than we do in the -as-yet-United Kingdom. Indeed, if my acquaintances are at all -representative of the views of our Canadian fellow-subjects, I feel -very sure that the slight bond which holds the Dominion to us would -part within a few months of the triumph of the Home-rule agitation. -This possible fiasco, however, did not seem to them much worth thinking -about; but what was really exercising them was the probability of a -more intimate union or federation with the Mother-country. For defensive -purposes, I was glad to find that they saw no difficulty whatever; -believed, indeed, that that question was already solved. But all -felt that the really difficult problem was a commercial union, which, -nevertheless, must be managed somehow, if the Empire is to hold -together. On this there were wide differences of opinion, but, on the -whole, a decided inclination to a plan which I will endeavour to put in -a few words. It is, that every portion of the Empire shall be free, as -at present, to impose whatever tariff of customs it might think best -for raising its own revenue; but an agreed discount (say, ten per -cent) should be allowed on all goods the manufacture or product of the -Mother-country, or any of its possessions. Inasmuch, it was argued, as -such à plan would allow the free admission of all food and raw material, -it ought not to hurt the Free-trade susceptibilities of England, while -leaving the self-governing Colonies and India free to raise their own -revenue as might suit their own views or circumstances. On the other -hand, it would give an equal and moderate advantage to all subjects of -the Empire. A similar advantage might also, under this plan, be given to -importations made in ships belonging to any portion of the Empire. - -You, sir, may very probably have heard of and considered this plan, as I -have been told that it, or one almost identical, has been submitted both -to the London Chamber of Commerce, and to the Colonial Office, by -Sir Alexander Galt. I do not remember, however, to have ever seen it -discussed in your columns, as I think it might be with advantage. One’s -brain possibly is not so fit for the examination of political problems -on even such a magnificent ship as the _Umbria_ as on shore; but “after -the best consideration I can give it,” it does seem to me to be a -solution which might go far to satisfy the scruples of all but fanatics -of the “buy in the cheapest and sell in the dearest market” gospel. - -We have run 435 miles in the teeth of the wind, in the last twenty-four -hours. - - - - -EUROPE--1876 to 1895 - - - - -A Winter Morning’s Ride - -The proverb that “The early bird gets most worms” has no truer -application than in travelling, considered as a fine art. Of course to -him who uses locomotion as a mere method of getting from one place to -another, it matters nothing whether he starts at 3 A.M. or at noon. But -to the man who likes to get the most he can out of his life, and looks -upon a journey as an opportunity for getting some new insight into the -ways and habits and notions of his fellowmen, there is no comparison -between their value. The noonday travelling mood, like noonday light, -is commonplace and uniform; while the early morning mood, like the light -when it first comes, is full of colour and surprise. Such, at any rate, -has been my experience, and I never made an out-of-the-way early start -without coming upon one or more companions who gave me a new glimpse -into some corner of life, and whose experience I should have been the -poorer for having missed. My last experience in this matter is very -recent. In the midst of the wild days of last December I received an -unexpected summons on business to the north. My appointment was for -eleven o’clock on the morrow, 200 miles from London. It was too late to -make arrangements for leaving home at once, so I resolved to start -by the first morning train, which leaves Euston Square at 5.15 A.M. -Accordingly, soon after four next morning I closed the house door -gently behind me, and set out on my walk, not without a sense of the -self-approval and satisfaction which is apt to creep over early risers, -and others who pride themselves on keeping ahead of their neighbours. - -It was a fine wild morning, with half a gale of wind blowing from the -north-west, and driving the low rain-clouds at headlong speed across the -deep clear sky and bright stars. The great town felt as fresh and sweet -as a country hillside. Not a soul in the streets but an occasional -solitary policeman, and here and there a scavenger or two, plying their -much-needed trade, for the wet mud lay inches deep. I was early at -the station, where a sleepy clerk was just preparing to open the -booking-offices, and a couple of porters were watering and sweeping -the floor of the big hall. Soon my fellow-passengers began to arrive, -labouring men for the most part, with here and there a clerk, or -commercial traveller, muffled to the eyes. - -Amongst them, as they gathered round the fire, or took short restless -walks up and down the platform, was one who puzzled me not a little. He -had arrived on foot just before me, indeed I had followed him for the -last quarter of a mile through Euston Square, and had already begun -to speculate as to who he could be, and on what errand. But now that -I could get a deliberate look at him under the lights in the hall, -my curiosity was at once raised and baffled. He was a strongly built, -well-set young fellow of five feet ten or eleven, with clear gray eyes, -deep set under very straight brows. His hair was dark, and would have -curled but that it was cropped too short. He was clean shaved, so that -one saw all the lower lines of his face, which a thick nose, slightly -turned up, just hindered from being handsome. He wore a high sealskin -cap, a striped flannel shirt with turn down collars, and a slipknot -tie with a rather handsome pin. His clothes were good enough, but had a -somewhat dissipated look, owing perhaps to the fact that only one -button of his waistcoat was fastened, and that his boots, good broad -double-soled ones, were covered with dry mud. His whole luggage -consisted of the travelling-bag he carried in his hand, one of those -elaborate affairs which generally involve a portmanteau or two to -follow, but swelled out of all gentility and stuffed to bursting point. - -An Englishman? I asked myself. Well, yes,--at any rate more like an -Englishman than anything else. A gentleman? Well, yes again, on the -whole; though not of our conventional type--at any rate a man of some -education, and apparently a little less like the common run of us than -most one meets. - -Here my speculations were cut short by the opening of the ticket-window -by the sleepy clerk, and the object of them marched up and took a -third-class ticket for Liverpool. I followed his example. My natural -aversion to eating money raw in railway travelling inclining me to such -economy, apart from the interest which my problem was exciting in my -mind. I am bound to add that nothing could be more comfortable than the -carriages provided on the occasion for the third-class passengers of the -N.W.K. I followed the sealskin cap and got into the same carriage with -its owner. As good luck would have it, no one followed us. He put -his bag down in a corner, and stretched himself along his side of the -carriage with his head on it. I had time to look him well over again, -and to set him down in my own mind as a young English engineer, who had -been working on some continental railway so long as to have lost his -English identity somewhat, when he started up, rubbed his eyes, took a -good straight look at me, and asked if any one coming from abroad could -cut us off in the steamer that met this train. I found at once that I -was mistaken as to nationality. - -I answered that no one could cut us off, as there was no straighter or -quicker way of getting to Liverpool than this; but that he was mistaken -in thinking that any steamer met the train. - -Well, he didn’t know about meeting it, but anyway there was a steamer -which went right away from Liverpool about noon, for he had got his -passage by her, which he had bought at the tobacco-store near the -station. - -He handed his ticket for the boat to me, as if wishing my opinion upon -it, which I gave to the effect that it seemed all right, adding that -I did not know that tickets could be bought about the streets as they -could be in America. - -Well, he had thought it would save him time, perhaps save the packet, as -she might have sailed while he was after his ticket in Liverpool, which -town he didn’t know his way about. But now, couldn’t any one from the -Continent cut her off? He had heard there was a route by Chester -and Holyhead, which would bring any one who took it aboard of her at -Queenstown. - -I answered that this was probably so, beginning to doubt in my mind -whether my companion might not, for all his straightforward looks and -ways, have come by the bag feloniously. Could it be another great jewel -robbery? - -I don’t know whether he noticed any doubtful look in my eyes, but he -added at once that he was on the straight run from Heidelberg. He had -come from there to London in twenty-six hours. - -I made some remark as to the beauty of Heidelberg, and asked if he knew -it well. - -Why, yes, he said he ought to, for he had been a student at the -University there for the last nine months. - -Why then was he on the straight run home? I ventured to ask. Term wasn’t -over? - -No; term wasn’t over; but he had been arrested, and didn’t want to go -to prison at Strasburg, where one American student was in for about two -years already. - -But how did he manage to get off? I asked, now thoroughly interested in -his story. - -Well, he had just run his bail. When he was arrested he had sent for the -doctor at whose house he lodged to bail him out. That was what troubled -him most. He wouldn’t have the Herr Doctor slipped up anyway. He was -going to send the money directly he got home, and there were things -enough left of his to cover the money. - -What was he arrested for? - -For calling out a German student. - -But I thought the German students were always fighting duels. - -So they were, but only with swords, which they were always practising. -They were so padded when they fought that they could not be hurt except -just in the face, and the sword arm was so bandaged that there was no -play at all except from the wrist. You would see the German students -even when out walking, miles away from the town, keeping playing away -with their walking-sticks all the time, so as to train their wrists. - -What was his quarrel about? - -Well, it was just this. The American students, of whom there were a -large number there, kept pretty much to themselves, and no love was lost -between them and the Germans. They had an American Club to which they -all belonged, just to keep them together and see any fellow through who -was in a scrape. He and some of the American students were sitting -in the beer garden, close to a table of Germans. Forgetting the -neighbourhood, he had tilted his chair and leant back in it, and so -come against a German head. The owner jumped up, and a sharp altercation -followed, ending in the German’s calling him out with swords. This he -refused, but sent a challenge to fight with pistols by the President of -the Club, a real fine man, who had shot his two men down South before he -went to Heidelberg. The answer to this was his arrest, and arrest was -a very serious thing now. For some little time since, a German and an -American fought, with swords first and then with pistols. The American -had his face cut open from the eye right down across the mouth, but when -it came to pistols he shot the German, who died in an hour. So he was in -jail, and challenging with pistols had been made an offence punishable -by imprisonment, and that was no joke in a German military prison. - -Did he expect the University authorities would send after him then? - -No; but his folk were all in Germany for the winter. He had a younger -brother at Heidelberg who had taken his bag down to the station for him, -and would have let his father know, as he had told him to do. If he had -telegraphed the old gentleman might come straight off and stop him yet, -but he rather guessed he would he so mad he wouldn’t come. No; he didn’t -expect to see his folk again for three or four years. - -But why? After all, sending a challenge of which nothing came was not so -very heinous an offence. - -Yes, but it was the second time. He had run from an American university -to escape expulsion for having set fire to an outhouse. Then he went -straight to New York, which he wanted to see, and stopped till his money -was all gone. His father was mad enough about that. - -I said plainly that I didn’t wonder, and was going to add something by -way of improving the occasion, but for a look of such deep sorrow which -passed over the boy’s face that I thought his conscience might well do -the work better than I could. - -He opened his bag and took out a photograph, and then his six-shooter--a -self-cocking German one, he said, which was quicker and carried a -heavier ball than any he had seen in America; and then his pipes and -cigar tubes; and then he rolled a cigarette and lighted it; and, as the -dawn was now come, began to ask questions about the country. But all -in vain; back the scene he was running from came, do what he would. His -youngest brother, a little fellow of ten, was down with fever. He had -spoilt Christmas for the whole family. It would cut them up awfully. But -to a suggestion that he should go straight back he could not listen. No, -he was going straight through to California, the best place for him. He -had never done any good yet, but he was going to do it now. He had got -a letter or two to Californians from some of his fellow-students, which -would give him some opening. He wouldn’t see his people for four or five -years, till he got something to show them. He would have to pitch right -in, or else starve. He would go right into the first thing that came -along out there, and make something. - -As we got further down the line the morning cleared, and we had many -fellow-passengers; but my young friend, as I might almost call him by -this time, stuck to me, and seemed to get some relief by talking of his -past doings and future prospect. I found that he had been at Würzburg -for a short time before going to Heidelberg, so had had a student’s -experience of two of the most celebrated German Universities. My own -ideas of those seats of learning, being for the most part derived from -the writings of Mr. Matthew Arnold, received, I am bound to own, rather -severe shocks from the evidently truthful experience of one medical -student. - -He had simply paid his necessary florins (about £1 worth) for his -matriculation fee, and double that sum for two sets of lectures for -which he entered. He had passed no matriculation examination, or indeed -any other; had attended lectures or not, just he pleased--about one in -three he put as his average--but there was no roll-call or register, and -no one that he knew of seemed to care the least whether he was there -or not. However, he seemed to think that but for his unlucky little -difficulty he could easily at this rate have passed the examination for -the degree of doctor of medicines. The doctor’s degree was a mighty fine -thing, and much sought after, but didn’t amount to much professionally, -at least not in Germany, where the doctor has a State examination to -pass after he has got his degree. But in America, or anywhere else, he -believed they could just practise on a German M.D. degree, and he knew -of one Herr Doctor out West who was about as fit to take hold of any -sick fellow as he was himself. Oh, Matthew, Matthew, my mentor! When I -got home I had to take down thy volume on Universities in Germany, and -restore my failing faith by a glance at the Appendix, giving a list of -the courses of lectures by Professors, Privabdocenten, and readers -of the University of Berlin during one winter, in which the Medical -Faculty’s subjects occupy seven pages; and to remind myself, that -the characteristics of the German Universities are “_Lehrfreiheit und -Lernfreiheit_,” “Liberty for the teacher, and liberty for the learner”; -also that “the French University has no liberty, and the English -Universities have no sciences; the German Universities have both.” Too -much liberty of one kind this student at any rate bore witness to, and -in one of his serious moments was eloquent on the danger and mischief of -the system, so far as his outlook had gone. - -By the time our roads diverged, the young runaway had quite won me -over to forget his escapades, by his frank disclosures of all that was -passing in his mind of regret and tenderness, hopefulness and audacity; -and I sorrowed for a few moments on the platform as the sealskin cap -disappeared at the window of the Liverpool carriage, from which he waved -a cheery adieu. - -As I walked towards the carriage to go on my own way, I found myself -regretting that I should see his ruddy face no more, and wishing him all -success “in that new world which is the old,” for which he was bound, -with no possessions but his hand-bag and self-reliance to make his -way with. I might have sat alone for thrice as long with an English -youngster, in like case, without knowing a word of his history; but -then, such history could never have happened to an Englishman, for he -never would have run his bail, and would have gone to prison and served -his time as a matter of course. - -How much each nation has to learn of the other! But I trust that by this -time my young friend has seen to it that the good-natured Herr Doctor -who went bail for him hasn’t “slipped up anyway.” - - - - -Southport, 22nd March. - -I wonder if you will care to take a seaside letter, at this busiest -time of the year? Folk have no business to be “on the loaf” before -Easter, I readily admit. Still, there is much force and good-sense, I -have always held, in that tough, old regicide Major-General Ludlow’s -action, when he found England under Cromwell too narrow to hold him. He -migrated to Switzerland, and characteristically changed his family motto -to “_Ubi libertas, ibi patria_” (“Where I can have my own way, there -is my country”) or (if I may be allowed a free rendering to fit the -occasion), “Whenever man can loaf, then is long vacation.” - -But my motive for writing is really of another kind. In these later -years, a large and growing minority of my personal friends -and acquaintances seem to be afflicted with that demon called -Neuralgia,--some kind of painful affection connected with the nerves of -the head and face, which makes the burden of life indefinitely heavier -to carry than it has any right to be. To all such I feel bound to say, -Give this place a trial in your first leisure. In one case, at any rate, -and that an apparently chronic one, in which every east wind, and almost -every sudden change of temperature, brought with it acute suffering, -I have seen with my own eyes a complete cure effected by a few days in -this air. The experiment was tried three months since, and from that -time the demon seems to have been exorcised, and has been quite unable -to return, though we have had a full average in these parts of sudden -changes of temperature,--east winds, cold rains, and the other amenities -of early spring in England. - -Can I account for this? Well, so far as I can judge, the peculiar -conformation of the shore must have much to say to it. From the open -window where I am sitting, there lies between me and the sea (it being -low water) an almost level stretch of sand of more than half a mile in -depth. Beyond that there is a narrow strip of sea, on which a fleet of -tiny fishermen’s craft, with their ruddy-brown sails, are plying their -trade; and again, beyond that, between channel and open sea, is another -long sand-bank. Now I am told, and see no reason to doubt, that the -evaporation from this great expanse of wet sand is charged with double -the amount of ozone which would rise from the like area of salt-water. -But whatever the cause, the fact stands as I have stated above. In -another hour or two the sea will be close up to these windows, lapping -against the sea-wall, and spoiling the view for the time, but, happily, -only for a short time. For while it is up, there is nothing but very -shallow, muddy water to be seen, on which the faithful old sun, try -as he will, can paint no pictures. Whereas at low tide, the colours of -these sandy wastes--the steely gleam of the wet parts, the bright yellow -of the dry, and the warm and rich tints of brown of the intermediate, -and the quaint, black line of the pier, running out across them all till -it reaches the pale blue of the channel, where the fishing-boats all lie -at anchor round the pier-head at sunset--are one perpetual feast, even -to the untrained eye. What the delight must be to a painter, when the -level sun turns the blacks into deep purples, and glorifies all the -yellows and browns, and gives the steely gleams a baleful and cruel -glint, I can only guess, unless, indeed, it should make him hang -himself, in despair of reproducing them on mortal canvas. That long, -black pier is our favourite place of resort. Probably the ozone is -stronger there than elsewhere. It is three-quarters of a mile long, -and at the end, at noon, a most attractive, daily performance comes -off gratis. At that hour the gulls are fed by an official of the pier -company, and afterwards, at intervals, by children, who bring scraps of -viands in their pockets for this purpose. - -I am not defending the practice, which tends, no doubt, to pauperise -a number of these delightful birds. I have watched them carefully, and -never seen one of them go off to earn his honest, daily fish. There they -sit lightly on the water, with heads turned to the pier-head, and float -past with the tide, rising for a short flight back again, as it carries -them too far past to see when the doles are beginning to be served. When -these begin, they are all in the air, wheeling and crossing each other -in perfect flight to get the proper swooping-point. It seems to be a -rule of the game that they pick up the fragments in their swoop, for -when this is neatly done by any one, the rest leave him alone, though he -may carry off a larger prize than he is able to swallow on the wing. But -in a high wind there is trouble. Not one in a dozen of them can then be -sure of his prey in his swoop, and after one or two attempts the greedy -ones alight and attack the viands on the water. But this seems to be -against the rules of the game, and instantly others alight by the side -of the transgressor, and strive eagerly for whatever of the desired -morsel is still outside his yellow beak. I noted with pleasure that -there are generally a few who will take no part in these squabbles, but -if they failed in their swoop, soared up again with dignity, to wait for -another chance. These must, I take it, be undemoralised gulls, from a -distance. Always play your game fair, or there will be trouble, whether -amongst birds or men. - -At other seaside places the shallowness of the sand limits the pure -delight of children in their castle-building. Here it seems boundless. I -saw one sturdy urchin yesterday throwing out stoneless sand from a hole -some four feet deep. The castles and engineering works are therefore on -a splendid scale, several of them from five to ten yards across, inside -which bits of old spars (portions, I fear, of wrecks) are utilised for -causeways and bridges. The infant builders are ambitious, for I have -seen frequent attempts, not wholly unsuccessful, at putting sand -steeples on the churches. These higher efforts were all made by girls, -who, indeed, I regret to say, seemed to do not only the decorative, but -the substantial work. The boys employed themselves mainly in creeping -through the holes which the girls had dug under the spars, to represent -bridges, and in knocking down the boundary walls. Is this a sign of -our topsy-turvy times? In my day, we boys did all the building and -engineering, and the girls used to come and sit on our walls, and -destroy our castles. On this highest part of the sands, the children’s -playground, there stand also certain skeletons of booths, to be covered -with canvas, I presume, in the summer, for the sale of ginger-beer and -cakes. These, the largest especially, some nine feet high, attracted the -boys, several of whom essayed to reach the highest cross-bar. Only one -succeeded while I watched, a born sailor-boy, who was not to be foiled, -and succeeded in getting on to it. There he sat, and looked scornfully -down on the sand-diggers, in the temper, no doubt, of the chorus of the -old sea song-- - - We jolly sailor boys a-sitting up aloft, - - And the land-lubbers funking down below. - -After a time he descended, and, looking for a few moments at the -diggers, went straight away across the sands towards the sea. I saw that -he had only a wooden spade, while most of theirs had iron heads. - -There is another kind of amusement which is strange to me, being -necessarily confined to great expanses of sand. A boat on wheels, called -the _Flying Dutchman_, careers along at a splendid pace when there is -wind enough, and I am told can tack handily, and never runs into the -sea. If it did, it would not matter, as it must at once upset in such -case in very shoal water. When the Royal Society was here, several -eminent philosophers were reported to be disporting themselves in the -_Flying Dutchman_, when the President, Professor Cayley, called on them -to read papers, or make promised speeches. - -This flat sandy coast is far from being so innocent as it looks. There -are the wrecks of two vessels in sight even now. One of these, I hear, -it took the lifeboat fourteen hours’ _continuous hard work_ to reach, -and they brought off every man of the crew, twenty-five in number--a -feat deserving wider fame than it has attained. They must be glorious -sea-worthies, these Lancashire fishermen! Of the fine public buildings, -the four-miles tramway, the Free Library, Botanic Gardens, and the rest, -I need not speak. Lord Derby’s _mot_ on opening the Botanic Gardens is -enough,--that the Southport folk can skate on real ice in July, and sit -under palm-trees at Christmas. But I may say that the esplanade is a -grand course for tricyclers and bicyclers, who seem fond of challenging -and running races with tradesmen’s carts--a somewhat risky operation for -other vehicles and passengers. - -One word, however, before I close, about the most striking of the -churches, St. Andrew’s. I was attracted to it by its good proportions, -and the stone tracery of several of the windows, reminding one of the -patterns of the early decorated period of Gothic art. It can seat some -1500 people on the floor, there being no galleries. I am sorry to say, -however, that appearances are deceitful. It is of no use to have fine -proportions and good decoration if they won’t stand; and unhappily, -although the church is only twelve years old, the cleristory walls have -been blown out of the perpendicular, so that the whole nave roof has -to come off that they may be solidly rebuilt. What would an old monkish -architect have said to such a catastrophe? The more’s the pity, inasmuch -as the necessary closing of the church is going to shelve, probably for -months, the most striking preacher I have heard this month of Sundays. I -first learnt, sir, in your columns the golden rule, that during prayers -the worshipper is responsible for keeping up his own attention, while -at sermon-time it is the parson’s business. Well, I have been to St. -Andrew’s for the last three Sundays, and during sermons, none of which -have lasted less than half an hour, have neither gone to sleep, nor -thought about anything but what the preacher was saying. I suspect it is -(as Apollo says of Theodore Parker, in the “Fable for Critics”) that-- - - This is what makes him the crowd-drawing preacher, - - There’s a background of God to each hard-working feature, - - Every word that he speaks has been fierily furnaced - - In the blast of a life that has struggled in earnest. - -Whatever be the cause, however, there is the fact; and I own I am -somewhat surprised, being rather curious about such matters, that I had -never heard the name of Prebendary Cross before I happened to come to -this place. - - - - -A Village Festival - -Pan is dead! So, at least, those who claim to be teachers of us English -on such subjects have told us; and if our poets cannot be trusted about -them, who can? The present writer, at any rate, does not pretend to an -opinion whether Pan is dead, or, indeed, whether he was ever alive. But -if so, he ought to have kept alive, for never surely was his special -business so flourishing in our country as in these last days. All -round the Welsh border on both sides there is not a hamlet which is not -indulging in its “Lupercalia” in these summer days, in spite of the cold -and wet which have inopportunely come upon us. For the most part, these -“feasts of Pan” are almost monotonously like one another; but I have -just returned from one which had characteristics of its own--a pleasing -variety, and creditable, I think, to gallant little Wales, for the scene -of it was over the border. My attention was called to it by a large -red bill at our station, announcing that, on the 9th inst. the annual -festival of the Gresford Ladies’ Club would be held, for which -return tickets might be had at tempting rates; and further, that “no -rifle-galleries, or stalls used for the sale of nuts and oranges, will -be allowed to be put up in the village or highways on the day.” Why -should a ladies’ club invite me, and all men, by large red bill, to be -present at their festival, and at the same time deprive me of the chance -of indulging in the favourite feast pastime of these parts? I resolved -to satisfy myself; and reaching the pretty station, in due course found -myself on the platform with perhaps a dozen women of all ranks and -ages--evidently members of the club, for each of them wore a white scarf -over the right shoulder, and carried a blue wand with a nosegay at the -top. Following admiringly up the steep hill with other spectators, I saw -them enter a wicket-gate under an arch of flowers, and remained outside, -where the brass band of the county yeomanry were making most energetic -music. Presently the gate opened, and a procession of the members -emerged two-and-two, and, headed by the band in full blast, marched, a -dainty procession, each one white-scarfed and carrying a nosegay-topped -wand, to the parish church hard by on the hill-top. It was a unique -procession, so far as my experience goes. First came the squire’s wife, -the club President, with the senior member, followed by another lady, I -believe from the rectory, with the member next in seniority. These two, -both past eighty, I remarked, instead of the white scarf crossing -the shoulder and looped at the waist with blue, wore large white -handkerchiefs, trimmed with blue, over both shoulders, shawl-wise. This -I found was the old custom, the regular members formerly wearing the -shawl, the honorary members the scarf, for distinction’s sake. Now, all -members, regular and honorary alike, wear the scarf. We are levelling up -fast, and I own I regret it, in this matter of dress. As a boy, I was -in this part of Wales, and almost every woman on holidays wore the red -cloak and high black hat, and looked far better, I think, than their -descendants at this Gresford Club fête, though several of these were -as well dressed as the squire’s wife and daughters. I followed the -procession into church, as did most of the crowd through which they -passed, one man only refusing to join in my hearing, on the ground that -he had been already to one service too many. He had got married there, -his neighbour explained, and his wife was in the procession. The service -was short and well chosen, with a good, sound ten-minutes sermon at -the end, and then the procession re-formed, the band still leading, -and marched to tea in the big schoolroom facing the churchyard. “Scholæ -elymosynæ Dominæ Margarettæ Strode, fundatæ 1725, ad pauperes ejus -sumptibus erudiendos,” I read over the door. I notice that the Welsh -are rather given to Latin inscriptions can it be in token of defiance to -vernacular English? - -During the tea-hour I had the pleasure of exploring church and -churchyard, the former a large and fine specimen of the later -perpendicular, but containing relics of painted glass of a much -earlier date, probably thirteenth century. Portions of this, of a fine -straw-colour, the Rector says, are invaluable, the art being lost. I -wonder what Mr. Powell would say to that? The churchyard is glorious -with its yews, more than twenty grand trees, and the grandfather of them -the largest but one, if not the largest, in the Kingdom. He measures 29 -feet 6 inches round 6 feet from the ground, and is confidently affirmed -by Welsh experts (who have duly noted it in the parish register) to be -1400 years old. Without supposing that Merlin reposed in his shade, one -cannot look at him in his glorious old age and doubt that he must have -been a stout tree in Plantagenet times, and furnished bow-staves for -Welshmen who marched behind Fluellen to the French wars. - -Presently the band struck up again, and the procession returned to the -wicket-gate, through which I now gained an entrance on payment of 1s. -towards the club funds, one of the best investments of the kind I have -ever made, for inside is the most perfect miniature village green I -should think in the world, take it all in all. It is a natural terrace -about one hundred yards long, by (perhaps) forty broad, on the side -of the steep, finely wooded hill, with the station down below, and the -church and village above. The valley, which runs up into the Welsh hills -to the west, is here narrow, with a bright trout-stream dancing along -between emerald meadows out into the great Cheshire plain, over which, -in the distance, rise the cathedral towers and the castle and spires of -Chester. One can fancy the hungry eyes with which many a Welshman has -looked over that splendid countryside from this perch on the hillside -when Hugh Lupus and his successors were keeping the border, with short -shrift for cattle-lifters. It is well worth the while of any of your -readers who may be passing Gresford Station this autumn, to stop over -a train, and go up and spend an hour there. But I must get back to the -ladies’ club, who now, at 6 P.M., opened the three hours’ dance on -the green, the great feature of the gathering. It began with a -country-dance, at which we males could only gaze and admire. As before, -the squire’s wife and the senior member led off, and went down the -thirty or forty couples. What wonderful women are these Welsh! I was -fascinated by the next senior, a dear old soul, who had only missed this -dance twice in more than sixty years, and was in such a hurry to get -under way, that she started before the leading couple had got properly -ahead, rather thereby confusing the subsequent saltations. When the -music at last stopped, she sat herself on a bench, a picture of joyous -old age, and declared that if she had been a rich woman, she should have -spent all her substance in keeping a band. After the country-dance -came polkas, in which I noted that for some time the men, by way of -reprisals, I suppose, danced together; but this did not last long, and -presently the couples were sorted in the usual manner, and when the -station-bell warned me to speed down the hill, I left them all as busy -on the green as the elves (perhaps) may be in the moonlight, or Pan’s -troop in the days before his lamented decease. On my way home I mused -on the cheering evidence the day had afforded of the healthy progress -of the great task which has been laid on this generation, and’ which it -seems to be taking hold of so strenuously and hopefully. I do not know -that I ever saw so entirely satisfactory a blending of all classes in -common enjoyment, which to some extent I attribute to the custom of -the procession, and the sorting of honorary and regular members above -noticed. During the whole afternoon I never heard a word which might -not have been spoken in a drawing-room, and in spite of the rigorous -exclusion of tobacco, there was no lack of young men. I question whether -it would be possible to see the like in any exclusive gathering, either -of the classes or the masses. The club is as prosperous financially, I -am glad to hear, as it is socially, having a reserve fund of some £600, -while the subscriptions are very moderate. No doubt the political -and industrial atmosphere is dark with heavy clouds both’ at home and -abroad; but I do begin to think that this white lining of a truer -and fuller blending of our people than has ever been known before in -England, or anywhere else, is going to do more than compensate for -whatever troubles may be in store for us from wars or other convulsions, -and that we shall be in time to meet them as a united people. - - Then let us pray that come it may-- - - As come it will for a’ that-- - - That man to man, the warld o’er, - - Shall brithers be for a’ that. - - - - -The “Victoria,” New Cut. - -Of all the healthy signs of real social progress in this remarkable -age, I know of none more striking, or, I will add, more thankworthy in -a small way, than the contrast of the present condition of the big -People’s Theatre in Southwark with that which middle-aged men can -remember. Probably many of my readers who in the fifties and sixties -held it to be part of the whole duty of man to attend the University -boat-race at Putney, or the Oxford and Cambridge match at Lord’s, will -be able to call up in their memories the “Vic.” of those days. For my -own part, I always felt that the big costermonger’s theatre suffered -unfairly in reputation--as many folk and places before it have done--for -the casual notice of a man of genius. “Give us the Charter,” Charles -Kingsley makes his tailor-hero exclaim in 1848, “and we’ll send workmen -into Parliament who shall find out whether something better can’t be -put in the way of the boys and girls in London who live by theft and -prostitution, than the tender mercies of the Victoria.” I do not pretend -to anything more than a casual acquaintance with the “Vic.” in those -days; but my memory would not bear out Parson Lot in denouncing it as “a -licensed pit of darkness.”, That description would far better designate -the Cider Cellars, the Coal Hole, and other fashionable resorts on the -north side of the Thames, in which a working man’s fustian jacket -and corduroys were never seen. I should say that one evening spent -at Evans’s in those days, or at the mock Court (the judge and jury) -presided over by Baron Nicholson, as that rotund old cynic was called, -would have done any youngster far more harm than half a dozen at the -“Vic.” At the one you might sit smoking cigars and drinking champagne, -if you were fool enough, and hear everything that was sacred and decent -slily or openly ridiculed and travestied, in the company of M.P.’s, -barristers, and others, all well-dressed people. At the “Vic.” you could -rub shoulders with costers and longshoremen, noisy, rowdy, and prone -to fight on the slightest provocation, while the entertainment was -more than coarse enough, but quite free from the subtle poison of a -crim.-con. trial presided over by Baron Nicholson. With this saving, -however, I am bound to admit that the old “Vic.” was not a place which -could have been looked on without serious misgivings by any one in the -remotest degree responsible for peace or decency in South London. The -influence which it exercised, to put it mildly, though undoubtedly -powerful, could by no possibility have had any elevating effect on the -intellect or morals of any human being; but for all that, it was -always a favourite place of resort, and had a strong hold on the dense -population who earn a scanty and precarious living in the New Cut and -the Old Kent Road. How it was that the lease of the old “Vic.,” with -seventeen years still to run, came into the market some eight years -back, I am not aware; but so it happened, and it was purchased by a -financial Company, who, with the best intentions, embarked on the risky -experiment of running the “Royal Victoria Hall,” as it was now called, -as a coffee-tavern and place of entertainment, against the neighbouring -music-halls in which drink was sold. In eight months the Company lost -£2800, and the Victoria was closed, with every chance of drifting back, -on the next change of ownership, into the old ruts. Happily for South -London, a better fate was in store for the “Vic.,” for there were those -who had eyes to see its value if properly handled, not, indeed, as a -commercial speculation, but as a power for lifting the social life of -the neighbourhood on to a higher level. A committee was formed, with the -late Mr. Samuel Morley as chairman, and Miss Cons as honorary secretary -and manager, a guarantee fund was raised, and the Hall reopened. It has -been a hard fight; but with a chairman whose speech in the darkest hour -rang, “We don’t mean to let this thing fall to the ground,” and a lady -of unsurpassed experience and devotion amongst the poor, whose whole -life was from the first freely and loyally given to the work, the field -has been won. I say deliberately “won,” and if any one doubts my word, -let him walk over Waterloo Bridge any evening (for the “Vic.” is always -open), and look at this thing fairly; let him go into the coffee-tavern, -the theatre, the big billiard and smoking-rooms, the reading and -class-rooms at the top, and the gymnasium in the basement, and keep his -ears and eyes wide open all the time,--and then go home and thank God -that such work is going on in the very quarter of our huge city in which -the need is sorest. I say, let him go any evening, but for choice I -would advise a Tuesday, for on Tuesdays the “Penny Science Lectures” - are given, which are, of course, less popular than the variety -entertainments and the ballad concerts which occur whenever the funds -allow, or some first-rate artist, such as Sims Beeves, volunteers to -come and sing to the Hew Cut. To return to the “Penny Science Lectures,” - the wonder is, not that eminent men should be ready to go over to -Southwark and give them without payment--that note of our day has become -too common to surprise--but that an average of over five hundred, mostly -of the _gamin_ age, from the Hew Cut, should be ready to pay their penny -and come, and listen, and appreciate. - -It was on May Day that I visited the old “Vic.,” almost by chance, and -without a notion of what I was likely to see or hear. The lecture was on -“The Foundation-Stones of London,” and proved to be a geological, not an -archæological one. Mr. H. Kimber, M.P. for the neighbouring division -of South London, was in the chair, and the lecturer was Professor Judd, -F.R.S., who, in a clear, terse address, aided by excellent dissolving -views projected by limelight on the huge drop-scene of the stage, -showed the gravel, clay, chalk, and lower strata, with the fossils found -in each, with admirable clearness. The big theatre was not, of course, -full, but there was a large audience, quite up to the average of upwards -of five hundred, and any one at all used to such scenes could see how -keenly interested they were, and how quick to seize the lecturer’s -points. Most of the men were in their working clothes, but clean and -brushed up, and no lecturer could have wished for a better audience. The -only thing that brought back to my mind the slightest remembrance of the -old “Vic.” was, that by a coster in the centre of the front row of the -pit sat a big brindled bull-terrier of the true fighting type. Strange -to say, he remained looking at the views with perfect gravity till the -lecturer made his bow, when he jumped quietly down at once, and trotted -about the pit to find friends, as though he had learned all he could, -and wanted to talk it over with pals, but was not interested in the -formal vote-of-thanks business. On the three following Tuesdays, as the -bills informed me, “The Moon,” “The Circulation of the Blood,” and “The -Backbone of England,” were the subjects, all, again, illustrated by -dissolving views. And these lectures are kept up on every Tuesday, such -speakers as the Dean of Westminster, Sir John Lubbock, Professor Seeley, -taking their turn with the purely scientific men, and drawing as good -attendances. - -You must find room for one specimen of the quick humour of this New Cut -audience. Dr. Carpenter, in one of his experiments, dispensed with a -prism, explaining to his audience that the objects would now appear -inverted, and they must “put them right way up” in their minds,--“or -stand on yer ’eds,” came the prompt suggestion from the gallery. Out -of these lectures science-classes have grown in the last three years, -encouraged by a committee, selected from the Council, of some hundred -ladies and gentlemen. Of these I have no space to speak; but one fact -will indicate the thoroughness of the work done at them. Dr. Fleming’s -report for 1887 tells us that out of forty students who went in for -examination in the several classes, seven obtained first-class, and -eighteen second-class certificates. I have only touched on what, after -all, is an outgrowth, which has developed naturally from the original -scheme, but was no part of it. This was rational and hearty and clean -amusement. The Council were determined to test whether an answer could -not be found to the straight question of “Poor Potlover” in Punch:-- - - “Where’s this cheap and respectable fun - - To be spotted by me? There’s the kink! - - Don’t drink? All serene, if you’ll p’int me to summat that’s better - - than drink. - -To that “summat” the Victoria Hall Council, all honour to them, have -pointed with quite encouraging success. There is no department of the -Hall which is not in a healthy condition, and the fact that £1800 was -taken in pennies and twopences for admissions during 1887, though -the Hall was closed in the summer for repairs, may well encourage the -Council and their devoted manager to take courage and persevere in their -present effort to purchase the freehold as a fitting memorial to Mr. -Samuel Morley. There was no part of his wide work of philanthropy which -that fine old English merchant valued more than this. He supported it -lavishly during his life, and had he lived till the freehold came into -the market, there would have been little difficulty in raising the -necessary sum, £17,000. Of this, £3500 has already been promised by -members of the Council, and I cannot believe that the opportunity will -be allowed to slip, and the deposit-money of £500 already paid to be -forfeited. It seems that the Charity Commissioners have let it be known -that the old “Vic.” will be accepted by them as one of the People’s -Palaces for South London, if the freehold can only be obtained; and I -cannot for a moment doubt that this will be done if the facts are only -fairly known. The teetotalers ought to do all that remains to be done, -in gratitude for the best story in their quiver, which they owe to the -“Vic.” A short meeting is held, called the “Temperance Hour,” _outside_ -the house on Friday nights, at which working men are the speakers. One -of them, a carter, stuck fast at the bottom of a hill in the suburbs one -day. Another man who was passing, unhitched his own team and helped him -up. On an offer to pay being made, the good Samaritan declared he had -been paid beforehand. “Why, I never saw you before in my life, did I?” - “I’ve seen you, though,” said the other; “I heard you speak one night -outside the ‘Vic.’ and I went in and took the pledge--me and my family -has been happy ever since!” - - - - -Whitby and the Herring Trade, 30th August 1888. - -Any fresh herrings for breakfast, sir? Four a penny this morning, sir!” - Such was my greeting this day, as I turned out of my lodgings for an -early lungs’-full of this inspiring air. I had almost broken out on that -fish-wife with, “Why, you abominable old woman, you asked me twopence -for three yesterday”; but restraining my natural, if not righteous -indignation, I replied meekly, “Four a penny! Why, what makes them so -cheap, ma’am?” - -“T’ boats all full--ha’n’t had sech a catch this summer,” which news -gladdened me almost as much as if the catch had been my own. No one can -watch these grand fellows, the Dogger Bank fishermen, and not feel, a -sort of blood-relationship to them, and the keenest sympathy with their -heroic business on the great waters. So, thinks I, I’ll go down to the -quay directly after breakfast, and see them all at their best, those -hard-handed, big-bearded, soft-hearted sea-kings from all the East and -South Coast towns of England, from Sunderland to Penzance. When they are -such grand, silent, kindly creatures on every day in the week, even when -the catch has been poor and light, what will they be to-day? - -I had spent most of my mornings for some days on the quay, watching the -fish-market there with much interest. It goes on nearly all the forenoon -on the pavement, just above that part of the harbour-wall to which -the herring-boats run when they come in from their night’s work on the -Dogger Bank. A simple, hand-to-mouth kind of business, the auction; -but well adapted, at any rate, to clear the boats, and get their daily -contents to market in the quickest and cheapest way. As soon as a boat -comes to the quay, one of the crew (generally numbering five men, or -four men and a boy) comes on shore with a basket half-full of herrings, -and turns them out on the pavement. The fish-broker who acts for that -boat comes up, looks at the sample, and makes an offer for the ship’s -take by “the lash” or ten thousand. If this is accepted, the unloading -begins at once; but if not, as is oftenest the case, the take is put -up to auction. The broker rings a bell, which soon brings round him the -seven or eight other brokers like himself, and other buyers (if any) who -are within hearing. Up goes the first last of ten thousand at once, and -no time is lost or talk thrown away. In very few minutes the whole is -sold, and a cart or lorry from the railway is standing by to carry off -the barrels in which the herrings are packed then and there. Now, on the -previous day I had heard the prices ranging from £7: 10s. to £8 for “the -last,” and had not remarked that only some six boats of the whole fleet -had come back from the fishing-grounds, and that none of these had made -anything like a big catch. Consequently, I came down prepared to hear -something like the same prices ruling, and to see most of the crews -drawing at least from £15 to £20 for their night’s work. - -Well, in a long life I don’t remember ever to have been more hopelessly -wrong or unpleasantly surprised. I could see at once that all was not -right by the faces of the men and women in the small groups scattered -about the market, which now drew together as the broker’s bell rang for -the sale of the herrings, which lay, a lovely, gleaming mass, at least -three feet deep in the uncovered hold of the _Mary Jane_, as she rocked -gently on the harbour swell, some twenty feet down below us. I could -scarcely believe my ears as I heard the bids slowly rising by 5 s. at a -time till they reached 30s. the last, and there stopped dead. The hammer -fell, and the whole catch of the _Mary Jane_ passed to the purchaser in -about two minutes at that figure. The next boat, and next but one, did -no better. Broker after broker knocked his client’s catch down at 30s. -Once only I heard an advance on that figure, and this was by private -contract. The handsome Hercules, in long leather boots and blue jersey, -who represented one of the Whitby boats, appealed in my hearing to the -broker, who relented with no very good grace, and agreed to give £2 per -last of ten thousand of the catch of Hercules’s boat. - -It was a depressing sight, I must own, even in the bright sunshine of -this most picturesque of English harbours, and Sam Weller’s earnest -inquiry to his master, “Ain’t somebody to be wopped for this?” rose -vividly in my mind as the fittest comment on the whole business. Just -then a tug which had been getting up steam was ready to leave the -harbour, and two Hartlepool smacks, whose freights of herrings were -still unsold, hitched on, to be towed out to sea and then run home, -in the hope of finding a better market in the Durham port. An old salt -stood next me, whose fishing days were well over, and who had just taken -a good bite of the blackest kind of pigtail to comfort himself. I looked -inquiringly at him as the tug steamed out between the two lighthouses, -with the smacks in tow; but he shook his head sorrowfully. “Well, but -they can’t do worse than here,” I remonstrated; “herrings maybe scarcer -in the colliery district.” He jerked his head towards the little group -of brokers and buyers,--“They’d know the prices at Hartlepool in five -minutes,” he said. This telegraphing was to his mind the worst thing -that had happened for fishermen in his time. “Did prices often go up and -down like this?” I asked. “Yes,” and worse than this. He had known them -as low as 15s. and as high as £15 within a few days. No, he couldn’t see -what was “to odds it” much for the better. Last time he was across -at Liverpool he had stopped at a big fish-shop where he saw barrels -standing which he recognised. “What’s the price of those herrings?” he -asked. “Eight for 6d.” the man answered. “So I told him I saw they was -from Whitby, and that he got them at Whitby for 6d. a hundred.” - - - - -Whitby and the Herring Trade, 31st August 1888. - -I had got thus far last night, and posted down again early this morning -to the market, which has a sombre kind of attraction for me. Only two -boats in, with light catches of from one and a half to two lasts each. -The first sold at £5: 5s., which price the second boat refused. Theirs -were a first-rate lot, and they shouldn’t go under £6, for which they -were holding out when I had to leave, and there seemed to be a general -belief that they would get it. This was puzzle enough for any man, to -see under his own eyes the same fish sold on three consecutive summer -days for £7:10s., £1:10s., and £5:5s.!--a sort of thing no fellow can -understand. To add to my bewilderment, I learnt that at Great Grimsby -yesterday (the £1:10s. day here) the last had sold for upwards of £15! -So that my old salt’s view as to the telegraph doesn’t quite hold water, -and the two smacks which shook the water off their bows and sailed for -Hartlepool, may have made a good day’s work of it, after all. Indeed, -a sailor on the quay declared that they had sold at £5, so that, after -paying £2 apiece for the tug, which had towed them all the way, they -still got £3 a last, or double the price they would have realised at -Whitby. “So it comes to this, that the more fish you catch, the less -pay you get,” I said to my informant. “Yes,” he seemed to think that was -mostly the case, adding that to his mind it was the railways that made -all the money out of fish-- - - Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes. - -It is an old story enough, but scarcely less true or sad in 1888 than -when most of the world’s hardest work was done by slaves. However there -are, happily, signs in the air that, here in England at any rate, we are -waking up to the truth, that if we can find no better way of organising -industry than competition run mad, we are going to have real bad times. -Royal Commissions on the sweating system; Toynbee Hall interventions in -great strikes; co-operative effort springing up all over the country, -and finding its most zealous and devoted advocates at least as much -amongst those who don’t work with their hands as those who do,--all go -to prove that the reign of king _laissez faire_, with his golden rule -of “cash payment the sole _nexus_ between man and man,” is over. -Indeed, our danger may soon be from too much meddling with and mothering -industry. Nevertheless, no one can spend a few hours on the quay here in -the herring season and not long for some one--scholar, philanthropist, -political economist (new style), co-operator--to come along and teach -these fine fellows to read their sphinx riddle. It would not be, surely, -such a difficult task as it looks at first sight. There is no need to -begin with the vast herring-fishing industry, with its distant markets -at Billingsgate, Liverpool, and Manchester. The reform might begin at -once on a modest scale. Beside the herrings, one sees every -morning other fish lying on the quay--skate, cod, ling, whiting, -rock-salmon--brought in by the smaller and less venturesome boats by -dozens, not by lasts of ten thousand. Take the cod as the most valuable -of these fish. I saw four fine cod-fish sold by auction yesterday on the -quay for 5s. 3d. Within a few hundred yards, and all over the town, cod -was selling at the shops at 6d. the pound. Surely a very moderate amount -of organising ability would enable those who catch these fish to get the -retail prices prevailing on the same day in the home market, and then -the experience gained might assist materially in the solution of the -larger problem. - -Meantime, besides the almost unique interest and beauty of its -surroundings,--the steep cliffs, on which the quaint old red-roofed -houses, with their wooden balconies, are piled in most picturesque and -unaccountable groups; the grand old abbey ruin looking down from the -highest point; the swing-bridge between the two harbours, and the -estuary beyond, running up into a fine amphitheatre of green meadow and -dark wood, dotted with village churches and old windmills, and backed by -the high moors,--there is a joyous side to Whitby harbour, even on days -when the market goes most against the Dogger Bank fishermen. If the -fathers have too often to eat sour grapes, their children’s teeth are -not set on edge,--such merry, well-fed, bare-footed urchins of both -sexes I never remember to have seen elsewhere. They swarm, out of school -hours, along the quays; skim up and down the water-worn harbour-walls -wherever there is a rope hanging; run over the herring boats lying side -by side, as soon as the freights are cleared; and toboggan down the boat -slides at the gangways, dragging themselves along on their stomachs when -these are not slippery enough for the usual method of descent. There -seems, too, to be a large supply of old rickety tubs kept for their -special use; for all day long you see two or three of them scrambling -into one of these, and sculling about the harbour, no man hindering or -apparently noticing them. Finer training for their future life would be -hard to find, and one cannot help doubting as one sees their straight -toes, as handy almost as fingers in their climbing feats, whether the -last word has been spoken as to clothing the human foot, at any rate up -to the age of ten or twelve. It is not often, I think, that one comes -on early surroundings and heroes entirely suited to each other; but -Whitby’s hero--patron saint I had nearly called him--could have found -no such suitable place to have been raised in all the world round. James -Cook was born in a neighbouring village, but first apprenticed on board -a Whitby collier, and to the last days of his life retained a most -loving remembrance of the old town. Every one of his famous ships, -the _Endeavour_, the _Resolution_, and the _Discovery_, were built at -Whitby. The house, of his master, Mr. Walker, with whom he lived during -his apprenticeship as a sailor lad, and to whom most of his letters were -written after he had mapped the Quebec reaches of the St. Lawrence -under the fire of the French guns, and was a gold-medallist of the Royal -Society and the most famous of eighteenth century navigators, is still -fondly pointed out in a narrow street running down to the inner harbour. - - - - -Sunday by the Sea, Whitby, 7th September 1888. - -We saw something of the industrial life of Whitby last week. The -spiritual is quite as interesting, and certainly, so far as my -observation goes, has a character of its own, distinct from that of any -other of our popular seaside resorts. It may be the presence of so -large a seagoing element; at any rate, unless appearances are quite -misleading, there is an earnest and deep though quiet religious impulse -working amongst the harbour-folk and townspeople, not without its -influence in the new quarter which has grown on to the old town, and -with its casino and large cricket and lawn tennis grounds, is becoming a -popular--though, happily, not a fashionable--summer resort. This is, of -course, most apparent on Sundays, on which the absence of anything like -the annoyances, both religious and secular, which spoil the day of -rest at so many health-resorts, is very noteworthy. Not that Whitby is -without its open-air services. On the contrary, they are at least as -frequent as elsewhere, on quays, shore, cliffs; but after watching them -with some care I do not remember anything fanatical or startling, or -in the bad taste of coarse familiarity with mysteries which so often -revolts one in street and field preaching elsewhere. One of these I had -never seen the like of before, and am inclined to think it may interest -your readers. On my first Sunday afternoon I was watching a crowded -service on the quay, at the foot of the West Cliff, from above. As it -ended, and began to disperse, a man in sailor’s Sunday suit of thick -blue cloth severed himself from the crowd, and came leisurely up the -stone steps, with a Bible and hymn-book in his hand. At the top of the -steps is a public grass-plot, some thirty by twenty yards in size, the -only part of the sea-front which has escaped enclosure on this cliff. -Round it are some fifteen or sixteen benches, very popular with those -who will not pay to go into the casino enclosure. They were all occupied -by people chatting, smoking, courting, looking at the view, when the -newcomer walked into the middle of the plot, took off his fur-trimmed -sailor’s cap, opened his Bible, and looked round. He was good to look -at, with his strong, weather-beaten, bronzed features, short-cropped, -grizzled hair, and kindly blue eye, part-owner and best man in one of -the Penzance boats, I heard. On looking at him, passages in the lives -of Drake and Hawkins, and Wesley and Whitfield, and Charles Kingsley’s -loving enthusiasm for the Cornish sailor-folk, became clearer to me. Not -a soul noticed him or moved from their seats, and the talking, smoking, -courting went on just as though he were not there, standing alone on -the grass, Bible in hand. I quite expected to see him shut his book and -depart. Not a bit of it. Clearly he had come up there to deliver his -testimony. That was his business; whether any one chose to listen to it -or not, was theirs. So he read out two or three verses from the Epistle -to the Romans, and began to preach. His subject was Paul’s conversion, -which he described almost entirely in St. Luke’s and the Apostle’s own -words, which he quoted without referring to his Bible, and then urged -roughly, but with an earnestness which made his speech really eloquent, -that the same chance was open to every one. He himself had heard the -call thirty years ago, and had been happy ever since. He had been in -peril of death again and again since then, had seen boats founder with -all hands, but had no fear, nor need any man have, by sea or land, who -would just hear and follow that call. Then he stopped, wiped his brow, -and looked round. The sitters had all become silent, but not a soul of -them moved or spoke. I was standing, with one or two others, behind the -high rails of the enclosure, or I think we should have gone and stood by -him as he gave out a hymn; but we knew neither words nor tune, so were -helpless. He sang it through by himself, made a short prayer “that the -word that day might not have been spoken in vain,” and then put on his -cap, and went down the steps into the crowd below. One voice from the -benches said “Thank you!” as he left the plot. - -The next service I came across was a strange contrast. Under the cliff, -in front of the Union Jack planted in the sands, was a large gathering, -composed mostly of children sitting in rows, with mothers and nurses -interspersed, and a number of men and women standing round the circle. -As I came up, I was handed a leaflet of hymns, which explained that it -was a gathering of the “Children’s Special Service Mission,” which has -its head-quarters, it seems, in London, and is presided over by Mr. -Stuart, the vicar of St. James’s, Holloway. The service was conducted by -a young man not in orders, with a strong choir to help him. He, too, did -his preaching earnestly and well; and though it seemed to me above the -younger children’s heads, who for the most part made sand-castles or -mud-pies furtively, was evidently listened to sympathetically by the -elder part of the audience who stood round. But if the teaching scarcely -touched the children, they all left their mud-pies and enjoyed the -singing. The Mission, I was told, holds these services on the sands -through the seaside season, at all the chief resorts on the coast. -The leaders and organisers are mostly young men and women, and all, I -believe, volunteers. A noteworthy sign of our time the Mission seemed -to me, and I was glad to hear that it is countenanced, if not actively -supported, by the resident Church clergy. - -If we turn from the volunteer to the regular side of Church work, Whitby -still has an almost unique attraction for the student of the religious -movement in England. The late Dean Stanley, who loved every phase of the -historical development of the life of the National Church, and mourned -over the thoroughness of recent restorations, which, as he thought, -threaten the entire disappearance of the surroundings and forms of the -worship of the Georgian era, would have thanked God and taken courage -if he could have visited Whitby Parish Church in 1888, for church and -service are a perfect survival. The wave of Victorian ecclesiastical -reform, without destroying anything, seems to have gently removed all -that was really objectionable, and breathed new life into the dry -bones of Georgian worship. I am not sure that I should say “everything -objectionable,” for probably the vast majority of even truly Catholic -church-goers would not agree as to the big shield with the national arms -which hangs over the centre of the chancel arch, dividing the two tables -of the Ten Commandments. I am prepared to admit that this particular -lion and unicorn are not good specimens of discreet beasts of their -respective kinds. But even as they stand they are national symbols, and -no reminder that Church and nation are still one can be spared nowadays; -and they are not half so grotesqile as most of the gurgoyles you will -see in the noblest Gothic cathedrals. And then they vividly remind my -generation of the days when they first toddled to church in the -family procession. The church itself is a gem, though with no orthodox -architectural beauty, for it retains traces of the handiwork of thirty -generations in its walls, pillars, galleries, and stunted square -tower,--from the round arches (there are still two, though the best, a -fine Norman window, has been bricked up) of its earliest builders in the -twelfth, to the white-washed walls and ceilings and square-paned windows -of eighteenth century churchwardens. I should think the three-decker (I -am obliged to use the profane name, having forgotten the correct one), -the clerk’s desk, reading-desk, and pulpit rising one above the other -in front of the chancel, must be unique, the last of its race. The clerk -has, indeed, retired into the choir; but the rector still reads the -prayers and lessons admirably from his desk, and ascends the pulpit, -where he is on a level with the faculty pew of the squire, and the low -galleries, to deliver his excellent short discourses. Long may he and -his successors do so. One is only inclined to regret that he does not -take off his surplice in the reading-desk, and ascend to preach in his -black gown. Curious it is to remember that less than thirty years ago -Bryan King and others excited riots in many parishes by preaching in -the surplice. The pews on the floor are all high oaken boxes with -doors, though the great majority of them are now free. The visitor in -broadcloth is put into one of the larger ones, lined with venerable -baize, once green. These are somewhat narrow parallelograms with seats -round the three sides, so that it requires caution in kneeling to avoid -collision with your opposite neighbour. And the body of the church being -nearly square by reason of the addition of side aisles at different -periods, and the “three-decker” well out on the floor, the pews have -been planned so that they all face towards it, and consequently all the -congregation can see each other. This is supposed to be a drawback to -worship; probably is--must be, where people have been always used to -looking all one way. That it really hinders a hearty service, no one -would maintain who has attended one in Whitby Parish Church. It was -quite full, when I was there, of a congregation largely composed of men, -and the majority of these sailors and other working folk. Let any reader -who still goes to church make a point of ascending the 190 stone steps -which lead up to it from the old town, and looking at the matter with -his own eyes, if ever he should be within reach. The rector is a sort -of successor to the old abbots of St. Hilda, with ecclesiastical -jurisdiction over the whole town, wherein are five or six churches -worked by curates, all in the modern style, seats facing eastward, no -three-deckers, surpliced choirs, and chanted psalms, and canticles. -Indeed, in one place of worship, those who have a taste for gabbled -prayers, bowings and posturings, lighted candles, and the rest of the -most modern ritual, can find it, but in a proprietary chapel not under -the jurisdiction of the rector. - - - - -Singing-Matches in Wessex, 28th September 1888. - -I remember, sir, that some quarter of a century ago, you were -interested in the popular songs of our English country-folk, and so may -possibly think gleanings in this field still worthy of notice. In that -belief, I send this note of some “singing-matches,” which, by a lucky -chance, I was able to attend last week in West Berks. The matches in -question were for both men and women, a prize of half a crown being -offered in each case. The occasion was the village “veast,” or annual -commemoration of the dedication of the parish church, still the -immemorial day of gathering and social reunion in every hamlet of this -out-of-the-way district. I was glad to find the old word still in use, -for as a Wessex man it would have been an unpleasant shock to me to -find the “veast” superseded by a “festival,” habitation, or other modern -gathering. In some respects, however, I must own that the character of -the “veast” has changed; these singing-matches, for instance, being -a complete novelty to me. There used to be singing enough after the -sports, as the sun went down, and choruses, rollicking and sentimental, -came rolling out of the publicans’ booths--for the most part of dubious -character--but singing-matches for prizes I never remember. I suppose -the craze for competitive examination in every department of life may -account for this new development; anyhow, there were the matches to come -off--so the bills assured us--in the village schoolroom, of all places, -which was thrown open for this purpose, and for dancing, at sunset. -Hither, then, I repaired from the vicar’s fields, where the sports had -been held, in the wake of a number of rustic couples and toffee-sucking -children. The school is a lofty room, fifty feet long, with a smaller -class-room as transept at the upper end, along which ran a temporary -platform. Upon this the Farringdon Blue-Ribbon Band, in neat uniforms, -were already playing a vigorous polka. Presently this first dance ended, -the band stood back, and the three judges coming to the front, announced -the terms of the competition, the men to begin, and a dance to be -interpolated after every two songs, every singer, one at a time, to come -up on the platform. There was no hesitation amongst the singers, the -first of whom stepped up at once, and so the matches went on, two songs -and a dance alternately, until all who cared to compete had sung. Then, -at about 9 P.M., the prizes were awarded, and I left, the dancing going -on merrily for another two hours. - -I was amused by the award of the men’s prize to the singer of a -vociferously applauded ditty, entitled “The Time o’ Day,” for it showed -that the keenest zest of the Wessex rustic is still, as it was -thirty years ago, to get a rise out of--or, in modern slang, to score -off--“thaay varmers.” It began:-- - - A straanger wunst in Worcestershèer, - - A gen’lman he professed, - - He lived by takin’ o’ people in, - - He wuz so nicely dressed. - - Wi’ my tol-de-rol, etc. - -This stranger, having a gold chain round his neck, swaggers in the -farmers’ room on market-day, till-- - - He zets un in a big arm-cheer, - - And, bein’ precious deep, - - Sticks out his legs, drows back his arms, - - And “gammots” off to sleep. - -The farmers canvas him, and doubt if he has any watch to his chain. His -friend, “by them not understood,” pulls out the chain, shows a piece of -wood at the end, and puts it back. The stranger wakes; the farmers ask -him “the time o’ day”; he excuses himself, on the plea that last night, -having taken a glass too much, he did not wind up his watch. At this-- - - The varmers said, and did protest, - - Ez sure ez we’re alive, - - Thet thee dost not possess a watch - - Of pounds we’ll bet thee vive. - -The stranger covers the bets, pulls out a piece of wood, touches a -spring, and shows a watch inside:-- - - ‘Bout vifty pounds thaay varmers lost, - - Which in course thaay hed to paay, - - And the bwoys run arter’em down the street, - - Wi’ “Gee us the time O’ daay.” - - Wi’ my tol-de-rol, etc. - -I did not, however, concur in the award myself. I should have given the -prize for a love-song, a sort of rustic rendering of “Phyllis is my only -Joy,” the chorus of which ran:-- - - For ef you would, I’m sure you could - - Jest let a feller know; - - Ef it strikes you as it likes you, - - Answer yes or no. - -The judges, however, followed, if (two being “varmers”) they did not -thoroughly sympathise with, the obvious feeling of the crowded room. -The patriotic songs, I noticed, had quite changed their character. They -never were of the vulgar jingo kind in Wessex, but there used to be much -of the old Dibdin and tow-row,-row ring about them. “The Poor Little -Soldier Boy” may be taken as a specimen of the new style. His father -dies of wounds; he ’lists; comes home; is discharged; wanders -starving, till, opposite a fine gate, he sinks down, asking the unknown -inmates how they will like to find him, “dead at their door in the -morn.” At this crisis a lady appears, who takes him in and provides for -him for life. The only lines I carried away were from a song even more -pacific in tone than “The Poor Little Soldier Boy.” They ran:-- - - Ef I wur King o’ France, - - Or, better, Pope o’ Rome, - - I’d hev no fightin’ men abroad, - - Nor weepin’ maids at home. - -But there was an approach to “waving the flag” amongst the women, one of -whom, a strapping damsel, sang:-- - - We’ve got the strength of will, - - And old England’s England still, - - And every other nation knows it--“rather”! - -which word “rather” ended every verse of a somewhat vulgar ditty. She -did not get the prize, nor did the matron whom I fixed on as the -winner, who sang without a hitch a monotonous and, I began to think, -never-ending ballad on the rivalries of “young Samuèl” and one -“Barnewell” for the graces of an undecided young woman. The attention -with which this somewhat dreary narrative was listened to deceived me, -for the prize went, without public protest, to a young woman of whose -song I could not catch a line, though I could just gather that it was -feebly sentimental. My impression is that it was her bright eyes, and -pretty face and figure, that carried it with the judges, rather than her -singing. If I am right, it will neither be the first nor last time that -the prizes in this world fall to _tes beaux yeux_. - -The school faces the upper end of the village green, and I left it so -crowded that it was a wonder how the dancers could get along at all -with their polkas and handkerchief dances, the latter a kind of country -dance, which were the only ones in vogue. When I got out, I saw lighted -booths at the other end of the green, and went down to inspect. It was a -melancholy sight. - -There was the publican’s dancing-booth without a soul in it. One swing -only was occupied in the neighbouring acrobatic apparatus, and the -round-about was motionless. The gipsies were there, ready and eager to -tell fortunes, and with a well-lighted alley for throwing at cocoa-nuts -with bowls rather larger than cricket-balls--the most modern and popular -substitute, I am told, for skittles. There they were, but not a customer -in sight, the only human being but myself being the solitary county -policeman, who patrolled the green with most conscientious regularity, -only slackening his pace for a moment or two as he passed under the -bright open windows of the schoolroom, from which the merry dance-music -came streaming out into the moonlight. I could almost find it in my -heart to pity the publican and gipsies, so overwhelming did their defeat -seem, for not a glass of beer had been allowed all day in the vicar’s -fields, where the cricket-match had been played and all the races -run, on milk, tea, or aerated waters. The whole stock of these last -beverages, supplied from the “Hope Coffee Room,” which has faced the -public-house on the village green now for about three years, was drunk -out before the dancing ended and the school closed on “veast” night, to -the exceeding joy of the vicar’s niece and her lieutenants, two bright -Cornish damsels, handy, devoted, and ardent teetotalers. These three -have been fighting the publicans since 1886, when they started the “Hope -Coffee Room,” supplied with bread, butter, and cakes from the vicarage, -and aerated drinks and light literature, all, I take it, at something -under cost price, though this the three ardent damsels will by no means -admit. The vicar, who is no teetotaler himself, shrugs his shoulders -laughingly, plays his fiddle, pays the bills, and lets them have their -own way, with an occasional protest that some night he shall have his -barn and ricks burnt. There is, however, no real danger of this, as he -has lived with and for his poor for more than thirty years with scarcely -one Sunday’s break, and gipsy or publican would get short shrift who -damaged him or anything that is his. I found him quite ready to admit -the great improvement which is apparent in the “veast,” as in many other -phases of rustic life, though he cannot get over, or look with anything -but dislike and distrust at, the cramming and examining system, which, -as he mourns, embitters the only time in the lives of his poor children -which used to be really happy, when they could play about on the village -green and in the lanes regardless of Inspector and Government grant. -Nor am I sure that he does not look with regret at the disappearance -of cudgel-playing and wrestling out of the programme of the yearly -“Veast-Sports.” Cricket, fine game as it is, does hot bring out quite -the same qualities. No doubt there were now and then bad hurts in those -sports, and fights afterwards; but these came from beer, and might -happen just as easily over cricket. So he muses, and I rather -sympathise. As has been well sung by the ould gamester:-- - - Who’s vor a bout O’ vrendly plaay, - - As never should to anger move, - - Sech spworts be only meant for thaay - - As likes their mazzards broke for love. - -But I should be sorry to believe that there are fewer youngsters to-day -in the West country who “likes their mazzards broke for love” than there -used to be half a century ago. - - - - -The Divining-Rod, 21st September 1889. - -About a quarter of a century ago, I had the chance of seeing some -experiments in the search for water by the use of “the divining rod” on -a thirsty stretch of the Berkshire chalk range. Oddly enough (what a lot -of odd things there are lying all round us!) at the highest points of -this very range you might come on “dew-ponds,” which never seemed to run -dry, though how the white chalky water got there, or kept there, no -one, I believe, has ever been able to explain from that day to this. But -these “dew-ponds” were of no use, of course, to the cottages scattered -along the hillside, and whoever wanted spring-water, had to go down -about 400 feet for it. Well, I neglected that chance, and ever since -have been regretting it. - -My notion of the water-diviner was gathered from Sir Walter’s famous -portrait of Dousterswivel in the _Antiquary_; a fellow “who amongst -fools and womankind talks of the Cabala, the divining-rod, and all the -trumpery with which the Rosicrucians cheated a darker age, and which, -to our eternal disgrace, has in some degree revived in our own.” I was -resolved that the revival should in no case be forwarded by me, and so -lost my opportunity, and have been ever since tantalised by reports of -marvels wrought by the hazel-wand, as to which I was quite at a loss -to form any reasonable opinion. It was with no little satisfaction, -therefore, that I received, and accepted, an invitation to assist at -a water-search about to be undertaken by a diviner of considerable -reputation in the outskirts of Deer Leap Wood, in the parish of Wootton, -Surrey. - -This wood, notable even amongst the loveliest of that favoured county, -belongs to the worthy representative of the author of _Sylva_ and the -_Memoirs_, who, having built some excellent cottages on its confines, -desires to find the occupants a good supply of spring-water _in situ_. -Accordingly a group of us, men and women of all ages, and of all -degrees of scepticism--for I doubt if there was a single believer in the -efficacy of the rod, though the squire himself and a friend preserved -a judicious silence--gathered last Friday after breakfast on the lawn -before Wootton House, to await the arrival of the water-doctor, whom the -agent had gone to meet at the station. It was agreed on all hands that a -preliminary test should be applied, and that the lawn on which we stood -offered quite admirable facilities for this purpose. For, more than two -hundred years ago, John Evelyn had diverted a portion of the stream, -which runs down the valley in which the house stands, for the purpose of -making a fountain on the terraces. (Let it be noted in passing, that the -lead-work of that fountain has needed no repair from that day to this! -There _were_ plumbers in those days!) From this fountain two pipes carry -the water into the house, under the lawn on which we stood. Now the lawn -turf is as smooth as a billiard-table, without the slightest indication -of the whereabouts of these pipes, which indeed was only known vaguely -to the squire, and not at all to any one else of those present. If the -divining-rod could discover these, the experiment at “Deer Leap Wood” - might be undertaken with good hope. - -Well, the doctor, conducted by the steward, arrived in due course, a -stout middle-aged man, of the stamp of a high-class mechanic; plain and -straightforward in speech, and with no pretence whatever to mystery. In -answer to our questions, he said: “He couldn’t tell how it came about; -but of this he was sure, that he could find springs and running water. -Thirty years ago he was working as a mason at Chippenham, with a Cornish -miner amongst others. He saw this man find water with the rod; had then -tried it himself, and found he could do it. That was all he knew. Any -one*of us might have the same power. Why, two young gentlemen who saw -him working at Warleigh, near Bath, had copied him, and found a spring -right under their father’s library.” We listened, and then proposed that -he should just try about the lawn. He produced a hazel twig shaped like -a Y, the arms, each some eighteen inches long; the point, perhaps, -six inches. I may note, however, that the dimensions can be of no -consequence, for he used at least half a dozen in his trials, cutting -them at random out of the hazel-bush as we walked along, and taking -no measure of any of them. Taking an arm of the Y between the middle -fingers of each hand, he walked across the lawn slowly, stooping -slightly forward, so as to keep the point downwards, about a foot from -the ground. He had not gone a dozen yards before the rod quivered, and -then the point rose at once straight up into the air. “There’s running -water here,” he said, “and close to the surface.” We marked the spot -and followed him, and some twenty-five yards further the point of the -Y again sprang up into the air. The steward, who knew the plans -accurately, was appealed to, and admitted that these were the precise -spots under which the pipes ran. In answer to the suggestion that the -point sprang up by pressure of his fingers, voluntary or involuntary, he -asked two of us to hold the arms beyond his fingers, and see if we could -prevent the point rising. We did so (I being one), and did all we could -to keep it pointed downwards, but it rose in spite of us, and I watched -his hands carefully at the same time and could detect no movement -whatever of the muscles. Then he broke one of the arms, all but the -bark, and still the point rose as briskly as ever. Lastly, he proposed -that each of us should try if we had the power. We did so, but without -success, except that in the case of Mrs. Evelyn and another lady the -point trembled, and seemed inclined, though unable, to rise. He then -took hold of their wrists, and at once it rose, nearly as promptly as -it had done with him. This was enough; and we started in procession, on -ponies, in carriage^, or walking, to Deer Leap Wood, where in the -course of an hour he marked with pegs some half dozen spots, under which -running water will be found at from 70 feet to 100 feet. He did not -pretend to be able to give the exact depth, but only undertook to give -the outside limits. And so we all went back to lunch, and Mullins -took his fee and departed. I know, sir, that you have many scientific -readers, and can picture to myself the smile tinged with scorn with -which they will turn to your next page when they get thus far. Well, I -own that the boring remains to be done, the results of which I hope to -send you in due course. Meantime, let me remind them of a well-known -adventure of one of the most famous of their predecessors towards the -end of last century. Sir Joseph Banks, botanising on the downs on a -cloudless June day, came across a shepherd whom he greeted with the -customary “Fine day,”--“Ees,” was the reply, “but there’ll be heavy rain -yet, afore night.” Sir Joseph passed on unheeding, and got a thorough -drenching before he reached his inn. Next morning he went back, found -the shepherd, and put a guinea in his hand, with “Now, my man, tell me -how you knew there was going to be rain yesterday afternoon.” - -“Whoy,” said Hodge, with a grin, “I zeed my ould ram a shovin’ hisself -back’ards in under thuck girt thornin bush; and wenever a doos that -there’ll sartin sure be heavy rainfall afore sundown.” - -Note.--Water was found where it was expected by the Diviner, and this -well is now used by the tenants of the Deer Leap Cottages.--October -1895. - - - - -Sequah’s “Flower of the Prairie,” Chester, 26th March 1890. - -“Why, what on earth can this be?” I asked of the man who stood next me -in the Foregate some ten days ago, as we paused at a crossing to allow -the strange object which had drawn from me the above ejaculation to pass -on, with its attendant crowd. It was a mighty gilded waggon, certainly -fourteen feet long by six feet or seven feet broad. It was drawn by four -handsome bays. On two raised seats at the front sat eight men, English, -I fancy, every man of them, but clad over their ordinary garments in -long leather coats with fringes, such as our familiar Indians wear in -melodrama, and in the broad-brimmed, soft felts of the Western cowboy. -They were all armed with brass instruments and made the old streets -resound with popular airs. Behind these raised seats, in the body of -the waggon, rode some half dozen, including three strapping brown men, -Indians, I fancy they pose for, but they looked to me more like the -half-castes whom one sees on the Texan and Mexican ranches on the Bio -Grande. They also were clad in fringed leather coats, and wore sombreros -over their long black locks. The sides of the waggon, where not gilt, -were panelled with mirrors, on which were emblazoned the Stars and -Stripes and other coloured devices. Altogether, the thing seemed to me -well done in its way, whatever it might mean; and I turned inquiringly -to my neighbour and repeated my question, as the huge gilded van and -its jubilant followers passed away down the station road. “Oh! ’tis the -‘Merikin chap, as cures folks’s rheumatics and draws their teeth.” - -“He must draw something more than their teeth,” I said, “to keep up all -that show.” My neighbour grinned assent. “He’ve drawed pretty nigh all -the loose money as is going hereabouts already,” he said as we parted. -“One more quack to fleece the poor,” I thought, as I walked on. “Well, -anyhow, they get a show for their shillings; that van beats Barnum!” - -In this mind I reached the vicarage of one of our biggest city parishes -to which I was bound. “I don’t know about quack,” said the vicar, when -I had detailed my adventure on the way, using that disparaging phrase; -“but this I do know, that I have given over writing certificates for -my poor from downright shame, the demand is so great.” And then he -explained that the “medicineman,” whose stage name was Sequah, made no -charge to any patient who brought a clergyman’s certificate of poverty; -that the van had now been in the town above a week; and at first he, -the vicar, had given such certificates freely, both for treatment -(tooth-drawing) and for the medicines, but now refused except in the -case of the very poorest. No! not because Sequah was an impostor; on the -contrary, he had done several noteworthy cures--at any rate temporary -cures--on some of the vicar’s own parishioners: notably in the case of -one old man who had been drawn up to the van in a wheel-chair. He had -had rheumatism for two years, which had quite disabled him, and was in -great pain when he got on the platform. After he had been treated he -walked down the steps without help, and wheeled his chair home himself. -Unluckily, Sequah had advised him to get warm woollen underclothing, -and on his pleading that he had not the money to buy it, had given him -a sovereign. This so elated him that he felt quite a new man, and could -not help breaking his sovereign on the way home to give the new man a -congratulatory glass at a favourite pot-house. This had thrown him back, -and his knees were a little stiff again, but the pain had not returned -even in this case. - -After such testimony from a thoroughly trustworthy and matter-of-fact -witness, I resolved to see this strange thing with my own eyes, and -went off straight from the vicarage to the scene of action, to which -the vicar directed me. This was an old tan-yard about half an acre in -extent, and was full of people when I arrived, the space immediately -round the waggon being densely crowded. It was drawn up in the middle of -the plot. The eight brass-bandsmen had wheeled round so as to look down -from their raised benches on the floor of the waggon, on which was a -large leather chair. In front of the chair, speaking to the crowd -from the end of the waggon, stood a tall figure, in a finer kind of -leather-fringed coat, ornamented with rows of blue, red, and white -beads. At first glance I thought it was a woman from the fineness of -the features, and masses of long, light hair falling on the shoulders. A -second glance, however, showed me that it was a man, and a vigorous and -muscular one too. He was explaining that the medicines he was going -to sell presently were not “scientific,” but “natural” medicines, -“compounded of the water of a Californian spring and certain botanic -ingredients”! I will not trouble you with a list of all the ailments -they will cure if taken steadily and in sufficient doses, but get on -at once to the performance. Having finished his speech, he put on his -sombrero, took up a pair of forceps from a table on which a row of -them were displayed, and stood by the chair. Upon this, advanced an -apparently endless line of men, women, and children, marshalled by the -Indians who stood at the foot of the steps. One by one they came up, sat -down in the chair, passed under Sequah’s hands, and descended the steps -on the other side of the waggon into the wondering crowd, while the band -discoursed vigorous and continuous music. I watched him draw at least -fifty teeth in less than as many minutes. The patient just sat down, -opened his mouth, pointed to the peccant tooth, and it was out in most -cases before he could wink. There were perhaps three or four cases (of -adults) in which things did not go quite so smoothly, and one--that of a -young woman, who seized her bonnet and rushed down the steps in evident -pain and rage--after which he stopped the band, and explained to us that -her tooth was so decayed that he had had to break the stump in the jaw. -This he had done, and should have taken the pieces out without causing -any further pain, if she had just waited a few more seconds. There are -rumours flying round that the infirmary is crowded daily with patients -in agonies from broken fangs which have been left in by Sequah. On the -other hand, two of our doctors whom I have met admit that he is a very -remarkable “extractor,” and has first-rate instruments. - -There were still crowds waiting their turn when he finished his -tooth-drawing for the day, and announced that he would now treat a case -of rheumatism. Thereupon, an elderly man--who gave his name and address, -and stated that he had been rheumatic for twelve years, unable to walk -for two, and was now in great pain--was carried up the steps and put in -the chair. Then buffalo-robes were brought by the Indians, two of -whom held them up so as to conceal Sequah and the third, a rubber, -who remained inside with the patient. Then the brass band struck up -boisterously, the buffalo-robe screen was agitated here and there, and a -strong and very pungent smell (not unlike hartshorn) spread all round. -I timed them, and at the end of eighteen minutes the buffalo-robes -were lowered, and there was the old man dressed again and seated in the -chair. The band stopped. Sequah asked the old man if he felt any pain -now. He replied, “No,” and then was told to walk to the front of the -platform, which he did; then to get down the ladder, walk round the -waggon amongst the crowd, and come up on the other side, which he did, -looking, I must say, as astonished as I was, at his own performance. -Then six or seven men, mostly elderly, came up and declared that they -had been similarly treated, and were wonderfully better, some of them -quite cured and at work again. Then Sequah invited any person who had -been treated by him or taken his medicines and were none the better, to -come up into the waggon and tell us about it, as that was their proper -place and not below. This offer seemed quite _bona fide_, but it did -not impress me, as I doubt whether any protesting patient would have had -much chance of ascending the steps, which were kept by the Indians and -their able-bodied confederates. No one answering, two big portmanteaus -were brought up, out of which he began to sell his medicines at a dollar -(4s.) the set--two bottles and two small packets. The rush to be served -began, people crushing and struggling to get near enough to hand up -their hats or caps with 4s. in them, which were returned with the -medicines in them. I watched for at least ten minutes, when, there -being apparently no end to the purchases, I strolled away, musing on the -strange scene, and wondering what the attraction can be in the Bohemian -life which could induce a man of this evident power to wander about -the world in a gilded waggon, in a ridiculous costume, and talking -transparent clap-trap, to sell goods which apparently want no lies -telling about them. - -I may add that I went again last Saturday, when there was even a greater -crowd, and an older and more severe case of rheumatism was treated with -quite as great (apparent) success. - - - - -French Popular Feeling, 15th August 1890. - -I doubt if any of your readers has less sympathy than I with the -yearning to go back twenty, thirty, or forty years (as the case may be), -which seems to be a note of contemporary literature, and therefore, I -take it, of the average mind of the men and women of our day, who have -passed out of their first youth. “The Elixir of Life,” which Bulwer -dreamed and wrote of, which should restore youth, with its bounding -pulses and golden locks, its capacity for physical enjoyment, and for -building castles in Spain, I think I may say with confidence I would -not drink four times a day, with twenty minutes’ promenade between the -glasses (as I am just now drinking of the _source Cosar_ here), even -if an _elixir vito source_ were to come bubbling up to-morrow in this -enchanting Auvergne valley, and our English doctor here at Royat--known -to all readers of Mr. _Punch’s_ “Water Course”--were to put it -peremptorily on my treatment-paper to-morrow morning. It is not surely -the “_good fellows_ whose beards are gray,” who sigh over the departure -of muscular force, and sure quickness of eye and nerve, which enabled -them in years gone by to jump five-barred gates or get down to -leg-shooters. They are glad to see the boys doing these things, and -rejoicing in them; but, for themselves, do not desire any more to jump -five-barred gates or get down to leg-shooters. They have learned the -wise man’s lesson, that there is a time for all things, and that -those who linger on life’s journey and fancy they can still occupy the -pleasant roadside places after their part of the column has passed on -ahead, will surely find themselves in the way of, and be shouldered out -by, the next division, without a chance of being able to regain their -place in the line, side by side with old comrades and contemporaries. - -But it is one thing to fall out of the line of march of one’s own -accord, from an unwise hankering after roadside pleasures, and quite -another to have to fall out because one can no longer keep one’s old -place in the column by reason of failing wind, or muscle, or nerve; -and the man of sense who feels his back stiffening, or his feet getting -tender, will do well to listen to such hints betimes, and betake himself -at once to whatever place or regimen holds out the best hope of enabling -him to keep step once more, till the day is fairly over and the march -done. It is for this reason, at any rate, that I find myself at Royat, -from which I have been assured by more than one trustworthy friend who -has tested the waters, that I shall return after three weeks “with new -tissues,” and “fit to fight for my life.” I don’t see any prospect -of having to fight for my life in my old age, though one can’t be too -confident with the new Radicalism looming up so menacingly, and am very -well content with my old tissues, if they can’ only be got into fair -working order again, of which I already begin to think there is good -prospect here, though my experience of the _sources_ “Eugénie” and -“Cæsar” is as yet not a week old. - -It is more than twenty years since I have written to you from France -over this signature, and since that time I have only been once in Paris, -for two days on business. The gay city is much less changed than I -expected to find it, so far as one can judge from a drive across it from -the Gare de l’Ouest to the Gare de Lyon, and a stroll (after depositing -luggage at the latter station) along the Rue de Rivoli and the Quais, -and through the streets of the old city. The clearance which has left -an open space in front of Notre Dame, so that one can get a good view -of the western front, seemed to me the most noteworthy improvement. The -great range of public buildings and offices which have been added to -the Louvre are stately and impressive, but cannot make up for -the disappearance of the Tuileries. The Eiffel Tower is a great -disappointment. All buildings should be either beautiful or useful; but -it is neither, and only seems to dwarf all the other buildings. But one -change impressed me grievously. Where are all the daintily dressed women -and children gone to? Perhaps the world of fashion may be out of town; -but there must be some two millions of people left in Paris, a quarter -of them at least well-to-do citizens, and able to give as much care as of -old to their toilets. Nevertheless, I assure you, I sought in vain for -one really dainty figure such as one used to meet by the score in every -street. Can twenty years of the true Republic have made La Belle France -dowdy? It is grievous to think of it, and I hope to be undeceived before -I get back amongst the certainly better got-up women of my native land. - -For my nine hours’ journey south, I bought a handful of the cheap -illustrated papers--_Le Grelot, Le Troupier_, and others--which seem to -be as much the daily intellectual fare of the French travelling public -as (I regret to say) _Tit-Bits_ and its congeners are, at any rate in -my part of England. Of course it is always difficult to know what “the -people” are thinking or caring about; but to get at what they read must -be not a bad test. A perusal of these certainly surprised me favourably, -especially in this respect, that they were almost entirely free from -the pruriency which is so generally supposed to be the characteristic of -modern French literature. - -I wish I could speak half as favourably of the attitude of France, so -far as these journals disclose it, towards her neighbours; but this is -about as bad as it can be, touchy, jealous, and unfair, all round. Take, -for instance, the _Troupier_, which is specially addressed to the -Army. The cartoon represents the “Grand Jeu de Massacre,” at which all -passers-by are invited to join free of charge. The _jeu_ consists of -throwing at a row of puppets, citizens of Alsace-Lorraine, in which -a brutal German soldier is indulging, while the French “Ministre -des Affaires (qui lui sont) Etrangères” slumbers peacefully on a -neighbouring seat. But we come off at least as badly as Germany. In -a vigorous leader, entitled “Une Reculade,” on the Zanzibar Question, -after a very bitter opening against England--“il n’y a guère de pays qui -n’ait été roulé dupé et volé par elle,”--the _Troupier_ breaks into a -song of triumph over the backing-down of England, “flanquée d’Allemagne -et de ses alliés,” before the resolute attitude of France. “Cette -reculade,” it ends, “de nos ennemis indique suffisamment que La France a -repris la place et le rang qui lui conviennent, et qu’elle est de -taille à se faire respecter partout et par tous. C’est tout ce que nous -desirions.” In all commercial and industrial matters we are equally -grasping and unscrupulous. There seems to be just now a great stir -in the sardine industry, and, so far as I can make out, English and -American Companies seem to be competing for a monopoly of that savoury -little fish. It is, however, upon the English “Sardine Union Company, -Limited”--“qui s’appelle en France, Société Générale de l’Industrie -Sardinière de France”--that the vials of journalistic wrath are being -emptied. “Sept polichinelles,” it would seem, have subscribed for one -share each, and the whole scheme is utterly rotten. Nevertheless, this -bogus Company threatens to buy up all the sardine manufactories -in France at fancy prices, and, the control being in England, -will manufacture there all the metal boxes, and will build all the -fishing-boats over there, “au détriment de nos constructeurs Français,” - and so on, and so on. I was getting quite melancholy over all these -onslaughts on my native country, when I came upon a topic which -alone seems to excite the petit-journaliste more than the sins of the -long-toothed Englishman--viz. those of priests and their followers and -surroundings. Here is a comic example, over which the Grelot foams -in trenchant and sarcastic but incredibly angry sentences. A Belgian -Council has decided to divide the 500 fr. which it has voted to the -“Institut Pasteur,” the vote being “pour M. Pasteur et pour St. Hubert.” - This remarkable vote was carried on the pleading of a Deputy, who, after -paying homage to M. Pasteur, added: “C’est un grand homme qui a opéré -des cures merveilleuses; seulement il y a un autre grand homme, qui -depuis onze cent soixante-trois années a opéré des miracles, c’est St. -Hubert--M. Pasteur devra travailler longtemps avant d’en arriver là.” - I am afraid you will have no room for more than one of the scathing -sentences in which the writer tosses this unlucky vote backwards and -forwards: “M. Pasteur acceptera-t-il de partager les 500 fr. avec St. -Hubert (adresse inconnue), ou St. Hubert refusera-t-il de partager avec -M. Pasteur (adresse connue)?--‘That is the question/ comme disait le -nommé Shakespeare.” - -It was in the midst of such instructive if not entirely pleasant -reading, that I arrived at Clermont, the old capital of Auvergne, by far -the most interesting town I have been in this quarter of a century, -not excepting Chester. From thence, one comes up to Roy at, about three -miles, in an electric tramway, or by ’bus or cab. - - - - -Royat les Bains, 23rd August 1890. - -Some thirty years ago, more or less, I remember reading with much -incredulous amusement Sir Francis Head’s “Bubbles of the Brunnen.” - It was in the early days of the Saturday Review, when the infidel -Talleyrand gospel of surtout jooint de zèle was being preached to young -England week by week in those able but depressing columns. I, like the -rest of my contemporaries, was more or less affected by the cold water -virus, and was certainly inclined to look from the superior person -standpoint on what I could not but regard as the outpourings of the -second childhood of an eccentric septuagenarian, who was really asking -us to believe that the Schwalbach waters were as miraculously potent as -the thigh-bone of St. Glengulphus, of which is it not written in _The -In-goldsby Legends_:-- - - And cripples, on touching his fractured _os femoris_, - - Threw down their crutches and danced a quadrille. - -I need scarcely say to you, sir, that it is many years since I have been -thoroughly disabused of this depressing heresy; but perhaps one never -quite recovers from such early demoralisation. At any rate, now that I -find myself approaching Sir Francis’s age, and much in his frame of mind -when he blew his exhilarating bubbles, I can’t quite make up my mind to -turn myself loose, as he did, and in Lowell’s words, “pour out my hope, -my fear, my love, my wonder,” upon you and your readers. The real fact, -however, stated in plain (Yankee) prose is, that Schwalbach (I have been -there) “is not a circumstance” to this refuge for the victim of gout, -rheumatism, eczema, dyspepsia, and I know not how many more kindred -maladies, amongst the burnt-out volcanoes of the Department Puy-de-Dome. -Nevertheless, you may fairly say, and I should agree, that my ten days’ -experience of the effect of the waters is scarcely sufficient to make -me a trustworthy witness as to the healing properties of these springs. -Twenty-one days is the prescribed course, and as I am as yet but half -through, I will not “holloa till I am out of the wood,” but will try in -the first place to give you some idea of this Royat les Bains and its -surroundings. - -Let us look out from this third-floor window at which I am writing, on -the highest guest-floor of the topmost hotel in Royat, to which a happy -chance (or my good angel, if I have one) led me on my arrival. I look -out across a narrow valley, from three to four hundred yards wide, upon -a steep hill which forms its opposite side. They say this hill is a -burnt-out volcano. However that may be, it is now clothed with vineyards -on all but the almost precipitous places where the rock peeps out. On -the highest point, against the sky-line, stands out a small white house, -calling itself the Hôtel de l’Observatoire, from which there must be a -magnificent view; but how it is to be reached I have not yet learned, -for there is no visible road or footpath, and the peasants object to -one’s attempting the ascent through the vineyards. The valley winds up -round this hill, taking a turn to the north, our side widening out and -sweeping back behind Royat Church and village, to which the retreating -hill behind forms a most picturesque background. For, on the lower -slope, just above the houses, are stretches of bright green meadow, -interspersed amongst irregular clumps of oak; above this comes a -brown-red belt of rough ground, growing heather and wild strawberries; -and, again above that, all along the brow, are dense pine woods. The -constant changes of colour which this southern sun brings out all day -long on this hillside make it difficult to break away from one’s window -and descend to the _établissement_ to drink waters and take baths. -This institution lies down at the bottom of the valley I have been -describing, some 200 feet below this window, and 150 feet below the -broad terrace which is thrown out from the ground-floor of this hotel. -From the terrace a rough zigzag path leads down to the brook, which -rushes down from Royat village in a succession of tiny waterfalls, -sending up to us all day the murmur of running water. On reaching the -brook’s bank, we have about one hundred yards to walk by its side, when, -crossing a good road which runs round it, we reach the low wall of -the park, in which lies the bathing establishment. From this point the -electric tram-cars run to Clermont, carrying backwards and forwards -for two sous baigneurs and holiday-folk enough, I should say, to pay -handsome dividends. This park occupies the whole breadth of the valley, -pushing back the houses on either side against the hillsides. Its main -building, a handsome structure, built of lava, with red-tiled roof, -contains all the separate baths and a _piscine_, or swimming bath, -besides a good-sized hall for sanitary gymnastics, and a _salle -d’escrime_, in which a professor instructs pupils daily in fencing and -_le boxe_. The broad path runs from top to bottom of this park, having -this _établissement_ building on its left or northern side, and on its -right two parallel terraces, one above the other. On the lower of -these is the great _source_, the “Eugénie,” which bubbles up here in -magnificent style, sending up some millions of gallons daily. Over the -Eugénie _source_ is a pavilion, with open sides and striped red and -white curtains. A second pavilion on the same terrace, a little lower -down, is devoted to the band, which plays every afternoon for two or -three hours; and below that again, the casino. On the second or upper -terrace are a few favoured _châlet_ shops, for the sale of books, -pictures, photographs, and the pottery and _bijouterie_ of Auvergne. -Then, above again, comes the road which encloses the park, on the -opposite side of which are the row of large hotels built against the -rocky side of the valley, and communicating at the back from their upper -stories with the road which runs up to Royat village. The rest of the -park is laid out in lawns and garden-beds, full of bright flowers and -walks, amongst which are found three other sources--the Cæsar, the St. -Mart, and the St. Victor, each of which has its small drinking-pavilion. -In front of these several pavilions and along the terraces are a -plentiful supply of seats, and chairs which you can carry about to any -spot you may select under the shade of the plane-trees and acacias -which line the terraces and walks, with weeping-willows, chestnuts, and -poplars happily interspersed here and there. The abundant water-supply -which the brook brings down is well utilised, so that the whole -park, some six acres in extent, is kept as fresh and green, and the -flower-beds as luxuriant and bright with colour, as if it were in dear, -damp England. At the bottom of the park, a handsome viaduct of arches, -built of lava, spans the valley, seeming to shut Royat in from the -outer world, and beyond, the valley broadens out into a wide plain, with -Clermont, the capital of Auvergne, in the foreground, and beyond the -city, stretching right away to Switzerland, a splendid sea (as it were) -of corn and maize and vines and olives, the richest, it is said, in the -whole of _la belle_ France. It is stated in all the guidebooks, and by -trustworthy residents, that on a clear day you may see Mont Blanc from -Royat, but as yet I have not been lucky enough. - -Unless I have failed altogether in describing the view which lies -constantly before me--from the pine-clad hillside over Royat village, -with its gray church and white red-roofed houses to the west, away down -over the park and surrounding hotels and shops, and viaduct and city and -plain to the far east--you can now fancy what it must be in the early -morning, when the light mist is lying along the hillsides until the sun -has had time to dispose of the clouds in the upper air, or at night, -when the clear sky is thick with stars, and the Northern Lights flame up -behind the silent volcano opposite this Hôtel de Lyon. There is no place -on earth, from the back-slums of great cities to the mountain-peak -or mid-ocean, to which early morns and evening twilights do not bring -daily, or almost daily, some touch of the beauty of light-pictures which -sun and moon and stars paint for us so patiently, whether we heed them -or no; but to get them in their full perfection, one should be able -to look at them in the light, dry, warm air of such places as these -volcanic highlands of Auvergne. - -And now for the life we lead in this air and scenery. Every morning -at six I arrive at the Cæsar spring and drink two glasses, with twenty -minutes’ interval between them. Then I climb the hill to _café au lait_ -and two small rolls and butter on the terrace, which comes off about -7 A.M., as soon as the last of our party of four has come up from the -park. Rest till eleven follows, when we have _déjeûner à la fourchette_, -which, as we sit down about a hundred, lasts for an hour. In the -afternoon I drink two glasses at the St. Mart spring, and between them -have twenty minutes in the _piscine_, which is my great treat of -the day. Going punctually at two, when the ladies surrender this -swimming-bath to the men, I almost always get it to myself, and enjoy -it as I used to do years ago, when my blood was warm enough, lying about -amongst the waves on the English coast, and letting them just tumble -and toss me about as they would. This water comes warm from the Eugénie -spring daily, and is so buoyant that one can lie perfectly still on the -top of it with one’s hands behind one’s head; and if there were no roof -to the _piscine_, and one could only look straight up all the time into -the deep-blue sky, twice as high, so it looks, as ours in England, the -physical enjoyment would be perfect. It is not far from that as it is, -and I thoroughly sympathise with Browning’s Amphibian:-- - - From worldly noise and dust, - - In the sphere which overbrims - - With passion and thought--why, just - - Unable to fly, one swims. - - - - -Royat les Bains, 30th August 1890. - -I suppose there never was a garden since Eden (unless, perhaps, in the -early days of the Jesuit settlements in the Paraguay) in which the devil -has not had a tree or a corner somewhere; and it would be well for us -all if he were no more in evidence in other health and holiday resorts -than he is here in the _parc_. His booth is at the end of the middle -terrace, a small pavilion, well shaded by tall acacias, in which in the -afternoons you can risk a franc, occasionally two, every minute on the -_course des petits chevaux_. The _course_ is a round table, with eight -or ten concentric grooves, in each of which a small horse and jockey -runs. Outside this _course_, with room for a page-boy to move round -between the two, there is a slight railing with a flat top, at which -the players sit round and post their stakes. These are collected by the -page, who lets each player draw a number in exchange for the francs. As -soon as he has made his circuit, the croupier gives a turn to a handle -which works the machinery. The first turn brings all the horses into -line, and the next starts them round the course, each in his own groove. -After another turn or two, the croupier lets go the handle, and the -puppets begin to scatter, the winner being the one which passes the post -last before the machine stops, and they all come to a standstill. - -Then the croupier calls out the winning number, and the owner gets -all the stakes, except one, which goes to the table. Beyond this, the -Company has no interest whatever, so it is said. Of course one looks -with jealousy at every such game of chance, and I was inclined to think -at first that the croupier was in league with two women, one spectacled, -who sat steadily at one end of the players, playing in partnership, and -seeming to win oftener than any of the others; but the longer I watched, -the weaker grew my suspicions. Most of the players, by the way, are -women, though there are a few men who come and sit for hours, playing -and smoking cigarettes. Besides the sitters many strollers come -up, stake their francs for a course or two, and then move on, not -unfrequently with a handful of silver. On the whole, if play is to be -allowed at all, it can scarcely take a more harmless form, if only the -good-natured French papa could be kept from letting his children play -for him. He comes up with a child of ten or twelve years, lets them sit -down, and supplies them from behind with the necessary francs, and after -a round or two the little faces flush and hands shake, especially if -they be girls, in a way which is painful to see. A child gambling is -as sad a sight, for every one but the devil and his elect, as this old -world can show. - -Next to the _courses des petits chevaux_, at some thirty yards’ -distance, comes the large pavilion in which the excellent band sit and -play for an hour in the forenoon and afternoon, and again at 8 P.M. -Round the pavilion is a broad space, gravelled and well shaded, -and furnished with chairs which are occupied all the afternoon by -_baigneurs_ and visitors, mostly in family groups, the women knitting -or sewing, and the children playing about in the intervals of the music, -and before and after the regular concerts. Occasionally they have a _bal -d’enfants_ in this space, controlled by a master of the ceremonies, a -dancing-, master, I am told. Under him the children, boys and girls of -thirteen or fourteen, down to little trots who can scarcely toddle, may -enjoy polkas, galops, and the _taran-tole des postilions_, as well as -the gravel allows; and now and again comes a _défilé_, in which, in -couples carefully graduated according to size and age, the children -march round the walks, and in and out amongst the approving sitters. A -very pretty, and to me rather a curious sight, as I much doubt if the -English boy could be induced to perform such a march, even in the hope -of small packets of bonbons at the end, which are distributed to the -best performers. - -The big orchestral platform in this pavilion is often occupied, when the -band is not playing, by itinerant performers, who (I suppose) hire it -from the Company in the hope of getting a few francs out of the sitting -and circulating crowd. The performances are poor, so far as I have seen, -though one conjurer certainly played a trick which entirely beat me at -the time, and for which I am still quite unable to account. He produced -what he called a _garotte_, made of two stout planks which shut one upon -another (like our old stocks), and in which was a central hole for the -neck, and two smaller ones for the wrists. This garotte he handed round, -and though I did not get hold of it, I inspected it in the hands of a -youth who was standing just in front of me, and satisfied myself that -the planks were solid wood. Then he placed it on a stand, and called -up a stout damsel in the flesh-coloured tights which seem to be _de -rigueur_ for all female performers, who knelt down and laid her neck in -the big hole, and a wrist in each of the smaller ones. The conjurer then -let down the upper plank upon her, and having borrowed a signet ring -from an elderly _décoré_ Frenchman who was sitting near the platform, -proceeded to encircle the two planks with strips of stout paper or tape, -which he sealed with the ring. Then he held up a screen for the space -of twenty seconds, and on lowering it the damsel was posturing in her -tights, while the _garotte_ remained _in situ_, with the tapes still -there and the seals unbroken. By what trick she got her head and hands -out I was utterly unable to guess, and strolled away with the rather -provoking sense of having been fooled through my eyes. I hope a green -parrot who flew down and sat on the railing close to the _garotte_, with -his head wisely on one side, flew off better satisfied. - -Below, on the lowest terrace, at the end of the _établissement_ -buildings, is the _salle d’escrime_, which is open daily in the -afternoons, when you may see through the big windows the “Maître -d’Escrime, Professeur de S.A.R. le Prince des Galles,” sitting ready -to instruct pupils, or, so it seemed, to try a friendly bout with all -comers. The former were generally too much of mere beginners to make any -show worth seeing, but on one day an awkward customer turned up who ran -the professor, so far as I could judge, very hard. Indeed, I am by no -means sure that he acknowledged several shrewd hits, but my knowledge -of fencing is too small to make my judgment worth much. Le boxe is also -announced to go on here, but I have never seen the gloves put on yet. -Indeed, I much doubt whether young Frenchmen really like having their -heads punched for love. It is an eccentricity which does not seem to -spread out of the British Isles. There was a tempting _assaut d’armes_ -last Sunday, presided over by General Paquette, at which eleven _maîtres -d’escrime_ of regiments in this department, and one professor from Paris -were to fence. I was sorely tempted to go, but as the thermometer stood -at 80° in the shade, and so reinforced my insular prejudices as to the -day, abstained. - -Again, beyond the Casino, on the upper terrace, is a good croquet-ground -on the broad gravel space at the lower end of the _parc_. I should think -it a difficult ground to play on, but as a rule the French boys are -decidedly good players, and seem to enjoy the game thoroughly, and to -get round the hoops quicker than any of ours could do on a lawn like -a billiard-table. The Casino, besides a restaurant and reading-room, -contains a theatre, at which there are performances five nights in -the week, and generally a ball on the off-nights. These are often -fancy-balls, and always, I hear, very lively; but I cannot speak from -experience, never having as yet descended either to them or to the plays -and operettas. When one can sit out on a terrace and see the lights -coming out in the valley, and the Milky Way and all the stars in the -heaven shining as they only do down South, even the artists of the -Théâtre Français, and the other theatrical stars who visit the Casino -in the season, cannot get me indoors o’ nights, even at Casino prices. -These are very reasonable, the _abonnement_ for a seat being only 1 -franc a night, or 2 francs for a _fauteuil_. Your readers may perhaps be -able to judge of the kind of entertainment given by a specimen. To-night -there are two operettas,--_Violonnaux_, music by Offenbach; and _Les -Charbonneurs_, music by G. Coste. I own I never heard of either of the -pieces. - -I think, sir, you will allow that there are attractions enough of all -kinds provided by the Compagnie Anonyme des Eaux Minérales de Royat, who -own the _parc_ and run the business. They can well afford it, as every -visitor pays 10 francs as an _abonnement_ for drinking the waters, and -the charges for baths are high, e.g. 2.50 francs for a separate bath, -and 2 francs for the swimming-bath, decidedly more than any of our -English watering-places, not excepting Bath; but one has so much more -fun, if one wants it, for the money. And then there is this immense -thing to be said for this Royat Company,--their park is entirely free -and open to any one who cares to walk through it. I have seen scores of -peasants in blouses, and their wives, sitting about during the concerts, -not on the same terrace with the band, where a sou is charged for -chairs, but near enough to hear the music perfectly; and one meets them -all about the garden, walking and chatting amongst the--I was going to -write “well dressed,” but that they are not, but eminently respectable, -if rather dowdy--crowds of bathers and visitors. I do not, of course, -mean that there are no exceptions, either in the case of dowdiness or -respectability, but they are rare enough to prove the rule. On the other -hand, the number of religious of both sexes is remarkable who come to -use the waters, principally for throat ailments. Sisters of several -kinds, some wearing black hoods with white breastplates, others in large -white head-dresses, with long flaps, like a bird’s wings, which flap as -they walk, are frequent in the early mornings and other quiet times; and -besides the regular clergy, there are three monkish orders represented. -Of these the most striking are two Franciscans, I believe, clad in -rough, ruddy-brown flannel gowns, reaching to the ground, with large -rosaries hanging before and cowls behind, and girt with knotted ropes. -Peter the Hermit preached the First Crusade in the neighbouring Church -of St. Mary of the port at Clermont, assisted doubtless by many a friar -clad precisely as these are, except that the modern monk or friar (as -I was disappointed to note, at any rate in one case) does not go -bare-footed, or even in sandals, but in substantial shoes and trousers! -I was much struck by the quiet, patient, and reverent expression on -all the faces, very different from what I remember in past years. -Persecution may very well account, however, for this. There is no -branch, I take it, of the Church Universal which does not thrive under -it, in the best sense. - - - - -Auvergne en Fête, 6th September 1890. - -These good folk of Auvergne seem to get much more fun, or at least much -more play, out of life than we do; at any rate, they have been twice _en -fête_ in the three weeks we have been here. I suppose it is because we -have in this business cut down our saints till we have only St. Lubbock -left, with his quarterly holiday, while they, more wisely, have stuck to -the old calendar. But it seems all wrong that they, who get five times -as much sun as we, should also get three or four times as many holidays; -for sunshine is surely of itself a sort of equivalent for a holiday. -Perhaps, however, if we had lots of it, the national “doggedness as does -it” might wear out. That valuable, but unpleasant characteristic could -scarcely have leavened a nation living in a genial climate; but, with -about half Africa on our hands, in addition to Ireland and other trifles -all round the world, the coming generation will need the “dogged as does -it” even more than their fathers. So let us sing with Charles Kingsley, -“Hail to thee, North-Easter,” or with the old Wiltshire shepherd, -claim that the weather in England must be, anyhow, “sech as plaazes God -A’mighty, and wut plaazes He plaazes I.” - -Determined to see all the fun of the fair, a friend and I started for -Clermont from Royat by the electric tramway, and reached the Place de -Jaude in a few minutes--the “Forum Clermontois,” as it is called in -the local guidebooks--the largest open space in the ancient capital of -Auvergne. It is a famous place for a fair, being nearly the size and -shape of Eaton Square, with two rows of plane-trees running round it, -but otherwise unenclosed. As we alighted from the tram-car, we could see -a long line of booths, with prodigious pictures in front of them, and -platforms on which bands were playing and actors gesticulating; but -before starting on our tour, we were attracted by a crowd close to the -stopping-place of the cars. It proved to be a ring, four or five deep, -round the carpet of athletes. They were two, a man and a woman, both in -the usual flesh-coloured tights, the latter without any pretence of a -skirt. The man was walking round, changing the places of the weights and -clubs, until sufficient sous had been thrown on to the carpet, the woman -screening her face from the sun with a big fan, and talking with her -nearest neighbours in the ring. She was a remarkably fine young woman, -with well-cut features, and a snake-head on a neck like a column; and, -strange to say, her expression was as modest and quiet as though pink -tights were the ordinary walking-dress on the Place de Jaude. The -necessary sous were soon carpeted, and the performance began. It was -just the usual thing, lifting and catching heavy weights, wielding -clubs, etc., the only novelty being that a woman should be one of the -performers. She followed the man, doing several feats with heavy weights -which were painful to witness, and we passed on to the row of booths. -The average price for entrance was 2 1/2 sous, but after experimenting -on the two first, we agreed that in such a temperature the outside was -decidedly the best part of the show. These two were some Indian dancers, -male and female, who stood up one after another and postured from the -hips, and waved scarfs, the rest beating time on banjos; and a “_Miss_ -Flora, _dompteuse_,” a snake-tamer. From this announcement over the -booth entrance we rather expected to find a countrywoman, but the -performer was a squat little Frenchwoman, in the same skirtless tights, -who took some sleepy snakes out of a box, put them round her neck, and -then wanted to make us pay a second time, which we declined to do. The -next booth ought to have been amusing, but no boys came to play while -we stopped. It was announced as “Le Massacre d’Innocents.” A number of -these “Innocent” puppets looked out of a row of holes in a large wooden -frame, not more than eight feet from the rail in front of it. Standing -behind this rail the player, on paying 5 centimes, is handed a soft -ball, which he can discharge at any one of the Innocents he may select, -and “chaque bonhomme renversé gagne une demi-douzaine de biscuits.” I -suppose the biscuits were bad, as otherwise the absence of boys seemed -incredible. Any English lower-school boy would have brought down a -_bonhomme_ at that distance with every ball, unless the balls were -somehow doctored. But no boy turned up; so we passed on to the biggest -booth in the fair, with pictures of wondrous beasts and heroic men -and women over the platform, on which a big drum and clarionet invited -entrance, in strains which drowned those of all the neighbouring booths. -We read that inside a “Musée historique, destructive, et amusant” was on -show, but contented ourselves with the pictures outside. - -Facing the other side of the place, with their backs to the larger -booths along which we had come, were a row of humbler stalls and booths, -most of the latter being devoted to some kind of gambling. There were -three or four _courses des petits chevaux_, not so well appointed as the -permanent one in the Royat Park, but on the same lines, and a number -of hazard-boards-and other tables, about the size of those which the -thimble-riggers used to carry about at English fairs. These last were -new to me. They have a hollow rim round them, into which the player puts -a large marble, which runs out on to the face of the table, which is -marked all over with numbers, six or eight towards the centre being red, -and the rest black. If the marble stops on one of these red numbers, the -player wins; if on a black one, the table wins. The odds seemed to be -more than twenty to one against the player; but if so, the tables would -surely be less crowded. As it was, they did a merry trade, never for a -moment wanting a player while we looked on. Most of these were soldiers -of the garrison, interspersed with peasants in blouses, who dragged out -their sous with every token of disgust and resentment, but seemed quite -unable to get away from the tables. On the whole, after watching for -some time, I was confirmed in the belief that we are right in putting -down gambling in all public places. Nothing, I suppose, can stop it; but -there is no good in thrusting the temptation under the noses of boys and -fools. - -After making the round of the fair, we strolled up the hill to the -Cathedral, which dominates the city, and looks out over as fair and rich -a prospect as the world has to show. Brassey, when he was building one -of the railways across La Limagne, the plain which stretches away -east of Clermont, is reported to have said that if France were utterly -bankrupt, the surface value of her soil would set her on her legs again -in two years; and one can quite believe him. The streets of the old -town, which surrounds the Cathedral, are narrow and steep, but full -of old houses of rare architectural interest. Many of them must have -belonged to great folk, whose arms are still to be seen over the doors, -inside the quiet courts through which you enter from the streets. In -these one could see, as we passed, little groups of gossips, knitting, -smoking, “_causer_-ing.” The _petit bourgeois_ has succeeded to the -noble, and now enjoys those grand, broad staircases and stone balconies. -They form an excellent setting to the Cathedral, itself a grand specimen -of Norman Gothic, begun by Hugues de la Tour, the sixty-sixth bishop, -before his departure for the Crusades, and finished by Viollet-le-Duc, -who only completed the twin spires in 1877. But interesting as the -Cathedral is, it is eclipsed by the Church of Notre Dame du Port, the -oldest building in Clermont. It dates from the sixth century, when the -first church was built on the site by St. Avitus, eighteenth bishop. -This was burnt 853 A.D., and rebuilt by St. Sigon, forty-third bishop, -in 870. Burnt again, it was again rebuilt as it stands to-day, in the -eleventh century. In it Peter the Hermit is said to have preached the -First Crusade, when the Council called by Pope Urban II. was sitting at -Clermont. Whether this be so or not, it is by far the most perfect and -interesting specimen of the earliest Gothic known to me; and the crypt -underneath the chancel is unique. It is specially dedicated to St. Mary -du Port, and over the altar is the small statue of the Virgin and Child, -around and before which votive offerings of all kinds--crosses and -military decorations, bracelets, jewels, trinkets, many of them, I -should think, of large value--hang and lie. The small image has no -beauty whatever--in fact, is just a plain black doll--but of untold -value to many generations of Auvernois, who regard it as a talisman -which has, again and again, preserved their city from sword and -pestilence. I am not sure whether, amongst the small marble tablets -which literally cover the walls, one may not be found in memory of the -great fight of Gergovia, in which Vercingétorix, if he did not actually -defeat Cæsar, turned the great captain and his Roman legions away from -this part of Gaul. At any rate, amongst the most prominent, is one -inscribed with the names “Coulmiers,” “Patay,” “Le Mans,” the battles -which in 1870-71 stayed the German advance on Clermont, and saved the -capital of Auvergne. The rest are, for the most part, private tablets, -thanksgivings for the cure of all manner of sickness and disease to -which flesh is heir. To this shrine all sufferers have come in the -faith which finds a voice all round these old walls,--“Qu’on est heureux -d’avoir Marie pour mère”! That human instinct which longs for a female -protectrix and mediator “behind the veil,” speaks here, too, as it -did 2000 years ago, when the [Greek phrase] guarded the shrines of -Athens and her colonies. - - - - -Scoppio Del Carro, Florence, Easter Eve, 1891. - -I have just come back from witnessing an extraordinary, and, I should -think, a unique ceremony, which is enacted here on Easter Eve; and, on -sitting down quietly to think it over, can scarcely say whether I am -most inclined to laugh, or to cry, or to swear. In truth, the “Scoppio -del Carro”--or “explosion of the fireworks”--as it is called, is a -curious comment on, or illustration of, your last week’s remarks on -Superstitions. “The carefully preserved dry husk of outward observance” - in this case undoubtedly speaks, to those who have ears to hear, of a -heroic time, and the spectator rubs his eyes, and feels somehow-- - - As though he looked upon the sheath - - Which once had clasped Excalibur. - -At any rate, that is rather how I felt, as, standing at noon in the -dense crowd in the nave of the Duomo, I saw the procession pass within -a few feet of me, on their way from the great entrance up to the high -altar, which was ablaze already with many tall candles. Although within -a few feet, the intervening crowd was so thick that I could only see the -heads and shoulders of the taller choristers and priests as they passed; -but I saw plainly enough, though the wearer was low of stature, the tall -mitre--it looked like gold--which the Archbishop wore as he walked in -the procession. Our bishops, I am told, are wearing or going to wear -them (Heaven save the mark!), which made me curious. They threaded their -way slowly up to the high altar; and presently we heard in the distance -intoning and chants; and then, after brief pause, the dove (so called) -started from the crucifix, I think, at any rate from a high point on the -altar, for the open door. But in order to be clear as to what the dove -carries and is supposed to do, we must go back to the Second Crusade. - -I give the story as I make it out by comparing the accounts in various -guide-books with those of residents interested in such matters. These -differ much in detail, but not as to the main facts. These are, that -in 1147 A.D. a Florentine noble of the Pazzi family, Raniero by name, -joined, some say led, the 2500 Tuscans who went on the Crusade. In any -case, he greatly distinguished himself by his courage, and is said to -have planted the first standard of the Cross on the walls of Jerusalem. -For this he was allowed to take a light from the sacred fire on the Holy -Sepulchre, which he desired to carry back to his much-loved F’orence. An -absurd part of the legend now comes in. Finding the wind troublesome as -he rode with the light, he turned round, with his face to his horse’s -tail (as if the wind always blew in Crusaders’ faces), and so at last -brought it safely home, where his ungrateful fellow-citizens, when they -saw him come riding in this fashion, called out, “Pazzo!” “Pazzo!” or -“Mad!” which his family forthwith wisely adopted as their patronymic. - -The sacred fire was housed in a shrine in St. Biagio, built by Raniero, -and has never been allowed to go out since that day--so it is said--and -from it yearly are relighted all the candles used in Florentine churches -at the Easter festival. It is a striking custom. Gradually, during the -Good Friday services, the lights are extinguished in the Duomo, and all -the churches, till at midnight they are in darkness, and are only relit -next day by fire brought even yet by a Pazzi, a descendant of Raniero, -from St. Biagio. This is, however, doubtful, some authorities asserting -that the family is extinct, others that it not only exists, but still -spends 2000 lire a year in preserving the sacred fire. A stranger has -no means that I know of, of sifting out the fact. Anyhow, I can testify -that somehow the fire is in the Duomo before noon, as any number of -candles were alight on the high altar when I got there at 11.30, half an -hour before the procession. Anything more orderly than the great crowd I -have never seen. It was of all nations, languages, and ranks, though -the great majority were Tuscan peasants with their families from all the -surrounding country, waiting in eager expectation for the flight of -the dove from the high altar, through the doors to the great car which -stands waiting outside at the bottom of the broad steps in front of the -Duomo. If the dove makes a successful flight, and lights the fireworks -which are hung round the car, there will be a good harvest and abundance -of wine and oil, and of oranges and lemons. This year the faces of the -peasants and their wives and children--and most attractive brown faces -they were--were anxious, for it had been raining hard in the morning, -and still drops were falling. However, all went well. At about 12.10 -the chanting ceased, and the dove--a small firework of the rocket -genus--rushed down the nave, some ten feet over our heads, along a -thin wire which I had not noticed before, and set light promptly to -the fireworks on the car, which began to turn and explode, not without -considerable fizzing and spluttering, but on the whole successfully. -Then the dove turned and came back, still alight, and leaving a trail of -sparks as it sped along, to the high altar. How it was received there, -and what became of it, I cannot say, as I was swept along in the rush to -the doors which immediately followed, and had enough to do to pilot my -companion, a lady, to the new centre of interest. This was the car to -which the sacred fire had now been transferred, and which was about to -start on its round to the other churches. It is chocolate-coloured, and -spangled with stars, some twenty feet high, surmounted by a large crown -and Catherine-wheel. As our crowd swept out of the Duomo and down the -steps, to mingle with the still larger crowd outside, men were rehanging -the car with fresh fireworks, and putting-to four mighty white oxen, -gaily garlanded. I remarked that the conductor, a tall, six-foot man, -could not look over the shoulder of one of these shaft-oxen as he was -harnessing him in the shafts! - -There could be no question as to the very best place for spectators. -It was the centre of the top step leading up to the Duomo façade; and, -finding ourselves there, we stopped and let the crowd surge past us. -Almost at once I became aware that this favoured spot was occupied -by the English-speaking race almost exclusively, the accent of cousin -Jonathan, I think, on the whole predominating. Two Italian boys looked -up at us with large, lustrous brown eyes; otherwise the natives were -absent. It seems like a sort of law of social gravitation, that in these -latter days the speakers of our language should get into all the world’s -best places, and having got there should stop. One cannot much wonder -that the speakers in other tongues should feel now and then as if they -were being rather crowded out. We did not pursue the car as it -lumbered away under the glorious campanile, surrounded by the rejoicing -multitude, for the sun had now got the upper hand, and the whole city -and plain right away to the lower hills, and the snow-capped Apennines -in the background, were aglow with the sort of subdued purple or -amethyst light which seems to me to differentiate Tuscany from all other -countries known to me. Now, gradually to put out all the lights in the -churches on Good Friday, and to relight them from fire from the Holy -Sepulchre next day, seems to me a worthy and pathetic custom; but this -mixing it up with the firework business, and having the Bishop and all -the strength of the Cathedral out to help in this dove trick, spoils the -whole thing, and makes one wish one had not gone to see it, recalling -too forcibly, as it does to an Englishman, the Crystal Palace on a -fireworks’ night, and the similar “dove” which travels from the Royal -Gallery, where too-well-fed citizens and others sit smoking, to light -the great “concerted piece” in the grounds below. It was like inserting -“Abracadabra!” in the middle of the “Miserere.” P.S.--Since writing -the ‘above, we have had an arrival in Florence which will interest your -readers,--to wit, fifty young persons of both sexes from Toynbee Hall, -with Mr. Bolton King as conductor; and the English community are doing -all they can to make their stay pleasant. On the morrow of their arrival -Lady Hobart entertained them at her villa of Montauto, the one in which -Hawthorne wrote _Transformation_. It is a thirteenth-century house, -or, I should rather say, that the villa, with its large, airy suite of -rooms, with vaulted ceilings, has grown round a machicolated tower* -of that date, the highest building on the Bellosquardo Hill, to the -south-west of the city. From the top of it, reached by rather rickety -and casual old stairs, there is, I should think, as glorious a view -as the world can show,--a perfect panorama, with Florence lying -right below, and beyond, Fiesole and Vallombrosa, and the village of -stone-cutters on the slope of the Apennines, which reared the greatest -of stonecutters, Michael Angelo, and beyond, the highest Apennines, -still snow-covered; and to the north, the rich plain of vineyards, and -olive-groves, and orange and lemon gardens, thickly sprinkled with -the bright white houses of the peasant cultivators and the graceful -campaniles of village churches, beyond which one could see clearly on -this “white-stone” day the snow-clad peaks of the Carrara Mountains in -the far north. I can hardly say whether the Toynbee visitors, or those -who were gathered to welcome them by the hospitable hostess, enjoyed -the unrivalled view most; but this we soon discovered, that the visitors -were about as well acquainted with the story of each point of interest, -as it was pointed out to them, as the oldest resident. Surely the -schoolmaster is at last abroad with us in England in many ways of which -we have good right to feel proud, and for which we may well be thankful. - - - - -A Scamper at Easter, 8th April 1893. - -No one can dislike more than I the habit which has become so common of -late years amongst us--thanks, or rather no thanks, to Mr. Gladstone--of -running down our own English ways of dealing with all creation, from -Irishmen to black-beetles. I believe, on the contrary, that on the whole -there is not, nor ever was, a nation that kept a more active conscience, -or tried more honestly to do the right thing all round according to its -lights. Nevertheless, I am bound to admit that our methods don’t always -succeed, as, for instance, with our treatment of our “submerged tenth,” - if that is the accepted name for the section of our people which Mr. G. -Booth, in his excellent _Life and Labour in London_, places in his A and -B classes (and which, by the way, are only 8.2, and not 10 per cent), -or with our seagulls. Some years ago I called your readers’ attention to -the rapid demoralisation of these beautiful birds at one of our northern -watering-places; how they just floated past the pier-heads hour after -hour, waiting for the doles which the holiday folk and their children -brought down for them in paper-bags. Our sea-going gulls, I regret -to note, are now similarly affected. At any rate, some forty of them -diligently followed the steamer in which I sailed for my Easter holiday, -from the Liverpool docks till we dropped our pilot and, turned due south -off Holyhead. By that time our last meal had been eaten and the remains -cast into the sea. The gulls seemed to be quite aware of this; and -we left them squabbling over the last scraps of fish and potatoes, or -loafing slowly back to Liverpool. Thirty-six hours later we entered -the Garonne, and steamed sixty miles up it to Bordeaux. For all that -distance there were plenty of French gulls on the water or in the air, -but, so far from following us, not one of them seemed to take the least -notice of us, but all went on quietly with their fishing or courting; -and yet our cook’s mate must have thrown out as much broken victuals -after breakfast in the Garonne as he did after luncheon or dinner on the -Welsh coast. It cannot be because the French gulls are Republicans, -for the Republic has, if anything, increased the national appetite for -unearned loaves and fishes. It is certainly very odd; but, anyhow, I -hope our gulls will not take to more self-respecting ways of life, for -it is a real treat to watch them in the ship’s wake, without effort, -often without perceptible motion of the wings, keeping up the fourteen -knots an hour. The Captain and I fraternised over the gulls, whom he -loves, and will not allow to be shot at from his ship. “I’ll shoot -whether you like it or not,” insisted a sporting gent on a recent -voyage. “If you do, I’ll put you in irons,” retorted the Captain; -whereupon the sporting gent collapsed--a pity, I think, for an -action for false imprisonment would have been interesting under the -circumstances. I fancy the Captain is right, but must look up the law -after Easter. - -I am surprised that this route is not more popular with the increasing -numbers of our people who like a short run to the south of France in our -hard spring weather. You can get by this way to Bordeaux quicker than -you can by Dover or Folkestone from any place north of Trent, unless you -travel day and night, and sleep on the trains, and for about half -the money. The packets are cargo-boats, but with excellent cabins and -sleeping accommodation for twelve or fourteen passengers, including as -good a bath as on a Cunard or White Star liner. And yet I was the only -passenger last week. There can scarcely be a more interesting short -voyage for any one who is a decent sailor; but I suppose the fourteen -or sixteen hours “in the Bay of Biscay, oh!” scares people. As far as my -experience goes, the Atlantic roars like a sucking-dove in the Channel -and the Bay at Easter-time. There was not wind enough to dimple the -ocean surface, and until we passed Milford Haven, no perceptible motion -on the ship. Then, as we crossed the opening of the Bristol Channel, -she began to roll--quite unaccountably, as it seemed at first; but -on watching carefully, one became aware that, though the surface was -motionless, the great deep beneath was heaving with long pulsations -from the west, which lifted us in regular cadence every thirty or forty -seconds. I have often crossed the Atlantic, but never seen the like, as -always before there has been a ripple on the calmest day, which gave the -effect, at any rate, of surface motion. The best idea I can give of it -is, if on a long stretch of our South Downs the successive turf slopes -took to rising and falling perpendicularly every minute. The Captain -said there must have been wild weather out west, and these were the -rollers. It was a grand sight to watch the great heave pass on till -it reached the Land’s End, and ran up the cliffs there. We passed near -enough to see the mining works, close to the level of high-tide, and the -villages on the cliff-tops above, or clinging on to the slopes wherever -these were not too precipitous. One can realise what manner of men and -sailors this Ear West has bred of old, and, I hope, still breeds. I pity -the Englishman whose pulse does not quicken as he sails by the Land’s -End, and can see with a glass some of the small harbours out of which -Drake and Frobisher and Hawkins sailed, and drew the crews that followed -and fought the Armada right away to the Straits of Dover. - -As the Land’s End light receded, we became aware of another light away -some twenty miles to the south-west. It is on a rock not fifty yards -across, the Captain says, at high tide, and often unapproachable -for weeks together--“The Hawk,” by name, on which are kept four -lighthouse-men, who spend there alternate months, weather permitting. -I was glad to hear that there are four at a time, as the sight of “The -Hawk” brought vividly to my mind the gruesome story of fifty years back, -when there were only two men, who were known not to be good friends. One -died, and his companion had to wait with the dead body for weeks before -his relief came. - -I noticed, before we were two hours out, that there was something -unusually smart about the crew, quite what one would look for on the -_Umbria_ or _Germanic_, but scarcely on a 700-tons cargo-boat plying to -Bordeaux. Several of the young hands were fine British tars, with the -splendid throats and great muscular hands and wrists which stand out so -well from the blue woollen jerseys; but the one who struck me most was -the ship’s carpenter, a gray, weather-beaten old salt, who was going -round quietly, but all the time with his broad-headed hammer, setting -little things straight, helping to straighten the tarpaulins over the -hatches and deck-cargo, and sounding the well. I caught him now and then -for a few words, as he passed my deck-chair, and got the clue. Most of -the crew were Naval Reserve men, and followed the Captain, a lieutenant -in the R.N.R., who could fly the blue ensign in foreign ports, which -they liked. Besides, he was a skipper who cared for his men, looked -after their mess and berths, and never wanted to make anything out of -them; charged them only a shilling a pound for their baccy, the price at -which he could get it out of bond, while most skippers charged 2s. 6d., -the shop price. He had come to this boat while his big ship was laid -up in dock, to oblige the owners, so they had followed him. Besides, -he never put them to any work he wouldn’t bear a hand in; had stood for -hours up to his waist last year in the hold when they were bringing -five hundred cattle and seven hundred hogs from Canada, running before a -heavy gale. The water they shipped was putting out the engine fires, -and the pumps wouldn’t work till they had bailed for ten hours. However, -they got in all right, and never lost a beast. Of course I was keen to -hear the Captain on this subject, and so broached it at his table. -Yes, it was quite true; they had run before a heavy gale from off -Newfoundland, and the pumps gave out off the Irish coast. They got the -sludge bailed out enough for all the fires to get to work just about in -time, or would have drifted on the rocks and gone all to pieces in a few -minutes. Yes, it was about the nastiest piece of work he had ever had to -do; the sludge, for it was only half water, was above his waist, and had -quite spoiled his uniform. The deck engineer--a light-haired man, all -big bones and muscle, whom he pointed out to me--was in the deepest -part of the hold up to his arm-pits, and had worked there for ten hours -without coming up! He was a R.N.R. man, like the old carpenter and -most of the rest. The old fellow was one of the staunchest and best -followers, probably because he was tired of going aground. He had been -aground seventeen times! for the Captain in his last ship had a way -of charging shoals, merely saying, “Oh, she’ll jump it!” which she -generally declined to do. The Captain is a strong Churchman, but shares -the prejudice against carrying ministers. “The devil always has a show” - when you’re carrying a minister. The first time he tried it, he was -taking out his own brother, and they were twenty-two days late at -Montreal. It was an awful crossing, a gale in their teeth all the way; -most of the ships that started with them had to put back. I suggested -that if he hadn’t had his brother on board, he mightn’t have got over -at all; but he wouldn’t see it. Next time, a man fell from the mast-head -and was killed; and the next, a man jumped overboard. He would never -carry a minister again if he could help it. - -One pilot took us out to Holyhead, but it took three French ones to -take us up to Bordeaux. The Garonne banks are only picturesque here and -there; but the flat banks have their own interest, for do we not see -the choicest vineyards of the claret country as we run up? There was -the Chateau Lafitte and the Chateau Margaux. I suppose one ought within -one’s heart, or rather, within one’s palate perhaps, “to have felt a -stir”-- - - As though one looked upon the sheath - - Which once had clasped Excalibur. - -But I could not tell the difference between Margaux and any decent -claret with my eyes shut, so I did not feel any stir--unless, perhaps, -as a patriot, when we passed much the most imposing establishment, and -the Captain said, “That is Chateau Gilbey”! I looked with silent wonder, -for did I not remember years ago, when the Gladstone Grocers’ Licences -Bill was young, and the Christie Minstrels sung scoffingly-- - - Ten little niggers going out to dine, - - One drank Gilbey, and then there were nine? - -And here was Gilbey with the finest “caves” and the choicest vineyard -in the Bordelaise! Who can measure the competitive energy of the British -business-man? - -I must end as I set out, with the birds. As we neared the mouth of -the Garonne, sixteen miles from land, the Captain said, two little -water-wagtails flitted into the rigging. There they rested a few -minutes, and then, to my grief, started off out to sea, but again -and again came hack to the ship. At last a sailor caught one, and the -Captain secured it and took it to his cabin, but thought it would be -sure to die. It was the hen-bird. She did not die, but flitted away -cheerfully when he brought her out and let her fly on the quay of -Bordeaux. But I fear she will never find her mate. - - - - -Lourdes, 15th April 1893. - -The farthest point south in our Easter scamper was Lourdes, to which -I found that my companions were more bent on going than to any other -possible place within our range. The attractions even of the Pass of -Ronces-valles, of St. Sebastian, and the Pyrenean battle-fields of 1814, -faded with them before those of the nineteenth-century Port Royal. At -first I said I would not go. The fact is, I am one of the old-fashioned -folk who hold that some day the kingdoms of this world are to become the -kingdoms of Christ, and that all peoples are to be gathered “in one fold -under one Shepherd.” It has always seemed to me that one of the surest -ways of postponing that good time is to be suspicious of other faiths -than our own; to accuse them of blind superstition and deliberate -imposture; even to walk round their churches as if they were museums or -picture-galleries, while people are kneeling in prayer. So I said “No”; -I would stop on the terrace at Pau, with one of the most glorious views -in the world to look at, and carefully examine Henry IV.’s château, -or go and get a round of golf with my hibernating fellow-countrymen. I -thought that the probable result of visiting Lourdes might be to make me -more inclined to think a large section of my fellow-mortals dupes, and -their priests humbugs--conclusions I was anxious to avoid. However, I -changed my mind at the last moment, and am heartily glad I did. It is an -easy twenty miles (about) from Pau, from which you run straight to the -Pyrenees, and pull up in a green nook of the outlying lower mountains, -where two valleys meet, which run back towards the higher snow-capped -range. They looked so tempting to explore, as did also the grim old keep -on the high rock which divides them and completely dominates the little -town, that twenty years ago I couldn’t have resisted, and should have -gone for an afternoon’s climb. But I am grown less lissom, if not wiser, -and so took my place meekly in the fly which my companions had chartered -for the grotto. We were through the little town in a few minutes, the -only noteworthy thing being the number of women who offered us candles -of all sizes to burn before the Madonna’s statue in the grotto, and the -number of relic-shops. Emerging from the street, we found ourselves in -front of a green lawn, at the other end of which was a fine white marble -church, almost square, with a dome--more like a mosque, I thought, than -a Western church; and up above this another tall Gothic church, with a -fine spire, to which the pilgrims ascend by two splendid semi-circular -flights of easy, broad steps, one on each side of the lower church, and -holding it, as it were, in their arms. We, however, drove up the steep -ascent outside the left or southern staircase, and got down at the door -of the higher church, which is built on the rock at the bottom of which -is the famous spring and grotto. We entered by a spacious porch, where -my attention was at once arrested by the mural tablets of white marble, -each of which commemorated the cure of some sufferer: “Reconnaissance -pour la guérison de mon fils,” “de ma fille,” etc., being at least as -frequent as those for the cure of the person who put up the tablet. I -thought at first I would count them, but soon gave it up, as not only -this big vestibule, but the walls of all the chapels, and of the big -church below (built, I was told, and hope, by the Duke of Norfolk at his -own cost), are just covered with them. This upper church was a perfect -blaze of light and colour, much too gorgeous for my taste; but what the -decorations were which gave this effect I cannot say, as I was entirely -absorbed in noting the votive offerings of all kinds which were hung -round each of the shrines, both here and in the lower church. The most -noteworthy of these, to my mind, are the number of swords, epaulettes, -and military decorations, which their owners have hung up as thank -offerings. I do not suppose that French officers and privates differ -much from ours, and I am bold to assert that Tommy Atkins would not part -with his cross or medal, or his captain, for that matter, with his -epaulettes or sword, if they had gone away from Lourdes no better in -body than when they went there hobbling from wounds, or tottering from -fever or ague. - -When we had seen the upper church we went down a long flight of circular -stairs, and came out in the lower (Duke of Norfolk’s) church,--much more -interesting, I think, architecturally, and decorated in better, because -quieter, taste than the upper one. From this we went round to the grotto -in the rock, on which the upper church stands, and in which the famous -spring rises, and over it a not unpleasant (I cannot say more) statue -of the Madonna; and all round candles alight of all sizes, from -farthing-dips to colossal moulds, many of which had been burning, they -said, for a week. A single, quiet old priest sat near the entrance -reading his Missal, but only speaking when spoken to. In front were -ranged long rows of chairs, on which sat or knelt some dozen pilgrims -with wistful faces, waiting, perhaps for the troubling of the waters. -These are carried from the grotto to a series of basins along the rock -outside, at one of which two poor old crones with sore eyes were bathing -them, and talking Basque (I believe)--at any rate some unknown tongue -to me. I should have liked to hear their experiences, but they couldn’t -understand a word of my Anglican French. Here, again, the most -striking object is the mass of crutches of all shapes and sizes, and -fearsome-looking bandages, which literally cover the rock on each -side of the entrance to the grotto, for the space (I should guess) of -fourteen or fifteen feet on one side, and ten or twelve on the other. - -And so we finished our inspection, and went back to our fly, which we -had ordered to meet us at the end of the lawn above mentioned, which -lies between the churches and the town; and so to the railway station, -and back to Biarritz by Pau. I daresay that people who go there at the -times when the great bodies of pilgrims come, may carry away a very -different impression from mine. All I can say is, that I never was in -a place where there was less concealment of any kind; and there was no -attempt whatever to influence you in any way by priest or attendant. -There were all the buildings and the grotto open, and you could examine -them and their contents undisturbed for any time you chose to give to -them, and draw from your examination whatever conclusions you pleased. -So I, for one, can only repeat that I am heartily glad that I went; and -shall think better of my Roman Catholic brethren as the result of my -visit for the rest of my life. - -Of course, the main interest of Lourdes lies in the world-old -controversy between the men of science and the men of faith, as to the -reality of the alleged facts--miracles, as many folk call them--of the -healing properties which the waters of this famous spring, or the air of -Lourdes, or the Madonna, or some other unknown influence, are alleged -to possess, and to be freely available for invalid pilgrims who care -to make trial of them. Every one in those parts that I met, at Lourdes -itself, at Pau, Biarritz, Bayonne, is interested in the question and -ready to discuss it. Perhaps I can best indicate the points of the -debate by formulating the arguments on each side which I heard, putting -them into the mouths of representative men--a doctor and a priest. I -was lucky enough to fall in with an excellent representative of the -scientific side, an able and open-minded M.D. on his travels. I had no -opportunity of speaking to one of the priests; but their side of the -argument is stoutly upheld by at least half of the people one meets. - -_Dr._--They are nothing but what are called faith-cures, akin to those -which the Yankee Sequah effects when he goes round our northern towns -in his huge car, with his brass band and attendant Indian Sachems in the -costume of the prairie. Of course, here the surroundings are far more -impressive and serious; but the cures are the same for all that--some -action of the nerves which makes patients believe they are cured, when -they are not really. Probably nine-tenths are just as bad again in a few -months. - -_Priest_.--Well, don’t we say they are faith-cures? We don’t pretend -that we can do them, as this Sequah you talk about does. You allow that -great numbers _think_ they are cured, and walk about without crutches or -bandages, or pains in their bodies, and enjoy life again for a time at -any rate; which is more than you can do for them, or they wouldn’t come -here to be healed. - -_Dr_.--How long do they walk about without crutches or pains in their -limbs? Why don’t you take us behind the scenes, and let us test and -follow up some of these cures? - -_Priest_.--We can’t take you behind the scenes, for there are no scenes -to go behind. We tell you _we_ don’t do the cures, or know precisely how -they are done. We can’t hinder your inquiries, and don’t want to hinder -them if we could. There are the tablets of “reconnaissance,” with names -and addresses; you can go to these, if you like, or talk to the patients -whom you see at the spring or in the chapels. - -_Dr_.--Come, now! You don’t really mean to say you believe that our -Lord’s Mother appeared to this girl on 23rd March 1858, and told her -that this Lourdes was a specially favourite place with her; and that she -has since that time given these special healing qualities to the water -or air of Lourdes, or whatever it is that causes these effects at this -place? - -_Priest_.--We mean to say that the girl thoroughly believed it, and we -hold that her impression--her certainty--didn’t come from the devil, as -it must if it was a lie; that it wasn’t the mere dream of a hysterical -girl, and was not given her for nothing. Else, how can one account -for these buildings, costing, perhaps, as much as one of your finest -cathedrals, all put up in thirty-five years? - -_Dr_.--Yes; but that doesn’t answer my question. Did the Mother of our -Lord appear to this girl, and is it she who works the cures. - -_Priest_.--If you mean by “appear,” “come visibly,” we don’t know. But -you should remember always that the French have a very different feeling -about the Madonna from you English. Perhaps you can’t help connecting -her with another French girl, Joan of Arc, who believed the Madonna had -appeared to her and told her she should turn you English out of France, -which she did--a more difficult and costly job even than building these -churches. - -_Dr_.--Well, we won’t argue about the Madonna, and I am quite ready -to admit that the evidence you have here, in the tablets and votive -offerings, the crutches and bandages, are _primâ-facie_ proof that -numbers of pilgrims have gone away from Lourdes under the impression -that they were cured. What I maintain is, that you have not shown, and -cannot show, that your cures are not merely due to the absorption of -diseased tissue as the result of strong excitement--an effect not at all -common, but quite recognised as not unfrequent by some of the highest -authorities in medical science. - -There the controversy rests, I think; at any rate, so far as I heard it -debated; and I must own that the scientific explanation does not seem to -me to hold water. To take one instance, would the absorption of diseased -tissue drive a piece of cloth out of a soldier’s leg or body? Perhaps -yes, for what I know; but would the excitement of a mother cure the -disease of her child? These two classes of cures (of which there are a -great number) struck me, perhaps, more than any of the rest. But I must -not take up more of your space, and can only advise all your readers who -are really interested in this problem to take the first opportunity they -can of going to Lourdes, and, if possible, as we did, at a time when the -great bodies of pilgrims are not there, and they can quietly examine the -facts there, for--_pace_ the doctors and men of science--these tablets, -swords, crutches, etc., are facts which they are bound to acknowledge -and investigate. I shall be surprised if they do not come away, as I -did, with a feeling that they have seen a deeply interesting sight for -which it is well worth while to come from England, and that there are -two sides to this question of the Lourdes miracles (so-called), either -of which any reverent student of the world in which he is living may -conscientiously hold. - - - - -Fontarabia, 22nd April 1893. - -Every year the truth of Burns’s “the best-laid schemes o’ mice and men -gang aft a-gley,” comes more home to me. From the time I was ten the -Pass of Roncesvalles has had a fascination for me. Then the habit of -ballad-singing was popular, and a relative of mine had a well-deserved -repute in that line. Amongst her old-world favourites were “Boland the -Brave” and “Durandarté.” The first told how Boland left his castle -on the Rhine, where he used to listen to the chanting in the opposite -convent, in which his lady-love had taken the veil on the false -report of his death, and “think she blessed him in her prayer when the -hallelujah rose”; and followed Charlemagne in his Spanish raid, till “he -fell and wished to fall” at Boncesvalles. The second, how Durandarté, -dying in the fatal pass, sent his last message to his mistress by his -cousin Montesinos. In those days I never could hear the last lines -without feeling gulpy in the throat:-- - - Kind in manners, fair in favour, - - Mild in temper, fierce in fight,-- - - Warrior purer, gentler, braver, - - Never shall behold the light. - -They may not be good poetry, but Monk Lewis, the author, never wrote any -others as good. Then Lockhart’s _Spanish Ballads_ were given me, and in -one of the best of those stirring rhymes, Bernardo del Carpio’s bearding -of his King, I read-- - - The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval, - - Your word, Lord King, was recompense abundant for it all; - - Your horse was down, your hope was flown; I saw the falchion - - shine - - That soon had drunk thy royal blood had I not ventured mine, etc. - -Then, a little later, a family friend who had been an ensign in the -Light Division in July 1813, used to make our boyish pulses dance with -his tales of the week’s fighting in and round Roncesvalles, when Soult -was driven over the Pyrenees and Spain was freed. And again, later, came -the tale of Taillefer, the Conqueror’s minstrel, riding before the line -at the battle of Hastings, tossing his sword in the air, and chanting -the “Song of Roland,” and of the “Peers who fell at Roncesvalles.” So -you will believe, sir, that my first thought when I got to Biarritz, -with the Pyrenees in full view less than twenty miles off, was, “Now I -shall see the pass where Charlemagne’s peers, and five hundred British -soldiers as brave as any paladin of them all, had fought and died.” - The holidays galloped, and one day only was left, when at our morning -conference I found that my companions were bent on Fontarabia and San -Sebastian, and assured me we could combine the three, as Roncesvalles, -they heard, was close to Fontarabia. Then my faith in Sir -Walter--combined, I fear, with my defective training in geography--led -me astray, for had he not written in the battle-canto of Marmion:-- - - Oh, for one blast of that dread horn, - - On Fontarabian echoes borne, - - That to King Charles did come, - - When Roland brave, and Oliver, - - And every Paladin and Peer, - - At Roncesvalles died, etc. - -Now, of course, if Charlemagne could hear the horn of Roland on the top -of the pass where he turned back, “borne on Fontarabian echoes,” - then Fontarabia must be at the foot of the pass, where Roland and the -rear-guard were surrounded and fighting for their lives. In a weak -moment I agreed to Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and so shall most -likely never see Roncesvalles. It is fourteen miles distant as the crow -flies, or thereabouts; and I warn your readers that the three can’t be -done in one long day from Biarritz. - -However, I am bound to admit that Fontarabia and San Sebastian make a -most interesting day’s work. I had never been in Spain before, and -so was well on the alert when a fellow-passenger, as we slowed on -approaching the station, pointed across the sands below us and said, -“There’s Fontarabia!” There, perhaps two miles off, lay a small gray -town on a low hill with castle and church at the top, and gateway and -dilapidated walls on the side towards*us, looking as though it might -have gone off to sleep in the seventeenth century--a really curious -contrast to bustling Biarritz from which we had just come. We went down -to the ferry and took a punt to cross the river, which threaded the -broad sands left by the tide. It was full ebb; so our man had to take us -a long round, giving us welcome time for the view, which, when the -tide is up, must be glorious. Our bare-footed boatman, though Basque or -Spaniard, was quite “up to date,” and handled his punt pole in a style -which would make him a formidable rival of the Oxford watermen in the -punt race by Christ Church meadow, which, I suppose, is still held at -the end of the summer term. A narrow, rough causeway led us from the -landing-place to the town-gate in the old wall, where an artist who had -joined the party was so taken with the view up the main street that he -sat down at once to about as difficult a sketch as he will meet in a -year’s rambles. For from the gateway the main street runs straight -up the hill to the ruined castle and church at the top. It is narrow, -steep, and there are not two houses alike all the way up. They vary -from what must have been palaces of the grandees--with dim coats-of-arms -still visible over the doorways, and elaborately carved, deep eaves, -almost meeting those of their opposite neighbours across the street--to -poor, almost squalid houses, reaching to the second story of their -aristocratic neighbours’, but all with deep, overhanging, though -uncarved eaves, showing, I take it, how the Spaniard values his shade. -Up we went to the church and castle, the ladies looking wistfully into -such shops as there were, to find something to buy; but I fancy in vain. -Not a tout appeared to offer his services; or a shopkeeper, male or -female, to sell us anything. Such of the Fontarabians as we saw looked -at us with friendly enough brown eyes, which, however, seemed to say, -“Silly souls! Why can’t you stop at home and mind your own business?” - Even at the end of our inspection, when we spread our lunch on a broad -stone slab near the gate--the tombstone once, I should think, of a -paladin--there being no houses of entertainment visible to us, we had -almost a difficulty in attracting three or four children and a stray dog -to share our relics. - -The old castle is of no special interest, though there were a few rusty -old iron tubes lying about, said to have once been guns, which I should -doubt; and Charles V. is said to have often lived there during his -French wars. The church is very interesting, from its strong contrast -with those over the border--square, massive, sombre, with no attempt -at decoration or ornament round the high brass altars, except here and -there a picture, and small square windows quite high up in the walls, -through which the quiet, subdued light comes. The pictures, with one -exception, were of no interest; but that one exception startled and -fascinated me. The subject is the “Mater Dolorosa,” a full-length figure -standing, the breast bare, and seven knives plunged in the heart,--a -coarse and repulsive painting, but entirely redeemed by the intense -expression of the love, the agony, grid the sorely shaken faith which -are contending for mastery in the face. The painter must have been -suddenly inspired, or some great master must have stepped in to finish -the work. San Sebastian does not do after Fontarabia; a fine modern -town, with some large churches and a big new bull-ring, but of little -interest except for the fort which dominates the town on the sea-front. -How that fort was stormed, after one repulse and a long siege of -sixty-three days; how, in the two assaults and siege, more than four -thousand gallant soldiers of the British and allied army fell; and the -fearful story of the sack and burning of the old town by the maddened -soldiers, is to me almost the saddest episode in our military history. -I was glad when we had made our cursory inspection and got back to the -station on our return to Biarritz. That brightest and most bustling -of health resorts was our head-quarters, and I should think for young -English folk must be about the most enjoyable above ground. I knew that -it was becoming a formidable rival of the Riviera for spring quarters, -but was not at all prepared for the facts. Almost the first thing I saw -was a group of young Englishmen in faultless breeches and gaiters, just -come back from a meet of the pack of hounds; next came along some fine -strapping girls in walking costume, bent, I should think, on exploring -the neighbouring battlegrounds; next, men and youths in flannels, bound -for the golf links, where a handicap is going on (I wonder what a French -caddie is like?); then I heard of, but did not see, the start of the -English coach for Pau (it runs daily); and then youths on bicycles, -unmistakable Britons,--though the French youth have taken kindly, I -hear, to this pastime. There are four gigantic hotels at which friends -told me that nothing is heard but English at their _tables d’hôte_; -and in the quiet and excellent small “Hôtel de Bayonne,” at which we -stayed, having heard that it was a favourite with the French, out of the -forty guests or thereabouts, certainly three-fourths were English, and -the other one-fourth mostly Americans. On Easter Monday there was a -procession of cars, with children in fancy dresses representing the -local industries; but the biggest was that over which the Union Jack -waved, and a small and dainty damsel sat on the throne surrounded by -boys in the orthodox rig of a man-of-war’s-man and Tommy Atkins. In -fact, a vast stream of very solvent English seem to have fairly stormed -and occupied the place, to the great delight of the native car-drivers -and shopkeepers; and so grotesque was it that Byron’s cynical doggerel -kept sounding in my head as, at any rate, appropriate to Biarritz: - - The world is a bundle of hay, - - Mankind are the asses that pull; - - Each tugs in a different way, - - And the greatest of all is John Bull. - -But, apart from all the high jinks and festive goings-on, there is one -spot in Biarritz which may well prove a magnet to us, and before which -we should stand with uncovered heads and sorrowfully proud hearts; and -that is the fine porch of the English church. One whole side of it is -filled by a tablet, at the head of which one reads: “_Pristinæ -virtutis memor_. This porch, dedicated to the memory of the officers, -non-commissioned officers, and men of the British army, who fell in -the south-west of France from 7th October 1813 to 14th April 1814, was -erected by their fellow-soldiers and compatriots, 1882.” Then come the -names of forty-eight Line regiments, and the German Legion, followed in -each case by the death-roll, the officers’ names given in full. Let me -end with a few examples. The 42nd lost ten officers--two at Nive, one -at Orthez, and seven at Toulouse; the 43rd--five at Nivelle and Bayonne; -the 57th--six at Nivelle and Nive; the 79th--five at Toulouse, of whom -three bore the name of Cameron; the 95th--six at the Bidassoa, Nivelle, -and Nive. Such a record, I think, brings home to one even more vividly -than Napier’s pages the cost to England of her share in the uprising of -Europe against Napoleon; and it only covers six months of a seven years’ -struggle in the Peninsula! At the bottom of the tablet are the simple -words:-- - - Give peace in our time, oh Lord! - - - - -Echoes from Auvergne, La Bourboule, 2nd July 1893. - -We had heard through telegrams and short paragraphs in the French -papers of the sinking of the _Victoria_ before the _Spectator_ of 1st -July came to us here, in these far-away highlands of Auvergne; but yours -was the first trustworthy account in any detail which reached us. I am -sure that others must have felt as thankful to you as I did, for your -word was worthy the occasion, and told as it should be told, one -of the stories which ennoble a nation, and remain a [Greek phrase] -for all time. The lonely figure on the bridge is truly, as you say, a -subject for a great pictorial artist, and belongs “rather to the poet -than the journalist”; and one trusts that Sir George Tryon’s may stand -out hereafter in worthy verse as one of “the few clarion names” in our -annals. But it was surely the noble steadfastness of all, from admiral -to stoker, which has once more given us all “that leap of heart whereby -a people rise” to a keener consciousness of the meaning of national -life. I think one feels it even more out here amongst strangers than one -would have felt it at home, and can give God thanks that the old ideal -has come out again in the sinking of the _Victoria_ as it did in that of -the _Birkenhead_ forty years ago, when the ship’s boats took off all -the women and children, and the big ship went down at last “still under -steadfast men.” - -Those are, as you know, the words of Sir Francis Doyle, who gave voice -to the mixed anguish and triumph of the nation in worthy verse. I heard -the great story from the lips of one of the simplest of men, Colonel -Wright, who as a subaltern had formed the men up on the deck of the -_Birkenhead_ under Colonel Seton, and stood at his place on the right of -the line when she broke in two. He was entangled for some moments in the -sinking wreck, but managed to free himself, and, being a famous swimmer, -rose to the surface, and struck out for the shore amongst a number of -the men. It must have been one of the most trying half hours that men -ever went through; for, as they swam and cheered one another, now and -again a comrade would suddenly disappear, and they knew that one of the -huge sharks they had seen from the deck, passing backwards and forwards -under the doomed ship, was amongst them. When they had all but reached -the shore the man who swam by Wright’s side was taken. When I heard the -tale he was Assistant-Inspector of Volunteers under Colonel M’Murdo, and -going faithfully through his daily work. Strange to say, neither Horse -Guards nor War Office had taken any note of that unique deck-parade -and swim for life, and Ensign Wright had risen slowly to be Major and -Sub-Inspector of Volunteers. Stranger still, he seemed to think it all -right, and there was no trace of resentment or jealousy in his -plain statement of the facts--which, indeed, I had to draw out -by cross-questioning on our march from the Regent’s Park to our -headquarters in Bloomsbury. I was so moved by the story that I wrote -it all to Mr. Cardwell, then at the War Office, and had the pleasure of -seeing Major Wright’s name in the next _Gazette_ amongst the new C.B.’s. - -Well, well! It does one good now and then to breathe for a little in a -rarer and nobler atmosphere than that of everyday, into which we must -after all sink, and live there for nine-tenths of our time,--like the -old fish-wife, Mucklebackit, going back to mending the old nets and -chaffering over the price of herrings which have been bought by men’s -lives. And here we have great placards just out, announcing “Fêtes -de jour et de nuit,” with donkey-races and all manner of games, and -fireworks, including an “embrasement général,” whatever that may -forebode. “This life would be quite endurable but for its amusements,” - said Sir G. Cornewall Lewis, a wise man and excellent Minister of the -Crown. - -Our first Sunday at La Bourboule has been edifying from the Sabbatarian -point of view, and I shouldn’t wonder if the good little parson who is -taking the duty here during the bathing-season holds it up to us -for instruction next Sunday, if he can get a room for service, and a -congregation. There is no English church, and from what I hear not much -prospect of an arrangement for joint worship in the French Protestant -church, which was almost concluded, being carried out. Unfortunately, -a succession of young Ritualists have managed to alarm the French -Protestant pastor and his small flock, by treating them as Dissenters, -and making friends ostentatiously with the Roman Catholic priests. -However, happily the present incumbent (or whatever he should be called) -is a sensible moderately broad Churchman, who it may be hoped will bring -things straight again. But to return to my Sabbatarian story. An English -lady fond of equestrian exercise hired horses for herself and a friend, -and invited the able and pleasant young Irishman who doctors us all, -and is also churchwarden, to accompany them for a ride in these lovely -mountains. They started from this hotel, and, as it happened, just as -the parson was coming by; so, not being quite easy in their consciences -(I suppose), asked him if he saw any harm in it. To this he replied, -sensibly enough, that it was their fight, not his; and if they saw none, -he had nothing to say. So off they rode, meaning certainly to be back -by 8 P.M. for supper. I was about till nearly nine, when they had not -turned up; and next morning I heard the conclusion of the whole -matter. The doctor’s horse cast a shoe, and had to be led home, -limping slightly; while the lady’s horse came back dead-lame, and her -companion’s steed with both knees broken! Judging by the unmistakable -talent of these good Bourboulais for appreciating the value to their -guests of their water and other possessions, I should say that this -Sunday ride will prove a costly indulgence to the excursionists. - - - - -La Bourboule, 10th July 1893. - -Currency questions are surely amongst the things “which no fellow can -understand,”--a truth for which. I think, sir, I may even claim you as a -witness, after reading your cautious handling of the silver question in -recent numbers. But so far as my experience goes, there are no questions -as to which it is more difficult to shake convictions than those which -have been arrived at by unscientific persons. For instance, in this very -charming health-resort, the authorities at the Établissement des Bains, -where one buys bath-tickets, are under the delusion that 20 fr. (French -money) are the proper equivalent for the English sovereign. On my first -purchase of six tickets, amounting to 15 fr. (each bath costs 2 fr. 50 -c., or 50 c. more than at Royat), the otherwise intelligent person who -presided at the _caisse d’établissement_, tendered me a single 5 fr. -piece; and on my calling his attention to the mistake, as I supposed it -to be, and demanding a second 5 fr., calmly informed me that 20 fr. was -the change they always gave, and he could give no other. Whereupon, I -carried off my sovereign in high dudgeon, and--there being neither bank -nor money-changer’s office in this place, though more than twenty -large hotels!--applied to two of the larger shops only to find the -same delusion in force. In short, I only succeeded in getting 25 fr. -in exchange for my sovereign as a favour from our kind hostess at this -hotel. Wherefore, as I hear that a great crowd of English are looked for -next month, I should like to warn them to bring French money with them. -This experience reminded me of a good story which I heard Thackeray -tell thirty years ago. (If it is in _The Kicklebury’s on the Rhine_, or -printed elsewhere, you will suppress it). Either he himself or a friend, -I forget which, changed a sovereign on landing in Holland, put the -change in one particular pocket, and on crossing each frontier on his -way to the South of Italy, before that country or Germany had been -consolidated, again exchanged the contents of that pocket for the -current coin of the Kingdom, Duchy, or Republic he was entering. On -turning out the contents at Naples he found them equivalent to something -under 5s. of English money. - -Before I forget it, let me modify what I said last week as to the -ecclesiastical position of the Protestants here. - -The Anglicans are now represented by the “Colonial and Continental -Society.” They sent a clergyman, who has managed so well that we are now -on excellent terms with our French Protestant brethren, though we have -as yet no joint place of worship. This, however, both congregations hope -to secure shortly,--indeed, as soon as they can collect £400, half -of which is already in hand. Then the municipality, or the “Compagnie -d’Établissement des Bains,” I am not sure which, give a site, and -another £400, which will be enough to pay for a small church sufficient -for the present congregations. These will hold the building in common, -and, let us hope, will adjust the hours for the services amicably. At -present, the French Protestants worship in the _buvette_, where we all -drink our waters; and we Anglicans in an annex of the establishment--a -large room devoted during the week to Punch and Judy and the -marionettes. This rather scandalises some of our compatriots; I cannot -for the life of me see why. Indeed, it seems to me a very healthy lesson -to most of us, who are accustomed to the ritual which prevails in so -many of our restored, or recently built, English churches,--the lesson -which Jacob learnt on his flight from his father’s tents, when he slept -in the desert with a stone for pillow, “Surely the Lord is in this -place, and I knew it not.” Our congregation yesterday was something -over thirty. I believe it rises to one hundred, or more, next month. The -service was thoroughly hearty, and I really think every one must have -come meaning to say their prayers. I felt a slight qualm as to how -we should get on with the singing, and could not think why the parson -should choose about the longest hymn in the book, for there was -no organ, harmonium, or other musical instrument, and no apparent -singing-men or singing-women. However, my qualms vanished when our -pastor led off with a well-trained tenor voice which put us all at our -ease. - -The rest of our Sunday was by no means so successful, for the _fête du -jour et du soir_ began soon after our 11 A.M. _déjeûner_, and lasted -till about 10 P.M., when the lights in most of the paper-lanterns had -burnt out, and people had gone home from the Casino and the promenade -to their hotels or lodgings. I am old-fashioned enough to like a quiet -Sunday; but here, when the place is _en fête_, that is out of the -question,--at any rate, if you are a guest at one of the hotels which, -as they almost all do, faces on the “Avenue Gueneau de Mussy.” That name -will probably remind some of your readers of the able and popular doctor -of the Orleans family, who accompanied their exile, lived in England -during the Empire in Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, and was popular -in London society. After 1870 he returned to France, and, it seems, -rediscovered these waters, or, at any rate, made them the fashionable -resort of patients in need of arsenical treatment. In gratitude, his -name has been given to this main avenue of La Bourboule, which runs the -whole length of the town, parallel to the River Dordogne, which comes -rushing down the valley from Mont Dore at a pace which I have never seen -water attain except in the rapids below Niagara, in which that strongest -and rashest of swimmers, Captain Webb, lost his life. The Avenue, though -parallel with, is some fifty yards from the river, and the intervening -space is planted with rows of trees, under which many donkeys and -hacks stand for the convenience of visitors. The opposite bank of -the Dordogne, which is crossed by two bridges, rises abruptly, and is -crowned by the two rival casinos, with the most imposing hotel of the -place between them, where (I am told) you pay 5 fr. a day extra for the -convenience of the only lift in La Bourboule! The fête of last Sunday -was given by the old Casino, and commenced directly after _déjeûner_ -with a gathering in the rooms and in front of the Casino on the terrace, -where the guests sat at small tables consuming black coffee, absinthe, -and other drinks, and strolling now and then into the billiard-room, or -the room in which the _jeu aux petits chevaux_, and some other game of -chance which I did not recognise, were in full swing. There is an inner -room where baccarat and roulette are going on, supposed to be only open -to tickets bought from the^ authorities, but which a young Englishman, -my neighbour at the _table d’hôte_, tells me he found no difficulty in -entering without a ticket. The rest of the fête, consisting chiefly of -donkey-races, climbing greasy poles, and fishing half-francs out of -meal tubs with the mouth, came off in a small park and plateau on the -hillside above the Casino. - -I used to enjoy donkey-races as a boy, when at our country feasts each -boy rode his neighbour’s donkey, and the last past the post was the -winner, and should probably have gone up the hill to witness a French -race, but that I found that here each boy rides his own donkey, and the -first past the post wins. This takes all the fun out of the race, so I -abstained. There were a few second-rate fireworks after dark, and the -Casino and most of the hotels were prettily lighted, and the trees hung -with yellow paper lanterns which looked like big oranges, but to the -Englishman, more or less accustomed to the great Brock’s performances, -the illumination business was very flat. - - - - -Comité des Fêtes. 17th July 1893. - -An Englishman can scarcely avoid the danger of having his national -vanity fed in this La Bourboule. A new hotel is being built on a fine -site above the Dordogne, just beyond the new Casino, and I hear on the -best authority that the proprietor means to have it furnished from top -to bottom by Messrs. Maple. As this will involve paying a duty of from -30 to 50 per cent on the articles imported, it is not easy to see where -the profit can come in, as the most prejudiced John Bull will scarcely -deny that native French furniture is about as good, and not very much -dearer than English. I can only account for it by the desire of all -purveyors here--from the chief hotel-keepers to the dealers in the -pretty Auvergne jewellery and the donkey-women--to get us as -customers,--not, perhaps, so much from love or admiration for us, as -because we have so much less power of remonstrance or resistance to -their charges. Unless he sees some flagrant overcharge in his hotel -bill, the Briton does not care to air his colloquial French in -discussing items with the former, who only meet him with polite shrugs; -and as for the others, they at once fall back upon an Auvergnese -_patois_, at least as different from ordinary French as a Durham miner’s -vernacular is from a West countryman’s. What satisfaction can come of -remonstrating about 2 fr., even in faultless grammatical French, when it -only brings on you a torrent of explanation of which you cannot -understand one word in ten? - -But the desire to make us feel at home has another--I may almost say a -pathetic--side. Thus the _Comité des fêtes_ spares no effort to meet our -supposed necessities, and has not only provided tennis-grounds and -other conveniences for _le sport_, but for the last ten days has been -preparing for a grand _chasse au renard_, as a special compliment, I -am told, to the English visitors. The grand feature of the hunt is a -_recherché_ luncheon in an attractive spot in the forest, at the end -of the run, at which the Mayor presides, and to which the other civic -dignitaries go in full costume, accompanied by a chief huntsman and two -_chasseurs_ with _tridents_--of all strange equipments for a fox-hunt! -For this luncheon the charge is 5 fr.; but, so far as I can learn, you -may join the chase without partaking. The question naturally occurs: -“How if Renard will not run that way, or consent to die within easy -distance of the luncheon?” and the answer of the Mayor would, I suppose, -be Dogberry’s: “Let him go, and thank God you are rid of a knave.” But, -in any case, the _Comité des fêtes_ are prepared for such a mishap, for -they have had four foxes ready for some days, _in a large oven_--of all -places in the world! and one of these will surely be induced to take the -proper course, which is carefully marked out. As two of them have come -from Switzerland, and there cannot be much to occupy or amuse Swiss -foxes in an oven, except quarrelling with their French cousins, I should -doubt as to the condition of the lot on the day of the hunt, even if all -survive to that date. This, I am sorry to say, cannot be fixed as yet, -for it seems that no English visitor has been found who will take a -ticket; so I fear my “course” may be over before the _chasse_ comes -off. In that case I shall always bear a grudge against your lively -contemporary, the _Daily Graphic_, who, it seems, printed an illustrated -account of the _chasse_ of last summer, to which the present abstinence -of the British sportsman to-day is generally attributed. Can we wonder -at the want of understanding between the two peoples when one comes -across such strange pieces of farce as this, meant, I believe, for a -genuine compliment and advance towards good-fellowship? - -I wish I could speak hopefully upon more serious things than the _chasse -au renard_; but in more than one direction things seem to me to be -drifting, or going back, under the Republic. E.g. a friend of mine, -who prefers smoking the cigars he is used to, ordered a box from his -tobacconist in Manchester, who entrusted them to the Continental Parcels -Delivery Company on 15th June. Next day, though notice had been given -of payment of all charges on delivery, they were stopped at the Gare du -Nord, at Paris, where the station-master refused to forward them until -he got an undertaking in writing from my friend to pay all charges. This -was sent at once, but produced no effect for three days, when another -letter arrived--not now from the station-master, but from a person -signing himself “Contributions Agent”--saying that undertaking No. 1 -was not in proper form. Thereupon, undertaking No. 2 is sent; but still -nothing happens, and my friend had almost given up hope of getting his -cigars when he bethought him of advising with a deputy, who was luckily -staying here in the same hotel. That gentleman seemed not at all -surprised, but offered to write to his secretary in Paris to go to -the Gare du Nord and look after the box. The offer was, of course, -thankfully accepted, with the result that the cigars were sent on at -once, with the following bill: “Droit d’entrée, 38 fr. 77 c.; timbre -d’acquit à caution, 7 c.; toile d’emballage--consignation, 40 fr. 27 -c.: total, 79 fr. 11 c.”--which about doubled the original cost. This -instance of the slovenliness (if not worse) of a railway company and the -Customs has been quite eclipsed, however, by the Post Office. Another -friend posted a letter here to his sister in England, but unluckily in -the forenoon, when the next departure was for Bordeaux. To that town, -accordingly, his letter went, and thence to America, whence in due -course--i.e. at the end of three weeks--it reached its destination in -England. Again, a lady here received several dividends more than a -week ago, which she forwarded to her husband in England in a registered -letter. This has never reached him; and the Post-Office officials here -are making inquiries (very leisurely ones) as to what has become of it. -Then the clergyman of the church here, having a payment to make in his -parish in England, sent the money, and got the official receipt several -posts before he received a reminder from the same official (dated a week -earlier than the receipt) that the payment was due; and lastly, _pour -comble_, as they say here, a county J.P. has never received at all the -formal summons from his High Sheriff, sent some weeks since, to serve on -the grand jury at the coming Assizes! Whatever the consequences may be -of utterly ignoring such summons, he has thus incurred them, which, for -all I know, may be equal to the penalties of præmunire. But seriously, I -fear the incubus of the Republican superstition, as you have defined -it, is spreading fast and far in this splendid land. The centralisation -fostered by the Second Empire, and favoured by the Republic for the last -twenty years, seems to have demoralised the national nerve-centre at -Paris under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower--which, - - Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies, - ---and to be spreading its baleful influence through the Departments. -At any rate, that is the only explanation I can suggest for the marked -deterioration and present flabbiness of all Government departments -with which the foreign visitor comes in contact. I am glad to be able, -however, to record, before closing this, that the registered letter -containing dividend warrants mentioned above has reached its destination -in England. - - - - -Dogs and Flowers, La Bourboule, 24th July. - -During the greater part of our stay, the theatre here was devoted to -comic and other operatic performances, which I did not care for, and so -scarcely glanced at the play-bills, posted up daily in our hotel; and -was not even tempted by the announcement of “une seule représentation -extraordinaire” of Le Songe d’une Nuit d’Eté, as I did not like to have -my idea of A Midsummer Night’s Dream disordered by a French metrical -version. When too late, I sorely regretted it, as, had I even read -the caste, I should have gone, and been able to give you a trustworthy -report,--for the three principal characters were William Shakespeare--by -M. Dereims, of the opera (who would sing his great song of _La Reine de -Saba_)--Falstaff, and Queen Elizabeth! Next morning I catechised a young -Englishman, whose report was, as near as I can recollect, as follows: -“Well, there wasn’t much of our _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ in it, -no Oberon and Titania, or Bottom, or all that fairy business. Queen -Elizabeth and one of her ladies went out at night disguised, to a sort -of Casino or Cremorne Gardens” [what would Secretary Cecil have said to -such an escapade?], “and coming away they met Shakespeare and Falstaff, -and had a good time; and Falstaff sang a song which brought the house -down. Then, as the Queen falls in love with Shakespeare, they get some -girl to marry him right away.” One more lost opportunity, and to think -that I shall probably never get another chance!-- - - There is a flower that shines so bright, - - They call it marigold-a: - - And he that wold not when he might, - - He shall not’ when he wold-a. - -As you are fond of dog-lore, here is a sample from Auvergne. Just -opposite our hotel lives the young Scotch (not Irish, as I think -I called him last week) doctor. His wife owns a clever pug, whose -friendship any self-respecting dog would be anxious, I should say, -to cultivate. One of the rather scratch-pack gathered for the coming -fox-chase, who wandered as they pleased about the town, seems to have -shared my view, for every morning, between _café_ and _déjeûner_, he -came and paid a visit of about five minutes to Mrs. Gilchrist’s pug, in -the doctor’s vestibule, always open to man and dog. At the end of his -call, he trotted off down the avenue to whatever other business he might -have in hand. Now, his visits could not have been amatory, as both -are of the masculine sex, nor could they have been gastronomic, for he -invariably refused the food which Mrs. Gilchrist offered him. What other -conclusion is possible than that he came to talk over the gossip afloat -in the dog-world of La Bourboule? - -Lastly, as to the excursions. These are numerous, and very interesting -in all ways, for you drive through great, sad pine-forests (in which I -was astonished to see many of the trees gray with the weeping moss which -makes the Louisiana and Texas forests so melancholy) and breezy heaths -all aglow with wild flowers, getting every now and then indescribably -glorious glimpses of the rich plain which stretches away from this -backbone of Central France to the Alps. The flora is quite beyond me, -but I recognised many varieties of heart’s-ease, fox-gloves, gentians, -amongst them an exquisite blue variety, and the air was often scented -with meadow-sweet or wild-thyme. Then almost every mountain-top is -crowned by a peculiarly shaped block of dark rock, which looks as if -some huge saurian, disgusted with a changing world, had crawled up there -to die and get petrified. They must, however, have been even bigger -than the _Atlanlosaurus immanis_, the biggest of the family yet found, I -believe. I well remember the delight of Dr. Agnew, of New York, when the -American geologists came upon its thigh bone, two feet longer than that -of any European monster. It had become agate, and I have a scarf-pin -made of a polished fragment, and presented to me by the triumphant -doctor. I cannot tell you what these rocks really are, as I made no -ascent, preferring nowadays, like dear Lowell, “to make my ascents by -telescope.” - -But the human interest of the excursions, as usual, far exceeds the -botanical or geological. The chief of these is the “Tour d’Auvergne,” - the seat of the Count who enlisted to repel invasion, but never would -take a commission from Republic or Napoleon, and died in battle, the -“premier grenadier de la France.” There is nothing left of his tower -except the foundations, and a dungeon on the high rock, on which a -native woman sells photographs and relics, quite as genuine, I should -say, as most such. Opposite, across a deep valley, rises another rock -crowned by a chapel, which is approached by a steep path, up which once -a year goes a procession, past the seven stations, at each of which -there is a crucifix, and on the lowest a figure the size of life. -Christianity, they say, has died down very low in Auvergne. I should -doubt it, as I saw no sign of defacement, either here or on any of the -roadside crosses, which are everywhere. I fear we could hardly say as -much if we had them--as I wish we had--on every English high-road. On -the walls of the village which clusters round the side of the keep, -a placard (of which I enclose a copy) interested me much. The three -Municipal Councillors there give their reasons for resigning their seats -on the Council. On the whole, I think they were wrong, and should have -stayed and “toughed it out.” I should like to know how it strikes you. -You will see that the poster bears a stamp. Might not our Chancellor -of the Exchequer raise a tidy sum that way? What a lump Pears, Hudson, -Epps, or Van Houten and Co. would have to pay, and earn the thanks of a -grateful country too! But I must not try your patience or space further, -so will only note the Roman remains at Mont Dore, another health-resort -of the Dordogne Valley, four miles above La Bourboule, which are worth -going all the way to see, as I would advise any of your readers to do -who are looking out for an interesting countryside, with as fine air as -any in the world, in which to spend their coming holidays. - - - - -Dutch Boys, The Hague, 1st May 1894. - -Much may be said both for and against breaking one’s good resolutions, -but no one, I should think, will deny the merit of making them. Well, -sir, before starting for my Whitsuntide jaunt this year, I resolved -firmly that nothing should induce me to send you any more letters -over this signature. Have I not been trying your patience, and the -long-suffering of your readers any time these thirty years, with -my crude first impressions of cities and their inhabitants, from -Constantinople to the Upper Missouri? “Surely,” I said to myself, -“sat prata biberunt.” What can young England in the last decade of the -century--who enjoy, or at any rate read, _Dodo, and The Fabian Essays, -and The Heavenly Twins_--care or want to know about the notions of an -old fogey, whose faiths--or fads, as they would call them--on social and -political problems were formed, if not stereotyped, in the first half? -What, then, has shaken this wise resolve? You might guess for a week and -never come within miles of the answer. It was the sight of a group of -Dutch boys playing leap-frog in front of this hotel, and the contrast -which came unbidden into my head between the chances of Dutch and -English boys in this matter, and the different use they make of them. - -In front of this hotel lies the large open space, now planted with -trees, and about the size of Grosvenor Square, which is called -“Tournooiveld,” and was in the Middle Ages the tilt-yard of the doughty -young Dutch candidates for knighthood. The portion of this square -immediately in front of the hotel, about 40 yards deep and 150 broad, is -marked off from the rest by a semicircular row of granite posts, rather -over three feet in height, and three to four yards apart, two of them -being close to lampposts, but the line otherwise unbroken. No chain -connects these posts, and they have no spike on the top of them. As -I stood at the door the morning after my arrival, admiring the fine -linden-trees in full foliage, enter four Dutch boys from the left, -who, without a word, broke at once into single file, and did “follow -my leader” over all the posts till they got to the end on the extreme -right, and disappeared quietly down a side street. Well, you will say, -wouldn’t four English boys have done just the same % and I answer, Yes, -certainly, so far as playing leap-frog over the posts goes; but they -would have to come out here to find such a row of posts in the middle -of a city. At any rate, in the city with which I am best acquainted in -England, the few posts there fit for leap-frog are connected with chains -and have spikes on their tops. Moreover, do I not pass daily up a flight -of steps, fenced on either side by a broad iron banister, which was -obviously intended by Providence for passing boys to get a delicious -slide down 1 But, sir, no English boy on his way to school or on an -errand has ever slid down those banisters, for the British Bumble has -had prohibitory knobs placed on them at short intervals for no possible -reason except to prevent boys sliding down. The faith that all material -things should be made to serve the greatest good of the greatest number -is surely as widely held in England as in Holland, and yet, here are the -tops of these Dutch posts _culotté_, if I may say so, worn smooth and -polished by the many generations of boys who have enjoyed leap-frog over -them, while the British posts and banisters have given pleasure to no -human being but Bumble from the day they were put up. - -But it was not of the Dutch posts but the Dutch boys that I intended to -write, for they certainly struck me as differing in two particulars from -our boys, thus. Two of the posts, as I have said, are so close to the -lamp-posts that you can’t vault over them without coming full butt -against the lamp-post on the other side. When the leader came to the -first of them he did not pass it, as I expected, but just vaulted on to -the top, and sat there while he passed his leg between the-post and the -lamp-post, and then jumped down and went on to the next. Every one of -the rest followed his example gravely and without a word; whereas, had -they been English boys, there would have been a bolt past the leader as -soon as he was seated, and a race with much shouting for the lead over -the remaining pillars. I have been studying the Dutch boy ever since, -and am convinced that he is the most silent and most “thorough” of any -of his species I have ever come across; and the boy is father to the -man in both qualities. On Whit-Monday this city was crowded, all the -citizens and country-folk from the suburbs being in the streets and -gardens; the galleries and museums, oddly enough, being closed for the -day. Walking about amongst them the silence was really rather provoking. -At last I took to counting the couples we met who were obviously just -married, or courting, and ought at any rate to have had something to -say to each other. Out of eleven couples in one street, only one were -talking, though all looked quite happy and content. It is the same -everywhere. As we neared the landing-place at the Hook of Holland, our -steamer’s bows were too far out, and a rope had to be thrown from the -shore. There were at least twenty licensed porters waiting for us, in -clean white jackets,--one of these, without a word, just coiled a rope -and flung it. It was missed twice by the sailor in our bows, and fell -into the water, out of which the thrower drew it, and just coiled and -threw it again without a word of objurgation or remonstrance, and the -third time successfully. Not one of the white-jacketed men who stood -round had uttered a syllable of advice or comment; but what a Babel -would have arisen in like case at the pier-heads of Calais or Dieppe, or -for that matter at Dover or Liverpool. No wonder that William the Silent -is the typical hero of Dutchmen; there are two statues of him in the -best sites in this city, and half a dozen portraits in the best places -in the galleries. Hosea Biglow’s-- - - Talk, if you keep it, pays its keep, - - But gabble’s the short road to ruin. - - ’Tis gratis (gals half price), but cheap - - At no price when it hinders doing,-- - -ought to be put into Dutch as the national motto. Then as to -thoroughness. Take the most notable example of it first. We have been -driving all round for some days, and have only once come to a slope up -which our horse had to walk. When we got to the top, there was the sea -on the other side, obviously even to the untrained eye at a considerably -higher level than the green fields through which we had just been -driving. Of course it is an old story, the Dutchman’s long war with the -German Ocean, but one never realises it till one comes to drive uphill -to the sea, and then it fairly takes one’s breath away. I was deeply -impressed, and took advantage of a chance that offered of talking the -subject over with an expert, who, like most Dutchmen, happily speaks -English fluently. Far from expressing any anxiety as to the land already -won, he informed me that they are seriously contemplating operations -against the Zuider Zee, and driving him permanently out of Holland! And -I declare I believe they will do it, and so win the right, alone, so far -as I know, amongst the nations, of saying to the sea: “Hitherto shalt -thou come and no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.” - One more example,--their thoroughness as to cleanliness. Not only -the pavements of the main thoroughfares, but all the side-streets are -thoroughly well washed and cleansed daily. When you walk out in the -early morning you might eat your breakfast anywhere with perfect comfort -on the sidewalks. We had to look for more than a quarter of an hour to -find a bit of paper in the streets, and the windows in the back streets, -even of houses to let, are rubbed bright and polished to a point which -must be the despair of the passing English housewife. Why are Dutch -house-maidens so incomparably more diligent and clean than English? Can -it be their Puritan bringing-up? In short, ten days’ residence here--I -have never before done anything but rush through the country on my way -east--seems likely to make me review old prejudices, and to exclaim, “If -I were not an Englishman, I would be a Dutchman!” One may read and enjoy -Motley without really appreciating this silent and “thorough” people, -or understanding how it came to pass that by them, in this tiny and -precarious corner of Europe, “the great deliverance was wrought out.” - - - - -“Poor Paddy-Land!”--I--6th Oct. 1894. - -Six weeks ago, when I was considering where I should go for my autumn -holiday, some remarks of yours decided me “to give poor Paddy-land a -turn” (the phrase is not mine, but that of the first housemaid I came -across in Dublin). When one has been talking and thinking for the last -eight years of little else than that “distressful country,” it certainly -seemed a fair suggestion that one might as well go and look at it when -one got the chance. So I have scrambled round from Dublin to Kerry, and -from Cork to the Giant’s Causeway, and can bear hearty witness to the -soundness of your advice. For a flying visit of a few weeks, though -insufficient for any serious study of a people or country, may greatly -help one in judging both of them from one’s ordinary standpoint at home. - -Of course, the first object of an Englishman who has not lost his head -must be to ascertain whether the Irish people really long for a separate -Parliament, and a severance of all connection with the rest of -the Empire. Well, sir, I was prepared to find that the men in the -street--car-drivers, boatmen, waiters, and fellow-travellers on the -railways--would, to a great extent, adapt their opinions to whatever -they might think would please their questioner, but certainly was quite -unprepared for the absolute unanimity with which I was assured that Home -Rule is dead. It is only the American-Irish, and especially the “Biddys -of New York,” so my informants protested, “who want to break up the -Union.” I was warned, however, as to the man in the street. “You must -remember that our people are full of imagination, and you must take -off a large discount from all they tell you; but you’ll always find -a groundwork of fact at the bottom of their stories.” A good piece of -advice, which a professional friend in Dublin started me with, and which -I found to be true enough, except that where local politics or the land -came in, the groundwork of fact was apt to be too minute to be easily -discerned. Take, as an example, a story which was told me on the spot -by a thoroughly trustworthy witness. Towards the end of Mr. Forster’s -Chief-Secretaryship a sensation message was flashed to New York that a -Government stronghold had been taken by the Invincibles, the garrison -having surrendered with all the guns and stores. This announcement -produced a liberal response in dollars from the other side, particularly -from “the Biddys of New York.” Now for the “groundwork of fact” - underlying this superstructure. The Government have, it seems, on -their hands a number of Martello towers on the southern coast which are -useless for military purposes. A band of some dozen “bhoys,” headed by -a notorious Invincible, came out of Cork one summer evening and summoned -the garrison of one of these Martello towers. The garrison (an -elderly pensioner), who was at tea with his wife and children, wisely -surrendered at discretion; whereupon the patriots took possession of -the single cannon and some old muskets and ammunition, which latter they -carried off next morning, when they abandoned the tower and cannon on -the approach of the police. But though the groundwork of fact as to the -condition of the Home Rule agitation may be infinitesimal, there is very -serious apprehension still on the Land Question, upon which I found -it difficult to draw the man in the street. I was fortunate enough, -however, to come across several resident landlords and professional men, -both Catholic and Protestant, who, one and all, look with the gravest -distrust at the operation of recent land legislation. The Commissioners -who administer these Acts have, unfortunately, the strongest interest in -prolonging the present state of uncertainty. Their appointments will end -with the cessation of appeals by tenants for further reductions of -rent, which, under the circumstances, does not seem likely to come about -before the landlords’ interest has been pared down bit by bit till it -touches prairie-value. The present utter confusion and uncertainty is -at any rate a striking object-lesson as to the dangers of meddling with -freedom of contract by Acts of Parliament. - -When I landed in Ireland, I was under the impression--for which I think -you, sir, and perhaps the late Lord Beaconsfield, with his dictum -about the “melancholy ocean,” were responsible--that there is a note of -sadness underlying the superficial gaiety of the Irish character, as is -the case with most Celts. Well, whether it be from natural incapacity, -and that each observer only brings with him a limited power of seeing -below the surface in such matters, in any case I wholly failed to -discern any such characteristic in Central or South Ireland, though -there may be a trace of it perhaps in the North, where, by the way, -they are not Celts. On the contrary, the remark of a friendly and -communicative Killarney carman, “Shure, sir, we always try to get on -the sunny side of the bush, like the little birds,” seemed to me -transparently true. And next to this desire for the sunny side of the -bush, a happy-go-lucky, hand-to-mouth temper struck me as the prevailing -characteristic, as Sir Walter saw it when he wrote “Sultan Solomon’s -Search after Happiness.” Look at the national vehicle, the outside -car--far more national and popular than our hansom. Did any race ever -invent a conveyance so easy to mount and dismount from, or which offers -the same chances of being shot off at every street corner or turn in the -road? If any reader doubts, let him go over to the next horse-show at -Dublin, and watch the crowd breaking up at the end of the show. The -roads into the city are certainly unusually broad, but the sight of a -dozen jaunting-cars coming along, two or three abreast, as hard as their -horses can trot, the driver lolling carelessly, with a loose rein, on -one side, and a couple of Irishmen on the other, is a sight to make -the Saxon “sit up,” though he may be accustomed to the fastest and most -reckless West End hansoms. Like one of your recent correspondents, I -could distinguish natives from visitors, as each of the latter had a -tight hold of the bar--a precaution which the native scorned. I managed -to extract from an enthusiastic admirer--a young Irish subaltern who -had ridden on them all his life--the confession that he had left a car -involuntarily (or, _Anglid_, had been shot out) three times in the last -eighteen months; but then, as he explained, he always fell on his feet! -I was touched again and again by the almost pathetic craving for -English appreciation,--quite as strong, I think, as, and certainly -much pleasanter than, that of our American cousins. I was exploring the -Killarney Lakes, in the first-rate four-oared boat of a cadet of the -MacGrillicuddy family, who, with his English wife, exercises a very -delightful hospitality almost under the shadow of “The Reeks,” which -bear his name. It was a perfect day, the changing lights and tints on -mountains and woods and lakes being more delicately lovely than any I -could recall, except, perhaps, at the head of the Lake of Geneva. We -had been talking of the Scotch lakes, and I could not help saying, “Why, -this beats Loch Katrine and Ellen’s Isle out of the field.” - -“Ah,” said our host, with a sigh, “if only Sir Walter Scott had been an -Irishman!” and then he went on to speak of the neglect of Ireland by the -Royal Family and English governing people--e.g. Lord Beaconsfield had -never set foot in her, and Mr. Gladstone only once, for an hour or -two, to receive the freedom of Dublin. But why had the Queen made her -favourite home in Scotland, and left poor Ireland out in the cold? -Why did the English flock to Scotch rivers and moors and golf-links in -crowds every autumn when only a stray sportsman or tourist found his way -to Killarney or Connemara or Donegal? It was all owing to the Wizard of -the North, who had made Scotland enchanted ground. - -Without ignoring other and deeper causes, I think one cannot but feel -what a difference it would have made if Sir Walter had been Irish. The -Siege of Derry is a more heroic and pathetic story than any in Scotch -annals of the struggle for the Stuarts, and the genius which has made -us intimate friends of the Baron of Bradwardine and Dugald Dalgetty, of -Dandie Dinmont, Edie Ochiltree, Jeanie Deans, Cuddie and Mause Headrigg, -and a dozen other Scotch men and women, would surely have found as good -materials for character-painting among the Irish peasantry. But the -speculation, though interesting, is too big to deal with at the end of a -paper. - - - - -“Poor Paddy-Land!”--II - -I suppose every one expects to find Ireland the land of the -unlooked-for. I did, at any rate, but was by no means prepared for -several of the surprises which greeted me. For instance, the best -arranged, and for its size and scope the most interesting, National -Gallery I have ever seen. It is only forty years old (incorporated in -1854), a date since which one would have thought it scarcely possible to -get together genuine specimens of all the great schools of art, from the -well “picked-over” marts of England and the Continent. But the feat has -been accomplished, mainly, I believe, by the entire devotion and -fine taste and judgment of the late director, Mr. Henry E. Doyle. His -untimely death in the spring of this year has left a blank, social and -artistic, which it will be hard to fill; but happily his great work for -Irish art was done, and all that his successors will have to do will be -to follow his lead faithfully. Irish Art owes much to his family, for he -was the son of H. B., and the younger brother of the immortal “Dicky,” - while, I believe, Mr. Conan Doyle is his nephew. - -But it is not the general collection of pictures, remarkable as that is, -which differentiates the Irish from other national galleries known to -me. It is the happy arrangement which has set apart a fourth of the -whole space for a collection of portraits, and authentic historical -pictorial records, comprising not only the portraits of eminent Irishmen -and Irishwomen, but also of statesmen and others who were politically -or socially connected with Ireland, or whose lives serve in any way -to illustrate her history, or throw light on her social or literary or -artistic records. I think I may safely venture the assertion--for I -spent the greater part of two afternoons in this historical and portrait -department--that there is Scarcely a man or woman, from the time of -Elizabeth to that of O’Connell and Lord Melbourne, of whom one would be -glad to know more, with whom one does not leave it, feeling far better -acquainted. And then they are so admirably and often pathetically -grouped, e.g. Charles I., Cromwell, and R. Cromwell, on a line, all full -of character, and Strafford hard by, with the look of “thorough” on his -brow and mouth as no other portrait I have ever seen has given. Then -there are “Erin’s High Ormonde,” Sir Walter Raleigh, by Zuccaro, -painted between his two imprisonments, and coming down later, -Lords Wellesley and Hastings, and groups of great nobles and -Lords-Lieutenant. For fighting men, William III. as a boy; Walker, the -defender of Derry; the Duke, the Lawrences, Lord Gough, and a score -of other gallant Irishmen. The terrible Dean stands out amongst the -literary men, and near him Sir R. Steele and Sterne, and (_longo -intervallo_, except on shelves) Tom Moore, Croker, Lever, etc. Then come -the “patriots” of all schools: Lord E. Fitzgerald, and Grattan, and E. -Hudson, Secretary of the United Irishmen in 1784; Wolfe Tone, and -Daniel O’Connell; half a dozen Ponsonbys of different ranks, and several -pictures of Burke, one of which especially (said to be by Angelica -Kauffmann) is, to my mind, quite invaluable. Burke stands upright, his -side-face towards you, sublime, as he looked, I am sure, when he was -making his immortal speech at Bristol. By his side, at right angles, -so that you get his full face, is Charles Fox, one hand on Burke’s -shoulder, the other on a table on which he is leaning. You can hear him -saying as plainly as if you were there one hundred years ago, “Now, my -dear Edmund, if you say that in the House, you’ll upset the coach.” Fox -has evidently dined well, and Burke is fasting from all but indignation. -The portraits of women are as interesting, such as Miss Farren, -afterwards Lady Derby; Mrs. Norton, by Watts, which is worth a visit to -Dublin to see, etc. But I must not run on, and will only note one lesson -I carried away. There are two portraits, and three engravings from -portraits, by N. Hone, R.A., an Irishman, but one of our original Royal -Academicians. You will remember what Peter Pindar says of that painter -in his _Odes to the Royal Academicians_”:-- - - And as for Mr. Nathan Hone, - - In portraits he’s as much alone - - As in his landscape stands the unrivalled Claude. - - Of pictures I have seen enough, - - Vile, tawdry, execrable stuff, - - But none so bad as thine, I vow to God. - -I have always till now maintained that Peter, with all his cynicism, was -the best art critic, the Ruskin, shall we say, of his time. Now I give -him up. N. Hone was no doubt quarrelsome and disagreeable, but he was a -very considerable portrait-painter. - -I had noted Derry as one of the places to be seen on account of the -siege, and accordingly went there, to get another startling sensation. -Like most other folk, I suppose, I had always looked on the story as -interesting and heroic, and had wondered in a vague way how some 30,000 -men, commanded by a distinguished French soldier, and a considerable -part of them at any rate well-equipped regular troops, could have been -kept at bay for ten months by a mere handful of regulars, backed by the -’prentice boys of the town and neighbourhood. Religious zeal was no -doubt a strong factor on the side of the town, and Parson Walker, a born -leader of men, “with a bugle in his throat,” like “Bobs.” But when one -remembers that no provision had been made for a siege, that many of -the leading men were for opening the gates, and indeed that the French -officers and James’s deputy were actually within 300 yards in their -boats, to accept the surrender, when the ’prentices rushed down and -shut and manned the gates, and then looks at the scene on the spot, one -is really dumbfounded, and wanders back in thought to King Hezekiah and -Jerusalem. From the Cathedral, which dominates the city, you can trace -distinctly the line of the old walls, and can hardly believe your eyes. -The space enclosed cannot be more than a quarter of a mile in length, by -some 300 yards in breadth (I could not get exact measurements), and in -it, including garrison and the country folk who had flocked in, were -more than 30,000 people. It was bombarded for eight months, during -at least the last four of which famine and pestilence were raging. -No wonder that the parish registers tell of more than 9000 burials -in consecrated ground, while “the practice of burial in the backyards -became unavoidable!” Where can such another story be found in authentic -history? Parson Walker, let us say, fairly earned his monument. - -I must own to grievous disappointment as to the farming in Ulster. All -through the South and Centre I had seen the hay in the fields in small -cocks in September, and the splendid ripe crops of oats and barley -uncut, or, if cut, left in sheaf, or being carried in a leisurely -fashion, which was quite provoking, while tall, yellow ragweed was -growing in most of the pastures in ominous abundance. That will all be -altered, I thought, when I cross “Boyne Water.” Not a bit of it! Here -and there, indeed, I saw a good rick-yard and clean fields, but scarcely -oftener than about Cork or Killarney, and no one seemed to mind any -more than the pure southern Celts. One man said, when I mourned over -the ragweed three feet or four feet high, that he did not mind it, as it -showed the land was good! As to leaving hay in cock, well that was -the custom--they would get it into stack after harvest, any way before -Christmas; as to dawdling over cutting and carrying, well, with prices -at present rates, what use in hurrying? There was a comic song called -“Clear the Kitchen,” popular half a century ago, which ran-- - - I saw an old man come riding by. - - Says I, “Old man, your horse will die”; - - Says he, “If he dies I’ll tan his skin, - - And if he lives I’ll ride him agin.” - -It fits the Irish temper, North and South, pleasant enough to travel -amongst, but bad, I should think, to live with. - - - - -“Panem et Circenses”, Rome, 21 st April 1895. - -I have been asking myself at least a dozen times a day during the -last fortnight, why Rome should be (to me, at any rate) the city of -surprises, far more than Athens or Constantine, for instance, or -any other city or scene of world-wide interest in Europe or America. -Jerusalem and the Nile cities I have never seen (and fear I never shall -now). Surely, to what I take to be the majority of your readers, who -have gone through, as I have, the orthodox educational mill--public -school and college--precisely the contrary should be true. We spent no -small part of from six to ten years of the most impressionable time of -our lives in studying the story of the Mistress of the Old World, from -Romulus and Remus to the Anto-nines. Even the idlest and most careless -of us could scarcely have passed his “greats” without knowing his -geography well enough to point out on the map the position of each of -the seven hills, the Forum, the Janiculum, the Appian Way, the Arch of -Titus, the Colosseum, etc., and must have formed some kind of notion -in his own mind of what each of them looked like. At any rate, I had -no excuse for not knowing my ancient Rome better than I knew any modern -city, both as to its geography and the politics, beliefs, and habits -of its citizens; for I was for two years in the pupil-room of a teacher -(Bishop Cotton) who spared no pains, not only on the texts of Livy, -Horace, Sallust, and Juvenal, and the geography, but in making the Rome -of the last years of the Republic and the first Caesars live again for -us. For instance, he would collect for us all the best engravings then -to be had (it was before the days of photographs) of Rome, and show us -what remained of the old buildings and monuments, and where the Papal -city had encroached and superseded them; and again, would take infinite -pains to explain the changes in the ordinary life of the Roman citizen, -which had been creeping on since the end of the third Punic war, when -her last formidable rival went down, and the struggle between patrician -and plebeian had time and opportunity to develop and work itself out, -till it ended in the Augustan age, when the will of the Cæsar remained -the sole ultimate law, in Rome, and over the whole Empire. Of course the -explanation of the phrase “Panem et circenses,” and the growth of -the system, in the shape of public feastings, shows, baths, and other -entertainments, with which each successful Tribune or General, as he -came to the front, and the Cæsars after them, tried to bribe and sway -the mob of the Forum, formed no small part of this instruction. One item -of the list will best illustrate my text--that of public baths--which -came most directly home to me, as I was devoted to swimming in those -days, and so had great sympathy with the poor citizen of Imperial Rome -who desired to have baths in the best form and without payment. - -I do not know that there is any trustworthy evidence as to the public -baths of Rome before Imperial times, but we can estimate pretty -accurately how the case stood for the poor Roman in the first and second -centuries A.D. The best preserved of these are the Baths of Caracalla, -in which sixteen hundred bathers could be accommodated at once. -The enclosed area was 360 yards square, or considerably larger than -Lincoln’s Inn Fields; but this included a course for foot-races, in -which, I suppose, the younger bathers contended when fresh from the -delights of hot and cold baths, while their elders looked on from the -porticoes adjoining. The bathing establishment proper, however, was 240 -yards in length, by 124 yards in width, in which the divisions of -the “tepidaria,” “calidaria,” and “frigidaria,” are still confidently -pointed out in Baedeker, and attested by guides if you like to hire -them. But the part which interested me most, apart from the huge masses -of wall still standing, was the depression in the floor, which is said -to have been the swimming-bath, and which is at least twice as large as -those of the Holborn and Lambeth baths, the two largest in London in my -time, put together. - -The remains of the walls are just astounding, eight feet and ten feet -thick, and (I should say) in several places fifty feet high; the thin -Roman bricks, and the mortar in which they are built, as hard as they -were in the second century. I wish I could feel any confidence that any -of our London brickwork would show as well even a century hence. When -the floors were all covered with mosaic pavement, of which small pieces -now carefully preserved still remain, and the brickwork of the walls -was faced with marble, and the statues which have been found here and -removed to museums, still stood round the central fountain and in the -courts, my imagination quite fails to picture what the baths must have -looked like. But the Baths of Caracalla, though best preserved, are -not by any means the largest. Those of Diocletian, on the Quirinal and -partly facing the railway station, were almost twice as big, for the -circumference of the bath buildings was about 2000 yards, or half as -large again as the Baths of Caracalla, while they would accommodate (it -is said) three thousand bathers at once. It is even more impossible, -however, to reconstruct these baths in one’s fancy than those of -Caracalla, for the church of St. Bernardo occupies one domed corner of -the area, and a prison another corner; while a convent, with the Church -of St. Maria degli Angeli attached--built by Michael Angelo by order -of Pius IV.--stands over what was the “tepidarium.” There is still, -however, space enough left for the large square, as big as Bedford -Square, and surrounded by cloisters said to be also the work of Michael -Angelo, in which stand a number of the most interesting statues and -busts, and architectural fragments lately exhumed. - -I have by no means exhausted the opportunities enjoyed by the Roman -citizen under the Antonines for getting a satisfactory, not to say a -luxurious, wash in the Roman summer, but must turn aside for a minute to -tell you of an interesting little scene which I saw outside on leaving -the Baths of Diocletian. Along the bottom of the old ruined wall still -standing, and looking as firm as that of Caracalla, for about fifty -yards, earth and rubbish has been allowed to accumulate to the height of -twelve or fourteen feet. This dirt-heap covers some twenty feet of the -open space between the old wall and the footway, and, the face of it -having been trampled hard, forms a steep slope, of which the Roman -urchin of to-day seems to have taken possession, and thereon thoroughly -to enjoy himself after his own fashion. This is a very different way -from that of our street-boys, if I may judge by what I saw in passing. A -group of some dozen little ragged urchins--four with bare feet--were -at high jinks as I came up; and this was their pastime. The biggest of -them, a sturdy boy of (perhaps) eleven or twelve, stood at the bottom of -the steep slope, facing the wall, with his feet firmly set, and his arms -wide open. The rest, who were at the top of the slope, against the wall, -ran down one after another and threw themselves into his arms, clasping -him round the neck, and getting a good hug before he dropped them. The -object seemed to be (so far as I could see) to throw him over backwards, -but he stood his ground firmly, only staggering a little once or twice -during the two rounds which I was able to watch. I was obliged then to -leave, wondering, and debating in my mind what would be the result of -such a game if tried by our street boys in a London suburb. - -To go back to the Baths, there are remains of three more which must have -been no unworthy rivals of Caracalla’s and Diocletian’s--viz. those of -Constantine, Agrippa, and Titus. The first were also on the Quirinal, -and are said to have occupied the greater part of the present Piazza del -Quirinale, including the site of the Royal Palace. But as all that is -left of them is a fragment of the old boundary-wall here and there, one -can form no notion of their size or shape. One may, however, judge -of their character by magnificent colossal marble statues of the -“Horse-tamers,” which are known to have stood one on each side of the -principal entrance, and are believed to remain almost in the place where -they stand to-day. The Baths of Agrippa lay behind the Pantheon, but -a fluted column and ruined dome are all that remain of them in the -neighbouring streets, “Pumbella” and “Cumbella.” Lastly, there were -the Baths of Titus, begun by him in A.D. 80, on the Esquiline, which -included the sites of Mæcenas’ Villa and the Golden Palace of Nero, -which (I suppose) he must have demolished to make room for them; but the -tradition as to these ruins seems even more vague than that of any of -the other baths. I think you must allow that so far I have proved my -case, that Rome is the city of surprises. - -Ever since my “Roman baths’ round,” the contrast of Imperial Rome and -our London has been popping up. Why have not we, at any rate, one or two -public baths on something like the old Roman scale? Did they really let -any Roman citizen bathe free of charge? Could we possibly do that? -and how? Well, after all, it only wants a Cæsar to work the “panem et -circenses” trick astutely. And have not we got at last our equivalent -for Nero or Titus in our County Council? True, our many-headed Cæsar has -not the tribute of a conquered world to draw on, or an unlimited supply -of prisoners of war, slaves, and poor Christians to set to the work. But -has not he the rates of London at his mercy--not a bad equivalent--and -the Collectivist Trade-Unionist, who may possibly be relied on to do as -fair a day’s work at the scale-wages as the unpaid slave or -Christian did for Titus? Well, I do not know that I should protest -vigorously--only I am no longer a London ratepayer. - - - - -Rome--Easter Day - -We get our London papers here as regularly as you do, only forty-eight -hours later, and I see that readers at home have been able to follow -the course of the services in St. Peter’s and the Roman Churches -during Passion Week about as well as we who are on the spot, and so -to appreciate the thoroughness which the priesthood, from cardinals -downwards, for I am sorry to say the Pope is still unable to take his -usual part, throw into the attempt to reproduce the supreme drama of -our race, so far as this can be done, day by day, almost hour by hour. -I have not, however, noticed any mention of the “Tenebræ” at St. John -Lateran, a service of rather more than an hour, from 4.30 to 5.30, on -the afternoon of Good Friday, when the last words have fallen from the -cross, and Joseph of Arimathæa, with the faithful women, has borne away -the scarred and bleeding body of the Lord of Life to his own grave, in -which no man has yet lain-- - - All the toil, the sorrow done, - - All the battle fought and won, - -as Arthur Stanley says, in one of the noblest hymns in the English -language. We had the good fortune the day before to meet one of the -Monsignori, an old friend, formerly a hard-working and successful London -incumbent, who suggested that we should go, and to whom I shall always -feel grateful for the advice. We accordingly were at the door of that -splendid, but to my mind too sumptuously decorated church, punctually -at 4.30. The procession had already reached the chancel, and were taking -their allotted places. Most of your readers will probably be familiar -with the church, but for those who are not, I may say that the chancel -is wider, I think, than that in any of our cathedrals, and that the -whole space from the high altar to the solid marble rails--about three -and a half feet high, which divide the chancel from the rest of the -church--is open, with the sole exception of the row of stalls which run -along each sidewall, and which are reserved for, and were now filled by, -priests. For this particular service, however (and for this only, as I -was told), a row of chairs was placed just within the chancel-rails, -for the Monsignori and other priests of the Pope’s household, who were -already seated, all in deep black, with their faces to the altar and -their backs to the congregation. They remained seated during the whole -service (though several of the priests from the side-stalls stepped -down at intervals and took part in the service), thus, it seemed to me, -emphasising the division between priests and people, and impressing -on us beyond chancel-rails, the fact that we were there rather as -sightseers, spectators of a solemn ceremony, than joint-sharers in an -act of worship. - -When we arrived the service had scarcely commenced, though the organ was -pealing solemnly through the vast church; but the whole of the space in -front of the chancel-rails was already filled by a dense crowd. Many of -those who were in front, close to the chancel-rails, knelt, leaning -on the rails, but by no means all, and the rest stood--a noteworthy -assembly. For there were at least as many men as women, and of all -classes. It is not easy nowadays to recognise rank by dress or bearing; -but there were certainly a considerable minority of well-dressed, -well-to-do people, mixed with soldiers in half a dozen different -uniforms (as I was glad to see), artisans, peasants, men and women in -force, the latter generally leading a child or two by the hand, with -a sprinkling of young men, preparing, I suppose by their dress, for -priests’ orders, who for the most part had books in which they followed -the service attentively,--no easy task under the surrounding conditions. -For though the front ranks, two or three deep next the chancel-rails, -were for the most part stationary, the great mass behind was constantly -moving about and talking in low tones,--not irreverently, but rather as -they would be in England at any large gathering where they could take no -part themselves in the performance, but felt that it was the right thing -to be there, and that they must not interfere with the minority, who -seemed to understand and appreciate what was going on. I was not one -of these latter, as I do not understand music, and had no book of the -words; though I was quite sensible that the pathos, chequered with -occasional bursts of triumph, and rendered by exquisite tenors and boys’ -voices, was equal to any music I had ever heard. Moreover, the sight -of the splendidly dressed priests, moving frequently about before the -altar, without any reason so far as I could see, and the swinging of -censers, the clouds of incense, and gestures to which I could attach no -meaning, inclined me to get out of the crowd. With this view I -looked about for my companion, who, I found, had managed to reach the -altar-rails. So in order that we might be sure to meet at the end of the -service, I got quietly back to the door by which we had entered, where -I could hear the music and voices perfectly, though out of sight of the -chancel. Here I resolved to wait, and at once became much interested in -the people who were constantly passing in or leaving the church. Soon I -remarked that almost all of the former, especially the peasant men and -women with children, turned to the right and disappeared for a minute -or two before going on to join the crowd in front of the chancel. So I -followed, and can scarcely say how much I was impressed by what I saw. -In a small side-chapel, near the entrance, which was their destination, -dimly lighted, a crucifix with a life-sized figure of our Lord upon it -was lying on a stone couch raised some two feet from the floor. There -was no priest in charge, only two bright little choristers (I suppose) -in their white gowns; and perfect silence reigned in the chapel by the -entrance of which I stood and saw several men and women kneeling. They -got up one by one, and approaching the figure dropped again on their -knees, and, stooping, kissed, some the nail-prints in the hands or feet, -some the spear-wound in the side, but none the face. The most touching -sight was the fathers or mothers when they rose from their knees lifting -the children and teaching them to kiss the wounds. I stood there for -at least twenty minutes, until the end of the service in fact, and must -have seen at least a hundred men, women, and children enter. Of -these, three only failed to kneel and kiss the cross, the first, a -well-dressed, middle-aged woman, leading a restless small lap-dog, which -pulled and whined whenever his mistress was not attending to him; the -others, two young girls--but quite old enough to have known better--who -marched in amongst the kneeling figures, open guide-book in hand, -noticed something in the chapel to which it referred, and then marched -out. They passed close enough for me to catch a word or two of their -talk, which I am glad to say was not English. - -As I stood there and watched and listened, the distant voices seemed -to be chanting that grand old monk’s-Latin hymn, the “Dies Iræ,” and I -fancied (I am afraid it was pure fancy) I could hear:-- - - Quærens me sedisti lassus, - - Redeinisti crucem passas, - - Tantus labor non sit cassus! - -More than once I was haunted by the wish to enter and kneel and kiss the -cross, by the side of some poor Italian woman and her child. I wish now -that I had, but hope it was a genuine Protestant instinct which hindered -me. At any rate I shall never have another chance. This crucifix is only -brought out once a year--on Good Friday--and I shall never again be in -St. John’s Lateran on that day for the “Tenebræ” service. - - - - -JOHN TO JONATHAN - -An Address delivered in the Music Hall, Boston, on the 11th of October -1870 - - -_This Address is printed precisely as it was spoken, at the request of -friends who had read extracts in our newspapers. I am quite aware how -superficial it must seem to English readers, and would only remind them -that I had no Parliamentary debates, or other documents, to which to -refer. I am thankful myself to find that, while there are startling gaps -in it, there are no gross blunders as to facts or dates. The kindliness -with which it was listened to by the audience, and discussed in the -American press, allows me to hope that the time has come when any effort -to put an end to the unhappy differences between the two countries will -be looked upon favourably in the United States. The true men and women -on both sides of the Atlantic feel, with Mr. Forster, that a war between -America and England would be a civil war, and believe with him that -we have seen the last of civil war between English-speaking men. Both -nations are, I hope and believe, for a hearty reconciliation, and it -only remains for the Governments to do their part._ - -Thomas Hughes. - - -It is with a heavy sense of responsibility, my friends, and no little -anxiety, that I am here to-night to address you on this subject. I have -been in this country now some two months, and from the day I crossed -your frontier I have received, from one end of the land to the other, -from men and women whom I had never seen in my life, and on whom I -had no shadow of a claim that I could discover, nothing but the most -generous, graceful, and unobtrusive hospitality. I am not referring to -this city and its neighbourhood, in which all Englishmen are supposed -to feel very like home, and in which most of us have some old and -dear friend or two. I speak of your States from New York to Iowa and -Missouri, from the Canadian border to Washington. Everywhere I have -been carried about to places of interest in the neighbourhood, lodged, -boarded, and cared for as if I had been a dear relative returning from -long absence. However demoralised an Englishman may become in his own -country, there is always one plank in his social morals which he clings -to with the utmost tenacity, and that is paying his own postage stamps. -My hold even on this last straw is sadly relaxed. I am obliged to keep -vigilant watch on my letters to hinder their being stamped and posted -for me by invisible hands. I never before have so fully realised the -truth of those remarks of your learned and pious fellow-citizen, Rev. -Homer Wilbur, whose lucubrations have been a source of much delight to -me for many years, when he says somewhere, “I think I could go near to -be a perfect Christian if I were always a visitor at the house of some -hospitable friend. I can show a great deal of self-denial where the best -of everything is urged upon me with friendly importunity. It is not -so very hard to turn the other cheek for a kiss.” I should be simply a -brute if I were not equally touched and abashed by the kindness I have -received while amongst you. I can never hope to repay it, but the memory -of it will always be amongst my most precious possessions, and I can, at -least, publicly acknowledge it, as I do here this evening. - -But, my friends, I must turn to the other side of the picture. There is -nothing--at any rate, no kind of pleasure, I suppose--which is unmixed. -From the deepest and purest fountains some bitter thing is sure to rise, -and I have not been able, even in the New World, to escape the common -lot of mankind in the Old. Everywhere I have found, when I have sounded -the reason for all this kindness, that it was offered to me personally, -because, to use the words of some whom I hope I may now look on as dear -friends, “We feel that you are one of us.” The moment the name of my -country was mentioned a shade came over the kindest faces. I cannot -conceal from myself that the feeling towards England in this country is -one which must be deeply painful to every Englishman. - -It was for this reason that I chose the subject of this lecture. I -cannot bear to remain amongst you under any false pretences, or to leave -you with any false impressions. I am not “one of you,” in the sense of -preferring your institutions to those of my own country. I am before all -things an Englishman--a John Bull, if you will--loving old England and -feeling proud of her. I am jealous of her fair fame, and pained more -than I can say to find what I honestly believe to be a very serious -misunderstanding here, as to the events which more than anything else -have caused this alienation. You, who have proved your readiness as a -people to pour out ease, wealth, life itself, as water, that no shame or -harm should come to your country’s flag or name, should be the last to -wish the citizen of any other country to be false to his own. My respect -and love for your nation and your institutions should be worth nothing -to you, if I were not true to those of my own country, and did not love -them better. For this reason, then, and in the hope of proving to you -that you have misjudged the England of to-day--that she is no longer, at -any rate, if she ever was, the haughty, imperious power her enemies -have loved to paint her, interfering in every quarrel, subsidising and -hectoring over friends, and holding down foes with a brutal and heavy -hand, careless of all law except that of her own making, and bent -above all things on heaping up wealth--I have consented to appear -here tonight. I had hoped to be allowed to be amongst you simply as a -listener and a learner. Since my destiny and your kindness have ordered -it otherwise, I can only speak to you of that which is uppermost in my -thoughts, of which my heart is full. If I say things which are hard for -you to hear, I am sure you will pardon me as you would a spoilt child. -You are responsible for having taught me to open my heart and to speak -my mind to you, and will take it in good part if you do not find that -heart and mind just what you had assumed them to be. - -I propose then, to-night, to state the case of my country so far as -regards her conduct while your great rebellion was raging. In a fight -for life, and for principles dearer than life, no men can be fair to -those who are outside. The time comes when they can weigh both sides of -the case impartially. I trust that that time has now arrived, and that I -can safely appeal to the calm judgment of a great people. - -It is absolutely necessary, in order to appreciate what took place in -England during your great struggle, to bear in mind, in the first place, -that it agitated our social and political life almost as deeply as it -did yours. I am scarcely old enough to remember the fierce collisions -of party during the first Reform agitation, but I have taken a deep -interest, and during the last twenty years an active part, in every -great struggle since that time; and I say without hesitation, that not -even in the crisis of the Free-trade movement were English people more -deeply stirred than by that grapple between freedom and law on the -one hand, and slavery and privilege on the other, which was so sternly -battled through, and brought to so glorious and triumphant a decision, -in your great rebellion. There can be, I repeat, no greater mistake than -to suppose that there was anything like indifference on our side of the -water, and no one can understand the question who makes it. There was -plenty of ignorance, plenty of fierce partisanship, plenty of bewildered -hesitation and vacillation amongst great masses of honest, well-meaning -people, who could find no steady ground on the shifting sand of -statement and counter-statement with which they were deluged by those -who _did_ know their own minds, and felt by instinct from the first that -here was a battle for life or death; but there was, I repeat again, -no indifference. Our political struggles do not, as a rule, affect our -social life, but during your war the antagonism between your friends and -the friends of the rebel States often grew into personal hostility. I -know old friendships which were sorely tried by it, to put it no -higher. I heard, over and over again, men refuse to meet those who were -conspicuous on the other side. Any of you who had time to glance at our -papers will not need to be told how fiercely the battle was fought in -our press. - -It is a mistake, also, to suppose that any section of our people were -on one side or the other. Let me say a few words in explanation of this -part of the subject. And first, of our aristocracy. I do not mean for -a moment to deny that a great majority of them took sides with the -Confederates, and desired to see them successful, and the great Republic -broken up into two jealous and hostile nations. What else could you -expect? Could you fairly look for sympathy in that quarter? Your whole -history has been a determined protest against privilege, and in favour -of equal rights for all men; and you have never been careful, in speech -or conduct, to conciliate your adversaries. For years your papers and -the speeches of your public men had rung with denunciations (many of -them very unfair) of them and their caste. They are not much in the -habit of allowing their sentiments to find public expression, but they -know what is going on in the world, and have long memories. It would be -well if many of us Liberals at home, as well as you on this side, would -remember that in this matter they cannot help themselves. A man in -England may be born a Howard, or a Cavendish, or a Cecil, without -any fault of his own, and is apt to “rear up,” as you say, when this -accident is spoken of as though it were an act of voluntary malignity on -his part, and to resent the doctrine that his class is a nuisance -that should be summarily abated. So, as a rule, they sided with the -rebellion; but that rule has notable exceptions. - -There were no warmer or wiser friends of the Union than the Duke of -Argyll, Lord Carlisle, and others; and it should be remembered that -although the class made no secret of their leanings, and many of them, -I believe, subscribed largely to the Confederate loan, no motion hostile -to the Union was ever even discussed in the House of Lords. They have -lost their money and seen the defeat of the cause which they favoured--a -defeat so thorough, I trust, that that cause will never again be able to -raise its head on this continent. I believe they have learnt much from -the lesson, and that partly from the teaching of your war, partly from -other causes to which I have no time to refer, they are far more in -sympathy at this time with the nation than they have ever yet been. - -Of course, those who hang round and depend upon the aristocracy went -with them--far too large a class, I am sorry to say, in our country, and -one whose voice is too apt to be heard in clubs and society. But Pall -Mall and Mayfair, and the journals and periodicals which echo the voices -of Pall Mall, do not mean much in England, though they are apt to talk -as though they did, and are sometimes taken at their word. - -The great mercantile world comes next in order, and here, too, there was -a decided preponderance against you. The natural hatred of disturbances, -which dominates those whose main object in life is making money, -probably swayed the better men amongst them, who forgot altogether that -for that disturbance you were not responsible. The worse were carried -away by the hopes of gain, to be made out of the sore need of the States -in rebellion, and in defiance of the laws of their own country. But -amongst the most eminent, as well as in the rank and file of this class, -you had many warm friends, such as T. Baring and Kirkman Hodgson; and -the Union and Emancipation Societies, of which I shall speak presently, -found a number of their staunch supporters in their ranks. The -manufacturers of England were far more generous in their sympathies, as -my friend Mr. Mundella, who is present here to-night and was himself -a staunch friend, can witness. Cobden, Bright, and Forster were their -representatives, as well as the representatives of the great bulk of our -nation. I have no need to speak of them, for their names are honoured -here as they are at home. - -Now, before I speak of your friends, let me first remind you that it is -precisely with that portion of the English nation of which I have been -speaking that your people come in contact when they are in our country. -An American generally has introductions which bring him into relations -more or less intimate with some sections of that society to which our -aristocracy gives its tone; or he is amongst us for business purposes, -and comes chiefly across our mercantile classes. I cannot but believe -that this fact goes far to explain the (to me) extraordinary prevalence -of the belief here, that the English nation was on the side of the -rebellion. That belief has, I hope and believe, changed considerably -since the waves of your mighty storm have begun to calm down, and I am -not without hopes that I may be able to change it yet somewhat more, -with some at least of those who have the patience and kindness to listen -to me this evening. - -And now let me turn to those who were the staunch friends of the North -from the very outset. They were gathered from all ranks and all parts of -the kingdom. They were brought in by all sorts of motives. Some few had -studied your history, and knew that these Southern men had been the -only real enemies of their country on American soil since the War -of Independence. Many followed their old anti-slavery traditions -faithfully, and cast their lot at once against the slave-owners, -careless of the reiterated assertions, both on your side of the Atlantic -and ours, that the Union and not abolition was the issue. Many came -because they had learned to look upon your land as the great home for -the poor of all nations, and to love her institutions and rejoice in her -greatness as though they in some sort belonged to themselves. All felt -the tremendous significance of the struggle, and that the future -of their own country was almost as deeply involved as the future of -America. To all of them the noble words of one of your greatest poets -and staunchest patriots, which rang out in the darkest moments of the -first year of the war, struck a chord very deep in their hearts, and -expressed in undying words that which they were trying to utter:-- - - O strange New World, thet yit wast never young, - - Whose youth from thee by gripin’ need was wrung, - - Brown foundlin’ o’ the woods, whose baby-bed - - Was prowled roun’ by the Injun’s cracklin’ tread, - - An’ who grew’st strong thru shifts an’ wants an’ pains, - - Nussed by stern men with empires in their brains, - - Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain - - With each hard hand a vassal ocean’s mane, - - Thou, skilled by Freedom an’ by gret events - - To pitch new States ez Old-World men pitch tents, - - Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah’s plan - - Thet man’s devices can’t unmake a man, - - An’ whose free latch-string never was drawed in - - Against the poorest child of Adam’s kin,-- - - The grave’s not dug where traitor hands shall lay - - In fearful haste thy murdered corse away! - -It was in this faith that we took our stand, with a firm resolution that -no effort of ours should be spared to help your people shake themselves -clear of the dead weight of slavery, and to preserve that vast -inheritance of which God has made you the guardians and trustees for all -the nations of the earth, unbroken, and free from the standing armies, -disputed boundaries, and wretched heart-burnings and dissensions of the -Old World. It was little enough that we could do in any case, but that -little was done with all our hearts, and on looking back I cannot but -think was well done. - -There was no need at first for any organisation. Until after the battle -of Manassas Junction in 1861, there was scarcely any public expression -of sympathy with the rebellion. The _Times_ and that portion of the -press which follows its lead, and is always ready to go in for the side -they think will win, were lecturing on the wickedness of the war and the -absurdity of the rebel States in supposing that they could resist for a -month the strength of the North. The news of that first defeat arrived, -and this portion of our press swung round, and the strong feeling in -favour of the rebellion which leavened society and the commercial -world began to manifest itself. The unlucky _Trent_ business, and your -continued want of success in the field, made matters worse. We were -silenced for the moment; for though, putting ourselves in your places, -we could feel how bitter the surrender of the two archrebels must have -been, we could not but admit that our Government was bound to insist -upon it, and that the demand had not been made in an arrogant or -offensive manner. If you will re-read the official documents now, I -think that you too will acknowledge that this was so. Then came Mr. -Mason’s residence in London, where his house became the familiar resort -of all the leading sympathisers with the rebellion. The newspaper -which he started, _The Index_, was full, week after week, of false and -malignant attacks on your Government. The most bitter of them to us was -the constant insistance, backed by quotations from Mr. Lincoln and Mr. -Seward, that the war had nothing to do with slavery, that emancipation -was far more likely to come from the rebels than from you. - -“The lie that is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies,” and we felt -the truth of that wonderful saying. This had been our great difficulty -from the first. Our generation had been reared on anti-slavery -principles. We remembered as children how the great battle was won in -England, how even in our nurseries we gave up sugar lest we might be -tasting the accursed thing, and subscribed our pennies that the chains -might be struck from all human limbs. Emancipation had been the crowning -glory of England in our eyes. But we found that this great force was not -with us, was even slipping away and drifting to the other side. It was -not only Mr. Mason’s paper, and the backing he got in our press, which -was undermining it. The vehement protests of those who had been for -years looked on by us as the foremost soldiers in the great cause on -your side told in the same direction. I well remember the consternation -and almost despair with which I read in Mr. Phillips’ speech in this -hall on 20th June 1861, “The Republicans, led by Seward, offer to -surrender anything to save the Union. Their gospel is the constitution, -and the slave clause their sermon on the mount. They think that at the -judgment day the blacker the sins they have committed to save the Union -the clearer will be their title to heaven.” - -Something must be done to counteract this, to put the case clearly -before our people. Mr. Mason and his friends were already establishing a -Confederate States Aid Association; it must be met by something similar -on the right side. So in 1862 the Emancipation and the Union and -Emancipation Societies were started in London and in Manchester, and in -good time came Mr. Lincoln’s proclamation of emancipation to strengthen -our hands. The original manifesto of the Emancipation Society said--“To -make it clear by the force of indisputable testimony that the South -is fighting for slavery, while the North is fully committed to the -destruction of slavery, is the principal object for which this society -is organised. Its promoters do not believe that English anti-slavery -sentiment is dead or enfeebled. They are confident that when the demands -and designs of the South are made clear, there will be no danger of -England being enticed into complicity with them.” We pledged ourselves -to test the opinion of the country everywhere by public meetings, and -challenged the Confederate States Aid Association to accept that test. -They did so; but I never could hear of any even quasi public meeting but -one which they held in England. That meeting was at Mr. Mason’s house, -and was, I believe, attended by some fifty persons. - -The first step of our societies was to hold meetings for passing an -address of congratulation to your President on the publication of the -Emancipation proclamation. It was New Year’s Eve 1862. Our address said: -“We have watched with the warmest interest the steady advance of your -policy along the path of emancipation; and on this eve of the day on -which your proclamation takes effect we pray God to strengthen your -hands, to confirm your noble purpose, and to hasten the restoration of -that lawful authority which engages, in peace or war, by compensation -or by force of arms, to realise the glorious principle on which your -constitution is founded--the brotherhood, freedom, and equality of -all men.” The address was enthusiastically adopted by a large meeting, -chiefly composed of working men. It was clear at once that there was -a grand force behind us, for we became objects of furious attack. The -_Times_ called us impostors, and said we got our funds for the -agitation from American sources--the fact being that we always refused -contributions from this side. The _Saturday Review_ declared, in one -of its bitterest articles, that if anything could be calculated upon as -likely to defer indefinitely the gradual extinction of slavery, it -would be Mr. Lincoln’s fictitious abolition of it. We were meddlesome -fanatics, insignificant nobodies, mischievous agitators. This was -satisfactory and encouraging. We felt sure that we had taken the -right course, and not a moment too soon. Then came the test of public -meetings, which you at least are surely bound to accept as a fair gauge -of what a people thinks and wills. - -Our first was held on the 29th of January 1863. We took Exeter Hall, -the largest and most central hall in London. We did nothing but simply -advertise widely that such a meeting would be held, inviting all who -cared to come, foes as well as friends. Prudent and timid people shook -their heads and looked grave. The cotton famine was at its worst, and -tens of thousands of our workpeople were “clemming” as they call it, -starving as you might say. Your prospects looked as black as they had -ever done; it was almost the darkest moment of the whole war. Even -friends warned us that we should fail in our object, and only do harm by -showing our weakness; that the Confederate States Aid Association would -spare no pains or money to break up the meeting, and a hundred roughs -sent there by them might turn it into a triumph for the rebellion. -However, on we went,--we knew our own people too well to fear the -result. The night came, and familiar as I am with this kind of thing, -I have never seen in my time anything approaching this scene. Remember, -there was nothing to attract people; no well-known orators, for we -always thought it best to keep our Parliament men to their own ground; -no great success to rejoice in, for you were just reeling under -the recoil of your gallant army from the blood-stained heights of -Fredericksburg; no attack on our own Government; no appeal to political -or social hates or prejudices; only doors thrown wide open, with the -invitation, “Now let Englishmen come forward and show on which side -their sympathies really are in this war.” Notwithstanding all these -disadvantages the great hall was densely crowded, so that there was no -standing room, and the Strand and the neighbouring streets blocked with -a crowd of thousands who could find no place, long before the doors were -open. We were obliged to organise a number of meetings on the spur of -the moment in the lower halls, and even in the open streets. In the -great hall--where two clergymen, the Hon. Baptist Noel and Mr. Newman -Hall, and I myself, were the chief speakers--as well as in every one of -the other meetings, we carried, not only without opposition, but, so far -as I remember, without a single hand being held up on the other -side, resolutions in favour of your Government, of the Union, and of -emancipation. The success was so complete that in London our work was -done. - -Then followed similar meetings at Manchester, Sheffield, Bristol, Leeds, -in all the great centres of population, with precisely the same result. -I don’t remember that the enemy ever even attempted to divide a meeting. -The country was carried by acclamation. Our friends in Liverpool wrote -with some anxiety as to the state of feeling there, and asked me to go -down and deliver an address. I went, and the meeting carried the same -resolutions by a very large majority; and those who, it was supposed, -came to disturb the proceedings, thought better of it when they saw the -temper of the audience, and were quiet. Without troubling you with any -further details of our work, I may just add, as a proof of how those -who profess to be the most astute worshippers of public opinion changed -their minds in consequence of the answer of the country to our appeals, -that in August 1863 the _Times_ supported our demand on the Government -for the stoppage of the steam-rams. - -In addition to this political movement, we instituted also a number -of freedmen’s aid associations, in order that those abolitionists in -England who were still unable to put faith in your Government might have -an opportunity of helping in their own way. These associations entered -into correspondence with those on your side, and sent over a good many -thousand pounds’ worth of clothing and other supplies, besides money. -I forget the exact amount. It was a mere drop in the ocean of your -magnificent war charities, but it came from thousands who had little -enough to spare in those hard times, and I trust has had the effect of -a peace-offering with those of your people who are conversant with the -facts, and are ready to judge by their actual doings even those against -whom they think they have fair cause of complaint. - -So much for what I may call the unofficial, or extraparliamentary, -struggle in England during your war. And now let me turn to the action -of our Government and of Parliament. I might fairly have rested my case -entirely upon this ground. In the case of nations blessed as America and -England are with perfect freedom of speech and action within the limits -of law--where men may say the thing they will freely, and without any -check but the civil courts--no one in my judgment has a right to make -the nation responsible for anything except what its Government says and -does. But I know how deeply the conduct and speech of English society -has outraged your people, and still rankles in their minds, and I wished -by some rough analysis, and by the statement of facts within my own -knowledge, and of doings in which I personally took an active part, to -show you that you have done us very scant justice. The dress suit, and -the stomach and digestive apparatus, of England were hostile to you, and -you have taken them for the nation: the brain and heart and muscle of -England were on your side, and these you have ignored and forgotten. - -Now, for our Government and Parliament. I will admit at once, if you -please, that Lord Palmerston and the principal members of his Cabinet -were not friendly to you, and would have been glad to have seen your -Republic broken up. I am by no means sure that it was so; but let that -pass. I was not in their counsels, and have no more means of judging of -them than are open to all of you. Your first accusation against us -is, that the Queen’s proclamation of neutrality, which was signed -and published on the 13th of May 1861, was premature, and an act of -discourtesy to your Government, inasmuch as your new Minister, Mr. -Adams, only arrived in England on that very day. Well, looking back from -this distance of time, I quite admit that it would have been far better -to have delayed the publication of the proclamation till after he had -arrived in London. But at the time the case was very different. You -must remember that news of the President’s proclamation of the blockade -reached London on 3rd May. Of course, from that moment the danger of -collision between our vessels and yours, and of the fitting out of -privateers in our harbours, arose at once. In fact, your first capture -of a British vessel, the _General Parkhill_ of Liverpool, was made on -12th May. But if the publication of the proclamation of neutrality was -a mistake, it was made by our Government at the earnest solicitation -of Mr. Forster and other warm friends of yours, who pressed it forward -entirely, as they supposed, in your interest. They wanted to stop -letters of marque and to legitimise the captures made by your blockading -squadron. The Government acted at their instance; so, whether a blunder -or not, the proclamation was not an unfriendly act. Besides, remember -what it amounted to. Simply and solely to a recognition of the fact that -you had a serious war on hand. Mr. Seward had already admitted this in -an official paper of the 4th of May, and your Supreme Court decided, in -the case of the _Amy Warwick_, that the proclamation of blockade was in -itself conclusive evidence that a state of war existed at the time. If -we had ever gone a step further--if we had recognised the independence -of the rebel States, as our Government was strongly urged to do by their -envoys, by members of our Parliament, and lastly by the Emperor of -the French--you would have had good ground of offence. But this was -precisely what we never would do; and when they found this out, the -Confederate Government cut off all intercourse with England, and -expelled our consuls from their towns. So one side blamed us for doing -too much, and the other for doing too little--the frequent fate of -neutrals, as you yourselves are finding at this moment in the case of -the war between Prussia and France. - -Then came the first public effort of the sympathisers with the -rebellion. After several preliminary skirmishes, which were defeated -by Mr. Forster (who had what we lawyers should call the watching brief, -with Cobden and Bright behind him as leading counsel, and who used to -go round the lobbies in those anxious days with his pockets bulging out -with documents to prove how effective the blockade was, and how many -ships of our merchants you were capturing every day), Mr. Gregory put a -motion on the paper. He was well chosen for the purpose, as a member of -great experience and ability, sitting on our side of the House, so that -weak-kneed Liberals would have an excuse for following him, and though -not himself in office, supposed to be on intimate terms with the Premier -and other members of the Cabinet. His motion was simply “to call the -attention of the House to the expediency of prompt recognition of the -Southern Confederacy.” - -It was set down for 7th June 1861, and I tell you we were all pretty -nervous about the result. The _Spectator, Daily News, Star_, and other -staunch papers opened fire, and we all did what we could in the way of -canvassing; but until the Government had declared itself no Union man -could feel safe. Well, Lord John Russell, as the Foreign Minister, -got up, snubbed the motion altogether, said that the Government had no -intention whatever of agreeing to it, and recommended its withdrawal. -So Mr. Gregory and his friends took their motion off the paper without a -debate, and did not venture to try any other during the session of 1861. -In the late autumn came the unlucky _Trent_ affair, to which I have -already sufficiently alluded. Belying on the feeling which had been -roused by it, and cheered on by the Mason club in Piccadilly and the -_Index_ newspaper fulminations, and by the severe checks of the Union -armies, they took the field again in 1862. This time their tactics were -bolder. They no longer confined themselves to asking the opinion of the -House deferentially. Mr. Lindsay, the great shipowner, who it was said -had a small fleet of blockade-runners, was chosen as the spokesman. He -gave notice of motion, “That in the opinion of this House, the States -which have seceded from the Union have so long maintained themselves, -and given such proofs of determination and ability to support -independence, that the propriety of offering mediation with a view to -terminating hostilities is worthy of the serious and immediate attention -of Her Majesty’s Government.” Again we trembled for the result, and -again the Government came out with a square refusal on the 18th of July, -and this motion shared the fate of its predecessor, and was withdrawn by -its own promoters. - -Then came the escape of the _Alabama_. Upon this I have no word to say. -My private opinion has been expressed over and over again in Parliament -(where in my first year, 1866, I think I was the first man to urge open -arbitration on our Government) as well as on the platform and in the -press. But I stand here to-night as an Englishman, and say that at this -moment I have no cause to be ashamed of the attitude of my country. Two -Governments in succession, Tory and Liberal, through Lords Stanley -and Clarendon, have admitted (as Mr. Fish states himself in his last -despatch on the subject) the principle of comprehensive arbitration on -all questions between Governments. This is all that a nation can do. -England is ready to have the case in all its bearings referred to -impartial arbitration, and to pay whatever damages may be assessed -against her without a murmur. She has also agreed (and again I use the -language of Mr. Fish) “to discuss the important changes in the rules -of public law, the desirableness of which has been demonstrated by the -incidents of the last few years, and which, in view of the maritime -prominence of Great Britain and the United States, it would befit them -to mature and propose to the other states of Christendom.” She has, in -fact, surrendered her old position as untenable, and agreed to the terms -proposed by your own Government. What more can you ask of a nation of -your own blood, as proud and sensitive as yourselves on all points where -national honour is in question? - -But here I must remind you of one fact which you seem never to have -realised. The _Alabama_ was the only one of the rebel cruisers of -whose character our Government had any notice, which escaped from our -harbours. The _Shenandoah_ was a merchant vessel, employed in the Indian -trade as the _Sea King_. Her conversion into a rebel cruiser was -never heard of till long after she had left England. The _Georgia_ was -actually reported by the surveyor of the Board of Trade as a merchant -ship, and to be “rather crank.” She was fitted out on the French coast, -and left the port of Cherbourg for her first cruise. The _Florida_ was -fitted out in Mobile. She was actually detained at Nassau on suspicion, -and only discharged by the Admiralty Court there on failure of evidence. -On the other hand, our Government stopped the _Rappahannock,_ the -_Alexandra,_ and the _Pampero_, and seized Mr. Laird’s celebrated rams -at Liverpool, and Captain Osborne’s Chinese flotilla, for which last -exercise of vigilance the nation had to pay £100,000. - -Such is our case as to the cruisers which did you so much damage. I -believe it to be true. If we are mistaken, however, you will get such -damages for each and all of these vessels as the arbitrator may award. -We reserve nothing. I as an Englishman am deeply grieved that any of my -countrymen, for base love of gain or any other motive, should have dared -to defy the proclamation of my Sovereign, speaking in the nation’s name. -I earnestly long for the time when by wise consultation between our -nations, and the modification of the public law bearing on such cases, -not only such acts as these, but all war at sea, shall be rendered -impossible. The United States and England have only to agree in this -matter, and there is an end of naval war through the whole world. - -In 1863 the horizon was still dark. Splendid as your efforts had been, -and magnificent as was the attitude of your nation, tried in the fire -as few nations have been in all history, those efforts had not yet been -crowned with any marked success. With us it was the darkest in the whole -long agony, for in it came the crisis of that attempt of the Emperor of -the French to inveigle us in a joint recognition of the Confederacy, -on the success of which his Mexican adventure was supposed to hang. The -details of those negotiations have never been made public. All we -know is, that Mr. Lindsay and Mr. Roebuck went to Paris and had long -conferences with Napoleon, the result of which was the effort of Mr. -Roebuck (now in turn the representative of the rebels in our Parliament) -to force or persuade our Government into this alliance. Then came the -final crisis. On the 30th of June 1863, a day memorable in our history -as in yours, at the very time that your army of the Potomac was hurrying -through the streets of Gettysburg to meet the swoop of those terrible -Southern legions, John Bright stood on the floor of our House of -Commons, on fire with that righteous wrath which has so often lifted him -above the heads of other English orators. - -He dragged the whole plot to light, quoted the former attacks of Mr. -Roebuck on his Imperial host, and then turning to the Speaker, went on, -“And now, sir, the honourable and learned gentleman has been to Paris, -introduced there by the honourable member for Sunderland, and he has -sought to become, as it were, a co-conspirator with the French Emperor, -to drag this country into a policy which I maintain is as hostile to its -interests as it would be degrading to its honour.” From that moment the -cause of the rebellion was lost in England; for by the next mails came -the news of the three days’ fight, and the melting away of Longstreet’s -corps in the final and desperate efforts to break the Federal line on -the slopes of little Round Top. A few weeks more and we heard of the -surrender of Vicksburg, and no more was heard in our Parliament of -recognition or mediation. - -I have now, my friends, stated the case between our countries from -an Englishman’s point of view, of course, but I hope fairly and -temperately. At any rate, I have only spoken of matters within my own -personal knowledge, and have only quoted from public records which -are as open to every one of you as they are to me. Search them, -I beseech you, and see whether I am right or not. If wrong, it is from -no insular prejudices or national conceit, and you will at any rate -think kindly and bear with the errors of one who has always loved your -nation well, through good report and evil report, and is now bound to -it by a hundred new and precious ties. If right, all I beg of you is, to -use your influences that old hatreds and prejudices may disappear, and -America and England may march together, as nations redeemed by a common -Saviour, toward the goal which is set for them in a brighter future. - - Shall it be love, or hate, John? - - It’s you thet’s to decide; - - Ain’t your bonds held by Fate, John, - - Like all the world’s beside? - -So runs the end of the solemn appeal in “Jonathan to John,” the poem -which suggested the title of this lecture. It comes from one who never -deals in wild words. I am proud to be able to call him a very dear and -old friend. He is the American writer who did more than any other to -teach such of us in the old country as ever learned them at all, the -rights and wrongs of this great struggle of yours. Questions asked by -such men can never be safely left on one side. Well, then, I say we -_have_ answered them. We know--no nation, I believe, knows better, or -confesses daily with more of awe--that our bonds are held by fate; that -a strict account of all the mighty talents which have been committed to -us will be required of us English, though we do live in a sea fortress, -in which the gleam of steel drawn in anger has not been seen for more -than a century. We know that we are very far from being what we ought to -be; we know that we have great social problems to work out, and, believe -me, we have set manfully to work to solve them,--problems which go right -down amongst the roots of things, and the wrong solution of which may -shake the very foundations of society. We have to face them manfully, -after the manner of our race, within the four corners of an island not -bigger than one of your large States; while you have the vast -elbow-room of this wonderful continent, with all its million outlets and -opportunities for every human being who is ready to work. Yes, our bonds -are indeed held by fate, but we are taking strict account of the number -and amount of them, and mean, by God’s help, to dishonour none of them -when the time comes for taking them up. We reckon, too, some of us, that -as years roll on, and you get to understand us better, we may yet hear -the words “Well done, brother,” from this side of the Atlantic; and if -the strong old islander, who, after all, is your father, should happen -some day to want a name on the back of one of his bills, I, for one, -should not wonder to hear that at the time of presentation the name -Jonathan is found scrawled across there in very decided characters. For -we have answered that second question, too, so far as it lies in our -power. - -It will be love and not hate between the two freest of the great nations -of the earth, if our decision can so settle it. There will never be -anything but love again, if England has the casting vote. For remember -that the force of the decision of your great struggle has not been spent -on this continent. Your victory has strengthened the hands and hearts of -those who are striving in the cause of government, for the people by the -people, in every corner of the Old World. In England the dam that had -for so many years held back the free waters burst in the same year that -you sheathed your sword, and now your friends there are triumphant and -honoured; and if those who were your foes ever return to power you will -find that the lesson of your war has not been lost on them. In another -six years you will have finished the first century of your national -life. By that time you will have grown to fifty millions, and will -have subdued and settled those vast western regions, which now in the -richness of their solitudes, broken only by the panting of the engine as -it passes once a day over some new prairie line, startles the traveller -from the Old World. I am only echoing the thoughts and prayers of -my nation in wishing you God-speed in your great mission. When that -centenary comes round, I hope, if I live, to see the great family of -English-speaking nations girdling the earth with a circle of free and -happy communities, in which the angels’ message of peace on earth and -good-will amongst men may not be still a mockery and delusion. It rests -with you to determine whether this shall be so or not. May the God of -all the nations of the earth, who has so marvellously prospered you -hitherto, and brought you through so great trials, guide you in your -decision! - -THE END - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vacation Rambles, by Thomas Hughes - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VACATION RAMBLES *** - -***** This file should be named 54502-0.txt or 54502-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/5/0/54502/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Vacation Rambles - -Author: Thomas Hughes - -Release Date: April 7, 2017 [EBook #54502] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VACATION RAMBLES *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - VACATION RAMBLES - </h1> - <h2> - By Thomas Hughes, Q.C. - </h2> - <h3> - Author Of ‘Tom Brown’s Schooldays’ - </h3> - <h3> - Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.—Juvenal - </h3> - <h4> - London: Macmillan And Co. - </h4> - <h3> - 1895 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> VACATION RAMBLES </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> EUROPE—1862 to 1866 </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Foreign parts, 14th August 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> Bonn, 22nd August 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> Munich, 29th August 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> The Tyrol, 2nd September 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> Vienna, 10th September 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> The Danube, 13th September 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> Constantinople, 34th September 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> Constantinople, 30th September 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Athens, 1st October 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> Athens, 4th October 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> The Run Home, October 1862. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> Dieppe, Sunday, 13th September 1863. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> Bathing at Dieppe, 17th September 1863. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> Normandy, 20th September 1863. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Gleanings from Boulogne </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> Blankenberghe </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> Belgian Bathing </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> Belgian Boats </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> AMERICA </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> Peruvian, 6.45 p.m. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> 8.45 p.m. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> 8 a.m., Friday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> 9.30 a.m., Friday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> On board the Peruvian. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> 9.30 p.m., Saturday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> Monday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> Peruvian, 9th August 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> Wednesday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> Tuesday evening. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> Friday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> Mouth of the St. Lawrence. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> Sunday 14th. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> Wednesday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> Montreal, 19th August 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> Montreal, 20th August 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> Tuesday morning, 23rd August 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 25th August - 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> Elmwood Avenue, Cambridge, 31s£ August 1870. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> Cambridge, 2nd September 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> New York. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> Garrison’s Landing, opposite West Point, Friday, - 9th September 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> Clifton Hotel, opposite Niagara Falls, 11th - September 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> Storm Lake, 13th. September 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> Fort Dodge, 13th September 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> Chicago, September 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, 23rd September - 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> Washington, Friday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> St. Mark’s School, Southborough, Mass., Tuesday, - 9th October. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> Ithaca, N.Y., 16th October 1870. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> New York, Tuesday. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> AMERICA—1880 to 1887 </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> The Cumberland Mountains </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> East Tennessee, 1st September 1880. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> Rugby, Tennessee, 10th September 1880. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> Rugby, Tennessee. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> A Forest Ride, Rugby, Tennessee. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> The Natives, Rugby, Tennessee. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> Our Forester, Rugby, Tennessee. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> The Negro “Natives”, Rugby, Tennessee, 30th - October 1880. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> The Opening Day, Rugby, Tennessee. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> Life in an American Liner </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> Life in Texas, Ranche on the Rio Grande, 16th - September 1884. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> Crossing the Atlantic, 4th September 1885. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_NOTE"> Notes from the West, Cincinnati, 24th September - 1886. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> Westward Ho! 2nd April 1887. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> The Hermit, Rugby, Tennessee, 19th September - 1887. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> American Opinion on the Union, SS. Umbria, 5th - October 1887. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> EUROPE—1876 to 1895 </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> A Winter Morning’s Ride </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> Southport, 22nd March. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> A Village Festival </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> The “Victoria,” New Cut. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> Whitby and the Herring Trade, 30th August 1888. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> Whitby and the Herring Trade, 31st August 1888. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> Sunday by the Sea, Whitby, 7th September 1888. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> Singing-Matches in Wessex, 28th September 1888. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> The Divining-Rod, 21st September 1889. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> Sequah’s “Flower of the Prairie,” Chester, 26th - March 1890. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> French Popular Feeling, 15th August 1890. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> Royat les Bains, 23rd August 1890. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> Royat les Bains, 30th August 1890. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> Auvergne en Fête, 6th September 1890. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> Scoppio Del Carro, Florence, Easter Eve, 1891. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> A Scamper at Easter, 8th April 1893. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> Lourdes, 15th April 1893. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> Fontarabia, 22nd April 1893. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> Echoes from Auvergne, La Bourboule, 2nd July - 1893. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> La Bourboule, 10th July 1893. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> Comité des Fêtes. 17th July 1893. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> Dogs and Flowers, La Bourboule, 24th July. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> Dutch Boys, The Hague, 1st May 1894. </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> “Poor Paddy-Land!”—I—6th Oct. 1894. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> “Poor Paddy-Land!”—II </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> “Panem et Circenses”, Rome, 21 st April 1895. - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> Rome—Easter Day </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> JOHN TO JONATHAN </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - PREFACE - </h2> - <p> - Dear C——- So you want me to hunt up and edit all the “Vacuus - Viator” letters which my good old friends the editors of <i>The Spectator</i> - have been kind enough to print during their long and beneficent ownership - of that famous journal! But one who has passed the Psalmist’s “Age of - Man,” and is by no means enamoured of his own early lucubrations (so far - as he recollects them), must have more diligence and assurance than your - father to undertake such a task. But this I can do with pleasure-give them - to you to do whatever you like with them, so far as I have any property - in, or control over them. - </p> - <p> - How did they come to be written? Well, in those days we were young married - folk with a growing family, and income enough to keep a modest house and - pay our way, but none to spare for <i>menus plaisirs</i>, of which “globe - trotting” (as it is now called) in our holidays was our favourite. So, - casting about for the wherewithal to indulge our taste, the “happy - thought” came to send letters by the way to my friends at 1 Wellington - Street, if they could see their way to take them at the usual tariff for - articles. They agreed, and so helped us to indulge in our favourite - pastime, and the habit once contracted has lasted all these years. - </p> - <p> - How about the name? Well, I took it from the well-known line of Juvenal, - “Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator,” which may be freely rendered, “The - hard-up globe trotter will whistle at the highwayman”; and, I fancy, - selected it to remind ourselves cheerfully upon what slender help from the - Banking world we managed to trot cheerfully all across Europe. - </p> - <p> - I will add a family story connected with the name which greatly delighted - us at the time. One of the letters reached your grandmother when a small - boy-cousin of yours (since developed into a distinguished “dark blue” - athlete and M.A. Oxon.) was staying with her for his holidays. He had just - begun Latin, and was rather proud of his new lore, so your grandmother - asked him how he should construe “Vacuus Viator.” After serious thought - for a minute, and not without a modest blush, he replied, “I think, - granny, it means a wandering cow”! You must make my peace with the “M.A. - Oxon.” if he should ever discover that I have betrayed this early essay of - his in classical translation. - </p> - <p> - Your loving Father, - </p> - <h3> - THOS. HUGHES. - </h3> - <p> - October 1895. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - VACATION RAMBLES - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - EUROPE—1862 to 1866 - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Foreign parts, 14th August 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ear Mr. - Editor-There are few sweeter moments in the year than those in which one - is engaged in choosing the vacation hat. No other garment implies so much. - A vista of coming idleness floats through the brain as you stop before the - hatter’s at different points in your daily walk, and consider the last new - thing in wideawakes. Then there rises before the mind’s eye the imminent - bliss of emancipation from the regulation chimney-pot of Cockney England. - Two-thirds of all pleasure reside in anticipation and retrospect; and the - anticipation of the yearly exodus in a soft felt is amongst the least - alloyed of all lookings forward to the jaded man of business. By the way, - did it ever occur to you, sir, that herein lies the true answer to that - Sphinx riddle so often asked in vain, even of <i>Notes and Queries</i>: - What is the origin of the proverb “As mad as a hatter”? The inventor of - the present hat of civilisation was the typical hatter. There, I will not - charge you anything for the solution; but we are not to be for ever - oppressed by the results of this great insanity. Better times are in store - for us, or I mistake the signs of the times in the streets and shop - windows. Beards and chimney-pots cannot long co-exist. - </p> - <p> - I was very nearly beguiled this year by a fancy article which I saw in - several windows. The purchase would have been contrary to all my - principles, for the hat in question is a stiff one, with a low, round - crown. But its fascination consists in the system of ventilation—all - round the inside runs a row of open cells, which, in fact, keep the hat - away from the head, and let in so many currents of fresh air. You might - fill half the cells with cigars, and so save carrying a case and add to - the tastefulness of your hat at the same time, while you would get plenty - of air to keep your head cool through the remaining cells. - </p> - <p> - My principles, however, rallied in time, and I came away with a genuine - soft felt after all, with nothing but a small hole on each side for - ventilation. The soft felt is the only really catholic cover, equal to all - occasions, in which you can do anything; for instance, lie flat on your - back on sand or turf, and look straight up into the heavens—the - first thing the released Cockney rushes to do. Only once a year may it be - always all our lots to get a real taste of the true holiday feeling; to - drop down into some handy place, where no letter can find us; to look up - into the great sky, and over the laughing sea, and think about nothing; to - unstring the bow, and fairly say: “There shall no fight be got out of us - just now; so, old world, if you mean to go wrong, you may go and be - hanged!” To feel all the time that blessed assurance which does come home - to one at such times, and scarcely ever at any other, that our falling out - of the fight is not of the least consequence; that, whatever we may do, - the old world will not go wrong but right, and ever righter—not our - way, nor any other man’s way, but God’s way. A good deal of sneering and - snubbing has been wasted of late, sir (as you have had more occasion than - one to remark), on us poor folks, who will insist on holding what we find - in our Bibles; what has been so gloriously put in other language by the - great poet of our time:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That nothing walks with aimless feet; - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - That not one life shall be destroy’d, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Or cast as rubbish to the void, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - When God hath made the pile complete. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I suppose people who feel put out because we won’t believe that the - greatest part of creation is going to the bad can never in the nature of - things get hold of the true holiday feeling, so one is wasting time in - wishing it for them. However, I am getting into quite another line from - the one I meant to travel in; so shall leave speculating and push across - the Channel. There are several questions which might be suggested with - advantage to the Civil Service Examiner, to be put to the next Belgium - attachés who come before them. Why are Belgian hop-poles, on an average, - five or six feet longer than English? How does this extra length affect - the crops? The Belgians plant cabbages too, and other vegetables (even - potatoes I saw) between the rows of hops. Does it answer? All the English - hop-growers, I believe, scout the idea. I failed to discover what wood - their hop-poles are? One of my fellow-travellers, by way of being up to - everything, Informed me that they were grown in Belgium on purpose; a fact - which did not help me much. He couldn’t say exactly what wood it was. Then - a very large proportion of the female population of Belgium spends many - hours of the day, at this time of year, on its knees in the fields; and - this not only for weeding purposes, for I saw women and girls cutting the - aftermath and other light crops in this position. Certainly, they are thus - nearer their work, and save themselves stooping; but one has a sort of - prejudice against women going about the country on all fours, like - Nebuchadnezzar. Is it better for their health? Don’t they get housemaid’s - knees? But, above all, is it we or the Belgians who don’t, know in this - nineteenth century, how to make corn shocks? In every part of England I - have ever been in in harvest time, we just make up the sheaves and then - simply stand six or eight of them together, the ears upwards, and so make - our shock. But the Belgian makes his shock of four sheaves, ears upwards, - and then on the top of these places another sheaf upside down. This - crowning sheaf, which is tied near the bottom, is spread out over the - shock, to which it thus forms a sort of makeshift thatch. One of the two - methods must be radically wrong. Does this really keep the rain out, and - so prevent the ears from growing in damp weather? I should have thought it - would only have helped to hold the wet and increase the heat. If so, don’t - you think it is really almost a <i>casus belli?</i> Quin said to the - elderly gentleman in the coffee-house (after he had handed him the mustard - for the third time in vain), dashing his hand down on the table, “D——— - you, sir, you shall eat mustard with your ham!” and so we might say to the - Belgians if they are wrong, “You shall make your shocks properly.” Fancy - two highly civilised nations having gone on these thousand years side by - side, growing corn and eating bread without finding out which is the right - way to make corn shocks. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Bonn, 22nd August 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am sitting at a - table some forty feet long, from which most of the guests have retired. - The few left are smoking and talking gesticulatingly. I am drinking during - the intervals of writing to you, sir, a beverage composed of a half flask - of white wine, a bottle of seltzer water, and a lump of sugar (if you can - get one of ice to add it will improve the mixture). I take it for granted - that you despise the Rhine, like most Englishmen, but, sir, I submit that - a land where one can get the above potation for a fraction over what one - would pay for a pot of beer in England, and can, moreover, get the weather - which makes such a drink deliciously refreshing, is not to be lightly - thought of. But I am not going into a rhapsody on the Rhine, though I can - strongly recommend my drink to all economically disposed travellers. - </p> - <p> - All I hope to do, is, to gossip with you, as I move along; and as my road - lay up the Rhine, you must take that with the rest. - </p> - <p> - Our first halt on the river was at Bonn. A university town is always - interesting, and this one more than most other foreign ones, as the place - where Prince Albert’s education was begun, and where Bunsen ended his - life. I made an effort to get to his grave, which I was told was in a - cemetery near the town, but could not find it. I hope it will long remain - an object of interest to Englishmen after the generation who knew him has - passed away. There is no one to whom we have done more scanty justice, and - that unlucky and most unfair essay of W———‘s is the - crowning injustice of all. I am not going into his merits as a statesman, - theologian, or antiquary, which, indeed, I am wholly incompetent to - criticise. The only book of his I ever seriously tried to master, his <i>Church - of the Future</i>, entirely floored me. But the wonderful depth of his - sympathy and insight!—how he would listen to and counsel any man, - whether he were bent on discovering the exact shape of the buckle worn by - some tribe which disappeared before the Deluge, or upon regenerating the - world after the newest nineteenth century pattern, or anything between the - two—we may wait a long time before we see anything like it again in - a man of his position and learning. And what a place he filled in English - society! I believe fine ladies grumbled about “the sort of people” they - met at those great gatherings at Carlton Terrace, but they all went, and, - what was more to the purpose, all the foremost men and women of the day - went, and were seen and heard of hundreds of young men of all nations and - callings; and their wives, if they had any, were asked by Bunsen on the - most thoroughly catholic principles. And if any man or woman seemed ill at - ease, they would find him by their side in a minute, leading them into the - balcony, if the night were fine, and pointing out, as he specially loved - to do, the contrast of the views up Waterloo Place on the one hand, and - across the Green Park to the Abbey and the Houses, on the other, or in - some other way setting them at their ease again with a tact as wise and - subtle as his learning. But I am getting far from the Rhine, I see, and - the University of Bonn. Of course I studied the titles of the books - exposed for sale in the windows of the booksellers, and the result, as - regards English literature, was far from satisfactory. We were represented - in the shop of the Parker and Son of Bonn, by one vol. of Scott’s <i>Poems</i>; - the puff card of the London Society, with a Millais drawing of a young man - and woman thereupon, and nothing more; but, by way of compensation I - suppose, a book with a gaudy cover was put in a prominent place, and - titled <i>Tag und Nacht in London</i>, by Julius Rodenburg. There was a - double picture on the cover: above, a street scene, comprising an - elaborate equipage with two flunkeys behind, a hansom, figures of - Highlanders, girls, blind beggars, etc., and men carrying advertisements - of “Samuel Brothers,” and “Cremorne Gardens”; while in the lower - compartment was an underground scene of a policeman flashing his bull’s - eye on groups of crouching folks; altogether a loathsome kind of book for - one to find doing duty as the representative book of one’s country with - young Germany. I was a little consoled by seeing a randan named <i>The - Lorelei</i> lying by the bank, which, though not an outrigger, would not - have disgraced any building yard at Lambeth or at Oxford. Very likely it - came out of one of them, by the way. But let us hope it is the first step - towards the introduction of rowing at Bonn, and that in a few years Oxford - and Cambridge may make up crews to go and beat Bonn, and all the other - German Universities, and a New England crew from Cambridge, Massachusetts. - What a course that reach of the Rhine at Bonn would make! No boat’s length - to be gained by the toss for choice of sides, as at Henley or Putney; no - Berkshire or Middlesex shore to be paid for. A good eight-oar race would - teach young Germany more of young England than any amount of perusal of <i>Tag - und Nacht</i>, I take it. I confess myself to a strong sentimental feeling - about Rolandseck. The story of Roland the Brave is, after all, one of the - most touching of all human stories, though tourists who drop their H’s may - be hurrying under his tower every day in cheap steamers; and it is one of - a group of the most characteristic stories of the age of chivalry, all - having a connecting link at Roncesvalles. What other battle carries one - into three such groups of romance as this of Roland, the grim tragedy of - Bernard del Carpio and his dear father, and that of the peerless - Durandarté? When I was a boy there were ballads on all these subjects - which were very popular, but are nearly forgotten by this time. I used to - have great trouble to preserve a serene front, I know, whenever I heard - one of them well sung, especially that of “Durandarté” (by Monk Lewis), I - believe. Ay, and after the lapse of many years I scarcely know where to go - for the beau ideal of knighthood summed up in a few words better than to - that same ballad: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Kind in manners, fair in favour, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Mild in temper, fierce in fight,— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Warrior purer, gentler, braver, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Never shall behold the light. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But much as I prize Rolandseck for its memories of chivalric constancy and - tenderness, Mayence is my favourite place on the Rhine, as the birthplace - of Gutenburg, the adopted home, and centre of the work of our great - countryman, St. Boniface, and the most fully peopled and stirring town of - modern Rhineland. We had only an hour to spend there, so I sallied at once - into the town to search for Gutenburg’s house—the third time I have - started on the same errand, and with the same result. I didn’t find it. - But there it is; at least the guide-books say so. In vain did I - beseechingly appeal to German after German, man, woman, and maid, “Wo ist - das Haus von Gutenburg—das Haus wo Gutenburg wohnte?” I got either a - blank stare, convincing me of the annoying fact that not a word I said was - understood, or directions to the statue, which I knew as well as any of - them. At last I fell upon a young priest, and, accosting him in French, - got some light out of him. He offered to take me part of the way, and as - we walked side by side, suddenly turned to me with an air of pleased - astonishment, and said, “You admire Gutenburg, then?” To which I replied, - “Father!” Why, sir, how in the world should you and I, and thousands more - indifferent modern Englishmen, not to mention those of all other nations, - get our bread but for him and his pupil Caxton? However, the young priest - could only take me to within two streets, and then went on his way, - leaving me with express directions, in trying to follow which I fell - speedily upon a German fair. I am inclined to think that there are no boys - in Germany, and that, if there were, there would be nothing for them to - do; but for children there is no such place. This fair at Mayence was a - perfect little paradise for children. Think of our wretched - merry-go-rounds, sir, with nothing but some six or eight stupid - hobby-horses revolving on bare poles, and then imagine such - merry-go-rounds as those of Mayence fair. They look like large umbrella - tents ornamented with gay flags and facetious paintings outside, and hung - within, round the central post which supports the whole, with mirrors, - flags, bells, pictures, and bright coloured drapery. Half concealed by the - red or blue drapery, is the proprietor of the establishment, who grinds - famous tunes on a first-rate barrel organ when the merry-go-round is set - going, and keeps an eye on his juvenile fares. The whole is turned by a - pony or by machinery. Then, for mounts, the children have choice of some - thirty hobby-horses, or can ride on swans or dragons, richly caparisoned, - or in easy <i>vis-à-vis</i> seats. When the complement of youthful riders - is obtained, on a signal off goes the barrel organ and the pony and the - whole concern—pictures, looking-glasses, bells, drapery, and all - begin to revolve, with a fascinating jingling and emphasis! and at twice - the pace of any British merry—go-round I ever saw. It is very - comical to watch the gravity of the little <i>Deutsch</i> riders. They are - of all classes, from the highly dressed little <i>madchen</i>, down to the - ragged carter-boy, with a coil of rope over his shoulder, and no shoes, - riding a gilded swan, but all impressed with the solemnity of the - occasion. But here I am running on about fun of the fair, and missing - Gutenburg’s house, as I did in reality, finding in the midst of my staring - and grinning that I had only time to get to the boat; so with one look at - Gutenburg’s statue I went off. - </p> - <p> - The crops through all these glorious Rhine valleys right away up to - Heidelberg look splendid, particularly the herb pantagruelion, which is - more largely grown than when I was last here. Rope enough will be made - this year from hemp grown between Darmstadt and Heidelberg to hang all the - scoundrels in the world, and the honest men to boot; and the tobacco looks - magnificent. They were gathering the leaves as we passed. A half-picked - tobacco field, with the bare stumps at one end, and the rich-leaved plants - at the other, has a comically forlorn look. - </p> - <p> - Heidelberg I thought more beautiful than ever; and since I had been there - a very fine hotel, one of the best I have ever been in, has been built - close to the station, with a glass gallery 100 feet long, and more, - adjoining the “Speisesaal,” in which you may gastronomise to your heart’s - content, at the most moderate figure. Here we bid adieu to the Rhineland. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Munich, 29th August 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> bird’s-eye view - of any country must always be unsatisfactory. Still it is better than - nothing, and in the absence of a human view, one may be thankful for it. - My view of Wurtemberg was of the most bird’s-eye kind. The first thing - that strikes one is the absence of all fences except in the immediate - neighbourhood of towns. Even the railway has no fence, except for a few - yards where a road crosses the line, and here and there a hedge of acacia, - or barberry bushes (the berries were hanging red ripe on the latter), - which are very pretty, but would not in any place keep out a - seriously-minded cow or pig. - </p> - <p> - Wurtemberg is addicted to the cultivation of crops which minister to man’s - luxuries rather than to his necessities. The proportion of land under - fruit, poppies, tobacco, and hops, to that under corn, was very striking. - There was a splendid hemp crop here also. They were gathering the - poppy-heads, as we passed, into sacks. The women and girls both here and - in Bavaria seem to do three-fourths of the agricultural work; the harder, - such as reaping and mowing, as well as the lighter. The beds of peat are - magnificent, and very neatly managed. At first I thought we had entered - enormous black brick-fields, for the peat is cut into small brick-shaped - pieces, and stacked in rows, just as one sees in the best managed of our - brick-fields. As one nears Stuttgart the village churches begin to show - signs of the difference in longitude. Gothic spires and arches give place - to Eastern clock-towers, with tops like the cupolas of mosques, tinned - over, and glittering in the hot sun. I hear that it was a fancy of the - late Emperor Joseph to copy the old enemies of his country in - architecture; but that would not account for the prevalence of the habit - in his neighbour’s territory. I fancy one begins to feel the old - neighbourhood of the Turks in these parts. The houses are all roomy, and - there is no sign of poverty amongst the people. They have a fancy for - wearing no shoes and scant petticoats in many districts; but it is - evidently a matter of choice. Altogether, the whole fine, open, - well-wooded country, from Bruchsal to Munich, gives one the feeling that - an easy-going, well-to-do people inhabit and enjoy it. - </p> - <p> - As for Munich itself, it is a city which surprised me more pleasantly than - almost any one I ever remember to have entered. One had a sort of vague - notion that the late king had a taste for the fine arts, and spent a good - deal of his own and his subjects’ money in indulging the taste aforesaid - in his capital. But one also knew that he had been tyrannised over by Lola - Montes, and had made a countess of her—and had not succeeded in - weathering 1848; so that, on the whole, one had no great belief in any - good work from such a ruler. - </p> - <p> - Munich gives one a higher notion of the ex-king; as long as the city - stands, he will have left his mark on it. On every side there are - magnificent new streets, and public buildings and statues; the railway - terminus is the finest I have ever seen; every church, from the Cathedral - downwards, is in beautiful order, and highly decorated; and it is not only - in the public buildings that one meets with the evidences of care and - taste. The hotel in which we stayed, for instance, is built of brick, - covered with some sort of cement, which gives it the appearance of - terra-cotta, and is for colour the most fascinating building material. The - ceilings and cornices of the rooms are all carefully and tastefully - painted, and all about the town one sees frescoes and ornamentation of all - kinds, which show that the people delight in seeing their city look bright - and gay; and every one admits that all this is due to the ex-king Lewis. - But he has another claim on the gratitude of the good folk of Munich. The - Bavarians were given to beer above all other people, and the people of - Munich above all other Bavarians, long before he came to the throne; and - former kings, availing themselves of the national taste, had established a - “Hof-Breihaus,” where the monarch sold the national beverage to his - people. King Lewis found the character of the royal beer not what it - should be, and the rest of the metropolitan brewers were also falling away - into evil ways of adulterating and drugging. He reformed the - “Hof-Breihaus,” so that for many years nothing but the soundest possible - beer was brewed there, which is sold to the buyers and yet cheaper than in - any other house in Munich. The public taste has been thus so highly - educated that there is no selling unwholesome beer now. A young artist - took me to this celebrated tap. Unluckily it was a wet evening, so we had - to sit at one of the tables, under a long line of sheds, instead of in an - adjacent garden. There was a great crowd, some 300 or 400 imbibers jammed - together, of all ranks. At our table the company were the artist and - myself, a Middlesex magistrate, two privates, and a non-commissioned - officer, and a man whom I set down as a small farmer. My back rubbed - against a vociferous student, who was hobnobbing with all comers. There - were Tyrolese and other costumes about, one or two officers, and a motley - crowd of work people and other folk. The royal brew-house is in such good - repute that no trouble whatever is taken about anything but having enough - beer and a store of stone drinking-mugs, with tops to them forthcoming. - Cask after cask is brought out and tapped in the vaulted entrance to the - cellars, and a queue of expectant thirsty souls wait for their turn. I - only know as I drank it how heartily I wished that my poor overworked - brethren at home could see and taste the like. But it would not pay any of - our great brewers to devote themselves to the task of selling really - wholesome drink to the poor; and I fear the Prince of Wales is not likely - to come to the rescue. He might find easier jobs no doubt, but none that - would benefit the bodily health of his people more. The beer is so light - that it is scarcely possible to get drunk on it. Many of the frequenters - of the place sit there boosing for four or five hours daily, and the - chance visitors certainly do not spare the liquor; but I saw no approach - to drunkenness, except a good deal of loud talk. - </p> - <p> - The picture collections, which form, I believe, the great attraction of - Munich, disappointed me, especially the modern ones in the new Pinacothek, - collected by the ex-king, and to which he is constantly adding now that he - is living at his ease as a private gentleman. I daresay that they may be - very fine, but scarcely any of them bite; I like a picture with a tooth in - it—something which goes into you, and which you can never forget, - like the great picture of Nero walking over the burning ruins of Rome, or - the execution picture in the Spanish department, or the Christian slave - sleeping before the opening of the amphitheatre, or Judas coming on the - men making the cross, in the International Exhibition. I have read no art - criticism for years, so that I do not know whether I am not talking great - heresy. But, heresy or not, I am for the right of every man to his own - opinion in matters of art, and if an inferior painting gives me real - pleasure on account of its subject, I mean to enjoy it and praise it, all - the fine art critics in Christendom notwithstanding. The pictures of the - most famous places in Greece, made since the election of the Bavarian - Prince Otho to the throne of Greece, have a special interest of their own; - but apart from these and some half dozen others, I would far sooner spend - a day in our yearly exhibition than in the new Pinacothek. The colossal - bronze statue of Bavaria is the finest thing of the kind I have ever seen; - but the most interesting sight in Munich to an Englishman must be the - Church of St. Boniface, not the exquisite colouring proportions, or the - magnificent monolithic columns of gray marble, but the frescoes, which - tell the story of the saint from the time when he knelt and prayed by his - sick father’s bed to the bringing back of his martyred body to Mayence - Cathedral. The departure of St. Boniface from Netley Abbey for Rome, to be - consecrated Apostle to the Germans, struck me as the best of them; but, - altogether, they tell very vividly the whole history of the Englishman who - has trodden most nearly in St. Paul’s footsteps. We have reared plenty of - great statesmen, poets, philosophers, soldiers, but only this one great - missionary. Yet no nation in the world has more need of St. Bonifaces than - we just now. The field is ever widening, in India, China, Africa. We can - conquer and rule, and teach the heathen to make railways and trade, nut - don’t seem to be able to get at their hearts and consciences. One fears - almost that were a St. Boniface to come, we should only measure him by our - common tests, and probably pronounce him worthless, or a dangerous - enthusiast. But one day, when men’s work shall be tested by altogether - different tests from ours of the enlightened nineteenth century kind, it - will considerably surprise some of us to see how the order of merit will - come out. We shall be likely to have to ask concerning St. Boniface—whose - name is scarcely known to one Englishman in a hundred—and of others - like him in spirit, of whom none of us have ever heard, Who are these - countrymen of ours, and whence come they? And we shall hear the answer - which St. John heard: “Isti sunt qui venerunt ex magna tribulatione et - laverunt stolas suas in sanguine Agni.” I felt very grateful to Munich for - having appreciated the great Apostle to the Germans. - </p> - <p> - The one building in Munich which is quite unworthy of the use to which it - is put, is the English Church. The service is performed in a sort of dry - cellar, under the Odeon. We had a very small congregation, but it was very - pleasant to hear how they all joined in the responses. What a pity it is - that we are always ready to do it abroad, and shut up again as soon as we - get home. Even the singing prospered greatly, though we had no organ. But, - alas! sir, the Colonial Church Society have done their best to spoil this - part of our service abroad. They seem to have accepted from the editor as - a gift, the stereotyped plates of a hymn-book, copies of which were placed - about in the Munich church, and, I daresay, may be found all over the - Continent. The editor has thought it desirable to improve our classical - hymns. Conceive the following substitution for Bishop Ken’s “Let all thy - converse be sincere”— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - In conversation be sincere; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Make conscience as the noon-day clear: - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Think how th’ all-seeing God thy ways - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And all thy secret thoughts surveys. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This is only a fair specimen of the book. Surely the Colonial Church - Society had better hastily return the stereotype plates with thanks. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Tyrol, 2nd September 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ext to meeting an - old friend by accident, there is nothing more pleasant than coming in long - vacation on some flower or shrub which reminds one of former holiday - ramblings. In the Tyrol the other day we came suddenly on a bank in the - mountains gemmed over with the creamy white star of the daisy of - Parnassus, and it accompanied us, to our great delight, for 200 miles or - more, till we got fairly down into the plains again. The last time I had - seen it was on Snowdon years ago. When we got a little higher I pounced on - a beautiful little gentian, which I had never seen before except on the - Alps above Lenk, in Switzerland (the Hauen Moos the pass was called, or - some such name—how spelt, goodness knows), which I once crossed with - two dear friends on the most beautiful day I ever remember. - </p> - <p> - The flora of the Tyrol, at least that part of it which lies by the - roadside, seems to be much the same as ours. With the above exceptions, I - scarcely saw a flower which does not grow on half the hills in England; - but their size and colouring was often curiously different. The Michaelmas - daisy and ladies’ fingers, for instance, were much brighter and more - beautiful; on the other hand, there was the most tender tiny heartsease in - the world, and forget-me-nots, which were very plentiful here and there, - were quite unlike ours—delicate little creatures, of the palest blue - in the world, all the fleshiness and comfortable look, reminding one of - marriage settlements and suitable establishments, gone clean out of them. - In moving eastward with the happy earth you may easily get from Munich to - Strasburg in one day; but, if you do, you will miss one of the greatest - treats in the world, and that is a run through the Tyrol, which you may do - from Munich with comfort in a week. There is a little rail which runs you - down south or so to Homburg, on the edge of the mountain country, from - whence you may choose your conveyance, from post carriage down to Shanks’ - nag. If you follow my advice, whatever else you do you will take care to - see the Finstermunz Pass, than which nothing in the whole world can be - more beautiful. I rather wonder myself that the Tyrol has not drawn more - of our holiday folk, Alpine Club and all, from Switzerland. The Orteler - Spitz and the glaciers of his range are as fine, and I should think as - dangerous, as anything in the Swiss Alps—the lower Alps in the Tyrol - are quite equal to their western sisters; and there is a soft Italian - charm and richness about the look and climate of the southern valleys, - that about Botzen especially, which Switzerland has nothing to match. The - luxuriance of the maize crops (the common corn of the country) and of the - vines trained over trellis work in the Italian fashion, and of the great - gourds and vegetable marrows which roll their glorious leaves and flowers - and heavy fruit over the spare corners and slips of the platforms on which - the vineyards rest—the innumerable fruit-trees, pears, apples, - plums, peaches, and pomegranates all set in a framework of beautiful - wooded mountains, from which the course of the streams may be traced down - through all the richness of the valley by their torrent beds of tumbled - rock—. remind us vividly of the descriptions of the Promised Land in - the Old Testament. Then the contrast of the people to the Bavarians is as - great as that of the countries. The latter seem to live the easiest, - laziest life of all nations, in their rich low flats, which the women are - quite aide to cultivate, while the men drink beer and otherwise disport - themselves. But in the part of the Tyrol next Bavaria it is all grim - earnest: “Ernst is das Leben” must be their motto if they are to get in - their crops at all, and keep their little patches of valley and hanging - fields cultivated—and it does seem to be their motto. After passing - through the country one can quite understand how the peasantry came to - beat the regular troops of France and Bavaria time after time half a - century ago, and the memoirs of that holy war hang almost about every - rock. There is no mistake here about battle-fields, and no difficulty in - realising the scene: the march of columns along the gorges, the piles of - rock and tree above, with Tyrolean marksmen behind, the voices calling - across over the heads of the invaders “Shall we begin?” - </p> - <p> - “In the name of the Holy Trinity, cut all loose”; and then the crash and - confusion, the panic and despair, and the swoop of the mountaineers on the - remnant of their foes. A great part of the country must be exceedingly - poor, and yet only in the neighbourhood of two or three villages were we - asked for alms, and then only by small children, who had apparently been - demoralised by the passage of carriages. Except from one of these - children, a small boy who flirted his cap in my face, and made a - villainous grimace, when he got tired of running, and from the dogs, we - had no uncourteous look or word. The dogs, however, are abominable - mongrels, and there was scarcely one in the country which did not run - barking and snapping after us. The people seem to me very much pleasanter - to travel amongst than the Swiss. - </p> - <p> - I had expected to find them a people much given to the outward forms and - ceremonies of religion at any rate—every guide-book tells one thus - much; but I was not at all prepared for the extraordinary hold which their - Christianity had laid upon the whole external life of the country. You - can’t travel a mile in the Tyrol along any road without coming upon a - shrine—in general by the wayside, often in the middle of the fields. - I examined several hundreds of these; many of them little rough penthouses - of plank, some well-built tiny chapels. I wish I had kept an exact account - of the contents, but I am quite sure I am within the mark in saying that - nine out of ten contain simply a crucifix; of the rest, the great majority - contain figures or paintings of the Virgin or Child, and a few those of - some patron saint. All bore marks of watchful care; in many, garlands of - flowers or berries, or an ear or two of ripe maize, were hung round the - Figure on the cross. Then in every village in which we slept, bells began - ringing for matins at five or six, and in every ease the congregation - seemed to be very large in proportion to the population. I was told, and - believe, that in all the houses, even in the inns of most of these - villages, there is family worship every evening at a specified hour, - generally at seven. We met peasants walking along the road bare-headed, - and chanting mass. I came suddenly upon parish priests and poor women - praying before the crucifix by the wayside. The ostlers and stable-men - have the same habit as our own, of pasting or nailing up rude prints on - the stable-doors, and of all those which I examined while we were changing - horses, or where we stopped for food or rest, there was only one which was - not on a sacred subject. In short, to an Englishman accustomed to the - reserve of his own country on such subjects, the contrast is very - startling. If a Hindoo or any other intelligent heathen were dropped down - in any English country, he might travel for days without knowing whether - we have any religion at all; but, most assuredly, he could not do so in - the Tyrol. Now which is the best state of things? I believe Her Majesty - has no stauncher Protestant than I amongst her subjects, but I own that a - week in the Tyrol has made me reconsider a thing or two. Outwardly, in - short, the Tyroleans are the most religious people in Europe. Of course I - am no judge after a week’s tour whether their faith has gone as deep as it - has spread wide. You can only speak of the bridge as it carries you. Our - bills were the most reasonable I have ever met with, and I could not - detect a single attempt at imposition in the smallest particular. I went - into the fruit market at Meran, and, after buying some grapes, went on to - an old woman who was selling figs. She was wholly unable to understand my - speech, so, being in a hurry, I put a note for the magnificent sum of ten - kreutzer (or 3d. sterling) into her hand, making signs to her to put the - equivalent in figs into a small basket I was carrying. This she proceeded - to do, and when she had piled eight or ten figs on the grapes I turned to - go, but by vehement signs she detained me, till she had given me the full - tale, some three or four more. She was only a fair specimen of what I - found on all sides. The poor old soul had not mastered our legal axiom of - <i>caveat emptor</i>, but her trading morality had something attractive - about it. They may be educated in time into buying cheap and selling dear, - but as yet that great principle does not seem to have dawned on them. - </p> - <p> - There may be some danger of superstition in this setting up of crucifixes - and sacred prints by the wayside and on stable-doors, but, on the other - hand, the Figure on the cross, meeting one at every corner, is not - unlikely, I should think, to keep a poor man from the commonest vices to - which he is tempted in his daily life, if it does no more. He would - scarcely like to stagger by it drunk from the nearest pot-house. If - stable-boys are to have rough woodcuts on their doors, one of the - Crucifixion or of the <i>Mater Dolorosa</i> is likely to do them more good - than the winner of the Derby or Tom Sayers. - </p> - <p> - But my letter is getting too long for your columns, so I can only beg all - your readers to seize the first chance of visiting the Tyrol. I shall be - surprised if they do not come away with much the same impressions as I - have. It is a glad land, above all that I have ever seen—a land in - which a psalm of joy and thankfulness seems to be rising to heaven from - every mountain top and valley, and, mingled with and beneath it, the - solemn low note of a people “breathing thoughtful breath”—an - accompaniment without which there is no true joy possible in our world, - without which all attempt at it rings in the startled ear like the laugh - of a madman. Those words of the old middle-age hymn seemed to be singing - in my ears all through the Tyrol:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Fac me vere tecum flere, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Crucitixo condolere, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Donee ego vixcro. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I shall never find a country in which it will do one more good to travel. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Vienna, 10th September 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he stage - Englishman in foreign countries must be always an object of interest to - his countrymen. He is a decidedly popular institution in Germany, not the - least like the Dundreary type, or the sort of top-booted half fool, half - miscreant, one sees at a minor theatre in Paris. The latest Englishmen on - the boards of the summer theatres here are a Lord Mixpickl, and his man - Jack, but the most popular, and those which appear to be regarded in - fatherland as the real thing, are the Englishmen in a piece called “The - Four Sailors.” It opens with a yawning chorus. Four young Englishmen are - discovered sitting at a German watering-place, reading copies of the <i>Times</i> - and <i>Post</i>, and yawning fearfully. The chorus done, one says, “The - funds are at 84.” - </p> - <p> - “I bet you they are at 86,” says another, and on this point they become - lively. It appears by the talk which ensues, that they have come abroad - resolved on finding some romantic adventure before marrying, which they - are all desirous of doing. This they found impossible at home; hitherto - have not succeeded here; have only succeeded in trampling on the police - arrangements, and getting bored. They all imitate one another in speech - and action, saying “Yaas” in succession very slowly, and always looking at - one another deliberately before acting. Now the four sailors appear, who - are three romantic young women and their maid, disguised as sailors, under - the care of their aunt, a stout easy-going old lady, dressed as a - boatswain, and of lax habits In the matters of tobacco and drink. After - hornpipe dancing and other diversions, the young ladies settle to go and - bathe, and cross the stage where the Englishmen are carrying their - bathing-dresses. A cry is raised that their boat is upset; whereupon the - Englishmen look at one another. At last one gets up, takes off his coat, - folds it up, and puts it carefully on his chair, ditto with waistcoat and - hat, the others doing the same. They walk off in Indian file, and return - each with a half-drowned damsel across his shoulders. Having deposited - their burthens, they return to the front of the stage to dress, when one - suggests that they have never been introduced, upon which, after a pause, - and looking solemnly at each other and the audience, they ejaculate all - together, “Got dam!” They then take refuge in beer, silence, and pipes. At - last one says, “This is curious!” Three yaas’, and a pause. Another, “This - is an adventure!” Three yaas’, and a longer pause. At last, “Dat ist - romantisch!” propounds another. Tumultuous yaas’ break forth at this - discovery. The object of their journey is accomplished, they marry the - four sailors, and return to love and Britain. - </p> - <p> - The summer theatres are charming institutions, but somewhat casual. For - instance, while we were at Ischl, there were no performances because the - weather was too fine. Ischl itself is wonderfully attractive, and as he - has not the chance of getting a seaside watering-place, the Kaiser Konig - has shown much taste in the selection of Ischl. The Traun and Ischl, which - meet here, are both celebrated for beauty and trout (a young Englishman - was wading about and having capital sport while we were there). You get - fine views of glaciers from the hills which rise on all sides close to the - town, and the five valleys at the junction of which it lies are all finely - wooded and well worth exploring. The town is furnished with a - drinking-hall (but no gambling), baths, a casino, pretty promenades, and - Herzogs and other grand folk, with Hussar and other officers in plenty to - enliven them. You can dance every evening almost if you like, and gloves - are fabulously good, and only a florin a pair for men, or with two - buttons, for ladies, a florin and ten kreutzers; so, having regard to the - number which are now found necessary in London, it would almost pay young - persons to visit Ischl once a year to make their purchases. There is also - a specialty in the way of pretty old fashioned looking jewellery made and - sold here cheap, but the Passau pearls found in the great cockle-shells of - these parts are dear, though certainly very handsome. I must not forget - the rifle-range amongst the attractions of the place. I fell in with two - members of the Inns of Court, and we heard the well-known crack, and soon - hunted out the scene of operations. We found some Austrian gentlemen - practising at 100 yards at a target with a small black centre, within - which was a scarcely distinguishable bull’s-eye. When a centre is made the - marker comes out, bows, waves his arms twice, and utters two howls called - “yodels.” When the bull’s-eye is struck a shell explodes behind, the - Austrian eagle springs up above the target, and a Tyrolean, the size of - life, from each side—which performance so fascinated one of my - companions that he made interest with the shooters, who allowed him to use - one of their rifles. I rejoice to say that he did not disgrace the - distinguished corps to which he belongs. At his first shot he obtained the - bow and two howls from the marker, and at his fourth the explosion and - appearances above described followed, whereupon he wisely retired on his - laurels. - </p> - <p> - You proceed eastwards from Ischl, down the beautiful valley of the Traun - to Eben; see the great store-place for the salt and wood of the district. - The logs accompany you, in the river, all the way down; and it is amusing - to watch their different ways of floating. Such of them as are not stopped - in transit by the hooks of the inhabitants are collected by a boom - stretched across the head of the Gmünden Lake, on which you take boat at - Eben See. The skipper of the steamer is an Englishman, who has been there - for thirty years—a quiet matter-of-fact man, who collects his own - tickets, wears no uniform, and has a profound disbelief in the accuracy of - the information furnished to tourists in these parts by the natives. Long - absence from home has somewhat depressed him, but he lights up for a few - moments when he gets on his paddle-box and orders the steam to be put on - to charge the boom. But travellers should consult him if they want correct - information, and should not trust in “Bradshaw.” The lion of the - neighbourhood is the Traun Falls; and a station has been opened on the - railway to Lintz to facilitate the seeing of the falls, which station is - not even mentioned in the “Bradshaw” for August 1862. This is too bad. - </p> - <p> - I had considerable opportunities of seeing the state of the country in - Austria. The people are prosperous and independent to a degree which much - astonished me. They are almost all what we should call yeomanry, owning - from twenty to two hundred acres of land. Even the labourers, who work for - the great proprietors, own their own cottages and an acre or so of land - round; in fact, the Teutonic passion for owning land is so strong that, - unless a man can acquire some, he manages to emigrate. Since 1848 the - communes have stepped into the position of lords of the manors, and own - most of the woods and the game. The great proprietors pay them for the - right of sporting over their own lands. In faet, whatever may be the case - with the higher classes, the people here seem to have it much their own - way since 1848. We spent a Sunday afternoon in the palace gardens at - Schonbrunn, into which half the populace of Vienna, smoking vile-smelling - cigars, seemed to have poured in omnibuses and cabs, which stood before - the palace, and on foot. We (the people) occupied the whole of the - gardens, and a splendid military band played for our behoof. You reach the - gardens by passing under the palace, so that King People was everywhere, - and the Kaiser Konig, if he wants retirement, must stay in his private - rooms. A report spread that the Emperor and Empress were coming out, - whereupon King People, and we amongst them, swept into the lower part of - the palace, and right up to a private staircase, at the foot of which an - open carriage was standing. A few burly and well-behaved guardsmen - remonstrated good-humouredly, but with no effect. There we remained in - block, men, women, and children, the pipes and cigars were not - extinguished, and the smell was anything but imperial. Presently the - Emperor and Empress came down, and the carriage passed at a foot’s pace - through the saluting and pleased crowd. The Empress is the most - charming-looking royal personage I have ever seen, and seemed to think it - quite right that the people should occupy her house and grounds. Fancy - omnibuses driving into the Court-yard of Buckingham Palace, and John Bull - proceeding to occupy the private gardens! John himself would decidedly - think that the end of the world was come. The Constitution, too, seems to - work well from all I heard. The Court party has ceased almost to struggle - for power. It revenges itself, however, in social life. Society (so - called) is more exclusive in Vienna than anywhere else, and consists of - some 400 or 500 persons all told. Even the most distinguished soldiers and - statesmen have not the <i>entrée</i>. Benedek’s family is not in society, - nor Schmerling’s, though I hear his daughter is one of the prettiest and - most ladylike girls in Austria. All which is very silly, doubtless, but - the chief sufferers are the 400 inhabitants who drive in the Prater, and - go to the Leichtenstein and Schwartzenburg parties, and after all, if - aristocracies in the foolish sense are inevitable, an aristocracy of birth - is preferable to one of money, or, <i>me judice</i>, of intellect, seeing - that the latter gives itself at least as absurd airs, and is likely to be - much more mischievous. On the other hand, my Hungarian sympathies have - been somewhat shaken since visiting the country. I suppose the national - dress has something to say to it. An Englishman cannot swallow braided - coats, and tight coloured pants, and boots all at once, and the carriage - and airs of the men are offensive. I say this more on the judgment of - several of my country-women on this point than on my own, but from my own - observation I can say that Pesth, to a mere passer-by, has all the - appearances of the most immoral capital in the world. In the best shops, - in the best streets, there are photographs and engravings exhibited which, - with us, would speedily call Lord Campbell’s Act into operation. And the - Haymarket is in many respects moral in comparison with many parts of - Pesth. It is the only place in Europe where I have seen men going about - drunk before midday. In short, you will perceive that my inspection - inclines me to suspect that there may he more than one has been wont to - believe in the assertion, that the Constitution we hear so much of is - aristocratic and one which will give back old feudal privileges to a - conquering race and enable them to oppress Slaves, Croats, etc., as they - did before 1848. There is, everybody admits, a large discontented class in - Hungary, composed chiefly of the poor nobility (who have long ago spent - their compensation money), and professional men, especially advocates, but - it is strenuously maintained that the great mass of the people have been - far better off in all ways and more contented since 1849. I don’t pretend - to give you anything except the most apparently truthful evidence I can - pick up by the wayside, and the observations of my own eyes, and certainly - the latter have not been favourable to Hungary in any way, though they - look certainly very like a fighting race, these Magyars. The railroad from - Pesth to Basiash, where one embarks on the Danube, passes through enormous - flats, heavy for miles and miles with maize and other crops, and very - thinly peopled. It is a constant wonder where the people can come from to - reap and garner it all. The great fault of the country is the dust, which - is an abominable nuisance. Certainly the facilities for travelling are - getting to be all that can be wished in our time. A little more than - forty-eight hours will bring a man, who can stand night journeys, to - Vienna; after resting a night, eighteen hours more will bring him to - Basiash, where he will at once plunge into the old world of turbans and - veiled women, minarets and mosques; man and beast and bird, houses and - habits, all strange and new to him; and if the Danube fares were not - atrociously high, there are few things I would more earnestly recommend to - my holiday-making countrymen than a trip down that noblest, of European - rivers. Considering the present state of political matters, too, in the - world, he can hardly select a more interesting country. Certainly the - Eastern question gains wonderfully in interest when one has seen ever so - little of the lands and people about which the wisest heads of all the - wisest statesmen of our day are speculating and scheming—not very - wisely, I fear, at present. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Danube, 13th September 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Rhine may, - perhaps, fairly be compared with the Upper Danube, between Lintz and - Vienna, even between Vienna and Pesth. There is no great disparity so far, - either in the size of themselves or of the hills and plains through which - they run. The traveller’s tastes, artistic and historical, decide his - preference. The constant succession of ruined holds of the old oppressors - of the earth which he meets on the Rhine, are wanting on the Danube. It is - certainly a satisfaction to see such places thoroughly ruined—to - triumph over departed scoundrelism wherever one comes on its relics. As a - compensation, however, he will find on the Danube a huge building or two, - such as that of the Benedictine Monastery at Molk, or the Cathedral and - Palace of the Primate of Hungary at Gran, of living interest, and with - work still to do in the world. There is not much to choose between the - banks of the two streams in the matter of general historical interest, - though to me the long struggle between the Christian and the Moslem, the - footprints of which meet one on all sides, gives the Danube slightly the - advantage even in this respect. There are longer gaps of flat - uninteresting country on the eastern stream, no doubt, which may be set - off against the sameness and neatness of the perpetual vineyard on the - western; and on the Danube you get, now and then, a piece of real forest, - which you never see, so far as I remember, on the Rhine. - </p> - <p> - Below Belgrade, however, all comparison ceases. The Rhine is half the size - of its rival, and flows westward through the highest cultivation and - civilisation to the German Ocean, while the huge Danube rushes through the - Carpathians into a new world—an eastern people, living amidst - strange beasts and birds, in a country which is pretty much as Trajan left - it. You might as well compare Killiecrankie to the Brenner Pass, as any - thing on the Rhine to the Kazan, the defile by which the Danube struggles - through the western Carpathians. Here the river contracts in breadth from - more than a mile to between 200 and 300 yards; the depth is 170 feet. The - limestone rocks on both sides rise to near 2000 feet, coming sheer down to - the water in many places, clothed with forest wherever there is hold for - roots. Along the Servian side, on the face of the precipice, a few feet - above the stream, run the long line of sockets in which the beams were - fastened for the support of his covered road by Trajan’s legions. A tablet - and an inscription 1740 years old still bear, I believe, the great Roman’s - name, and a memorial of his Dacian campaign, though I cannot vouch for the - fact, as we shot by it at twenty miles an hour; but I could distinctly see - Roman letters. On the left bank the Austrians have carried a road by - blasting and masonry; and a cavern which was held for weeks by 400 men - against a Turkish army in 1692 commands the whole pass. - </p> - <p> - We had scarcely entered the defile when some eight or ten eagles appeared - sweeping slowly round over a spot in the hanging wood, where probably a - deer or goat was dying. I counted upwards of thirty before we left the - Kazan; several were so near the boat that you could plainly mark the - glossy barred plumage, and every turn of the body and tail as they steered - about upon those marvellous, motionless wings. One swooped to the water - almost within shot, but missed the fish, or whatever his intended prey - might be. A water ouzel or two were the only other living creatures which - appeared to draw our attention for a moment from the sway of the mighty - stream and the succession of the dizzy heights. Below the pass the stream - widens again. You lose something of the feeling of power in the mass of - water below you, though the superficial excitement of whirl, and rush, and - eddy, is much increased. Here, at Orsova, a small military town on the - frontier line between Hungary and Wallachia, we turned out into a - flat-bottomed steamer, with four tiny paddle-wheels, drawing only some - three feet of water, which was to carry us over the Iron Gates, as the - rapids are called; and beautifully the little duck fulfilled her task. The - English on board, three ladies and five men, had already fraternised; we - occupied the places in the bows. The deck was scarcely a yard above water, - and there were no bulwarks, only a strong rail to lean against. The rush - of the stream here beat any mill-race I have ever seen, and the little - steamer bounded along over the leaping, boiling water at the rate of a - fast train. Twice only she plunged a little, shipping just enough water to - cause some discomposure amongst the ladies’ dresses, and to wet our feet. - We shot past the wreck of a Turkish iron Steamer in the wildest part, - which had grounded on its way up to Belgrade with munitions of war. The - Servians had boarded and burnt her, and there she lay, and will lie, till - the race washes her to pieces, for there is nothing to be got out of her - now except the iron of her hull. Below the Iron Gate, a fine Austrian - steamer received us, and we moved statelily out into the stream on our - remaining thirty hours’ voyage. We had left the mountains, but were still - amongst respectable hills covered with forest, full of game, an engineer - officer who was on board told us, and plenty of wolves to be had in the - winter—too many, indeed, occasionally. A friend of his had knocked - up a little wooden shooting-box in these Wallachian forests—a rough - affair, with a living-room below, a bedroom above. He had found the wolves - so shy that he scarcely believed in them; however, to give the matter a - fair trial, he asked three or four friends to his box, bought a dead - horse, and roasted him outside. The speedy consequence was such a crowd of - wolves that he and his friends had to take refuge in the bedroom and fight - for their lives; as it was, the wolves were very near starving them out. - And now the river had widened again, and water-fowl could rest and feed on - the surface. - </p> - <p> - The hot evening, for hot enough it was, though cool in comparison of the - day, brought them out in flocks round the islands and over the shallows. I - was just feasting my eyes with the sight of wild swans, quite at their - ease in our neighbourhood, when three huge white birds came sailing past - with a flight almost as steady as the eagles we had seen in the Kazan. - “What are they?” I said eagerly to my companion, the engineer. “Pelicans,” - he answered, as coolly as if they had been water-hens. In another moment - they lighted on the water, and I saw their long bills and pouches. Fancy - the new sensation, sir! But on this part of the Danube there is no want of - new sensations. Our first stop at a Bulgarian village—or town, - perhaps, I should call it, for it boasted a tumble-down fort, with some - rude earthworks, and half a dozen minarets shot up from amongst its houses - and vineyards—may be reckoned amongst the chief of these. What can - be more utterly new to an Englishman than to come upon a crowd of poor - men, who have their daily bread to earn, half of whom are quietly asleep, - and the rest squatting or standing about, without offering, or thinking of - offering, to help when there is work to be done under their noses? One was - painfully reminded of the eager, timid anxiety to be allowed to carry - luggage for a penny or two which one meets with at home. Here one had - clearly got into the blissful realms where time is absolutely of no - account, and if you want a thing done, you can do it yourself. Our arrival - was evidently an event looked forward to in some sort, for there were - goods on the wharf waiting for us, and several of the natives had managed - to bring down great baskets full of grapes, by which they had seated - themselves. We were all consumed with desire for grapes, and headed by the - steward of the vessel, who supplies his table here, rushed ashore and fell - upon the baskets. It seemed to be a matter of perfect indifference to the - owners whether we took them or let them alone, or how many we took, or - whether we paid or not. The only distinct idea they had, was that they - would not take Austrian money. Our English emissary returned with six or - seven huge bunches for which he had given promise to pay two piastres to - somebody. The piastre was then (ten days ago) worth one penny, it is now - worth twopence—a strange country is Turkey. There were some - buffaloes lying in the water, with their great ears flopping, to move the - air a little, and keep off flies. A half-grown Turkish lad was squatted - near the head of one of them, over which he was scooping up the water with - his hands, the only human being in voluntary activity. His work was - thoroughly appreciated; I never saw a more perfect picture of enjoyment - than the buffalo who was getting this shower-bath. The costumes, of - course, are curious and striking to a stranger, but turbans and fezzes, - camel’s hair jackets, and loose cotton drawers,—even the absence of - these in many instances, and the substitute of copper-coloured flesh as a - common garb of the country—are after all only superficial - differences. It is the quiet immobility of the men which makes one feel at - once that they are a different race, and the complete absence of women in - the crowds. The cottages, in general, look like great mole-hills. They - look miserable enough, but I believe are well suited to the climate, being - sunk three or four feet in the ground, which keeps them cool in summer and - warm in winter. Our Crimean experience bears this out. The mud huts sunk - in the ground and thatched roughly were far more comfortable all weathers - than those sent out from England. The campaign between the Russians and - Turks at the beginning of the late war became much clearer to me as we - passed down the river. It must be a very difficult operation to invade - Bulgaria from the Principalities, for the southern bank commands the dead - flat of the Wallachian banks almost all the way down. The serious check - which the Russians got at Oltenitza was a great puzzle in England. We - could not make out how it happened. Omar Pasha seemed to have made a - monstrous blunder in throwing a single division across the river, and we - wondered at his luck in getting so well out of it. The fact is that it was - a real stroke of generalship. The Russian corps were about to cross at - points above and below. Omar’s cannon posted on the Bulgarian heights - completely commanded the opposite plain, where a considerable stream runs - into the Danube. This stream protected the left flank of the division - which crossed, and they threw up earth-works along their front and right. - The Russians recalled the corps which were about to cross, thinking to - annihilate them, and attacked under a plunging fire from the Turkish - artillery on the opposite bank, which, combined with that from the - earth-works, was unendurable, and they were repulsed with enormous loss. - It is by no means so easy, however, to understand why they did not take - Silistria. Here they had crossed, were in great force, and had no strong - position to attack. The famous work of Arab Tabia, the key of the position - which was so gallantly held by Butler and Nasmyth with a few hundred - Turkish soldiers under them, is nothing but a low mound, which you can - scarcely make out from the steamer. Why they should not have marched right - over it and into the town is a mystery. - </p> - <p> - The village of Tchernavoda where the steamer lands passengers for - Constantinople, consists of a very poor inn, some great warehouses for - corn, and some half-dozen Turkish cottages. An English company has made - the railroad across to Kustandjie, on the Black Sea, so that you escape - the long round by the mouths of the Danube. I fear it must be a very poor - speculation, but it is very convenient. The line runs through a chain of - lakes, by which it is often flooded. Once last winter the water came - nearly into the carriages. The train was, of course, stopped, and had to - remain in the water, which froze hard in the night. I believe the - passengers had to proceed over the ice. If any young Englishman who - combines the tastes of a sportsman and naturalist wants a field for his - energies, I can’t fancy a better one than these lakes. The birds swarm; - every sort of duck and sea-bird one had ever heard of, besides pelicans, - wild swans, bitterns, (the first I ever saw out of a museum) and herons, - and I know not what other fowl were there, especially a beautiful white - bird exactly like our heron, but snowy white. I saw two of these. I don’t - believe they were storks, at least not the common kind which I have seen. - </p> - <p> - We had been journeying past the scene of the late conferences, and of the - excitement which was so nearly breaking out into war a month or two back, - and had plenty of Servians and other interested persons on board; but, so - far as I could learn, everything is quieting down into its ordinary state—an - unsatisfactory one, no doubt, but not unlikely to drag on for some time - yet. Should the Servians and other discontented nationalities, however, - break out and come to be in need of a king, or other person of that kind, - just now, they may have the chance of getting two countrymen of ours to - fill such posts. We left them preparing to invade Servia on a shooting and - exploring expedition, armed with admirable guns, revolvers, and a powder - for the annihilation of insects. They were quite aware of the present - unsettled state of affairs, and prepared to avail themselves of anything - good which might turn up on their travels. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Constantinople, 34th September 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Eastern - question! It is very easy indeed to have distinct notions on the Eastern - question. I had once, not very long ago neither. Of course, like every - Englishman, I was for fighting, sooner than the Russians, or any other - European Power, should come to the Bosphorus without the leave of England, - and that as often as might be necessary, and quite apart from any - consideration as to the internal state of the country. But as for the - Turks, I as much thought that their time was about over in Europe as the - Czar Nicholas when he talked of the sick man to Sir Hamilton Seymour. They - were a worn-out horde, the degenerate remnant of a conquering race, who - were keeping down with the help of some of the Christian Powers, ourselves - notably amongst the number, Christian subjects—Bulgarians, Servians, - Greeks, and others—more numerous and better men than themselves. I - could never see why these same Christian subjects should not be allowed to - kick the Turks out of Europe if they could, or why we should take any - trouble to bolster them up. Perhaps I do not see yet why they should not - be allowed, if they can do it by themselves; but I am free to acknowledge - that the Eastern question, the nearer you get to it, and the more you look - into it, like many other political questions, gets more and more puzzling - and complicated and turns up quite a new side to you. A week or two on the - Bosphorus spent in looking about one, and sucking the brains of men of all - nations who have had any experience of this remarkable country, make one - see that there is a good deal to be said for wishing well to the Turks, - notwithstanding their false creed and bad practices. I hear here the most - wonderfully contradictory evidence about these Turks. They have one - quality of a ruling nation assuredly in perfection—the power of - getting themselves heartily hated. But so far as I could test them, the - common statements as to their dishonesty and corruption are vague and - general if you try to sift them, and I find that even those who abuse them - are apt in practice to prefer them to Creeks, Armenians, or any other of - the subject people in these parts. On the other hand, you certainly do - hear much of the honesty of the lower classes of the Turks. For instance, - it seems that contracts are scarcely ever made here in writing, and in - actions of debt if a Turk will appear and swear that he was never - indebted, the case is at an end, and he walks out of court a free man. - Admiral Slade, amongst his other functions, is judge of a court which is a - sort of mixture of an Admiralty and County Court, in which he tries very - many actions of debt in the year. After an experience of nearly three - years he told my informant that he had had only two cases in which a - defendant had adopted this summary method of getting out of his - difficulties. Again in the huge maze of bazaars in Stamboul there is a - quarter, some sixty yards square, at least, I should say, which is <i>par - excellence</i> the Turkish bazaar. The Jews, Armenians, and Greeks, who - far out-number the Turks in the other quarters of the bazaars, have no - place here; or if an Armenian or two creep in, it is only on sufferance. - The Turks are a very early nation, and not given to overwork themselves, - and this bazaar of theirs is shut at twelve o’clock every day, or soon - afterwards, and left in charge of one man. I passed through it one day - when many of the shops were closing. The process consisted of just - sweeping the smaller articles into a sort of closet which each merchant - has at the back of the divan on which he sits, and leaving the heavier - articles (such as old inlaid firelocks, swords, large china vases, and the - like) where they were, hanging or standing outside. Most of the - merchandise, I quite admit, is old rubbish; still there are many articles - of considerable value and very portable, and certainly every possible - temptation to robbery is given both to those who shut up latest and to the - man who is left in charge of all this property, and yet a theft of the - smallest article is unheard of. In this very bazaar I saw an instance of - honesty which struck me much. The custom of trade here is, as every one - knows, that the vendor asks twice or three times as much as he will take, - and you have to beat him down to a fair price. I accompanied a lady who - had to make some purchases. After a hard struggle, she succeeded in - getting what she wanted at her own price; but her adversary evidently felt - aggrieved, and declared that he should be a loser by the transaction. She - cast up the total in her head, paid the money; her <i>cavass</i> (as they - call the substitutes for footmen here, who accompany ladies about the - streets with scimitars by their sides, and sticks in their hands, to - belabour the Jews and Greeks with who get in the way) had taken up the - things, and we had left the shop, when the aggrieved merchant came out, - called us back, explained to her that she had made a wrong calculation by - ten francs or so, and refunded the difference. I was much surprised. The - whole process was so like an attempt to cheat that it seemed very odd that - the man who habitually practised it should yet scruple to take advantage - of such a slip as this. But my companion, who knows the bazaars well, - assured me that it was always the case. A Turk does not care what he asks - you, often loses impatient customers by asking fabulously absurd prices, - but the moment he has made his bargain is scrupulously exact in keeping to - it, and will not take advantage of a farthing in changing your foreign - money, or of your ignorance of the value of his currency. This was her - experience. I might multiply instances of Turkish honesty if it were of - any use, but have been unable to collect a single instance of the like - virtue on the part of Greeks or Armenians. Every man’s word seems against - them, though their sharpness in trade and cleverness and activity in other - ways are admitted on all hands. I found that every one whose judgment I - could at all depend on, however much he might dislike the Turks, preferred - them to any other of the people of the country whenever there was any - question of trust. So, on the whole, notwithstanding their idleness, their - hatred of novelties and love of backsheesh, their false worship and - bigotry, and the evils which this false worship brings in its train, I - must say that the immense preponderance of oral evidence is in their - favour, as decidedly the most upright and respectable of the races who - inhabit Turkey in Europe. One does not put much faith in one’s own eyes in - a question of this kind, but, taking them for what they are worth, mine - certainly led me to the same conclusion. The Turkish boatmen, porters, - shopmen, contrast very favourably with their Greek and other rivals. - </p> - <p> - In short, they look particularly like honest self-respecting men, which - the others emphatically do not. - </p> - <p> - If this be true, and so long as it continues to be true, I for one am for - keeping the Turks where they are. And this does not involve any - intervention on our parts. They are quite able to hold their own if no - foreign power interferes with them, and all we have to do is to see that - they are fairly let alone, which is not the case at present. For the - present Government of Fuad Pasha is the best and strongest Turkey has seen - for many a year. Fuad’s doings in Syria led one to expect considerable - things of him, for few living statesmen have successfully solved such a - problem as putting down the disturbances there, avenging the Damascus - massacre, quieting the religious excitement, and getting the French out of - the country. All this, however, he managed with great firmness and skill, - and since he has been Prime Minister he has given proofs of ability in - another direction equally important for the future of his country. Turkish - finance was in a deplorable state when he came into power. I don’t suppose - that it is in a very sound condition now, but at any rate the first, and a - very important, step has been successfully made. Until within the last few - months the paper currency here, called <i>caimé</i>, has been the curse of - the country. There were somewhere about five million sterling’s worth of - small notes, for sums from ten piastres (2s.) to fifty piastres in - circulation. The value of these notes was constantly fluctuating, often - varying thirty or forty per cent in a few days. The whole of these notes - have been called in by the present Government and exchanged for small - silver coin within the last two months, so that now the value of the - piastre in Turkey is fixed. A greater blessing to the country can scarcely - be conceived, and the manner in which the conversion has been effected has - been most masterly. The English loan, no doubt, has enabled Fuad to do - this, and he has had Lord Hobart at his elbow to advise and assist him in - the operation. But, making all proper drawbacks, a very large balance of - credit is due to the Turkish Government, as will appear when the English - Commissioner’s Report appears in due course, the contents of which I have - neither the knowledge nor the wish to anticipate. The settlement, for the - present, at least, of the Servian and Montenegrin difficulties are further - proofs, it seems to me, of the vigour and ability of the present - Government. But still, giving the Turkish statesmen now in power full - credit for all they have done, one cannot help feeling that this Eastern - question is full of the most enormous difficulties, is, in short, about - the most complicated of all the restless, importunate, ill-mannered - questions that are crying out “Come, solve me,” in this troublesome old - continent of ours. - </p> - <p> - For it hardly needs a voyage to the East to convince any man who cares - about such matters that this Turkish Empire is in a state of solution. If - one did want convincing on the point, a few days here would be enough to - do it. Let him spend a few hours as I did last week at the Sweet Waters of - Asia on a Turkish Sunday (Friday), and he will scarcely want further - proof. The Sweet Waters of Asia are those of a muddy little rivulet, which - flow into the sparkling Bosphorus some four miles above Constantinople. - Along the side of this stream, at its junction with the Bosphorus, is a - small level plain, which has been for I know not how long the resort of - the Turkish women. Here they come once a week on their Sundays, to look at - the hills and the Bosphorus without the interference of blinds and - jalousies, and at some other human beings besides the slaves and other - inmates of their own harems. You arrive there in a caique, and find - yourself at a jump plump in the middle of the Arabian Nights’ - Entertainments. The Sultan has built a superb kiosk (summer-house) here, - with a façade and balustrade of beautiful white marble, one hundred yards - long, fronting the Bosphorus. (They tell me, by the way, that the whole - kiosk is of the same white marble, and so it may be, but, at any rate, if - it be, it is most superfluously covered with yellow stucco.) Outside the - enclosure of his kiosk, at the Bosphorus end of the little plain, and some - fifty yards from the shore, is a fine square marble fountain, with texts - from the Koran in green and gold upon it, and steps all round. A few - plane-trees give a little shade round it. On all the steps of the - fountain, along the kiosk garden wall, under the plane-trees, and out on - the turf of the valley, are seated Turkish women of every rank, from the - Grand Vizier’s wife and family, on superbly embroidered cushions and - carpets, and cloaked in the most fascinating purple and pink silks, down - to poor men’s wives, in faded stuffs, on old scraps of drugget which a - rag-collector would scarcely pick out of the gutter. Others of the veiled - women are driving slowly round the little plain in the strangest - carriages, just like Cinderella’s coach in the children’s books, or in - arabas drawn by two oxen, and ornamented with silk or cotton hangings. - Here the poor women sit, or drive, or walk for an hour or two, and smoke - cigarettes, and eat fruit and sweetmeats, and drink coffee, which viands - are brought with them or supplied by itinerant dealers on the ground. So - far, the scene is just what it might have been in the days of Haroun - Alraschid, and the black eunuchs standing about or walking by the - carriages seem to warn off all contact with the outer world. But what is - the fact? There were English and French ladies sitting on the carpets of - the Grand Vizier’s wife and talking with her. There were men and women of - all nations walking about or sitting close by the veiled groups, and - plenty of Turkish men looking on, or themselves talking to unbelievers, - and seeming to think that it was all quite natural. It is impossible in a - few words to convey the impression of utter incongruity which this and - other scenes of the same kind give one. Islamism and Frankism—Western - civilisation, or whatever you like to call it,—I dare not call it - Christianity,—are no longer at arm’s length. They are fairly being - stirred up together. What will come of it? At a splendid garden <i>fête</i>, - given by a great Pasha in the spring, amongst other novelties dancing was - perpetrated. The Pasha is a Turk of advanced ideas. His wife (he has only - one) and the other women of his household were allowed to look on from the - harem windows. “In two years they will be down here, in five they will be - dancing, and in ten they will wear crinolines,” said an Englishman to one - of the French Embassy with whom he was walking. “Et alors l’empire serait - sauvé,” replied the Frenchman. Not exactly so, perhaps, but still the - speakers were touching the heart of the Eastern question. The harem or the - Turks will have to go down in Europe in the next few years. But as this - letter is already too long, I hope you will let me say what I have to say - on the subject in my next. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Constantinople, 30th September 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>mongst the many - awkward facts which the Turks in Europe have to look in the face and deal - with speedily, there is one which seems specially threatening. They have - no class of educated men. “Some remedy <i>must</i> be found for this,” say - their friends; “things cannot go on as they are. The body of your people - may be, we believe they are, sound and honest as times go, superior indeed - in all essentials to the other races who are mixed up with them, but this - will not avail you much longer.” Steamboats, telegraphs, railways, have - invaded Turkey already. The great tide of modern material civilisation is - flooding in upon the East, with its restless, unmanageable eddies and - waves, which have sapped, and are sapping, the foundations, and - overwhelming the roof trees, of stronger political edifices than that of - the Sublime Porte. If you Turks cannot control and manage the tide, it - will very soon drown you. Now where are your men to do this? You have just - now Fuad Pasha, and three or four other able men, and reasonably honest, - who understand their time, and are guiding your affairs well. Besides them - you have a few dozen men—we can count them on our fingers—who - have educated themselves decently, and who may possibly prove fit for the - highest places. But that is doubtful, and for all minor offices, - executive, administrative, judicial, you have no competent men at all. The - places are abominably filled, and for one Turk who is able to fill them - even thus badly you have to employ ten foreigners, generally renegades. - This is what Turkish patriots have to look to. You <i>must</i> find a - class of men capable of dealing with this modern deluge, or you will have - to move out of Europe, all we can say or do to the contrary - notwithstanding. - </p> - <p> - All very true, say the enemies of the Turks. The facts are patent enough, - but the remedy! That is all moonshine. You <i>cannot</i> have an educated - class of Turks, and you cannot stop the deluge; so you had better stand - back and let it sweep over them as soon as may be, and look out for - something to follow. - </p> - <p> - I believe that this dispute does touch the very heart of the Eastern - question, for it goes to the root of their social life; and the answer to - it must depend, in great part, upon the future of their “peculiar - institution”—the harem. For, alas the day! the harem is the place of - education for Turkish boys of the upper classes. And how can it be helped? - The boys must be with the women for the first years of their lives, and - the women must be in the harems. We need not believe all the stories which - are current about the abominations of these places. It is quite likely - that the number of child-murders and other atrocities, which one hears of - on all sides, may be exaggerated. But where there is a part of every rich - man’s house into which the police cannot enter, which is to all intents - beyond the reach of the law—in which the inmates, all of one sex, - are confined, with no connection with the outer world, and no occupations - or interests whatever except food and dress (they are not even allowed to - attend mosque)—one can hardly be startled by anything which one may - be told of what is done in them; and it is impossible to conceive a more - utterly enervating and demoralising place for a boy to be brought up in. - There is nothing in Turkey answering to the great schools, colleges, and - universities of Western Europe. There is no healthy home life to - substitute for them. The harem is the place of education, and, with very - rare exception, the boys come out of its atmosphere utterly unfitted for - any useful active life. - </p> - <p> - This is the great difficulty of the Turks in Europe. If they could break - the neck of it the others need not frighten them; and so the best of them - feel, and are doing something towards meeting the difficulty. Many Turks - are setting the example of taking only one wife, and of living with her in - their own houses as the men of Christian nations do. A few have done away - with the separate system, so far as they themselves are concerned, and - their harems are so only in name. They encourage foreign ladies to call on - their wives, and would gladly go further. Some of them have even tried - taking their wives with them into public; but this has been premature. The - nation will not stand it yet. The women themselves object. The few who - feel the degradation of their present lives, and are anxious to help their - husbands in getting rid of it, are looked upon with so much suspicion that - they dare not move on so fast. Honest female conservatism has taken - fright, and combines with vice, sloth, and jealousy, to keep things as - they are. However, the women will come round fast enough if the men are - only in earnest. They get all their outer-world notions from the men, and - as soon as the men will say, “We wish you to live with us as the Giaours’ - wives live with them,” the thing will be done. - </p> - <p> - I may say, then, from what I have myself seen and heard, that a serious - attempt is being made by the Turks—few in number, certainly, at - present, but strong in position and character—to break the chain of - their old customs, especially this of the harem, and to conform outwardly - to Western habits and manners. This is being done mainly for political - reasons, and if nothing more enters into the movement will probably fail; - for, in spite of the great changes which have taken place in Turkey in - Europe of late years, there is a tremendous power of passive resistance - and hatred of all change amongst the people, which no motives of - expediency will be able to break through. It will take something deeper - than political expediency to do that. Is there the sign of any such power - above the horizon? - </p> - <p> - Well, sir, of course my opinion is worth very little. A fortnight’s - residence in a country, whatever opportunities one may have had, and - however one may have tried and desired to use them, cannot be of much use - in judging questions of this kind. Take my impressions, then, for what - they are worth, at any rate they are honest, and the result of the best - observation of a deeply interested spectator. Islamism as a religious - faith is all but gone in Turkey in Europe. Up to 1856 the Turks were still - a dominant and persecuting race, and Islamism a persecuting creed. Since - the Hatti humayoun, which was, perhaps, the most important result of the - Crimean war, there has been nominally absolute religious toleration—actually - something very nearly approaching to it—in Turkey in Europe. - Islamism was spread by the sword, and the consequence of this method of - propagation was that large layers of the population were only nominally - converted. These have never since been either Moslem or Christians but a - bad mixture of the two. Since 1856 this has become more and more apparent. - I will only mention one fact bearing on the point, though I heard many. An - American missionary traveller in a part of Roumelia not very far from - Constantinople found the people, though nominally Turks, yet with many - Christian practices and traditions, to which they were much attached, but - which they had till lately kept secret. They did not seem inclined to make - any further profession of Christianity, or to give up their Moslem - profession, but were anxious that he should read the Bible to them. They - had not heard it for generations, but had preserved the tradition of it. - He did so; and afterwards parties of them would come to the Bosphorus to - his house to hear him read, and, I believe, do so still. It is a curious - story to hear of bodies of men sitting to hear the old Book read, and - weeping and going away. It takes one back to the finding of the Book of - the Law in Josiah’s day. Amongst the Turks proper there is only one - article of Islamism which is held with any strength, and that is the - hatred of any approach to image worship. In this they are fanatics still. - Thirty years ago the then Sultan nearly caused a revolution by having his - likeness put on coin. The issue was called in, and to this day there is - nothing but a cipher on the piastres and other Turkish coin. The rest of - their faith sits very lightly on them, and is much more of a political - than a religious garment. There is a strong feeling of patriotism amongst - the people (though it, and all else that is noble, seems to have died out - amongst the insignificant upper class, if one may speak of such a thing - here)—a patriotism of race more than of country; and it is this, and - not their faith, which is holding the present state of things together. - </p> - <p> - Now, I am not going to tell you, sir, that the Turks in Europe are about - to be converted to Christianity. I only say that Islamism is all but dead - on our continent; that the most able and far-seeing of the Turks see and - feel this more and more every day themselves; that they are themselves - adopting, and are trying to introduce, practices and habits which are - utterly inconsistent with their old creed; that they have, in fact, - already virtually abandoned it. “We must have a civilisation,” the best - men amongst them say; “but what we want is a Turkish civilisation, and not - a French, or Russian, or English civilisation.” Yes; but on what terms is - such a civilisation possible for you? Well, sir, I am old-fashioned enough - to believe myself that the Christian faith is the only possible civiliser - of mankind. The only civilisation which has reached the East—the - outside civilisation of steam, gas, and the like—will do nothing but - destroy, unless you have something stronger to graft it upon. What is the - good of sending messages half round the world in a few seconds, if the - messages are lies; of carrying cowards and scoundrels about at the rate of - fifty-miles an hour; of forging instruments of fearful power for the hands - of the oppressors of the earth? Not much will come of this kind of - civilisation alone for any nation; and, as for these poor Turks, it is - powerful enough to blow them up altogether, and that is all it will do for - them. - </p> - <p> - When one stands in Great Sophia, and sees the defaced crosses, and the - names of Mahomet and his successors, on huge ugly green sign-boards, - hanging in the most prominent places of the noblest church of the East, it - is difficult not to feel something of the Crusading spirit. But, if the - Turks were swept out of Europe to-morrow, I doubt whether it would not be - a misfortune for the world. We should not only be expelling the best race - of the country, but they would retire into Asia sullen and resentful, - hating the West and its faith more than ever. Islamism would gain new life - from the reaction which would take place; for the Turks will not go - without making a strong fight, and Turkey in Europe would be left to a - riff-raff of nominal Christians, with more than all the vices and none of - the redeeming virtues of their late masters. It would be a far higher and - nobler triumph for Christendom to see the Turks restoring the crosses and - taking down the sign-boards. That sooner or later they will become - Christians I have no sort of doubt whatever, after seeing them; for they - are too strong a race to disappear. No nation can go on long without a - faith, and there is none other for them to turn to. Modern Greeks may - regret their old Paganism—here they say seriously that many of them - openly avow it; but for a Turk who finds Islamism crumble away beneath - him, it must be Christianity or nothing. The greatest obstacle to the - conversion of Turkey will be the degradation of the subject Christian - races. It is, no doubt, a tremendous obstacle, but there have been - tremendous obstacles before now which have been cleared by weaker people. - </p> - <p> - I daresay I shall seem lunatic to you, sir, though I know it will not be - because you think the Christian faith is itself pretty well used up, and - ought to be thinking of getting itself carried out and buried decently, - instead of making new conquests. But if you had been living for a - fortnight on the Bosphorus, you could not help wishing well to the old - Turks any more than I, and I don’t believe you, any more than I, could by - any ingenuity find out what good to wish them, except speedy conversion. - With that all reforms will follow rapidly enough. - </p> - <p> - If you are not thoroughly outraged by these later productions of mine I - will promise to avoid the Eastern question proper, and will try to give - you something more amusing next week. Meanwhile, believe me ever - faithfully yours. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Athens, 1st October 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am afraid, to - judge by my own café, it is quite impossible to give anything like a true - idea of Constantinople to those who have never been there; at any rate it - would require a volume and not two columns to do it, but I can’t help - trying to impart some of my own impressions to your readers. Miles away in - the Sea of Marmora you first catch sight of the domes and minarets (like - huge wax candles with graceful black extinguishers on them) of the capital - of the East. As you near the mouth of the Bosphorus, on the European side - lies the Seraglio Point with its palaces, Sublime Porte, and public - offices and gardens full of noble cypresses. On the Asiatic side lies - Scutari, the great hospital, with the English cemetery and Marochetti’s - monument in front of it, occupying the highest and most conspicuous point. - Midway between the two shores is a rock called Leander’s rock, on which is - a picturesque little lighthouse. Passing this you turn short to the left - round Seraglio Point, and open at once the view of the whole city. The - Golden Horn runs right away in front of you, and on the promontory between - it and the Sea of Marmora lies the old town of Stamboul, crowned with the - mosques of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmet. A curious old wooden bridge, some - five hundred yards in length, crosses the Golden Horn and connects it with - Galata, a mass of custom-houses, barracks and offices, broken by a - handsome open square, at one end of which is the Sultan’s mosque. Behind - these the houses are piled up the steep hill side, and at the top stands - the striking old tower of Galata, from which you get the finest view of - Constantinople. Beyond comes Pera, the European quarter, where are the - Embassies and Missouri’s Hotel. Of course a vast city lining such a - harbour and strait as the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus must be beautiful, - but there is something very peculiar in the beauty of Constantinople, - which the splendid site alone will not account for. I tried hard to - satisfy myself what it was, and believe that it lies in the wonderful - colouring of the place. The mosques are splendid, but not so fine as many - Gothic churches, and the houses in general are far inferior to those of - most other capitals; and yet, seen in the mass, they are strikingly - beautiful, for those which are not of wood are almost all covered with - boarding, which is stained or painted in many different colours. Many of - them are a deep russet brown, others slate gray, or blue, or deep yellow, - some pale green with the windows picked out in red. The colours are not - fresh, but toned down. Then very many of the houses have court-yards, or - small gardens, and you get the fresh foliage of orange-trees, and figs, - and cypresses, as a further contrast, and for flooring and ceiling the - blue of the Bosphorus water and of the cloudless Eastern sky. The moment - you get into the wretched, narrow, unpaved streets, the charm goes; but - while you keep to the great high street of the Bosphorus, I don’t believe - there is any such treat in the world for the lover of colour. And the - shape of the houses, too, is picturesque: as a rule they have flat roofs - and deep overhanging eaves, and rows of many windows with open Venetian - shutters. As we have no time to spare, we will not attempt the town, but - stick to the high street. - </p> - <p> - There are three accepted ways of passing up and down the Bosphorus. There - is the common market-boat of the country—a huge, lumbering, - fiat-bottomed affair, about the size of a Thames lighter, but with high - bows and stern. It is propelled by six or eight boatmen, each pulling a - huge oar some eighteen feet long. They pull a long, steady stroke, each - man stepping up on to the thwart in front of him at the beginning of his - stroke, and throwing himself back till his weight has dragged his oar - through, and he finds himself back on his own seat, from which he at once - springs up and steps forward again for a fresh stroke. It must be splendid - training exercise, and they make a steady four miles an hour against the - stream;—no bad pace, for the boats are loaded with fruit-baskets and - packages and passengers—the veiled women sitting in a group apart in - the stern. Then there are the steamers, which ply every hour up and down, - the express boats touching at one or two principal piers, and doing the - twelve miles from the bridge at Stamboul to Bajukdere in an hour and a - quarter, the others stopping at every pier, and taking two hours or more. - They are Government boats, for passengers only, and the fares are somewhat - higher than those of our Thames steamers. They have a long glazed cabin on - the after-deck for the first-class male passengers, and a small portion - screened off further aft, where the veiled women are crowded together. - Until lately, all women were accustomed to travel behind this screen, but - the unveiled are beginning to break the rule, and to intrude into the - cabin of the lords of creation. You see the Turks lift their eyebrows - slightly as women in crinoline squeeze by them and take their seats, but - it is too late for any further demonstration. An awning is spread over the - whole deck, cabin and all, and under it the passengers, who are too late - to get seats in the cabin, sit about on small low stools. Such a <i>colluvies - gentium</i> and Babel of tongues no man can see or hear anywhere else I - should think. By your side, perhaps, sits a scrupulously clean old Turk, - with his legs tucked up under him and his slippers on the floor beneath. - He has the vacant hopeless look of an opium-eater, and you see him take - out his little box from his belt, and feel with nervous fingers how large - a pellet he may venture on in consideration of the bad company he is in. - On the other side an English sailor boy, delighted to be able to talk - broad Durham to somebody, is telling you how he has been down to the - bazaars and has bought a “hooble booble,” and a bottle of attar of roses - for the folk at home, and speculating how they would give £5, he knows, at - Sunderland, to see one of those women who look as if they were done up in - grave-clothes. Opposite you have a couple of silky-haired Persians, with - their long soft eyes and clear olive skins, high head-dresses and sombre - robes, and all about a motley crowd of Turks, Circassians, and Greeks, - Europeans with muslin round their wideawakes, Maltese, English, and French - skippers, soldiers in coarse zouave and other uniforms, most of them - smoking, and the waiters (Italians generally), edging about amongst them - all with little brazen coffee-trays. An artist wishing to draw the heads - of all nations could find no richer field, and in the pursuit of his art - would not of course object to the crush and heat and odour; but as we are - more bent on comfort, we will go up the Bosphorus in the third conveyance - indicated above, a caique—and a more fascinating one can scarcely be - conceived. You may have your caique of any size, from one pair of sculls - up to the splendid twelve-oared state affairs of ambassadors and pashas; - but that with three caiquejees or rowers seems to be the most in use - amongst the rich folk, so we can scarcely do wrong in selecting it. - </p> - <p> - Our three-manned caique shall belong to an English merchant, the happy - owner of a summer villa at Therapia or Bajukdere. He shall be waiting for - us, and shall board the steamer as it drops anchor opposite Seraglio - Point. While our portmanteau is being fished up from the hold, we have - time to examine critically his turn-out. The caique is about the size of - an old-fashioned four-oar, but more strongly built, with a high sharp bow - and a capital flat floor, and lies on the water as lightly as a wild duck. - The caiquejees’ seats are well forward. The stern is decked for some eight - feet, and in this deck is a hole, so that you can stow your luggage away - underneath. When the ladies use the caique, their <i>cavass</i>, with his - red fez, blue braided coat and scimitar, sits grimly with his legs in the - hole and gives their orders to the caiquejees. Comfortable cushions lying - on a small Turkey carpet, between the little deck and the stretcher of the - stroke oar, in the roomiest part of the boat, await you. You will lounge - on them with your shoulders against the deck, a white umbrella over your - head, and a cigarette in your mouth. In the climate of the Bosphorus, - cigarettes of Turkish tobacco supersede all other forms of the weed. The - caiquejees are wiry, bronzed Turks; their costume, the red fez, a loose - coloured jacket, generally blue, which they strip off for work, and appear - in Broussa shirts of camels’ hair fitting to the body, with loose sleeves - reaching only to the elbow, and baggy white cotton drawers tied at the - knee. The stroke wears stockings, which the others dispense with; each of - them keeps his slippers under his own seat. They each pull a pair of - straight sculls fastened to a single thole pin by a greased thong. You - follow your friend and portmanteau down the gangway and start, and are at - once delighted at the skill with which your crew steer through the crowds - of Maltese boats and caiques, and under great steamers and merchant ships, - and fall into their regular stroke, twenty-eight to the minute, which they - never vary for the whole twelve miles. Their form, too, is all that can be - desired, and would not discredit a London waterman. Turning up the - Bosphorus you soon lose sight of the Golden Horn, and the old rickety - bridge which spans it from Stamboul to Galata. You pull away at first - under the European shore, past the magnificent palace of the present - Sultan, gleaming white in the sun; and then come other huge piles, some - tumbling to pieces, some used as barracks, and private houses of all sizes - and colours, in their little gardens, and warehouses, coffee-shops, - cemeteries, fruit-markets and mosques. Not a yard of the bank but is - occupied with buildings, and the houses are piled far up the hillside - behind. It is the same on the Asiatic side, except that there the houses - next to the water are chiefly those of the rich Turks, as you may guess - from the carefully barred and jalousied windows of the harems, and that - the line of houses is not so deep. And so on for five miles you glide up - the strait, half a mile or more wide, alive with small boats moving about, - and men-of-war steamers riding at anchor, through one continuous street. - Then comes the narrowest part, where the current runs like a mill-tail - against you. On the European side stand the three towers, connected with - battlemented walls, built by Mahomed’s orders in the winter before the - taking of Stamboul and the extinction of the Western Empire. Roumelie - Hissa the point is called now, and behind it rises the highest hill on the - Bosphorus. If it is not too hot, your friend will land and walk up with - you, and when you have reached the top you will see Olympus and the - distant Nicomedian mountains over the Sea of Marmora to the south, and the - whole line of the Bosphorus below you, and the Giants’ Mountain and the - Black Sea away to the north. Behind you lie wild moorlands, covered with - heather and gum cistus, and arbutus bushes, and a small oak shrub. Here - and there in the hollows are small patches of vines and other culture, - with occasional clumps of stone pine and Scotch fir, and chestnut and - beech, amongst which scanty herds of buffaloes and goats wander, watched - by melancholy, truculent-looking herdsmen, in great yellow capotes and - belts, from which a brace of long, old-fashioned pistols and the hilt of a - long straight dagger stick out. But, desolate as the European side is, it - is a garden compared to the Asiatic. You look across there, and behind the - little bright belt of life along the Bosphorus, there is nothing between - you and the horizon but desert heathery hills, running away as far as the - eye can reach, without a house, a tree, a beast, or the slightest sign of - life upon them. I scarcely ever saw so lovely a view, and it is thrown out - into the most vivid contrast by the life at your feet. You descend to your - caique again, and now are aware of a towing-path which runs at intervals - along in front of the houses. A lot of somewhat wretched-looking Turks - here wait with ropes to tow the caiques and other boats up the rapids. - Your stroke catches the end of the rope, and fastens it, exclaiming, “<i>Haidee - babai</i>” (so it sounds), “Push on, my fathers; push on, my lambs”; and - two little Turks, passing the rope over their shoulders, toil away for - some hundred yards, when they are dismissed with a minute backsheesh. And - now the Bosphorus widens out: on the Asiatic side comes the valley of the - Sweet Waters of Asia, and the new kiosk of the Sultan, which I spoke of - before, and afterwards only occasional villages and the palaces of one or - two great pashas. On the European side the houses are still in continuous - line, but begin to get more elbow-room, and only in the little creeks, - where the villages lie, are the hillsides much built on. Now you begin to - see the summer villas of the Europeans, and accordingly an esplanade faced - with stone, and broad enough for carriages to pass, begins. This upper - part of the Bosphorus has its own charm. The water is rougher, as there is - generally a breeze from the Black Sea; and porpoises roll about, and - flocks of sea-swallows (âmes damnées) flit for ever over the little - restless waves. The banks between the houses and the wild common land of - the hill tops are now often taken into the gardens and cultivated in - terraces; and where this is not so they are clothed with fine Scotch fir - and stone pine, and avenues of cypress of the height of forest trees, with - magnificent old gray trunks, marking where paths run up the hillside or - standing up alone like sombre sentinels. It is not until you get almost to - Therapia that there is any break in the row of houses. Therapia, where - Medea is said to have prepared her potions, is a Greek village, built - round a little bay, the busiest and almost the prettiest place on the - Bosphorus. There are always half a dozen merchantmen lying there, and a - sprinkling of European sailors appear amongst the fezzes frequenting the - quays formed by the esplanade, and there is a café restaurant, and a grog - shop, where the British sailor can be refreshed with the strong liquors of - his country. Behind the village is the little cemetery of the Naval - Brigade, sadly neglected and overshadowed with beech and chestnut trees, - where Captain Lyons and many another fine fellow lie, to whom their - countrywomen have raised a large, simple white marble cross, which stands - up mournfully amongst the tangled grass which creeps over the rows of - nameless graves. One grieves that it is shoved away out of sight of the - Bosphorus, up which the brave fellows all went with such stout hearts. - </p> - <p> - You pass more handsome villas and the summer residences of the English and - French ambassadors just above Therapia, and then comes the Bay of - Bajukdere, the broadest part of the Bosphorus, with the village of the - same name on its north shore, the last and handsomest of the suburbs of - Constantinople, where are the other embassies and the palaces of the - richest merchants. It was the place where Godfrey of Bouillon encamped - with his Crusaders. Beyond, the strait narrows again, and runs between - steep cliffs with a sharp turn into the Black Sea, and close to the mouth - are the storm-lashed Symplegades. - </p> - <p> - You must fill up the picture with ships of all sorts under the flags of - all the nations of the earth passing up and down, and people the banks - with figures in all the quaint and picturesque costumes of the East; but - no effort of imagination, I fear, can realise the frame in which the whole - is set, the water of the Bosphorus, and the unfathomable Eastern sky. I - never had an idea of real depth before. I doubt if it be possible to - imagine it. I am sure it is impossible to forget it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Athens, 4th October 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e left - Constantinople for the Piraeus in a French packet. The sun set behind Pera - just before we started, and at the same moment a priest came out into the - little balcony which runs round each dizzy minaret some three parts of the - way up, and called the faithful to prayer. The poor faithful! summoned - there still at sunrise and sunset to turn towards Mecca, and fall down - before Him who gave that great city, and the fair European countries - behind it, to their fathers:—they must pray and work hard too if - they mean to stay there much longer. We steamed slowly out from the Golden - Horn, round Seraglio Point, and into night on the Sea of Marmora. I was up - early the next morning, and saw the sun rise over the islands just as we - were entering the Dardanelles. We stopped between Lesbos and Abydos to - take in cargo, time enough to charter one of the fruit boats and pull off - for a good swim in that romantic water. By ten o’clock we were opening the - Ægean Sea, with the road close under our larboard bow and Tenedos in front - of us. We saw the mounds on the shore, known as the tombs of Achilles and - Ajax, and so passed on wondering. There were half a dozen young Englishmen - on board, carrying amongst them a Homer, a <i>Childe Harold</i>, and other - classics. We had much debate as we passed point after point as to the - possible localities, but I am not sure that we came to any conclusions - which are worth repeating. About noon, after we had become familiar with - island after island, well remembered as names from school and college - days, but now living realities, a faint peak was discovered in the far - north-west. What could it be? We applied to an officer, and found it was - Athos. You may fancy what the atmosphere was, sir, for Athos must have - been at least sixty miles from us at the time. - </p> - <p> - Night came on before any of us were tired of the Ægean. Next morning at - daybreak we were off the southern point of Euboea, with the coast of - Attica in sight over the bows. By breakfast-time we were rounding Sunium, - with the fair columns of a temple crowning the height, the bay of Salamis - before us, and “Morea’s Hills” for a background; and presently the cliffs - on the Attic coast gave way to low ground, and one of our company, who had - been in these parts before, startled us with “There is the Acropolis!” - “Where?” Operaglasses were handed about, and eager looks cast over the - plain, till we were aware of a little rocky hill rising up some three - miles from the shore, and a town lying round the foot of it. The buildings - of the town gleamed white enough in the sun, but the ruins on the - Acropolis we could scarcely make out. They were of a deep yellow, not - easily distinguishable on this side, and at this distance from the rock - below. The first sensation was one of disappointment—we were all - candid enough to admit it. We had seen barren coasts enough, but none so - bare as this of Attica. Hymettus lay on the right, and Pentelicus further - away on the north, behind Athens and the Acropolis; and from their feet - right down to the Piraeus, no tree or shrub or sign of cultivation was - visible, except a strip of sombre green, a mile or so broad, which ran - along the middle of the plain marking the course of the Ilyssus. In the - early spring and summer they do get crops off portions of the plain, but - by the end of September it is as dry, dusty, and bare as the road to Epsom - Downs on a Derby Day. - </p> - <p> - The little arid amphitheatre, not larger than a moderatesized English - county, with its capital and Acropolis, looked so insignificant, and but - for the bright sunshine would have been so dreary, that to keep from - turning away and not taking a second look at it, one was obliged to keep - mentally repeating, “It is Attica, after all!” Matters improved a little - as we got nearer, and before the Acropolis was hidden from our view by the - steep little hill crowned with windmills which rises up between the - Piraeus and Munychia, we could clearly make out the shape of the - Parthenon, and confessed that the rock on which it stood was for its size - a remarkable one, and in a commanding position. - </p> - <p> - You see nothing of the Piraeus till you round this hill and open the mouth - of the harbour, narrowed to this day by the old Athenian moles, so that - there is scarcely room for two large vessels to pass in it. It is a lively - little harbour enough. Three men-of-war, English, French, and Greek, were - lying there when we entered, and an Austrian Lloyd steamer and a dozen or - two merchantmen. We were surrounded by dozens of boats, the boatmen - dressed in the white cotton petticoats and long red fezzes, not mere - scull-caps like those of the Turks—a picturesque dress enough, but - not to be named for convenience or beauty with that of the Bosphorus - boatmen. - </p> - <p> - Most of our party started at once for Athens, but I and a companion, - resolved on enjoying the Mediterranean as long as we could, crossed the - hill, and descended to the Munychia for a bath, which we achieved in the - saltest and most buoyant water I have ever been in. The rocks (volcanic, - apparently), on which we dressed and were nearly grilled, were all covered - with incrustations of salt, looking as if there had been a tremendous - frost the night before. After our bath we strolled through the little port - town, hugely amused with the Greek inscriptions over the shop-doors, and - with the lively, somewhat rowdy look and ways of the place; and, resisting - the solicitations of many of the dustiest kind of cab-drivers, who were - hanging about with their vehicles on the look-out for a fare to Athens, - struck across the low marsh land, where the Ilissus must run when he can - find any water to bring down from the hills, and were soon in amongst the - olive groves. Here we were delivered from the dust at any rate, and in a - few minutes met a Greek with a basket of grapes on his head, from whom, - for half a franc, we purchased six or seven magnificent bunches, and went - on our way mightily refreshed. We had made up our minds to be disappointed - with the place, and so were not sorry to be out of sight of it, and the - olive groves were quite new to us. Some of the old trees were very - striking. They were quite hollow, but bearing crops of fruit still quite - merrily, as if it were all right, and what was left of the trunk was all - divided into grisly old fretwork, as if each root had just run up - independently into a branch, and had never really formed part of the tree. - They looked as if they might be any age—could Plato have sat or - walked under some of them? - </p> - <p> - Vines grow under the olives, just as currant and gooseberry bushes under - the fruit-trees in our market gardens. They were loaded with fine grapes, - and the vintage was going lazily on here and there. There were - pomegranates too scattered about, the fruit splitting with ripeness. It - was tremendously hot, but the air so light and fresh that walking was very - pleasant. Presently we came to an open space, and caught a glimpse of the - Acropolis; and now that we were getting round to the front of it, and - could catch the outline of the Parthenon against the sky, it began to - occur to us that we had been somewhat too hasty. - </p> - <p> - In among the olive groves again, and then out on another and another - opening, till at last, when we came upon the <i>Via sacra</i>, we could - stand it no longer. The ruins had become so beautiful, and had such an - attraction, that giving up the grove of the Academy and Colonus, which - were not half a mile ahead of us, and which we had meant to visit, we - turned short to the right, and walked straight for the town at a pace - which excited the laughter of merry groups dawdling round the little sheds - where the winepresses were working. The town through which we had to pass - is ugly, dusty, and glaring. There are one or two broad streets, with - locust-trees planted along the sides of them, but not old enough yet to - give shade; and in the place before the palace, on which our hotel looked, - there are a few shrubs and plenty of prickly pears, which seem to be - popular with the Athenians, and are the most misshapen hot-looking affairs - which I have yet met with in the vegetable world. But shade, shade—one - longs for it, and there is none; and the glare and heat are almost too - much, even at the beginning of October—in summer it must be - unendurable. If the Athenians would only take one leaf out of the book of - their old enemies, and stain and paint their houses as the Turks of the - Bosphorus do! But though the houses are as ugly as those of a London - suburb, and there are no tolerable public buildings except one church, the - modern town is a very remarkable one, when one comes to remember that - thirty years ago there were only ten or twelve hovels here. But you may - suppose that one scarcely looks at or thinks of the modern town; but - pushing straight through it, makes for the Acropolis. A fine broad - carriage-road runs round the back of the hill, and so up with a long sweep - to the bottom of the western face, the one which we had seen from the - olive groves. You can manage to pass the stadium and the columns of - Jupiter on your left, as you ascend, without diverging, but even to reach - the Parthenon you cannot go by the theatre of Dionysus, lying on your - right against the northern face of the Acropolis, without stopping. They - are excavating and clearing away the rubbish every day from new lines of - seats; you can trace tier above tier now, right up the face of the hill, - till you get to precipitous cliff; and down below, in the dress circle, - the * marble seats are almost as fresh as the day they were made; and most - comfortable stalls they are, though uncushioned, with the rank of their - old occupants still fresh on them. You could take your choice and sit in - the stall of a [Greek phrase] as you fancied. Below was the actual stage - on which the tragedies of Sophocles and Æschylus were played to audiences - who understood even the toughest chorus; and, for a background, Hymettus - across the plain, and the sea and islands! We passed yet another theatre - as we went up the hill, but nothing now could turn us from the Parthenon, - and certainly it very far exceeded anything I had ever dreamt of. Every - one is familiar with the shape and position and colour of the ruins from - photographs and paintings. We look at them and admire, and suppose they - grew there, or at any rate scarcely give a thought to how they did get - there. - </p> - <p> - But I’ll defy any man to walk up the Propylæa and about the Parthenon - without being struck with wonder at the simple question, how it all got - there. Can the stories we have all been taught be true? Leaving beauty - altogether out of the question, here you are in the midst of the wreck of - one of the largest buildings you ever were in. You see that it was built - of blocks of white marble; that the columns are formed of these blocks, - each some four feet high, and so beautifully fitted together that at the - distance of two thousand years you very often cannot find the joints, - except where the marble is chipped. You see that the whole of this - building was originally surrounded by most elaborate sculpture; you see - that the whole side of the hill up which you approach the great temple was - converted into a magnificent broad staircase of white marble—in - short, you see probably the greatest architectural feat that has ever been - done in the world, and are told that it was done by a small tribe—not - more numerous than the population of a big English town—who lived in - that little barren corner of earth which you can overlook from end to end - from your standing-place, in the lifetime of one generation; that Pericles - thought the idea out, and the Athenians quarried the marble, carried it up - there, carved it, and built it up, in his lifetime. Well, it <i>is</i> - hard to believe; but when one has sat down on one of the great blocks, and - looked over Salamis and Ægina, and the Isthmus of Corinth, and then down - at the groves of the Academy and the Pynx and the Areopagus, and - remembered that at this very time the thoughts, and methods of thought, of - that same small tribe are still living, and moulding the minds of all the - most civilised and powerful nations of the earth, the physical wonder, as - usual, dwarfs and gives way before the spiritual. We saw the sunset, of - course, from the front of the Parthenon, and then descended to the - Areopagus, and stood on, or at any rate within a few feet of, the place - where the glorious old Hebrew of the Hebrews stood, and looking up at - those marvellous temples made by man, spoke a strange story in the ears of - the crowd, whose only pleasure was to hear or tell some new thing. It is - the only place where I have ever come in my journeyings right across the - Scripture narrative, and certainly the story shines out with new light - after one has stood on the very rock, and felt how the scene before Paul’s - eyes must have moved him. - </p> - <p> - We got to our inn after dark, and after dining went to a Greek play. - Theatre and acting both decidedly second-rate, the audience consisting - chiefly of officers—smart-looking young fellows enough. There were - two murders in the first act, but I regret to say that we could none of us - make out the story of the play. There were half a dozen young men, all - with good brains, none of whom had left our Universities more than two - years, at which the Greek language is all but the most prominent study, - and yet they might as well have been hearing Arabic. As for myself—unluckily - my ear is so bad that I can never catch words which are not familiar to me—on - this occasion, indeed, I could almost have sworn the actors were using - French words. But it really is a pity that we can’t take to the modern - Greek pronunciation in England. One goes into Athens, and can read all the - notices and signs, and even spell through a column of newspaper with a - little trouble, and yet, though one would give one’s ears to be able to - talk, cannot understand a word, or make oneself understood. We managed, - however, to get a clear enough notion that something serious was going to - happen; and from several persons, French, Italian, and Greek, learned - positively that Prince Alfred was to be King of Greece shortly, which - remarkable proposition has since spread widely over the world. We sailed - from Athens, after a two days’ stay, in an Austrian Lloyd boat. The - sailors were all Italians, and there were certainly not much more than - half the number which we found on the French boat from Constantinople. And - yet the Austrian Lloyd Company has not lost a boat since it was a company, - and the Messageries Impériales have done nothing but lose theirs. Happily, - the French are not natural sailors, or there would be no peace on sea or - land. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Run Home, October 1862. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e ran from Athens - to Syra through the islands, in a bright moonlight, and half a gale of - wind, the most enjoyable combination of circumstances in the world for - those who are not given to sea-sickness. The island is a rock almost as - bare as Hymettus, and that is the most barren simile I can think of—any - hill in the Highlands would look like a garden beside it. But it has a - first-rate small harbour, which has become the central packet-station of - the Levant; and the town which has sprung up round the harbour is the most - stirring place in the East, and the commercial capital of Greece. A very - quaint place to look at, too, is Syra, for at the back of the lower town, - which lies round the harbour, rises a conical hill, very steep, right up - to the top of which a second town is piled, with the Bishop’s palace on - the highest point. This second, or pyramidal, town is built on terraces, - and is only accessible to foot passengers, who ascend by a broad stone - staircase, running from the lower town up to the Bishop’s palace, and so - bisecting the pyramid. As restless a place as ever I was in, in which - nothing seems to be produced, but everything in the world exchanged—a - very temple of the Trade Goddess, of whom I should say there are few more - devout or successful worshippers than the Greeks. Here we waited through a - long broiling day for the steamer, which was to take us westward—homewards. - </p> - <p> - In travelling there is only one pleasure which can be named with the start—that - luxurious moment when one unstrings the bow, and leaving one’s common - pursuits and everyday life, plunges into new scenes—and that is, the - turning home. I had never been so far or so long away from England before, - so that the sensation was proportionately keen as we settled into our - places in the <i>Pluto</i>, one of the finest of the Austrian Lloyd boats, - which was to take us to Trieste. And a glorious run we made of it. In the - morning we were off the Lacedaemonian coast. Almost as bare, this home of - the Spartans, as that of their old rivals in Attica; in fact, all the - south of the Peloponnesus is barren rock. We might almost have thrown a - stone on to Cape Matapan as we passed. Above, the western coast soon - begins to change its character, and scanty pine forests on the mountains, - and not unfrequent villages, with more or less of cultivated land round - them, are visible. Towards evening we steam past the entrance of Navarino - Bay, scarcely wider than that of Dartmouth harbour, but with room inside - for four modern fleets to ride and fight; as likely a place for a corsair - to haunt and swoop out of, in old days, as you could wish to see. Night - fell, and we missed the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth; and Ithaca, alas! - was also out of sight astern before we were on deck again. But we could - not complain; the Albanian coast, under which we were running, was too - beautiful to allow us a moment for regret—mountains as wild and - barren, and twice as high, as those of Southern Greece, streaked with rich - valleys, and well-clothed lower hills. By midday we were ashore at Corfu, - driving through the old Venetian streets, and on, over English macadamised - roads, through olive groves finer than those of Attica, up to the one-gun - battery—the finest view in the fairest island of the world. Bathing, - and lunching, and all but letting the steamer go on without us! Steaming - away northward again, leaving the shade of the union-jack under which we - had revelled for a few hours, and the delightful sound of the vernacular - in the mouth of the British soldiers, for a twenty-four hours’ run up the - Adriatic, and into Trieste harbour, just in time to baulk a fierce little - storm which came tearing down from the Alps to meet us. - </p> - <p> - Trieste is the best paved town I was ever in, and otherwise internally - attractive, while in the immediate neighbourhood, on the spurs of the - great mountains and along the Adriatic shore, are matchless sites for - country houses, and many most fascinating houses on them. For choice, the - situation, to my mind, even beats the celebrated hills round Turin, for - the view of the Adriatic turns the scale in favour of the former. But - neither city nor neighbourhood held us, and we hurried on to Venice by - rail, with the sea on our left, and the great Alpine range on our right—now - close over us, now retiring—the giant peaks looking dreamily down on - us through a hot shadowy haze all the day long. Poor Venice! we lingered - there a few days amidst pictures and frescoes and marbles; at night - drinking our coffee in the Place of St. Mark, on the Italian side, - watching the white and blue uniforms on the other, and hearing the - Austrian military band play, or gliding in a gondola along the moonlit - grand canal. English speculators are getting a finger in house property at - Venice. There were placards up in English on a dozen of the palaces, “To - be let or sold,” with the direction of the vendors below. What does this - portend? Let us hope not restoration on Camberwell or Pentonville - principles of art. - </p> - <p> - Then we sped westward again, getting an hour in the Giotto chapel at - Padua, a long day at Verona, amongst Roman ruins and Austrian - fortifications, and the grand churches, houses, and tombs of the - Scaligers. Over the frontier, then, into Italy. ‘While the Austrian - officials diligently searched baggage and spelt out passports, I consoled - myself with getting to a point close to the station, pointed out by a - railway guard, and taking a long look at the heights of Solferino and the - high tower—the watch-tower of Italy, a mile or two away to the - south. To Milan, through mulberries and vines—rich beyond all fancy; - the country looked as we passed as if peace and plenty had set up their - tent there. But little enough of either was there in the people’s homes. - The news of Garibaldi’s capture and wound was stirring men’s minds - fearfully; and all the cotton mills, too, of which there are a good number - scattered about, were just closing; wages, already fearfully low, were - falling in other trades. I came across a Lancashire foreman, who had - escaped the day before from the mill in which he had been employed for - five years, and only just escaped with his life. Sixteen men had been - stabbed and carried to the hospitals in the closing row. He was making the - best of his way back. “What was the state of things in Lancashire to what - he had just got out of,” he answered, when I spoke of our distress. “He - had been standing for three hours and more in a dark corner, with two men - within a few feet of him waiting to stab him.” I rejoice to say that in - the streets of Milan we saw everywhere unmistakable signs that Italy is - beginning to appreciate her faithful ally. Some of the best political - caricatures were as good as could be—as Doyle’s or Leech’s—and - bitter as distilled gall. At Turin we had time to see the monuments of the - two Queens, the mother and wife of Victor Emmanuel, in a little - out-of-the-way Church of Our Lady of Consolation, where they used - constantly to worship in life; their statues are kneeling side by side in - white marble—as touching a monument as I have ever seen. Murray does - not mention it (his last edition was out before it was put up), so some - stray reader of yours may perhaps thank me for the hint. Over the Mount - Cenis, and down into Savoy, past the mouth of the tunnel which, in six - years or so, is to take us under the Alps to the lovely little town of St. - Michael, where the rail begins, we went, pitying the stout king from whom - so beautiful a birthplace had been filched by the arch robber; and so day - and night to Paris; and, after a day’s breathing, a drive along the trim - new promenades of the Bois de Boulogne, and a look round the - ever-multiplying new streets of the capital of cookery and gilded mirrors, - in ten hours to London. - </p> - <p> - Poor dear old London! groaning under the last days of the Great - Exhibition. After those bright, brave, foreign towns, how dingy, how - unkempt and uncared for thou didst look! From London Bridge station we - passed through a mile and a half of the most hideous part of Southwark to - the west. Even in the west, London was out at elbows, the roads used up, - the horses used up; the omnibus coachmen and cads,—the cabbies, the - police, the public, all in an unmistakable state of chronic seediness and - general debility. In spic-and-span Paris yesterday, and here to-day! Well, - one could take thee a thought cleaner and more cheerful, and be thankful, - Old London; but after all, as we plunge into thy fog and reek and roar, - and settle into our working clothes again, we are surer than ever of one - thing, which must reconcile any man worth his salt to making thee his - home,—thou art unmistakably the very heart of the old world. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Dieppe, Sunday, 13th September 1863. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have just come - away from hearing a very remarkable sermon at the Protestant church here, - of which I should like to give you some idea before it goes out of my - head. The preacher was a M. Bevel, a native of Dieppe, now a minister at - Amsterdam, where he has a high reputation. He is here visiting his mother, - which visit I should say is likely to be cut short if he goes on preaching - such sermons as he gave us to-day, or else a liberty is allowed in the - pulpit in France which is not to be had elsewhere. The service began with - a hymn. Then a layman read out the Commandments at a desk. Then we sang - part of Psalm xxv.; one of the verses ran: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Qui craint Dieu, qui veut bien, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Jamais ne s’égarera, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Car au chemin qu’il doit suivre - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Dieu même le conduira— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - À son aise et sans ennui - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Il verra le plus long âge, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Et ses enfans après lui - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Auront la terre en partage. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Good healthy doctrine this, and an apt introduction to the sermon. While - we were singing, M. Revel mounted the pulpit. He is a man of thirty-five - or thereabouts; middlesized, bald, dark; with a broad brow, large gray - eyes, and sharp, well-cut features. After two short extempore prayers—almost - the only ones I have ever heard in which there was nothing offensive—he - began his sermon on a text in Ecclesiastes. As it had little bearing on - the argument, and was never alluded to again, I do not repeat it. - </p> - <p> - “There is much talk,” M. Revel began, “in our day about an order of - nature. All acknowledge it; as science advances it is found more and more - to be unchangeable. We ought to rejoice in this unchangeableness of the - order of nature, for it is a proof of the existence of a God of order. Had - we found the earth all in confusion it would have been a proof that there - could be no such God. But this God has established a moral order for man - as unchangeable as the order of nature. It was recognised by the heathen - who worshipped Nemesis. The whole of history is one long witness to this - moral order, but we need not go back far for examples. Look at Poland, - partitioned by three great monarchs, and at what is happening and will - happen there. Look at America, the land of equality, of freedom, of - boundless plenty, and what has come on her for the one great sin of - slavery. Look at home, at the story of the great man who ruled France at - the beginning of our new era, the man of success—‘<i>qui éblouissait - lui-même en éblouissant les autres</i>,’ who answered by victory upon - victory those who maintained that principle had still something to say to - the government of the world, and remember his end on the rock in - mid-ocean. - </p> - <p> - “Be sure, then, that there is an unchangeable moral order, and this is the - first law of it, ‘<i>Qui fait du mal fait du malheur</i>.’ The most - noticeable fact in connection with this moral order which our time is - bringing out is the <i>solidarité</i> of the human race. The <i>solidarité</i> - of the family and the nation was recognised in old times. Now, commerce - and intercourse are breaking down the barriers of nations. A rebellion in - China, a war in America, is felt at once in France, and the full truth is - dawning upon us that nothing but a universal brotherhood will satisfy men. - But you may say that punishment follows misdoing so slowly that the moral - order is virtually set aside. Do not believe it. ‘<i>Qui fait du mal fait - du malheur</i>.’ The law is certain; but if punishment followed at once, - and fully, on misdoing, mankind would be degraded. On the other hand, ‘<i>Qui - fait du bon fait du bonheur</i>,’ and this law is equally fixed and - unchangeable in the moral order of the world. - </p> - <p> - “You may wonder that I have scarcely used the name of Christ to you - to-day; but what need? I have spoken of humanity; He is the Son of Man, of - a universal brotherhood which has no existence without Him, of which He is - the founder and the head.” - </p> - <p> - As we came out of church it was amusing to hear the comments of the - audience, at least of the English portion. Some called it rank Socialism, - others paganism, others good sound Christian teaching; but all seemed to - agree that it was very stirring stuff, and that this would be the last - time that M. Bevel would be allowed to address his old fellow-townsmen - from the pulpit. Indeed, his sketch of Napoleon I. was much too true to be - acceptable to Napoleon III., and though his doctrine of universal - brotherhood may be overlooked, I should scarcely think that his historical - views can be. I was utterly astonished myself to hear such a sermon in a - French pulpit. I had never heard M. Bevel before; but his reputation, - which seems to be very great, is thoroughly deserved. The sermon of which - I have tried to give you a skeleton lasted for fifty minutes, and never - flagged for a moment. Sometimes he was familiar and colloquial, sometimes - impassioned, sometimes argumentative, but always eloquent. He spoke with - his whole body as well as with his voice, which last organ was managed - with rare skill; and, indeed, every faculty of the man was thoroughly - trained for his work, and so well trained, that notwithstanding my English - dislike to action or oratory in a pulpit, I never felt that it was - overdone or in bad taste. In short, I never heard such scientific - preaching, and came away disabused of the notion that extempore sermons - must be either flat, or vulgar, or insincere. I only wish our young - parsons would take the same pains in cultivating their natural gifts as M. - Revel has done, and hope that any of them who may chance to read this will - take an opportunity the next time they are at Amsterdam of going to hear - M. Revel, and taking a lesson. I have been trying to satisfy myself for - the last three days what it is which makes this town so wonderfully - different from any English provincial town of the same size. I do not mean - the watering-place end of it next the sea, which is composed of the - crystal palace known as the <i>établissement des bains</i>, great hotels, - and expensive lodging-houses,—this quarter is inhabited by strangers - of all nations, and should be compared to Brighton or Scarborough,—but - the quiet old town behind, which has nothing in common with the - watering-place, and is as hum-drum a place as Peterborough. As far as I - can make out, the difference lies in the enjoyment which these Dieppois - seem to take in their daily business. We are called a nation of - shopkeepers now by all the world, so I suppose there must be some truth in - the nickname. But certainly the Englishman does his shopkeeping with a - very bad grace, and not the least as if he liked it. He sits or stands at - his counter with grim, anxious face, and it requires an effort, after one - has entered his trap and asked a question as to any article, to retire - without buying. The moment his closing time comes, up go the shutters, and - he clears out of the shop, and takes himself off out of sight and hearing - of it as fast as he can. But here in Dieppe (and the rule holds good, I - think, in all French towns) the people seem really to delight in their - shops, and by preference to live in them, and in the slice of street in - front of them, rather than in any other place. In fact, the shops seem to - be convenient places opened to enable their owners to <i>causer</i> with - the greatest possible number of their neighbours and other people, rather - than places for the receipt of custom and serious making of money. I doubt - if any man is a worse hand at shopping than I, and yet I can go boldly - into any shop here, and turn over the articles, and chaffer over them, and - then go out without buying, and yet feel that I have conferred a benefit - rather than otherwise on the proprietor of the establishment. And as to - closing time, there is no such thing. The only difference seems to be that - after a certain hour, if you choose to walk into a shop, you will probably - find yourself in a family party. No one turns off the gas until he goes to - bed, so as you loiter along you have the advantage of seeing everything - that is going on, and the inhabitants have what they clearly hold to be an - equivalent, the opportunity of looking at and talking about you. The - master of the shop sits at his ease, sometimes reading his journal, - sometimes still working at his trade in an easygoing way, as if it were a - pleasure to him, and chatting away as he works. His wife is either working - with her needle or casting up the accounts of the day, but in either case - is ready in a moment to look up and join in any talk that may be going on. - The younger branches of the family disport themselves on the floor, or - play dominoes on the counter, or flirt with some neighbour of the opposite - sex who has dropped in, in the further corners. The pastrycooks’ seem - favourite social haunts, and often you will find two or three of the - nearest shops deserted, and the inmates gathered in a knot round the - sleek, neatly-shaved citizens who preside in spotless white caps, jackets, - and aprons, over these temples of good things. In short, the life of the - Dieppe burgher is not cut into sharp lengths as it would be with us, one - of which is religiously set apart for trade and nothing else. Business and - pleasure seem with him to be run together, and he surrounds the whole with - a halo of small-talk which seems to make life run off wonderfully easily - and happily to him. Whether his method of carrying on trade results in as - good articles as with us I cannot say, for the Dieppois is by no means - guileless enough to part with his wares cheap, so that I have had very - little experience of them. But certainly the general aspect of his daily - life, so much more easy, so much more social than that of his compeer in - England, has a good deal of fascination about it. On better acquaintance - very possibly the charm might disappear, but at first one is inclined - strongly to wish that we could take a leaf out of his book, and learn to - take things more easily. The wisdom which has learnt that there are vastly - few things in this world worth worrying about will, I fear, be a long time - in leavening the British nation. - </p> - <p> - The people of Dieppe are a remarkably well-conducted and discreet folk in - every way—wonderfully so when one considers their close - neighbourhood to the richest and most fashionable crowd which frequents - any French watering-place. Of these, and their amusements, and habits, and - wonderful costumes in and out of the sea, I have no room to speak in this - letter. They are now gone, or fast going, and this is the time for people - of moderate means and quiet tastes, who wish to enjoy the deliciously - exciting air and pretty scenery of this very charming old sea town, which - furnished most of the ships for the invasion of England eight hundred - years ago, and will well repay the costs of a counter invasion. Only let - the English invader take care when he sets his foot on the Norman shore, - unless he thinks it worth while to be fleeced for the honour and glory of - being under the same roof with French dukes, Russian princes, and English - milords, to give a wide berth to the Hotel Royal. I am happy to say I do - not speak from personal experience, but only give voice to the universal - outcry against the extortion of this huge hotel, the most fashionable in - Dieppe. The last story is that an English nobleman travelling with a - courier, who arrived late one evening, did not dine, and left early the - next morning, had to pay a bill of 75 francs for his entertainment. The - bill must have been a work of-high art. - </p> - <p> - I hope in another letter to give you some notions of the watering-place - life, which is very quaint and amusing, and as unlike our seaside doings - as the old town is unlike our ordinary towns. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Bathing at Dieppe, 17th September 1863. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat great work, - the <i>Sartor Resartus</i>, should have contained a chapter on - bathing-dresses, and I have no doubt would have done so had the author - been a frequenter of French watering-places. Each of these—even such - a little place as Treport—has its <i>établissement des bains</i>, - its etiquettes and rules as to the dress and comportment of its bathing - populations; and Dieppe is the largest, and not the least quaint, of them - all. The <i>établissement</i> here is a long glass and iron building like - the Crystal Palace, with a dome in the middle, under which there are daily - concerts and nightly balls; and a transept at each end, one of which is a - very good reading-room, while in the other a mild kind of gambling goes - on, under the form of a lottery, for smelling bottles, clocks, and such - like ware. I am told that the play here is by no means so innocent as it - looks, and that persons in search of investments for spare cash can be - accommodated to any amount, but to a stranger nothing of this discloses - itself. Between this building and the sea there runs a handsome esplanade, - the favourite promenade, and immediately underneath are the rows of little - portable canvas huts which serve as bathing machines. The ladies bathe - under one end of the esplanade, and the gentlemen under the other, while - the fashionable crowd leans over, or sits by the low esplanade wall, - inspecting the proceedings. This contiguity is, no doubt, the cause of the - wonderful toilets, <i>spécialités des bains</i>, which fill the shops - here, and are used by all the ladies and many of the men. They consist of - large loose trousers and a jacket with skirts, made of fine flannel or - serge, of all shades of colour according to taste, and of waterproof - bathing caps, all of which garments are trimmed with blue, or pink, or red - bows and streamers. Over all the <i>baigneurs comme il faut</i> throw a - large cloak, also tastefully trimmed. Thus habited the lady walks out of - her hut attended by a maid, to whom when she reaches the water’s edge she - hands her cloak, and, taking the hand of one of the male <i>baigneurs</i>, - proceeds with such plunges and dancings as she has a fancy for, and then - returns to the shore, is enveloped in her cloak by her maid, and re-enters - her hut. These male <i>baigneurs</i> are a necessary accompaniment of the - performance. I have only heard of one case of resistance to the custom, - which ended comically enough. A young Englishman, well known in foreign - society, was here with his wife, who insisted on bathing, but vowed she - would go into the water with no man but her husband. He consented, and in - due course appeared on the ladies’ side with his pretty wife, in most - discreet apparel, went through the office of <i>baigneur</i>, and returned - to his own side. This raised a storm among the lady bathers, and the - authorities interfered. The next day the lady went to the gentlemen’s - side; but this was even more scandalous, and was also forbidden. The - persecuted couple then took; to bathing at six in the morning; but, alas! - on the second morning the esplanade was lined even at that untimely hour - by young Frenchmen, who, though by no means early risers, had made a point - of being out to assist at the bath of their eccentric friends, and as - these last did not appreciate the <i>éclat</i> of performing alone for the - amusement of their friends, the lawless efforts of <i>ces Anglais</i> came - to an end. In England, where dress for the water is not properly attended - to by either sex, one quite understands the rule of absolute separation; - but here, where every lady is accompanied by a man in any case, where she - is more covered than she is in a ballroom, and where all her acquaintance - are looking on, it does not occur to one why she should not be accompanied - by her husband. For, as on the land, here people are much better known by - their dress in the water than by anything else. A young gentleman asked - one of his partners whether she had seen him doing some particular feat of - swimming that morning; she answered that she had not recognised him, to - which he replied, “Oh! you may always know me by my straw hat and red - ribbon.” The separation here is certainly a farce, for at sixty yards, as - we know from our musketry instructors, you recognise the features of the - party; and the distance between the men and women bathers is not so much. - The rule is enforced, however, at any depth. A brother and sister, both - good swimmers, used to swim out and meet one another at the boat which - lies in the offing in case of accidents. But this was stopped, as they - talked together in English, which excited doubts as to their relationship. - I suppose it would be more improper for girls and boys of marriageable age - to swim together than to walk; but I vow at this moment I cannot see why. - </p> - <p> - You may fancy, sir, that in such a state of things as I have described, - good stories on the great bathing subject are rife. The last relates to a - beauty of European celebrity, who is known to be here and to be bathing, - but keeps herself in such strict privacy that scarcely a soul has been - able to get a look at her, even behind two thick veils. Had she really - wished to be unnoticed she could not have managed worse. The mystery set - all the female world which frequents the <i>établissement</i> in a tremor. - They were like a knot of sportsmen when a stag of ten tines has been seen - in the next glen, or when a 30 lb. salmon has broken the tackle of some - cunning fisherman, and is known to lie below a certain stone. Of course, - they were sure that something dreadful must have happened to her looks, - which she who should be happy enough to catch her bathing would detect. In - spite of all, the beauty eluded them for some time, but at last she has - been stalked, and I am proud to say, sir, by a sportswoman of our own - country. By chance this lady was walking at eight in the morning, when the - tide was so low that no one was bathing. She saw a figure dressed <i>en - bourgeoise</i> approaching the bathing-place, apparently alone, but two - women suspiciously like maids followed at a respectful distance. It - flashed across our countrywoman that this must be the incognita; she - followed. To her delight, the three turned to the bathing-ground, and - disappeared in two huts which had been placed together apparently by - accident. She took up a position a few yards from the huts. After an - agonising pause the door opened, and a head appeared, which was instantly - withdrawn, but now too late. The mystery was solved. It was too late-to - send maids to the <i>directeur</i> of the baths to warn off the spectator, - and, moreover, useless, for she politely declined to move, though there - was nothing more to discover. The whole establishment is ringing with the - news that the beauty is <i>pale comme une morte</i>, and the inference, of - course, follows that paint has been forbidden. You will also, sir, no - doubt, be interested to know that she wears a red rose on the top of her - bathing-cap, which, having regard to her present complexion, does not say - much for her taste in the choice of colours. - </p> - <p> - But if the water toilets here are fabulous, what shall I say of those on - the land? The colours, the textures, the infinite variety, and general - loudness of these bewilder the sight and baffle the pen of ordinary - mortals. The keenest rivalry is kept up amongst the fair frequenters of - the establishment. They sit by hundreds there working and casing of - afternoons, while the band plays from three to six, or sweeping about on - the esplanade; and in the evening are there again in ever new and brighter - colours. The <i>Dieppe Journal</i> comments on the most striking toilets. - It noticed with commendation the purple velvet petticoats of the ladies of - a millionaire house; it glowed in describing the “<i>toilette Écossaise</i>” - of another rich Frenchwoman. An officer on reading the announcement laid - down the paper, and addressed a lady, his neighbour, “Mais, madame, - comment est que ça se fait?” He, worthy man, had but one idea of the - toilet in question, which he had gained from the Highland regiments in the - Crimea. I am happy to say, both for their own sakes and their husbands and - fathers, that the Englishwomen are by far the most simply dressed. The men - generally speaking are clad like rational beings, but with many - exceptions. I hear of a celebrity in gray velvet knickerbockers and pink - silk stockings, but have not seen him. A man in a black velvet suit, and a - red beard reaching his waist, has just walked past, without apparently - exciting wonder in any breast but that of your contributor. - </p> - <p> - Dieppe must be a paradise to the rising generation. The children share all - the amusements of their elders, and have also special entertainments of - their own, amongst which one notes specially two balls a week at the - establishment. The whole building is brilliantly lighted every evening, - and on these nights the space under the central dome is cleared of chairs, - and makes a splendid ballroom. Here the little folk assemble, and go - through the whole performance solemnly, just like their elders. The raised - permanent seats are occupied by mammas, nurses, governesses, and the - public. The girls sit round on the lowest seats, and the boys gather in - groups talking to them, or walking about in the centre. They are of all - nations, in all costumes—one boy in a red Garibaldian blouse and - belt I noted as the most dangerous flirt. There were common English - jackets and trousers, knickerbockers of many colours, and many little blue - French uniforms. There was no dancer older than fifteen, and some - certainly as young as seven. When the music began, the floor was at once - covered with couples, who danced quadrilles, waltzes, and a pretty dance - like the Schottische, to the tune of “When the green leaves come again.” - At the end of each dance the girls were handed to their chairs with bows - worthy of Beau Brummel. There were at least 200 grown folk looking on, and - a prettier sight I have seldom seen, for the children danced beautifully - for the most part. Should I like my children to be amongst them? That is - quite another affair. On the whole, I incline to agree with the ladies - with whom I went, that it would, perhaps, do boys good, but must be - utterly bad for the girls. I certainly never saw before so self-possessed - a set of young gentlemen as those in question, and doubt if any one of - them will ever feel shy in after-life. - </p> - <p> - Last Sunday afternoon: again, we had a <i>fete des vacances</i> for the - children. The <i>Gazette des Bains</i> announced, “À deux heures, - ascensions grotesques, l’enlèvement du phoque; à deux heures et demie, - distribution de jouets et bonbons; à trois heures, course à ânes, montés - par des jockeys grosse-tête,”—a most piquant programme. Not to - mention the other attractions, what could the <i>enlèvement du phoque</i> - be? In good time I went into the <i>établissement</i> grounds at the cost - of a franc, and was at once guided by the crowd to the brink of a small - pond, where sure enough a veritable live seal was swimming about, asking - us all as plainly as mild brown eyes could speak what all the rout meant, - and then diving smoothly under, to appear again on the other side of the - pond. Were the cruel Frenchmen actually going to send the gentle beast up - into the air? My speculations were cut short by the first comic ascent and - the shouts of the juveniles. A figure very like Richard Doyle’s Saracens - in the illustrations to Rebecca and Rowena, with large head, bottle nose, - and little straight arms and legs, mounted suddenly into the air, and went - away, wobbling and bobbing, before the wind. Another and another followed, - as fast as they could be filled with gas. The wind blew towards the town, - and there was great excitement as to their destiny, for they rose only to - about the height of the houses. I own I was surprised to find myself so - deeply interested whether the absurd little Punchinellos would clear the - chimneys. One only failed, a fellow in a three-cornered hat like a - beadle’s, and, refusing to mount, was soon torn in pieces by the boys. The - last was a balloon of the figure of a seal, and I was much relieved when - we all trooped away to the distribution of <i>bonbons</i>, leaving the - real phoca still gliding about in his pond with wondering eyes. The <i>bonbons</i> - were distributed in the most polite manner, the handfuls which were thrown - amongst the crowd only calling forth a “Pardon Monsieur,” “Pardon - Mademoiselle,” as they were picked up, instead of the hurly-burly and - scramble we should have had at home. The donkey races might better be - called processions, which went three times round the <i>établissement</i>. - The winner was ridden by a jockey whose <i>grosse tête</i> was that of a - cock, in compliment, I suppose, to the national bird; the lion jockey was - nowhere, but he beat the cook’s boy, who came in last. The figures were - well got up, and some of the heads really funny. At night we had - fireworks, and a grand pyrotechnic drama of the taking of the old castle, - which stands on the chalk cliff right over the <i>établissement</i> and - commanding the town. The garrison joined in the fun, and assaulted the - walls twice amidst discharges of rockets and great guns. The third assault - was successful, and the red-legged soldiers swarmed on the walls in a - blaze of light and planted the tricolour. A brilliant scroll of “<i>Vive - l’Empéreur</i>” came out on the dark castle walls above their heads, and - so the show ended. The castle, by the way, is a most picturesque building. - One of the towers has been favourably noticed by Mr. Ruskin. It is also to - be reverenced as the stronghold of Henry IV. and the Protestants. It was - here, just before the battle of Arques, that he made the celebrated answer - to a faint-hearted ally, who spoke doubtfully as to the disparity of - numbers, “You forget to count God and the good cause, who are on our - side.” It will never be of any use in modern warfare, but makes a good - barrack and a most magnificent place for a pyrotechnic display for the - delectation of young folk, in which definition for these purposes may be - included the whole of the population of France. - </p> - <p> - As I am writing, a troop of acrobats pass along the green between this - hotel and the sea, followed by a crowd of boys. There is the strong man in - black velvet carrying the long balancing triangle, on which he is about to - support the light fellow in yellow who walks by his side. - </p> - <p> - There is an athletic fellow in crimson breeches, carrying a table on his - head, and a clown with two chairs accompanying. There they have pitched on - the green, and are going to begin, and the English boys are leaving their - cricket, and the French boys their kites and indiarubber handballs, and a - goodly ring is forming, out of which, if they are decent tumblers, I hope - they may turn an honest franc or two. - </p> - <p> - They are not only decent but capital tumblers, the best I have seen for - many a day, especially the man in crimson. He has balanced three glasses - full of water on his forehead, and then lain down on his back, and passed - himself, tumblers and all, through two small hoops. He has placed one - chair upon the table, and then has tilted the second chair on two legs - upon the seat of the first, and on this fearfully precarious foundation - has been balancing himself with his legs straight up in the air while I - could count thirty! The strong man has just run up behind the man in - yellow, who was standing with his legs apart, and, stooping, has put his - head between the yellow man’s legs and thrown him a backward somersault! I - must positively go down and give them half a franc. It is a swindle to - look on at such good tumbling for nothing. - </p> - <p> - P.S.—Imagine my delight, sir, when I got down on the green to find - they were the tumblers of my native land. They joined a French circus for - a tour some weeks back, but could get no money, and so broke off and are - working their way home. They can speak no French, and find it very - difficult to get leave to perform, as they have to do in all French towns. - The crowd of English boys seemed to be doing their duty by them, so I hope - they will speedily be able to raise their passage-money and return to the - land of double stout and liberty. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Normandy, 20th September 1863. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o an Englishman - with little available spare cash and time, and in want of a thorough - change of scene and air, which category I take to include a very handsome - percentage of our fellow-countrymen, I can recommend a run in Normandy - without the slightest hesitation. I am come to the age when one learns to - be what the boys call <i>cocksure</i> of nothing in this world, but am, - nevertheless, prepared to take my stand on the above recommendation - without fear or reservation. For in Normandy he will get an exquisitely - light and bracing air, a sky at least twice as far off as our English one - (which alone will raise his spirits to at least twice their usual - altitude), a pleasant, lively, and well-to-do people, a picturesque - country, delicious pears, and, to an Englishman, some of the most - interesting old towns in the world out of his own island. All this he may - well enjoy for ten days for a five-pound note, or thereabouts, in addition - to his return fare to Dieppe or Havre. So let us throw up our insular - vacation wide-awakes, and bless the men who invented steam, and pears, and - Norman architecture, “and everything in the world beside,” as the good old - song of “the leathern bottèl” has it, and start for the fair land from - which our last conquerors came before the days get shorter than the - nights. Alas! how little of that blissful time now remains to us of the - year of grace 1863. - </p> - <p> - It is some few years, I forget how many, since I was last in a Norman - town, and must confess that in some respects they have changed for the - better, externally at least, now that the Second Empire has had time to - make itself felt in them. All manner of police arrangements, the sweeping, - lighting, and paving, are marvellously improved, and there is an air of - prosperity about them which does one good. Even in Rouen, the centre of - their cotton district, there are scarcely any outward signs of distress, - although, so far as I could see, not more than one in three of the mills - is at work. I was told that there are still nearly 30,000 operatives out - of work in the town and neighbourhood, who have no means of subsistence - except any odd job they can pick up to earn a few sous about the quays and - markets, but if it be so they kept out of sight during my wanderings about - the town. But there is one characteristic sign of the empire to be noted - in all these same Norman towns, for which strangers will not feel - thankful, though the inhabitants may. The building and improving fever is - on them all. In Rouen, amongst other improvements, a broad new street is - being made right through some of the oldest parts of the town, from the - quays straight up to the boulevards, which it joins close by the - railway-station. This Grand Rue de l’Empereur will be a splendid street - when finished, to judge by the few houses which are already built at the - lower end. Meantime, the queer gables of the houses whose neighbours have - been destroyed, and a chapel or two, and an old tower, standing out all by - itself, which would make the architectural fortune of any other city, and - which find themselves with breathing room now, for the first time, I - should think, in the last five hundred years, look down ruefully on the - cleared space, in anticipation of the hour rapidly approaching, when they - will be again shut out from human ken by four-storied stone palaces, and - this time, undoubtedly, for good and all. They can never hold up until - another improving dynasty arrives. - </p> - <p> - At Havre the same process is going on. New houses are springing up all - along the new boulevards. Between the town and Frescati’s great hotel and - bathing establishment, which faces the sea, there used to stand a curious - old round tower of great size, which commanded the mouth of the harbour, - and some elaborate fortifications of more modern date. All these have been - levelled, old and new together, and the ground is now clear for building, - and will, no doubt, be covered long before I shall see it again. Large - seaports are always interesting towns, and Havre, besides the usual - attractions of such places, has a sort of shop in greater perfection than - any other port known to me. In these you can buy or inspect curiosities, - alive and dead, from all parts of the world. Parrots of all colours of the - rainbow scream at the door, long cages full of love-birds, and all manner - of other delicate little feathered creatures one has never seen elsewhere, - hang on the walls, or stand about amongst china monsters, and cases of - amber, and inlaid stools from Stamboul, and marmoset monkeys, and goodness - knows what other temptations to solvent persons with a taste for - collections or pets. To neither of these weaknesses can I plead guilty, so - after a short inspection I stroll to the harbour’s mouth, and do wonder to - think over the astounding audacity of our late countryman, Sir Sidney - Smith, who ran his ship close in here, and proceeded in his boats to cut - out a French frigate under the guns of the old fortifications. His ship - got aground, and was taken; he also. But, after all, it was less of a - forlorn hope than throwing himself with his handful of men into Acre, and - facing Bonaparte there, which last moderately lunatic act made him a name - in history. <i>Audace! et encore d’audace! et toujours d’audace!</i> was - the rule which brought our sailors triumphantly through the great war. And - there is another picture in that drama which Havre harbour calls up in the - English mind, to put in the scale against Sir Sidney’s failure—I - mean Citizen Muskein and his gunboats skedaddling from Lieutenant Price in - the <i>Badger</i>. Do you remember, sir, Citizen Muskein’s—or rather - Canning’s—inimitable address to his gunboats in the <i>Anti-Jacobin?</i>— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Gunboats, unless you mean hereafter - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To furnish food for British laughter, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Sweet gunboats, and your gallant crew, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Tempt not the rocks of St. Marcou, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Beware the <i>Badger’s</i> bloody pennant - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And that d——d invalid Lieutenant! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Enough of war memories, and for the future the very last thing one wishes - to have to do with this simple, cheery, and, for all I can see, honest - people, is to fight them. - </p> - <p> - There are packets twice a day from Havre across the mouth of the Seine, a - seven miles’ run, to Honfleur, described in guide-books as a dirty little - town, utterly without interest. I can only say I have seldom been in a - place of its size, not the site of any great historic event, which is - better worth spending an afternoon in, and I should strongly advise my - typical Englishman to follow this route. In the first place, the situation - is beautiful. From the steep wooded heights above the town, where are a - chapel, much frequented by sailors, and some villas, there are glorious - views up the Seine, across to Havre, and out over the sea. Then, in the - town, there is the long street, which runs down to the lighthouse, and - which, I suppose, the guide-book people never visit, as it is out of the - way. It is certainly as picturesque a street as can be found in Rouen, or - any other French town I have ever seen—except Troyes, by the way. - The houses are not large, but there is scarcely one of them which Prout - would not be proud to ask to sit to him. - </p> - <p> - Then there is the church in the centre of the town by the market-place, - with the most eccentric of little spires. It seems, at an early period of - the Middle Ages, to have taken it into its clock—or whatever answers - to a spire’s head—that it would seer more of the world, and to have - succeeded in getting about thirty yards away from its nave. Here, probably - finding locomotion a tougher business than it reckoned on, it has fallen - asleep, and, while it slept, several small houses crept up against its - base and fell asleep also. And there it remains to this day, looking down - over the houses in which people live, and many apples and pears are being - sold, and crying, like the starling, “I can’t get out.” There is a - splendid straight avenue, stretching a mile and a half up the Caen road, - and a good little harbour full of English vessels, which ply the egg and - fruit trade, and over every third door in the sailors’ quarter you see - “Cook-house” written up in large letters, for the benefit of the British - sailor. - </p> - <p> - The railway to Lisieux passes through a richly wooded, hilly country, and - then runs out into the great plain in which Caen lies. The city of William - the Conqueror is quite worthy of him, which is saying a good deal. For, - though one may not quite share Mr Carlyle’s enthusiasm for “Wilhelmus - Conquestor,” it must be confessed that he is, at least, one of the three - strongest men who have ruled in England, and that in the long run he has - done a stroke of good work for our nation. The church of the Abbey <i>des - Hommes</i>, which he began in 1066, and of which Lanfranc was the first - abbot, stands just as he left it, except the tops of two towers at the - west end, which were finished two centuries later. It is a pure Norman - church, 320 feet long, and 98 feet high in the nave and transepts, and the - simplest and grandest specimen of that noble style I have ever seen. - William’s grave is before the high altar, the spot marked by a dark stone, - and no king ever lay in more appropriate sepulchre. The Huguenots rifled - the grave and scattered his bones, but his strong stern spirit seems to - rest over the place. There is an old building near the Abbey surmounted by - a single solid pinnacle, under which is a room which tradition says he - occupied. It is now filled with the wares of a joiner who lives below. - Caen is increasing in a solid manner in its outskirts, but seems less - disturbed and altered by the building mania than any of her sisters. There - was an English population of 4000 and upwards living here before 1848, but - the English Consul fairly frightened them away by assurances of his - inability to protect them (against what does not seem to have been - settled) in that wild time, and now there are not as many hundreds. One of - the survivors is the Commissionaire of the Hôtel d’Angleterre, West by - name, a really intelligent and serviceable man, well up to his work. It is - scarcely ever worth while to spend a franc on a commissionaire, but West - is an exception to the rule. His father was in the lace trade, which is - active in Caen, but his premises were burnt down some years since, and an - end put to his manufacture. West is now trying to revive the family - business, and one of his first steps was to get over a new lace machine, - and a man to work it, from England. It has not proved a good speculation - as yet, for no one else can manage the machine, and the Englishman insists - on being drunk half his time. - </p> - <p> - We left by one of the steamers which ply daily from Caen to Havre. The run - down the river is chiefly interesting from the quarries on its banks. They - are not the principal quarries, but are of very considerable extent; and - from the quantities of tip, heaped into moderate-sized grass-covered hills - by the river side, it is plain that they must have been in work here for - centuries. You see the stone in many places lying like rich Cheddar - cheese, and cut as regularly in flakes as a grocer would cut his favourite - cheeses. The stone is very soft when it comes first from the quarries, but - gains its great hardness and sharpness after a short exposure. After - passing the quarries we got between salt marshes haunted by abundance of - jack snipe, and so we passed out to sea. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Gleanings from Boulogne - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here is one large - portion of the French people which has improved marvellously in appearance - in the last few years, and that is the army. The setting up of the French - soldier of the line used to be much neglected, but now you never see a - man, however small and slight, who does not carry himself and move as if - every muscle in his body had been thoroughly and scientifically trained. - And this is the actual fact. They have the finest system of military - gymnastics which has ever been seen. In every garrison town there is a - gymnasium, in which the men have to drill as regularly as on the - parade-ground. The one close to the gate of the old town of Boulogne is an - admirable specimen, and well worth a visit. Our authorities are, I - believe, slowly following in the steps of the French, but little has as - yet been done. There is no branch of army reform which may more safely be - pressed on. We have undoubtedly the finer material. The English soldier is - a bigger and more muscular man than the French soldier, but is far behind - him in his physical education, and must remain so until we provide a - proper system of gymnastic training, which, by the bye, will benefit the - general health of the men, and develop their intelligence as well as their - muscles. - </p> - <p> - During our stay at Boulogne there was some very heavy weather. A strong - sou’-wester came on one night, and by two o’clock next day, when I went - down, was hurling the angry green waves against the great beams of the - southern pier in fearful fashion. The entrance to the harbour, as most of - your readers will remember, is quite narrow, not one hundred yards across - between the two pier heads. The ebb-tide was sweeping down from the north, - and, meeting the gale right off the harbour’s mouth, made a battling and - raging sea which brought one’s heart into one’s mouth to look at. The - weather was quite bright, and though the wind was so strong that I held my - hat on with difficulty, the northern pier was crowded, as the whole force - of the sea was spent against the southern pier, over which it was leaping - every moment. We were in comparative shelter, and could watch, Without - being drenched with spray, the approach of one of the fishing smacks of - the port, which was coming home. I shall not easily forget the sight. We - stood there, jammed together, rough sailors, fishwomen, Cockneys, - weatherbound soldiers, well-dressed ladies, a crowd of all ranks, the wind - singing through us so that we could scarcely make our nearest neighbours - hear. Not that we wanted to talk. The sight of the small black hull and - ruddy brown sail of the smack, now rising on the crest of a great wave, - and the next moment all but disappearing behind it, took away the desire, - almost the power, of speech. Two boats, manned with fishermen, pulled to - the harbour’s mouth, and lay rolling in the comparatively still water just - within the shelter of the southern pier head. It was comforting to see - them there, though if any catastrophe had happened they could never have - lived in that sea. But the gallant little smack needed no help. She was - magnificently steered, and came dancing through the wildest part of the - race without shipping a single sea, seeming to catch each leaping wave - just in the spot where it was easiest to ride over. As she slid out of the - seething cauldron into the smooth water past the waiting boats the crowd - drew a long breath, and many of us hurried back to get a close view of her - as she ran into her place amongst the other fishing boats alongside the - quay. I envied the grizzly old hero at the helm, as he left his place, - threw off his dreadnought coat, and went to help the two men and two boys - who were taking in the sail and coiling away the ropes. There was much - shouting and congratulation from above; but they made little answer, and - no fuss. Their faces struck me very much, especially the boys’, which were - full of that quiet self-contained look one sees in Hook’s pictures. There - was no other boat in the offing then, so I went home; but within a few - hours heard that a smack had capsized in the harbour’s mouth, with the - loss of one man. I only marvel how the rest could have been saved. - </p> - <p> - On the 1st of October in every year there is a solemn festival of the - seafaring people of Boulogne, and the sea is blessed by their pastors. I - was anxious to wait for the ceremony, but was unable to do so. There seems - to be a strange mixture of trust in God and superstition in all people who - “occupy their business on the great waters.” There is a little chapel - looking down on Boulogne port full of thank-offerings of the sailors’ - wives, where the fishwomen go up to plead with God, and pour out the agony - of their souls in rough weather. There are propitiatory gifts, too, by the - side of the thank-offerings, and the shadow of a tyrannous power in - nature, to be bought off with gifts, darkens the presence of the true - Refuge from the storm. There are traces, too, of a more direct idolatry in - the town. In the year 643 of our era the Madonna came to Boulogne in an - open boat, so runs the story, and left an image with the faithful, which - soon became the great religious lion of the neighbourhood, drawing - largely, and performing a series of miracles all through the Middle Ages. - When Henry VIII. took the town the English carried off the image, but it - was restored in good condition when peace came, and as powerful as ever - for wonder-working. The Huguenots got hold of it half a century later, and - were supposed to have destroyed it; but an image, which at any rate did - duty for it, was ultimately fished up out of a well. Doubts as to - identity, however, having arisen, the matter was referred to the Sorbonne, - and a jury of doctors declared in favour of the genuineness of the article - which was forthcoming. And so it continued to practise with varying - success until the Revolution, when the Jacobins laid hands on it, broke it - up, and burnt it, thinking to make once for all an end of this and other - idol-worships. But a citizen not so enlightened as his neighbours stayed - by the fire, and succeeded at last in rescuing what he declared to be an - arm of the original image, which remains an object of veneration still, - and is said not to have lost all healing power. But it is far inferior in - this respect to some drops of the holy blood, for the reception of which a - countrywoman of ours has built a little chapel in the suburbs. - </p> - <p> - Boulogne has all the marks of rapidly increasing material prosperity which - may be seen now in every French town, one of the many fruits of which is a - wonderful improvement in the condition of the streets and thoroughfares. - The fine new buildings, the look of the shops and of the people, all tell - the same tale. In fact, one comes away from France now with a feeling - that, so far as surface polish and civilisation are concerned, this is the - country which is going to the front. Whether it goes any deeper is a - matter upon which a traveller flitting about for a few weeks cannot - venture an opinion. - </p> - <p> - I came back in one of the daily packets to London Bridge, which, besides - carrying seventy passengers, was piled fore and aft with cargo. There were - 400 cases of wine on deck, besides other packages, which sorely curtailed - our walking privileges. But the boats are good boats, and the voyage past - Dover, through the Downs, round the North Foreland, and up the Thames, is - so full of life and interest that it is well worth making a long day of - it, if one is a moderately good sailor. The advertisements call it eight - and a half hours, which means eleven; but it is not a moment too long. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Blankenberghe - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>esterday (14th - August) we were warned by meagre fare at the <i>table d’hôte</i> of our - hotel that it was the vigil of some saint’s day. Our gastronomic knowledge - was enlarged by the opportunity of partaking of boiled mussels. A small - and delicate species of this little fish—despised of Englishmen—is - found in extraordinary quantities on this coast. The sand is dotted with - the shells after every ebb. The wattles of the jetties are full of them. - After the first shock of having a salad bowl full of small black shells - presented to one, following immediately on a delicate <i>potage à - l’oseille</i>, the British citizen may pursue his education in this - direction fearlessly, with the certainty of becoming acquainted with a - delicate and appetising morsel; and he will return to his native country - with at least a toleration for “winks” and “pickled whelks,” when he sees - them vended at corner stalls in Clare Market or in the Old Kent Road, for - the benefit of the dangerous classes of his fellow-citizens who take their - meals in the street. In these Flemish parts they are eaten with bread and - butter, and even as whitebait, and by all classes. - </p> - <p> - After the meal I consulted the calendar in my pocket-book as to the - approaching festival, not wishing to thrust my heretical ignorance - unnecessarily on the notice of the simple folk who inhabit the <i>Lion - d’Or</i>. That obstinately Protestant document, however, informed me - simply that the Rev. E. Irving was born on this day in 1792, probably not - the saint I was in quest of. A <i>Churchman’s Almanac</i>, with which the - only English lady in the place was provided, was altogether silent as to - the day. In the end, therefore, I was obliged to fall back upon the - bright-eyed little <i>demoiselle de la maison</i>, who informed me that it - was the vigil of the Assumption of the Virgin, and that the <i>fête</i> - was one greatly honoured by the community of Blankenberghe. - </p> - <p> - Thus prepared, I was not surprised at being roused at five in the morning - by the clumping of sabots and clinking of hammers in the street below—my - room is a corner one, looking from two windows on the Rue d’Eglise, the - principal street of the place, and from the other two on the Rue des - Pecheurs, or “Visschurs’ Straet,” which runs across the northern end of - the Rue d’Eglise. A flight of broad steps here runs up on to the Digue, or - broad terrace fronting the sea, and at the foot of these steps they were - erecting a temporary altar, and over it a large picture of fishermen - hauling in nets full of monsters of the deep. They had brought it from the - parish church, and, as such pictures go, it was by no means a bad one. - Presently tricoloured flags began to appear from the windows of most of - the houses in both streets, and here and there garlands of bright-coloured - paper were hung across from one side to the other. As the morning advanced - the bells from the church and convent called the simple folk to mass at - short intervals, six, half-past seven, nine, and grand mass at ten. The - call seemed to be answered by more people than we had fancied the town - could have held. At eleven there was to be a procession, and now miniature - altars with lighted candles appeared in many of the ground-floor windows, - both of shops and private houses; and the streets were strewed with rushes - and diamond-shaped pieces of coloured paper. Punctual to its time the head - of the procession came round the corner of “Visschurs’ Straet,” half a - dozen small boys ringing bells leading the way. Then came the beadledom of - Blankenberghe, in the shape of several imposing persons in municipal - uniform, then three little girls dressed in white, with bouquets, more - boys, including a diligent but not very skilful drummer, six or seven - other maidens in white, somewhat older than their predecessors, of whom - the centre one carried some ornament of tinsel and flowers. Then came the - heavy silk canopy, supported by four light poles carried by acolytes, and - surrounded by choristers, of whom the leader bore a large silver censer, - and under the canopy marched a shaven monk in cream-coloured brocade - satin, carrying the pyx, and a less gorgeously attired brother with an - open missal. Around the whole of the procession, to protect it from the - accompanying crowd, were a belt of bronzed fishermen in their best - clothes, some carrying staves, some hymn-books, and almost all joining in - the chant which was rolled out by the priest, in a powerful bass with a - kind of metallic ring in it, as they neared the altar at the foot of the - steps. Here the whole procession paused, and the greater part knelt, while - the priest put incense in the censer, and made his obeisances and prayed - in an unknown tongue, and the censer boy swung his sweet-smelling smoke - about, and the fishermen and their wives and children prayed too, in their - own tongue, I suppose, and their own way, probably for fair weather and - plenty of fish, and let us hope for brave and gentle hearts to meet - whatever rough weather and short commons may be in store for them by land - or water, Then the procession rose, and passed down the Rue d’Eglise, - pausing at the corner of the little market-place opposite a rude figure of - the Madonna in a niche over some pious doorway, [Greek phrase] and so out - of sight. And the <i>bourgeois</i> blew out the candles and took away the - chairs on which, while the halt lasted, they had been kneeling from their - shop windows, putting back the bathing dresses, and the shell boxes, and - other sea-side merchandise, while the whole non-shopkeeping population, - and the neighbours from Bruges, and the strangers who fill the hotels and - lodging-houses turned out upon the splendid sands and on the Digue to - enjoy their <i>fête</i>-day. In the afternoon the <i>corps de musique</i> - of the communal schools of Bruges gave a gratuitous concert to us all by - the permission of the communal administration of that town, as we bathed, - or promenaded, or sipped coffee or liqueurs in the broad verandahs of the - <i>cafés</i> which line the Digue. Gaily dressed middle-class women (of - upper classes, as we understand them, I see none), in many-coloured - garments and immense structures of false back hair, such as these eyes - have never before seen; a sprinkling of Belgian officers in uniform, - Russians, Frenchmen, Germans a few, and two Anglo-Saxons, Englishmen I - cannot say, for one is an American citizen and the other your contributor, - who compose the only English-speaking males, so far as I can judge; groups - of Flemish women of the people in long black cloth cloaks, with large - hoods lined with black satin, more expensive probably, but not nearly so - picturesque as the old red cloak which thirty years ago was the almost - universal Sunday dress of women in Wiltshire, Berkshire, and other Western - counties; little old-fashioned girls in nice mob caps, and the fishermen - in excellent blue broad-cloth jackets and trousers, and well-blacked shoes - or boots, instead of the huge sabots of their daily life; in short, every - soul, I suppose, in Blankenberghe, from the Bourgmestre who sits on his - throne, to the donkey-boy who drives along his Neddy under a freight of - children, at half a franc an hour, whenever he can entice the small fry - from the superior attraction of engineering with the splendid sand, spends - his or her three or four hours on the Digue, enjoying whatever of the - music, gossip, coffee, beer, or other pastimes they are inclined to or can - afford; and in that whole crowd of pleasant holiday-making folk there is - not one single trace of poverty, not a starved face, not a naked foot, not - a ragged garment. It is the same on the week-days. The people, notably the - fishermen and <i>baigneurs</i>, dress roughly, but they have all - comfortable thick worsted stockings in their sabots, and their jerseys and - overalls are ample and satisfactory. Why is it that in nine places out of - ten on the Continent this is so, and that in England you shall never be - able to find a watering-place which is not deformed more or less by - poverty and thriftlessness? Right across the sea, there, on the Norfolk - coast, lie Cromer and Sherringham. More daring sailors never manned - lifeboat, more patient fishermen never dragged net, than the seafaring - folk of those charming villages. They are courteous, simple, outspoken - folk, too, singularly attractive in their looks and ways. But, alas! for - the rags, and the grinding poverty, declaring itself in a dozen ways, in - the cottages, in the children’s looks, in the women’s premature old age. - When will England wake up, and get rid of the curse of her wealth and the - curse of her poverty? When will an Englishman be able again to look on at - a fête-day in Belgium, or Switzerland, or Germany, or France, without a - troubled conscience and a pain in his heart, as he thinks of the contrast - at home, and the bitter satire in the old, worn-out name of “Merry - England?” It is high time that we all were heartsick over it, for the - canker grows on us. Those who know London best will tell you so; those who - know the great provincial towns and country villages will tell you so, - except perhaps that the latter are now getting depopulated, and so contain - less altogether of joy or sorrow. However, sir, there are other than these - holiday times in which to dwell on this dark subject. I ought to apologise - for having fallen into it unawares, when I sat down merely to put on - paper, if I could in a few lines, and impart to your readers the exceeding - freshness of the feeling which the feast-day at this little Belgian - watering-place leaves on one. But who knows when he sits down, at any rate - in the holidays, what he is going to write? However good your intentions, - at times you can’t “get the hang of it,” can’t say the thing you meant to - say. - </p> - <p> - You may wonder, too, at this sudden plunge into the <i>fête</i> of the - Assumption at Blankenberghe, when I have never warned you even that I had - flitted from my round on the great crank which grinds for us all so - ruthlessly in the parts about the Strand and the Inns of Court. Well, sir, - I plead in my defence the test that a very able friend of mine applies to - novels. He opens the second volume and reads a chapter; if that tempts - him, on he goes to the end of the book; if it is very good indeed, he then - goes back, and fairly begins at the beginning. So I hope your readers will - be inclined to peruse in future weeks some further gossip respecting this - place, which should perhaps have preceded the <i>fête</i>-day. If they - should get to take the least interest in Blankenberghians and their works - and ways, it is more than these latter can be said to do about them, for - in the two or three cheap sheets which I find on the table here, and which - constitute the press of this corner of Belgium, there is seldom more than - a couple of lines devoted to the whole British Empire. The fact that there - is not another Englishman in the place, and that the American above - mentioned, the only other representative of our English-speaking stock - here, went once to see the Derby, and got so bored by two o’clock that he - left the Downs and walked back to Epsom station, enduring the whole chaff - of the road, and finding the doors locked and the clerks and porters all - gone up to the race, ought to be enough to make them curious—curious - enough at any rate for long-vacation purposes. There are plenty of odds - and ends of life a little out of our ordinary track lying about here to - make a small “harvest for a quiet eye,” which I am inclined to try and - garner for you, if you think well. And are not the new King and Queen - coming next week to delight their subjects, and witness many kinds of - fireworks, and a “<i>concours des joueurs de boule, dits pas baenbolders</i>,” - whatever these may be? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Belgian Bathing - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> should like to - know how many grown Englishmen or Englishwomen, apart from those - unfortunates who are preparing for competitive examinations, are aware of - the existence of this place? No Englishman is bound to know of it by any - law of polite education acknowledged amongst us, for is it not altogether - ignored in Murray? - </p> - <p> - Even Bradshaw’s <i>Continental Guide</i> is silent as to its whereabouts. - This is somewhat hard upon Blankenberghe, sturdy and rapidly growing - little watering-place that she is, already exciting the jealousy of her - fashionable neighbour, Ostend. It must be owned, however, that she returns - the compliment by taking the slightest possible interest in the - contemporary history of the British Empire. Nevertheless, the place has - certain recommendations to persons in search of a watering-place out of - England. If you are content with an hotel of the country, of which there - is a large choice, you may have three good meals a day and a bedroom for - six and a half francs, with a considerable reduction for families. Even at - the fashionable hotels on the Digue the price is only eight or nine - francs; and when you have paid your hotel bill you are out of all danger - of extravagance, for there is literally nothing to spend money upon. Your - bathing machine costs you sixpence. There are no pleasure boats and no - wheeled vehicles for hire in the place, and no excursions if there were; - shops there are none; and the market is of the smallest and meagerest - kind. There are no beggars and no amusements, except bathing and the - Kursaal. These, however, suffice to keep the inhabitants and visitors in a - state of much contentment. - </p> - <p> - But now for the geography. From Ostend harbour to the mouth of the Scheldt - is a dead flat, highly cultivated, and dotted all over with villages and - farmhouses, but somewhat lower than high-water mark. The sea is kept out - by an ancient and dilapidated-looking dyke, some fifty feet high, on the - slopes of which flourishes a strong, reedy sort of grass, planted in tufts - at regular intervals, to hold the loose soil together. The fine sand - drifts up the dyke and blows over it, lying just like snow, so that if you - half-close your eyes and look at it from fifty yards’ distance, you may - fancy yourself on a glacier in the Oberland. Blankenberghe is an ancient - fishing village, lying just under the dyke, between eight and nine miles - from Ostend. When it came into the minds of the inhabitants to convert it - into a watering-place they levelled the top of their dyke for some 600 - yards until it is only about twenty-five feet above high-water mark. They - paved the sea face with good stone, and the fine flat walk on the top, - thirty yards broad, with brick, and called it the Digue, in imitation of - Ostend. They built a Kursaal, three or four great hotels, and half a dozen - first-class lodging-houses, opening on to the Digue, with deep verandahs - in front, and they brought a single line branch of the Flanders railway - from Bruges, and the deed was accomplished. There is no such a sea-walk - anywhere that I can remember as Blankenberghe Digue, from which you look - straight away with nothing but sea between you and the North Pole. From - the Digue you descend by a flight of twenty-four steps on one side to the - sands, on the other into the town, the chief of these latter flights being - at the head of the Rue d’Eglise, the backbone, as it were, of the place, - which runs from the railway station to the Digue. There may be 1500 - inhabitants out of the season, when all the Digue hotels and - lodging-houses are shut up; at present, perhaps, another 1000, coming and - going, and attracted by the bathing. - </p> - <p> - Of this institution an Englishman is scarcely a fair judge, as it is - conducted on a method so utterly unlike anything we have at home at - present. My American friend assures me that we are 100 years behind all - other nations in this matter, that the Belgians conduct it exactly as they - do in the States, and that theirs is the only decent mode of bathing. It - may be so. One sees such rapid changes in these days, and advanced - opinions of all kinds are being caught up so quickly by even such - Philistines as the English middle classes, that he is a bold man who will - assert that we shall not see the notions of Brighton and Dover yield to - the new ideas of Newport and Blankenberghe before long. In one respect, - indeed, it is well that they should, for the machines here are convenient - little rooms on wheels, with plenty of pegs, two chairs, a small tub, a - looking-glass, and everything handsome about them. But the wheels are - broad, and very-low; consequently you are only rolled down to the - neighbourhood of the water, thinking yourself lucky if you get within five - or six yards of it. Now, as the occupants of the machine on your left and - right are probably sprightly and somewhat facetious young Belgian or - French women, and as the beach shelves so gently that you have at least a - run of fifty yards before you can get into deep enough water to swim with - comfort, the root difference between Blankenberghian and English habits - discloses itself to you from the first. Of course, as men, women, and - children all bathe together, costumes are necessary, but those in which - the men have to array themselves only make bathing a discomfort, without - giving one the consciousness of being decently clad. You have handed to - you with your towels a simple jersey, with arms and legs six or eight - inches in length, reaching perhaps to the middle of the biceps and femoral - muscles. Into this apology for a dress you insert and button yourself up - (it is well for you, by the way, if one or two buttons be not missing), - and then are expected to walk calmly out into the water through groups of - laughing girls in jackets and loose trousers. Having threaded your way - through these, and avoided a quadrille party on the one hand, and an - excellent fat couple, reminding you of the picture of Mr. and Mrs. Bubb in - the one-horse “chay,” who are bathing their family on the other, you - address yourself to swimming. As you descended from the Digue you read, - “Bathers are expressly recommended to hold themselves at least fifteen - yards from the breakers by buoys designed.” You do not see any breakers, - but there is a line of buoys about eighty yards out to which you - contemptuously paddle, and after all find that you are scarcely out of - your depth. When you have had enough you return, poor, dripping, forked - mortal, to a last and severest trial. For the universal custom is to sit - about on chairs amongst the machines; and on one side of your door are - perhaps a couple of nursemaids chatting while their children build sand - castles, on the other a matron or two working and gossiping. Now, sir, a - man who has been taking the rough and the smooth of life for a good many - years within half a mile of Temple Bar is not likely to be oversensitive, - but I would appeal to any contributor on your staff, sir, or to yourself, - whether you would be prepared to go through such an ordeal without - wincing? On my return from my first swim I recognised my American cousin - in his element. He was clad in a blue striped jersey,—would that I - could have sprinkled it with a few stars,—and was sauntering about - with the greatest coolness from group to group, enjoying the whole - business, and no doubt looking forward complacently to the time when - differences of sex shall be altogether ignored in the academies of the - future. He threw a pitying glance at me as I skedaddled to my machine, - secretly vowing to abstain from all such adventures hereafter. Since that - time I have taken my dip too early for the Belgian public to be present at - the ceremony, but, like the rest of the world, I daily look on, and, - unlike them, wonder. As to the morality of it, I can’t say that I think - the custom of promiscuous bathing as practised here seems to me either - moral or immoral. Occasionally when the waves are a little rough you see - couples clinging together for mutual support more than the circumstances - perhaps strictly require; but there is very little of this. The whole - business seemed to me not immoral, but in our conventional sense vulgar, - much like “kissing in the ring,” which I have seen played by most - exemplary sets of young men and women on excursions in Greenwich or - Richmond Park, but which would not do in Hamilton Gardens or a May Fair - drawing-room. Meanwhile, I hope that as long at least as I can enjoy the - water we shall remain benighted bathers in the eyes of our American - cousins and of the brave Belgians. To a man the first requisite of a - really enjoyable bath is surely deep water, and the second, no clothes, - for the loss of either of which no amount of damp flirtation can - compensate, in the opinion at least of your contributor, who, nevertheless - in these Belgian parts, while obliged to record his opinion, has perhaps a - great consciousness that he may be something of an old fogey. - </p> - <p> - I suppose that a man or nation is to be congratulated about whom their - neighbours have nothing to say. If so, the position of England at this - time is peculiarly enviable out here. I read the <i>Indépendance Belge</i> - diligently, but under the head “Nouvelles d’Angleterre,” for which that - journal retains, as it would seem, a special correspondent, I never learn - anything whatever except the price of funds. We occupy an average of - perhaps twelve lines in its columns, and none at all in those of the <i>La - Vigie de la Côte</i>, the special production of Blankenberghe, or of the - Bruges and Ostend journals. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To see oursels as ithers see us! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Certainly a short residence at Blankenberghe should be taken in - conjunction with the volume of essays on international policy by Mr. - Congreve and his fellow Comtists, which I happen to have brought with me - for deliberate perusal, if one wants to feel the shine taken out of one’s - native land. I don’t. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Belgian Boats - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>lankenberghe has - one branch of native industry, and one only. From time immemorial it has - been a fishing station. The local paper declares that there has been no - change in the boats, the costumes, or the implements of this industry - since the sixteenth century, with the exception noticed below. One can - quite believe it, as far as the boats are concerned. They are very - strongly built tubs, ranging from twenty to thirty tons, flat-bottomed, - the same breadth of beam fore and aft, built I should think on the model - of the first duck which was seen off this coast, and a most sensible model - too. They have no bowsprit, but a short foremast in the bows, carrying one - small sail, and a strong mainmast amidships, carrying one big sail. Each - of these sails is run up by a single rope, rigged through a pulley in the - top of the masts, and of other rigging there is none. The boats are all of - a uniform russet-brown colour, the tint of old age, looking as if they had - been once varnished, in the time, let us say, of William the Silent, and - had never been touched since. There is not a scrap of paint on the whole - fleet. In short, I am convinced that the local paper by no means - exaggerates their antiquity. Instead of finding it hard to believe that - sixteenth-century men went to sea in them, I should not be startled to - hear that our first parents were the original proprietors, or at any rate - that the present fleet was laid down by Japhet, when the Ark was broken - up. The habits of the fleet are as quaint as their looks. There is no - scrap of anchorage or shelter of any kind here, the sands lie perfectly - open to the north and west, and the surf seems about as rough as it is - elsewhere. But the Blankenberghe fishermen are perfectly indifferent, - convinced no doubt that neither sea nor sand will do anything to hurt them - or their boats, for old acquaintance’ sake. To me, accustomed to the - scrambling, and shouting, and hauling up above high-water mark, the - running of naked-legged boys into the water, and the energetic doings of - the crew when a fishing boat comes to land at home, there is something of - the comically sublime in the contrast presented by these good Flemings. As - one of the old brown tubs rolls towards the shore, looking as if she - scarcely had made up her mind which end to send in first, you see a man - quietly pitch a small anchor over the bows, and then down come the two - sails. Sometimes the anchor begins to hold before the boat grounds, but - just as often she touches before the anchor bites, but nobody cares. The - only notice taken is to unship the rudder and haul it aboard; then comes a - wave which swings her round, and leaves her broadside to the surf. Nobody - moves. Bang comes the next breaker, lifting her for a moment, and bumping - her down again on the sand, her bows perhaps a trifle more to sea, but the - crew only smoke and hold on. And so it goes on, bang, bump, thump, till - sooner or later she swings right round and settles into her place on the - sand. When she has adjusted this to her own satisfaction one of the crew - just drops over the stern with another anchor on his shoulder, which he - fixes in the sand, and then he and the rest leave her and walk up to the - Digue, and generally on to vespers at the church, which is often three - parts filled with these jolly fellows. Getting off again is much the same - happy-go-lucky business. The men shoulder the anchor which is out at the - stern, or, as often as not, leave it on shore with their cable coiled, - ready for their return. Then they clamber into their tub, which is bumping - away, held only by the anchor out at the bows. They wait for the first - wave that floats them, then up go the sails, on goes the rudder, they get - a haul on the anchor, and after heading one or two different ways get - fairly off. - </p> - <p> - Their costume is picturesque,—thick red flannel shirts, the collars - of which fold over their tightly buttoned blue jackets, and give a tidy, - uniform appearance to a group of them. The old stagers still wear huge - loose red knickerbockers and pilot boots, but the younger generation are - degenerating into the common blue trousers and sabots, the latter almost - big enough to come ashore on in case of wreck. Altogether they are the - most well-to-do set of fishermen to look at that I have ever seen, though - where their money comes from I cannot guess, as they seem to take little - but small flounders and skate. There used to be good cod-fishing in the - winter, they say, but of late years it has fallen off. The elder fishermen - attribute this to the disgust of the cod at an innovation in the good old - ways of fishing. Formerly two boats worked together, dragging a net with - large meshes between them, but this has been of late superseded by the - English bag-net system, which brings up everything small and great, and - disturbs the <i>pâture accoutumée</i> of the cod, whereupon he has - emigrated. - </p> - <p> - Disastrous islanders that we are, who never touch anything, from Japan to - Blankenberghe, without setting honest folk by the ears and bringing - trouble! The “Corporation of Fishers,” a close and privileged body, who - hold their heads very high here, are looking into the matter, and it seems - likely that this destructive <i>chalut, d’origine Anglaise</i>, may yet be - superseded. It remains to be seen whether the cod will come back. - </p> - <p> - We have had abominable weather here, but nothing in the shape of a storm. - I confess to have been looking out for a good north-wester with much - interest. Assuming that the effect as to breakers and surf would be much - the same as elsewhere, one is curious to ascertain whether these fishing - boats are left to bump it out on the sands. If so, and no harm comes to - them, the sooner our fishermen adopt the Blankenberghe model of boat the - better. I fear, however, that with all their good looks and old - traditions, the seafaring folk on this coast are wanting in the splendid - daring of our own ’long-shore people. On Monday night the mail - packet from Ostend to Dover went out in a stiffish breeze, but nothing - which ‘we should call a gale, at eight o’clock. By some curious - mismanagement both her engines got out of order and came to a dead stop - almost immediately. Strange to say, her anchors were down in the hold - under the luggage (the boats are Belgian, not English manned), and she had - a very narrow escape of drifting right on shore. Luckily the crew, managed - to get up an anchor in time to prevent this catastrophe, and there she lay - right off the harbour, perfectly helpless, throwing up rockets and burning - blue lights for hours. Neither tug, nor lifeboat, nor pilot boat stirred, - and she rode at anchor till morning, when the wind went down. I venture to - think that such a case is unheard of on our coasts. It occurs to one to - ask whether there is such an official as a harbourmaster at the port of - Ostend, and if so, what his duties are. There were sailors enough in - harbour to have manned fifty lifeboats, for the Ostend fishing fleet of - 200 boats had come back from their three months’ cruise on that very - afternoon. The contingency of riding out a stormy night in a mail packet - within a few hundred yards of a lee shore, in front of a great port full - of seamen, is scarcely one of those on which we holiday folk reckon when - we book ourselves for the Continent. - </p> - <p> - Coming out on the Digue one night, soon after my arrival, I was brought to - a stand-still by the appearance of the sea. It was low water, so that I - was about 200 yards off, and at first I could scarcely believe my eyes, - which seemed to tell me that every breaker was a flood of pale fire. I - went down close to the water to confirm or disenchant myself, and found it - more beautiful the nearer I got. Of course one has seen the ordinary - phosphorescence of the sea in a hundred places, but this was quite a - different affair. The sand under one’s feet even was molten silver. The - scientific doctor says it is simply the effect of the constant presence on - this coast of great numbers of an animalcule which can only be seen - through a microscope, called the <i>Noctiluca miliaris</i>. It looked on - that evening as if huge fiery serpents were constantly rising and dashing - along. People here say that they have it always, but this is certainly not - so. On several other evenings the breaking waves were slightly luminous, - but scarcely enough to attract attention. If you could only make sure of - seeing sea and shore ablaze as it was on that particular night, you ought - at once, sir, to pack traps and off, notwithstanding these abominably high - winds. I cannot help thinking that, besides a monster gathering—probably - a Reform League meeting—of the Noctiluca miliaris, there must have - been something very unusual in the atmosphere on that particular night. It - was a kind of “eldritch” night, in which you felt as if you had got into - the atmosphere of Tennyson’s <i>Morte d’Arthur</i>, and a great hand might - come up out of the water without giving you a start. There was light right - up in the sky above one’s head, a succession of half luminous rain clouds - were drifting rapidly across at a very low elevation from the northwest, - not fifty yards high, as it seemed, while the smoke of my cigar floated - away slowly almost in the opposite direction. Luckily, sir, my American - friend was with me on the night in question, to whom I can appeal as to - the truth of my facts, and we had had nothing but one bottle of very - moderately strong <i>vin ordinaire</i> at the <i>table d’hote</i>. If your - scientific readers say that the thing is impossible, I can only answer - that so it was. - </p> - <p> - Parson Wilbur, when he is considering the question whether the ability to - express ourselves in articulate language has been productive of more good - than evil, esteems his own ignorance of all tongues except Yankee and the - dead languages as “a kind of martello tower, in which I am safe from the - furious bombardments of foreign garrulity.” There is something comforting - and fascinating in this doctrine, but still on the whole it is decidedly - disagreeable to be reduced to signs for purposes of intercourse, as is - generally the case here. Not one soul in a hundred can speak French. Their - talk sounds like a sewing machine, with an occasional word of English - interspersed in the clicking. I am told that if you will only talk broad - Durham or Yorkshire they will understand you, but I do not believe it, as - the sounds are quite unlike. The names of these people are wonderful. For - instance, those on the bathing machines just opposite my hotel are, Yan - Yooren, Yan Yulpen, Siska Deneve, Sandelays, and Colette Claes, - abbreviated into Clotty by two English schoolboys who have lately - appeared, and are the worst dressed and the best bathers of all the young - folk here. They are fast friends, I see, with a young Russian, whose - father, an old officer, sits near me at the <i>table d’hôte</i>. Poor old - boy! I never saw a man so bored, in fact he has disclosed to me that he - can stand it no longer. Blankenberghe has been quite too much for him. - Lest it should also prove so to your readers, I will end with his last - words (though I by no means endorse his judgment of the little Flemish - watering-place), “<i>Maintenant je n’y puis plus!</i>” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - AMERICA - </h2> - <p> - <i>My father in 1870 went to America for the first time. His time was so - much occupied there that he could write only home letters. My mother has - allowed me to make extracts from these, thinking that they serve to - introduce his later letters from America, which were addressed to the </i>Spectator<i>.</i> - </p> - <p> - <i>It was owing to the fact of my father’s having publicly taken the side - of the North in the Civil War that his reception in the United States in - 1870 was so particularly warm and hearty.</i> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Peruvian, 6.45 p.m. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere I am, in my - officer’s cabin, a small separate hole in our little world on the water, - all to myself. At this moment I look out of my porthole and see the Welsh - mountains coming out against a bed of daffodil sky, for though it has been - misty all day it is now a lovely clear evening. The sea is quite calm, and - there is scarcely any motion in the ship. The tea-bell is ringing, so I - must stop for a little, but I shall have plenty of time to tell you all - that has happened as yet, as we shall be lying off Londonderry nearly all - day to-morrow. The mail does not come off to us till about 5 P.M., and we - shall be there about nine in the morning or thereabouts. I may perhaps run - up to Derry to see the old town and the gate and walls, etc., sacred to - the glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good king - William. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - 8.45 p.m. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>ea was excellent, - and afterwards R——— and I went on deck, and saw the sun - go down gloriously in the line of our ship’s course; we were steaming - right up a great road of fire. The sea gets calmer and calmer, and, in - fact, there couldn’t be less movement if we were in Greenwich reach. So - now for the narrative of all my adventures since I left you at the window. - The moment we got on board, there was the rush and scramble for places at - the saloon table, which Harry I——— warned me about. We - were on board amongst the first, but agreed not to join the scramble, - taking any places that might happen to be going. There is something so - ludicrously contemptible to me in seeing people eagerly and seriously - struggling about such matters that I am quite unable to join in the worry. - I doubt if I could even if the ship were going down, and we were all - taking to the boats. It isn’t the least from any virtuous or heroic - feeling, but simply from the long dwelling in the frame of mind described - in a chapter in <i>Past and Present</i>. When every one had taken the - seats they liked, we settled down very comfortably into two which were - vacant, and which, for all I can see, are as good as any of the rest. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - 8 a.m., Friday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ff the north coast - of Ireland, and a splendid coast it is. A stout party, on whom I do not - the least rely, told me an hour or so ago, when I first went on deck, that - we were passing the Giant’s Causeway. The morning is deliciously fresh, - and there is just a little roll in the vessel which is slightly - discomforting some of the passengers, I see. I slept like a top without - turning, for which, indeed, I haven’t room in my tray on the top of the - drawers. My only mishap has been that when they were sluicing the decks - this morning, the water running down the ship’s side naturally turned into - my wide-open porthole to see if I was getting up. The device was quite - successful, as I shot out of bed at once to close it up and save my things - lying on the sofa below. No damage done fortunately. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - 9.30 a.m., Friday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere we are lying - quietly at anchor in Lough Foyle after an excellent breakfast. We wait - here for the mails, but as it is nineteen miles I find by road up to - Derry, I shall not make the attempt. The plot thickens on board, and I am - already deeply interested. There are 150 emigrants from the East End, who - are being taken over by their parson and a philanthropist whose name I - haven’t caught yet. I have been forward amongst these poor folk, and have - won several hearts or at least opened many mouths by distributing some few - spare stamps I luckily had in my pocket. Lovely as the morning is, and - delicious as the contrast between the exquisite air on deck, where they - are all sitting, when contrasted with Whitechapel air, I can’t help - looking at them with very mingled feelings. They are a fine steady - respectable class of poor. The women nursing and caring for their children - with grave, serious, sweet faces, and the men really attentive. All of - them anxious to send off scraps of letters to their friends in Great - Babylon. There is one slip of the foredeck roped off entirely for nursing - mothers and small children, and there are a lot of quaint little plumps - rolling and tumbling about there, with some of whom I hope to make - friends. A bird-fancier from the East End has several cages full of larks - and sparrows, and a magpie and jay in state cabins by themselves, all of - which he hopes to make great merchandise of in Canada, where English birds - are longed for, but are very hard to keep. He had lost his hempseed in - Liverpool, but luckily a boat has gone ashore, and I think there is good - hope of getting him a fresh supply. There is a little gathering of the - emigrants for service at eight in the evening forward. I didn’t know of it - last night, but shall attend henceforth. No thought of such a thing in the - state saloon! “How hardly shall they that have riches”! - </p> - <p> - Here, as elsewhere, the truest and deepest life, because the simplest, - lies amongst those who have little of the things of this world lying - between them and their Father and this invisible world, with its - realities. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - On board the Peruvian. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e are well out on - the broad Atlantic, which at present we are inclined to think a little of - an imposture. There is certainly a swell of some kind, for the ship - pitches more or less, but to the unpractised eye looking out on the waste - of waters it is quite impossible to account for the swell, for, except for - the better colour, the sea looks very much as it does off the Isle of - Wight; great waves like the slope of a chalk down, following one another - in solemn procession, up which the long ship climbs like a white road. - However, it is early days to grumble about the want of swell, and when it - comes I may not like it any more than another. After finishing my letter - to you this morning, I went ashore to post it, and found that after all it - wouldn’t reach London till to-morrow night. So I sent you a telegram, - which I hope you got before bed-time at any rate, and redirected my letter - to Cromer. To pass the time I took a jaunting car with two other - passengers, and we drove to an old castle looking over Lough Foyle, - formerly a stronghold of the O’Doherty’s till it was sacked and knocked - about their ears by an expedition of Scotch Campbells, who did a good work - for the district by destroying it. We found lots of shamrock in the ruins, - and enjoyed the drive and still more a bathe afterwards. The country seems - very prosperous. The people, strapping, light-haired, blue-eyed Celts, - handsome and well-to-do; in fact, evidently much better fed and better - educated than almost any English country district I know. The mails came - down from Derry in a tender, which brought us the news of the first battle - and the Prussian victory, which I for one always looked for, and we got - away by seven, two hours later than we expected. However, the wind is fair - and we are making famous way, and by the time I get up in the morning I - expect we shall be 200 miles from the Irish coast. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - 9.30 p.m., Saturday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> long calm day and - we have made a splendid run—shall be in Quebec in good time - to-morrow week if this weather holds; but knowing persons say it won’t, - and that we have seen the last of fine weather, and must look out for - squalls—for why? the wind has gone round against the sun, and it has - settled to rain hard with a barometer steadily going down. The Roman - Catholic bishop (who is not very expert in weather that I know of, but is - a very, jovial party, who enjoys his cigar and gossip, and was one of the - first to go in for a game of shovel-board on deck this morning) declares - that we shall have it fine all the way, as he has made the passage six - times and has never had bad weather yet. In any case I hope it won’t be - rough to-morrow, for we are to have a real treat in the way of spiritual - dissipation. First, the bishop is to have some kind of mass and preach a - short sermon at nine (N.B. a time-table conscience clause is to run all - day, so that only latitudinarians like me will go in for it all). Then the - captain who is a rare good fellow, with a spice of sentiment about him, - which sits so well on such a bulletheaded, broad-shouldered, resolute - Jack-Tar, has his own service at eleven, in which he will do the priest - himself, an excellent example, with a sermon by the emigrant parson, whose - name is H———, afterwards. These in the saloon; then at - 2.30 a service in the steerage by H———, or G———, - the other parson, and a final wind up, also in the steerage at 7.30. G———is - the clergyman of Shaftesbury, George Glyn’s borough; was formerly in the - Navy, and was in the Ragged School movement of ’48, ’49, - when I used to go off twice a week in the evening to Ormond Yard, when - poor old M——— had the gas turned out, and his hat - knocked over his eyes by his boys. He knew Ludlow and Furnival, but I - don’t remember him. However, he is a right good fellow, and gave us a - really good <i>extempore</i> prayer last night at the midships’ service. - The steerage is certainly most interesting. There are now nearly 500 - emigrants on board there, and the captain says they are about the best lot - he has ever had. Going round this morning I was struck by a dear little - light-haired girl, who was standing with her arm round the neck of a poor - woman very sick and ill, and such tenderness and love in her poor little - face as she turned it up to us as almost brought tears into one’s eyes. Of - course I thought the woman was her mother. No such thing; she was no - relation at all. The little dear had never seen her till she met her on - board, but was attracted by her misery, and had never left her side since - she had been so ill. The poor woman had two strapping daughters on board - who had never been near her. How strangely folk are fixed up in this queer - world. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Monday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e know what a good - swell in mid-Atlantic means at last. We were pitching when I went to bed, - finding it hard to get on with my penmanship. Off I went as fast as usual, - and never woke except for one moment to grunt and turn round, or rather, - try to turn round, in my tray on top of the drawers at something which - sounded like a crash. In the morning we were swinging and bowing and - jerking, so that I had to wait for a favourable moment to bolt out of bed - for fear of coming a cropper if I didn’t mind. - </p> - <p> - As soon as I was out I saw what the crash had been in the night. My big - portmanteau, which had been set on its end the night before, had had a - jumping match with my water-jug in the night. Both of them had thrown a - somersault across the cabin against the door, but the jug being brittle - (jugs shouldn’t jump against portmanteaus), and coming down undermost, had - gone all into little bits, and the water, all that wasn’t in my shoes at - least, had soaked my carpet at the door end. But it was a glorious bright - morning and the dancing hills of water and the bounding ship sent me up - dancing on the deck. My high spirits were a little subdued after - breakfast, for I had scarcely got on deck when parson H——— - came to me to say the emigrants wanted me to give them an address. Well, I - couldn’t refuse, as my heart is full of them, poor dear folk, so down I - went to get my ideas straight, and put down the heads on paper. I thought - I wouldn’t miss the air, though, so set open my porthole window, which as - I told you is about a foot across, and set to work—as I write, this - blessed porthole is about a yard away from my right ear, and perhaps two - feet above my head. Well, I was just getting into swing with my work, when - suddenly a great pitch, and kerswash! in comes all of a wave that could - squeeze through my porthole, right on to my ear and shoulder, over my - desk, drenching all my papers, lucifer-match boxes, hair-brushes, - wideawake, tobacco-pouch and other chattels, and flooding all of my floor - which my water-jug had left dry. I bolted to the porthole and closed him - up before another curious wave could come prying in, and soon rubbed - everything dry again with the help of the Captain’s cabin-boy, and no harm - is done except that I have to sit with my feet up on my portmanteau while - I write. This sheet was dowsed in my shower-bath this morning, but I laid - it on my bed, and it seems all right now and doesn’t even blot; I shall - however envelope it now with another sheet for safety, as I’m not going to - keep my porthole shut notwithstanding the warning, and I don’t want my - letters to you floated again. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Peruvian, 9th August 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ince I put my last - sheet into No. 1 envelope, everything in the good ship <i>Peruvian</i> has - been dancing. The long tables in the saloon, at which we are always eating - and drinking, have been covered with a small framework, over which the - cloth is laid, and which has the effect of dividing them into three - compartments; a sort of trough down each side in which are the dishes. - Notwithstanding these precautions there are constant catastrophes in the - shape of spoons, forks, tumblers, and sometimes plates, jumping the - partitions suddenly as the ship heels over. The story of the Yankee - skipper saying to the lady on his left, “I’ll trouble you, marm, for that - ’ere turkey—” the bird in question having fled from the table - into her lap as he was beginning to serve it—becomes quite - commonplace. How the steward’s men get about with plates and dishes, - goodness knows; but though there is a constant clatter and smash going on - all over the ship I haven’t seen them drop anything. I am almost the only - passenger who hasn’t even had a twinge of squeamishness, but we muster - pretty well considering all things. The Captain is one of the cheeriest - fellows alive, and keeps up the spirits of all the women. If he sees any - one of them who is still about looking peeky, he whisks her off under his - arm and walks her up and down the deck, where they stagger along together, - and the fresh breeze soon revives the damsel. He is a sort of temporary - father to all the girls, and constantly has, it seems, three or four - entrusted to him to take over or bring back. - </p> - <p> - Of course there is a great deal of discomfort on board, but I have visited - the steerage and am delighted with the arrangements for feeding, - ventilation, etc. To poor seasick people, however, it must be very trying. - This morning I carried off to my cabin a poor forlorn young married - couple, whom I had noticed on shore at Moville, and afterwards on board. I - am sure they hadn’t been married a week, and they were evidently ready to - eat one another. When I saw them settling down on a large bench in a - covered place amidships where were twenty or thirty folk, mostly ill, and - several men smoking, she with her poor head tied up tidily in a red - handkerchief nestling on to his shoulder, I couldn’t stand it, and took - them off to my cabin, where they could nurse one another for a few hours’ - in peace. We have had a birth too on board, and mother and child, I am - glad to say, are doing well. She is a very nice woman, I am told by one of - the ladies who visits her, the wife of a school teacher. The baby is to - have Peruvian for one of its names. I have really enjoyed the rough - weather much; it has never been more than half a gale, I believe, though - several men have been thrown from the sofas to the cabin floor, and more - or less bruised. The cheery Captain has comforted us all by announcing - that we shall be through the storm before midnight. - </p> - <p> - Up the St. Lawrence they say we shall want light summer clothing. If the - weather settles down we are to have an amateur concert on board, which - will be, I take it, very lame on the musical side, but amusing in other - ways. - </p> - <p> - R——— was entrusted by the Captain with the task of - getting it up, and before we got into rough weather had booked some six or - seven volunteers. I daresay he will be well enough to-morrow morning to go - on with it. My address is of course postponed for the present. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Wednesday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Captain was - quite right—we sailed clear out of the storm before midnight - yesterday, and though to-day some swell is left, it is so calm that the - saloon tables have quite filled up again at meal-times. I was of course - nailed by the parson for my address in the afternoon, and placed on one of - the flat skylights amidships, as no other equally convenient and fixed - stump could be found. As I know you would sooner get rubbish of mine than - poetry of any one else, I give the outline. “I was there,” I said, “at - their parson’s request, to talk, but it seemed to me that in the grand - scene we were in, the great waves, the bright sky, the free breezes, could - talk to them more eloquently than human lips. We were wont to use proverbs - all our lives without realising their meaning. ‘We’re all in the same - boat’ had never impressed me till now. Our week’s experience showed us - before all things that the first duty of those in the same boat was to - help, comfort, and amuse the rest. If I could do either I should be glad. - What were we to talk about? (Shouts of ‘Canada.’) Well we would come to - Canada, but first a word or two of the old country they were leaving. Love - of our birthplace, otherwise called patriotism, is one of the strongest - and noblest passions God has planted in man’s heart. You have a great - birthright as Englishmen, are members, however humble, of the nation which - has spread free speech and free thought round the world, which was the - first to declare that her flag never should fly over a slave. - Fellow-countrymen of Wycliffe, Shakespeare, Milton. Wherever you go - cherish these memories, be loyal to the old country, keep a soft place in - your heart for the land of your birth. You are now making the passage from - the old world to the new, enjoying one of those rare resting-places which - God gives us in our lives. It is time for bracing up the whole man for new - effort, for casting off old, bad habits. One strong resolution made at - such times often is the turning-point in men’s lives. As to the land you - are going to, Remember you are getting a fresh start in life and all will - depend on yourselves. In the old land there is often not enough work for - strong and willing hands; in the new there are a hundred openings, and in - all more work than hands. One thing wanted is honest, hard work. Whatever - your hands find to do, do it with all your might, and you are sure of - comfort and independence. Your new home is England’s eldest child and has - a great destiny to work out. Be loyal therefore and true to your - birthplace, keeping old memories alive and giving her a share of your - love; be loyal to your new home, giving her your best work; above all, be - loyal and true to yourselves and you shall not be false to any man or any - land.” This, spread over half an hour, was my talk. - </p> - <p> - When I had finished I called on the Captain, who warned them against drink - in a straightforward sailor’s speech. Then a grizzled old boy, who had - been calling out “That’s true” whenever I spoke of hard work, scrambled up - on the skylight and told them that he had come out thirty years ago from - England with nine shillings in his pocket and seven children. He had given - each of his daughters fifteen hundred dollars on their marriage, and - helped each of his sons into a farm, and had a farm of his own, which he - was going back to after visiting his old home in Cornwall. All this he had - done by hard work. He was a blacksmith, but would turn his hand to - anything. Times were just as good now as then, and every one of them might - do the same. This was a splendid clencher to the nail I had tried to drive - in. The parson wound up with more advice as to liquor, and an account of - how well the sixteen hundred he had already sent out had done. The whole - was a great success, and we all went off to dinner in the cabin in high - spirits. If the fair weather lasts we shall see land to-morrow afternoon. - To-morrow night we are to have our concert. My young couple have turned up - trumps: he plays the old piano in the saloon famously, being an excellent - musician, and she sings, they say, nicely when not sea-sick. The Canadians - on board assure him he will be caught up as an organist directly to help - out his other means of livelihood. Then for Friday we are to have “Box and - Cox” in the cabin, played by the Captain and R———, who - knows the part of - </p> - <p> - Cox perfectly already, having played it at Cambridge. Mrs. Bouncer has not - yet been fixed on, but a nice little Canadian girl will, I think, play it. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Tuesday evening. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e had a fog this - morning which lost us a couple of hours, seeing however, as compensation, - a fog rainbow—a colourless arch, which as you looked over the side - seemed to spring from the two ends of the ship. As the fog cleared away - and we went ahead we saw an iceberg to the north, which soon looked like a - great white lion lying on the horizon. During the day, which has been - wonderfully bright and cold, we have seen several more icebergs and a lot - of whales, one of which came quite close to the ship. We sighted land - about seven, and in six miles more we should have passed into the Bay of - St. Lawrence, when a rascally fog came on and forced us to lay-to. The - Captain can’t leave the deck, so we didn’t have our concert, and we are - all going to bed anxious to hear the screw at work again. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Friday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e lay-to all last - night, the jolly Captain up on the bridge, to watch for any lifting of the - fog, so that he might go ahead at once; but the fog wouldn’t lift, and so - we lay until eight this morning. Just before breakfast it cleared, and - away we went, and soon entered the strait between Newfoundland and - Labrador. By the time we had done breakfast we were running close by a - huge iceberg, like a great irregular wedding cake, except near the water, - where the colour changed from sugary white into the most delicious green. - There were nine other icebergs in sight to the north, and a number of - others round us, just showing above the water, one like a great - ichthyosaurus creeping along the waves, or a white bear with a very long - neck. Had we gone on last night it would have been a perilous adventure. - Soon afterwards we sighted the <i>North American</i>, a companion ship - belonging to the same Company, running some miles in front of us to the - north. We had a most exciting race, coming abreast of her about twelve, - and communicating by signals. Then we drew ahead, and shall be in Quebec - nearly a day before her. Then we played shovel-board on deck, the air - getting more balmy every minute as we drew out of the ice region. We had a - grand gathering of emigrants amidships, and sung hymns, “Jesus, lover of - my soul,” and others, with a few words from G———, the - busy parson, who has recovered from his long sea-sickness at last, and is - a famous fellow. The concert of the Peruvians came off with a great <i>eclat</i> - after dinner. They put me in the chair, and I introduced the performers - with a slight discourse about the Smith family (the Captain’s name is - Smith), and at the end they voted thanks to me, imparting the great - success of the voyage to my remarkable talent for making folk agree and - pull together—very flattering, but scarcely accurate. Then somebody - discovered that it was a glorious moonlight, so up we all went, and very - soon there was a fiddler and a dance on deck, which is only just over. We - are well in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and all going as well as possible. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Mouth of the St. Lawrence. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am much pleased - with the specimens of Canadians whom we have on board. There are some - twenty of them, with their wives, daughters, and small boys. They are a - quiet, well-informed, pleasant set of men, and ready and pleased to talk - of their country and her prospects. My conversation runs to a great - extent, as you may suppose, on the chances of farming in Canada West, - which is the part of the colony with the greatest future, and I am much - pleased with what I hear. Any man with a capital of from £2000 to £3000 - may do very well, and make money quite as fast as is good for him, if he - will only keep steady and work; and the life is exceedingly fascinating - for youngsters. - </p> - <p> - There is a very nice fellow on board, a gentleman in the conventional - sense, who is returning from a run to Gloucestershire to see his friends. - He has been out for seven years only, two of which he spent as an - apprentice with a farmer, learning his trade. He is quite independent now, - and I would not wish to meet a better specimen of a man. - </p> - <p> - I doubt whether you, being so orderly a party, would quite appreciate what - appears to be the favourite form of pleasuring amongst the up-country - farmers, but I own that it would have suited my natural man down to the - ground. Half a dozen of them, in the bright, still wintertime, will agree - that they haven’t seen Jones for some weeks, so will give him “a - surprise.” Accordingly they all start from their own houses so as to meet - at his farm about 9.30 or 10 o’clock—the time he would be going to - bed. - </p> - <p> - They drive over in sledges, each taking his wife, sister, or sweetheart, a - good hamper of provisions and plenty of buffalo robes. Jones finds his - yard full of neighing horses and sledges as he is going to bed. If he has - already gone they knock him up. They then take possession of his house and - premises. The men litter down their horses, the women light his fire and - lay the supper, the only absolute rule being, that Jones and his family - and servants do nothing at all. - </p> - <p> - They all sit down to supper and then dance till they are tired, and then - the women go to bed; and the men, if there are no beds for them, as - generally happens, roll themselves in their buffalo robes and go to sleep. - In the morning they breakfast, and then start away home again over the - snow in their sledges, after the men have cut up firewood enough to keep - Jones warm for a week. - </p> - <p> - There is magnificent trout and salmon fishing, and deer, wolf, and bear - shooting, for those who like to seek it in the backwoods, and plenty of - time for sport when the farm work is over, or in the winter. At the big - towns, such as Montreal and Toronto, there is plenty of society, and - evidently cultivated society, though young Guardsmen may speak - shudderingly of colonists. - </p> - <p> - Box and Cox, by the way, went off very well considering that the Captain, - who played Box, had been up on the bridge almost the whole of the two - previous nights, and consequently did not quite know his part. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Sunday 14th. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ast night we - danced on deck till nearly eleven under the most lovely soft moon I have - ever seen. This morning we are running up the St. Lawrence along the - southern bank, the northern being dim in the extreme distance. There is a - long continuous range of hills covered entirely with forest, except just - along the water’s edge, where it has been cleared by the French-Canadian - settlers. They live along the shore, too close, I should say, to the water - line for comfort; but as their chief occupation is fishing, I have no - doubt they have good reasons for their selection. There is scarcely a - quarter of a mile for the last twenty or thirty miles, I should say, in - which there is not a cottage, but the villages are far between. The people - are a simple, quiet folk, living just as their fathers lived, happy, - clean, contented, and stationary. This last quality provokes the English - of Upper Canada dreadfully, who complain that the French make everything - they require at home, and buy nothing whatever which contributes to the - revenue of the Dominion except a little cheap tea. However, there is much - to be said for the Frenchmen, and I am very glad that our English people - have constantly before them the example of such a self-sufficing and - unambitious life. In two or three hours, probably before our morning - service is over, the pilot will be on board with papers, and we shall know - what has been doing in the great outside world. I was thinking of - telegraphing to you, but as the Company telegraph, and publish our arrival - “all well” in the English papers, it seems scarcely worth while. - </p> - <p> - The pilot has just come on board and brought us Canadian papers with - copies of telegrams, and general vague rumours of terrible reverses for - France. I always looked for them, as you know. This frightful reign of - eighteen years, begun in perjury and bloodshed, and continued by constant - pandering to the worst tendencies of France, must have taken the power and - heart out of any nation. I pity the poor Canadians who still hold - themselves more French than anything else, as indeed they are. They gather - on deck and tell one another that the news is German, that it is all mere - rumour. They will find it too true in another day or two. I am very glad - to hear that the Orleans princes are now to go back. They are a family of - very gallant and able gentlemen, and ought to be with France at this - moment. Wrong as I think her, I hope she may soon be able to rally, shake - off the charlatans whom she has allowed to misrule her, and conclude an - honourable peace. The pilot-boat went back at once, and when she lands our - safe arrival will be telegraphed at once, so that I hope you may see it - before to-morrow evening—if you only know where to look in the - newspaper. I often think how very different those short announcements at - the head of the Shipping news will seem to me in the future. - </p> - <p> - “Allan Line. The <i>Peruvian</i> arrived off Father Point yesterday. All - well.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Wednesday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>vents have been - crowding us during the last thirty-six hours—bless me, I mean the - last sixty hours—I had positively written Tuesday instead of - Wednesday at the top of this. I let my watch run down on the <i>Peruvian</i>, - as it was too provoking to have to put it back thirty-five minutes every - morning. Since then time has gone all whiz! however, I shall pick up the - time now and get to my bearings, at least I shall try. Well, all Sunday - afternoon we ran up the glorious St. Lawrence, past the mouths of what we - should call big rivers, past the Canadian watering-places, past one long - straggling village except where the hills are too steep or the soil - absolutely barren. The view is not unlike many Scotch ones, substituting - scrub or stunted forest for heather. This of course is a great - disadvantage in a picturesque point of view, but it is more than - compensated by the great river. I am very glad I came to the new world up - the St. Lawrence. Nothing could have brought the startling contrast of the - old and new world so vividly home to me as this steaming literally day - after day up the stream, and finding it still at 700 miles from the mouth - two miles broad, with anchorage for the largest ships that float. We went - the round of the ship with the Captain after dinner, to see the wonderful - detail of the storerooms, and the huge fire-system which goes glowing on - through all the voyage. The sight of the twenty-five great furnaces - glowing, and consuming fifty-two tons of coal a day, quite scared several - of the ladies, who seemed to think that the Peruvian was flying, I should - say sailing, presumptuously in the face of Providence not to have caught - fire during the voyage. Luckily we were within a few hours of port, so - their anxiety was not of long duration. I went to bed for the last time in - my crib on the top of the drawers, leaving word for the quartermaster to - call me when we were getting near Quebec. Accordingly I was roused at - about three from one of the sleeps without a turn even (by reason that - there is no room to turn) which one gets on board ship, and scuffled up on - deck in my trousers and fur coat to find myself in the most perfect - moonlight rounding the last point below Quebec. Then up went three - rockets, and as we slacked our speed at the side of the wharf right - opposite the citadel, two guns were fired and the voyage of the Peruvian - was over. My packing was all done, so while the vessel was being unladen I - went quietly to bed again and slept for another two or three hours amid - all the din. Between six and seven I turned out again and had a good - breakfast on board, after which came leave-takings, and then those of us - who were not going on by train and were ready to start, went on board a - little tug ferry-boat and were paddled across to Quebec. I have sent a - small map to show you how the land lies. Our ferry-boat took us over from - Port Levi to the quay just under the Citadel along the line I have dotted, - and we at once chartered two carriages to visit the falls of Montmorency, - to which you will see a line drawn on the map and which is about six miles - from Quebec. Oh, the air! You know what it is when we land at Dieppe, or - at Brussels, or Aix. Well, all that air is fog, depressing wet blanket - compared to this Canadian nectar. I really doubt whether it would not be - almost worth while to emigrate merely for the exquisite pleasure of the - act of living in this country. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Montreal, 19th August 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> must get on with - my journal or shall fall altogether astern—you have no idea how hard - it is even to find time to write a few lines home; however if I can only - make up the time to-day I hope to keep down the arrears more regularly - hereafter. We had a long day of sightseeing in and about Quebec. First we - drove down to the Montmorency Falls, 220 feet high and very beautiful, - then back to the Citadel, which rises some 600 or 700 feet right above the - river—a regular little Gibraltar; then we went off to the Heights of - Abraham, at the back of the Citadel, where Wolfe fought his battle and was - killed after scaling the cliffs in the early morning. Then we drove down - into the town, and had lunch at a restaurant, and walked about to see the - place. Well worth seeing it is; a quaint, old, thoroughly French town of - the last century dropped down into the middle of the new world. In the - evening we went on board the great river steamer, and came away all night - up the St. Lawrence to Montreal. There were 1000 passengers on board, - every one of whom had an excellent berth—mine was broader and - lighter than that on the <i>Peruvian.</i> We were not the least crowded in - the splendid saloon (some 150 feet long), and the open galleries running - all round the ship in two tiers. I preferred the latter, though there was - music, Yankee and Canadian, in the saloon, and spent my evening till - bedtime out in the stern gallery looking at the most superb moonlight on - the smooth water you can conceive. We had a small English party there, and - there were half a dozen constantly changing groups round us. The girls - have evidently much more freedom than at home, at least more than they had - in our day—two or three would come out with as many young men, and - sit round in a ring. The men lighted cigars, and then they would all set - to work singing glees, songs, or what not, and chaffing and laughing away - for half an hour perhaps, after which they would disappear into the - saloon. There was a regular bar on board at which all manner of cool - drinks were sold. We tried several, which I thought, I must say, very - nasty, especially brandy-smash. After a most comfortable night I awoke - between five and six as we were nearing Montreal. The city is very fine, - the river still two miles broad, and ocean steamer drawing twenty feet and - more of water able to lie right up against the quay. S———, - a friend of Sir J. Rose’s, a great manufacturer here, whom I had taken to - the “Cosmopolitan,” was in waiting on the landing-place, and took us at - once up to his charming house on the hill (the mountain they call it) at - the back of the city. He is a man of forty-three or forty-four; his wife, - a very pleasant woman a little younger, and adopted daughter, Alice (a - very sweet girl of nineteen, just home from an English school), form the - whole family. I can’t tell you how kind they are and how perfectly at home - they have made us. After breakfast we went down to see the city, got - photographed with the rest of the above-named Peruvians, had a delicious - lunch of fried oysters at a luncheon shop kept by a Yankee, washed it down - with a drink called John Collins, a pleasant, cold, weak, scented kind of - gin and water. Sir Geo. Carter and Sir Fras. Hinks, two of the present - Government, both of whom I had met in England, came to dinner, also Holton - the leading senator of the Opposition, and the two young Roses, one - bringing his pretty young wife, and we had a long and very interesting - political talk afterwards. Nothing could have suited me better, as there - are many points of Canadian politics I am very anxious to get views on. We - didn’t get to bed till 12.30, so I had no time to write. On Wednesday we - saw more of the city which I shan’t attempt to describe till I can sit by - you with photographs and explain, lunched at the Club, of which we have - been made honorary members, with a large party of merchants and other big - folk, and then at three were picked up by Mrs. S.—-, who drove us up - the river to a place called Lachine, past the rapids (see Canadian - boat-song), “The rapids are near and the daylight’s past.” Lachine gets - its queer name from the first French Missionaries who started up the St. - Lawrence to get to China, and for some unaccountable reason thought they - had reached the flowery land when they got to this place, so settled down - and called it China. The air was still charming, but the sky was beginning - to get less bright, and Mrs. S—— and A———agreed - that there must be a forest burning somewhere. And so it proved, for in a - few hours the whole sky was covered with a smoke-cloud, light but not - depressing, like our fogs, but still so dense that we could scarcely see - across the river. We got back in time for dinner, to which came Colonel - Buller, now commanding the Rifles here; Hugh Allan, the head of the great - firm of ship-owners to whom the <i>Peruvian</i> and all the rest of the - Allan line packets belong; and several young Canadians. It was very - pleasant again, and again I got a heap of information on Canadian subjects - from Allan, who is a longheaded able old Scotchman, the founder of the - immense prosperity of himself and all his family. He has his private steam - yacht and a great place on a lake near here, wherein is a private - telegraph, so that he can wire all over the world from his own hall. - Prince Arthur went to stay with him when he was out here in the late - autumn and spring, and the Queen wired him every day while he was there. - Early next morning S———, - </p> - <p> - Miss A———, I, and R——— were off by - rail to a station ten or twelve miles up the river, where we waited till - the Montreal market-boat came down and picked us up to shoot the rapids. - We had a very pleasant run to Quebec, and the shooting the rapids is very - interesting, but neither dangerous nor even exciting. The river widens out - perhaps to two and a half miles in width, and for some mile or mile and a - half breaks into these rapids, which boil and rush along at a great pace, - and in quite a little boat would no doubt keep the steerer and oarsmen on - the stretch. The approach to Montreal under the great Victoria Bridge, two - miles long, is very noble. We got back to breakfast at ten, and afterwards - went up the mountain at the back of the town, but the haze from the - burning forest quite spoiled the view. The carriage is announced, so I - must close. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Montreal, 20th August 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> hurried up my - letters yesterday, so as to bring my journal down to the day I was writing - on, fearing lest otherwise I should never catch the thread again. I doubt - whether I told you anything about this very fine city, in the suburbs of - which we are stopping, and which we leave to-day. Well, I scarcely know - how to begin to give you an idea of it. It isn’t the least like an English - or indeed any European town, the reason being, I take it, that it has been - built with the necessity of meeting extremes of heat and cold, which we - never get. Except in the heart of the city, where the great business - streets are, there are trees along the sides of all the thoroughfares—maples, - which give real shade, and are in many places indeed too thick, and too - near the houses for comfort I should say—as near as the plane-tree - was to our drawing-room window at 33. This arrangement makes walking about - very pleasant to me, even when the thermometer stands at 90° in the shade - as it did yesterday. Then instead of a stone foot-pavement you have almost - everywhere boards, timber being the most plentiful production of the - country. Walking along the boards in the morning you see at every door a - great lump of ice, twenty pounds weight or so, lying there for the maid to - take in when she comes out to clean. This is supplied by the ice merchants - for a few shillings a year. The houses are square, built generally of a - fine limestone found all over the island (Montreal is an island thirty-six - miles long by nine wide), and have all green open shutter-blinds, which - they keep constantly shut all day, as in Greece, to keep out the heat, and - double windows to keep out the cold. The roofs are generally covered with - tin instead of tiles or slates, and all the church steeples, of which - there are a very large number, are tinned, as you remember we saw them in - parts of Austria and Hungary. There are magnificent stores of dry goods, - groceries, etc., but scarcely any shops in our sense. No butcher, milkman, - greengrocer, etc., calls at the door, and the ladies have all to go down - to the market or send there. Nothing can be better than the living, but - Mrs. S——— complains that it is very hard work for <i>hausfraus</i>, - and I have heard Lady K——— say the same thing. This - house is in one of the shaded avenues on the slopes of the mountain, two - miles I should say from the market. Mrs. S———- drives - down every marketday and buys provisions, market-days being twice a week, - but the stalls are open on other days also, so that if a flood of company - comes in on the intermediate days, the anxious housewife need not be - absolutely done for. The living is as good as can be, not aspiring to - first-rate French cookery, but equal to anything you find in good English - houses. Prices are very reasonable except for fancy articles of clothing, - etc. Furs, which you would expect to find cheap, are at least as high as - in London, and R———made an investment in gloves for - which he paid six shillings a pair. The city is the quietest and - best-behaved I ever was in. We dined at the mess of the 60th Rifles last - night, and walked home through the heart of the city at 10.30. Every one - had gone to bed, apparently, for there wasn’t a light in fifty houses and - we literally met no one—not half a dozen people certainly in the - whole distance. Altogether I am very much impressed with the healthiness - of the life, morally and physically, and can scarcely imagine any country - I would sooner start in were I beginning life again. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Tuesday morning, 23rd August 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, to continue, - on Saturday we broke up from Montreal, having I think seen very thoroughly - all the persons and things best worth seeing in the place. Our host had - arranged that we should go and spend Sunday with Mr. Hugh Allan, the head - of the family which has established the line of mail steamers to Liverpool - and Glasgow. He has been forty years out here, and when he came Montreal - had only 17,000 inhabitants, now it has 150,000; there was scarcely water - for a 200 ton ship to lie at the wharf, now you can see steamers of 2000 - tons and upwards always there. Hugh Allan is evidently a very rich man - now. He has a big house on the mountain behind Montreal, and this place - where I am now writing from, on Memphremagog Lake, which if you have a - good map, you will find half in Canada and half in the New England state - of Vermont. It is a lovely inland sea, about thirty-five miles long and - varying from one to three miles broad. Mr. Allan’s house, where he - entertained Prince Arthur in the spring, stands on the top of a high - well-wooded promontory, about half-way up. It is a good, commodious, - gentleman’s house, with deep verandahs, thoroughly comfortable, but - without pretence or show of any kind. There is a large wooden out-building - called the Hermitage, about one hundred yards off, divided entirely into - bedrooms, so that there is room for lots of guests besides the family, - seven or eight of whom are here. In another building there is an American - bowling-alley, and an excellent croquet ground before the house. Mr. Allan - keeps a nice steam yacht, which runs about the lake daily with any one who - likes to go, and there are half a dozen rowing boats, so time need not - hang heavily on the most restless hands. I accepted the invitation, as a - few days at Memphremagog is evidently considered the thing to do by all - Canadians, and the last twenty miles or so of the railway to Newport - (Vermont), the place at the foot of the lake at which you embark, has only - just been finished, right through the forest, so that it was a good chance - of seeing the beginnings of colonial life in the bush. And I am very glad - that I did come, for certainly if the journey (120 miles altogether) had - been planned for the purpose, it couldn’t have been more interesting. - After leaving Montreal we travelled I should say for from thirty to forty - miles through reclaimed country, dotted with French villages and the - homesteads of well-to-do farmers. Then we gradually slipped into - half-cleared woods, and then into virgin forest. Presently we came across - a great block of the forest on fire, but in broad daylight the sight is - not the least grand, though unpleasant from the smoke, and melancholy from - the waste and mischief which the fires do. I think I told you in my last - that the forests about Ottawa, the capital of the Dominion, were on fire - last week. The fire became so serious that great fears were entertained - for the town, the militia and volunteers were called out, and a special - train with fire-engines was sent up from Montreal. Scores of poor settlers - were in the streets, having with difficulty escaped with their lives, and - last of all several wretched bears trotted out of the burning woods into - the town. The fire we passed through was not at all on this scale, and - didn’t seem likely to get ahead. There were the marks of fires of former - years on all sides in these forests. Tall stems by hundreds, standing up - charred and gaunt out of the middle of the bright green maple underwood, - which is fast growing up round them, and in a very short time makes the - tangle as thick as ever. Before long we came to small clearings of from - three to four acres, on each of which was a rough wooden shanty, with half - a dozen wild, brown, healthy-looking children rolling and scrambling about - it, and standing up in their single garments to cheer the train. On these - plots the trees had all been felled about two feet from the ground, and - the brushwood cleared away, and there were crops of Indian corn, oats, or - buckwheat growing all round the stumps. Then we came to plots which had - been occupied longer, where the shanty had grown into a nice-sized - cottage, with a good-sized outhouse near. Here all the stumps had been - cleared, and the plot divided by fences, and three or four cows would be - poking about. Then we came to a fine river and ran along the bank, passing - here and there sawmills of huge size, and stopping at one or two large - primitive villages, gathered round a manufactory. In short, in the day’s - run we saw Canadian life in all its phases, ending with a delicious twelve - miles’ run up the lake in Mr. Allan’s steam yacht, with the whole sky - flickering with Northern lights, which shot and played about for our - special delight. Our railway party were Mr. - </p> - <p> - Allan; Mr. and Mrs. S———, and Miss B———, - their adopted daughter; General Lindsay, whom I knew well in England and - like very much; Colonel Eyre, his military secretary, and ourselves. Then - there are eight children here. “We had a most luxurious car, with a little - sitting-room in which we each had an easy chair, and there were two most - enticing-looking little bedrooms, everything as clean and neat as you - could have it, and we could walk out on to a platform at either end to - look at the view. There was a boy also in attendance in a little sort of - spare room where the luggage went, who ministered any amount of iced water - to any one who called. This is decidedly the most luxurious travelling I - ever had, but then the car was the private one of the manager of the Grand - Trunk Railway; and the democratic cars in which every one else went, and - in which indeed we had to travel for the last few miles, were very - different affairs. Fancy my intense delight on Sunday morning, as I walked - from the Hermitage up to the house to breakfast through some flower-beds, - to see two humming-birds, poising themselves before flower after flower - while probing and trying the blooms with their long bills, and then - springing back with a stroke of their lovely little tails, and whisking - off to the next bloom. They were green and brown, not so lovely in colour - as many you have seen in collections, but exquisite as eye need ask to - look at. The humming-birds have been certainly my greatest natural history - treat as yet, not excepting the whales. I had seen a whale before, a small - one, in the Hebrides, and I had never seen a hummingbird except stuffed; - moreover I expected to see whales, but not humming-birds. We saw a fine - great bald-headed eagle to-day, too, sailing over the lake, but his flight - was not anything like so fine as those we saw soaring over the Iron Gates - as we went spinning down the Danube nine years ago. We have a very - charming visit here steaming about the lake, driving along the banks, - playing croquet and bowls and billiards, and laughing, chaffing, and - loafing to any extent. The family are very nice, and I hope he will soon - be made a baronet and one of the first grandees of the Dominion. To-morrow - morning at five we start for Boston in the steam yacht, which takes us - down to Newport at the end of the lake. So by the evening I shall perhaps - get a letter from you. How I do thirst for home news after three weeks’ - absence. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 25th August 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> forget just where - I left off, whether I had brought my journal up to our leaving - Memphremagog or not. The last day there was as pleasant as the rest. The - young folks played croquet and American bowls all the morning, while I lay - on the grass watching for humming-birds and talking occasional politics to - any one who would join me. At about twelve a retired judge, Day by name, - who lives four or five miles off, drove over with a member of the - Government (I forget his name) who was to start from the pier below the - house in the lake steamer. Mr. Allan owns this steamer, which stops at his - pier whenever he runs up a flag; so you see the privileged classes are not - extinct by any means in the British dominion in the new world. Now the - Judge, having a seat in his light sort of phaeton, proposed to drive me - over to the post-office, about four miles off, where he was going, and to - bring me back to luncheon. So I embarked behind his two strong little - trotting nags and had a most interesting drive. The roads were not worse - than many Devonshire lanes, and where the pitches were steepest, the stout - little nags made nothing of them. - </p> - <p> - The views of the lake were exquisite, and the Judge one of the pleasantest - of men. He had been employed in 1865 on a mission to Washington, and gave - me very graphic accounts of his interviews with Lincoln and the other - leading men there, and confirmed many of my own views as to the - comparative chances of the two great sections of our race in the new world - in the future. He is less apprehensive of Canada joining the United States - than most men of his standing, and I think has good reason for his - confidence. Material interest will perhaps for a time (or rather, after a - time, for at present it is very doubtful on which side they weigh) sway in - the direction of annexation to the United States, but the ablest and most - energetic of the younger men of the cultivated classes are so strongly - bent on developing a distinct national life, that I expect to see them - carry their country for independence rather than annexation, when the time - comes, if it ever should, of a final cutting of the ropes which bind them - to us. After luncheon we went off in the steam yacht to a bay in the lake, - and then in row boats four or five miles up the bay into the heart of the - hills, where we saw bald-headed eagles, and black and white king-fishers - five times the size of ours, and after a very interesting and pleasant - excursion got back to dinner, finishing the evening with dancing. At five - next morning we heard the steamer’s whistle calling us. The young ladies - were up to give us a cup of coffee and parting good words, and then - we-steamed down for Newport, where we were to take the rail through the - Connecticut valley to Boston. On the Newport wharf which joins the station - we said good-bye to Allan and Stephen, and shall carry away most charming - memories of our stay in Canada. General Lindsay and Eyre went with us, and - their companionship made the journey very agreeable, though it was as hot - as the Lower Danube, and the dust more uncomfortable and dirtying than any - we have at home. Most part of the way the soil is as light and sandy as - that about Dorking, and the trains seem to raise greater clouds of it. - </p> - <p> - The greater part of the journey was along the banks of the Merrimac, a - fine river with as much water as the Thames at Richmond, I should say, but - spread over a bed generally twice as broad. We saw the White Mountains at - a distance on our left, and passed through a number of flourishing towns. - The thing that struck me most was the apparent fusion into one class of - the whole community. As you know, every one goes into the same long - carriages, holding from sixty to eighty people. Of these there were four - or often five on our train, and I often passed through them (as you may - do, up the middle, without disturbing the passengers, who sit in pairs - with their faces to the engine on each side of the passage), as there was - a great deal of local traffic, seventy people often getting out at a - station, I thus saw really a very considerable number of people on this - first day in the States, and certainly should have been exceedingly - puzzled to sort them in the broadest way, either into rich and poor, - gentlemen or ladies (in the conventional sense) and common people, or any - other radical division. I certainly saw at some stations children running - about without shoes, and workmen in as dirty blouses as those of Europe; - but in the trains they were all well dressed, quiet, self-respecting - people, without any pretence to polish, or any approach to vulgarity. The - bad taste in women’s dress, which I am told to expect elsewhere, does not - certainly prevail in New England. All the women wore neat short dresses, - with moderate trimmings according to taste; but I did not see an - extravagant garment or, I am bound to add, a really pretty one along the - whole line. On the whole I thought the women as good looking as any I have - ever travelled amongst, but paler and sadder, or at any rate quieter, than - a like number of Englishwomen. Once or twice men in stove-pipe hats (the - ordinary tile of so-called civilisation), and wearing perhaps better cloth - and whiter linen than the average, got in, but not one whom you would have - picked out as a person bred and brought up in a different way, and - occupying a station above or apart from the rest, as you see in every - train in England. It may have been chance, but certainly it was startling. - Then another surprise. They are certainly the least demonstrative people - so far as strangers are concerned that I have ever been amongst. I had the - prevailing idea that a Yankee was a note of interrogation walking about - the world, and besides craving for all sorts of information about you, was - always ready to impart to you the particulars of his own birth, parentage, - and education, and his opinion on everything, “from Adam’s fall to Huldy’s - bonnet.” Well, I left our party purposely several times on the journey to - try the experiment of sitting on one of the small seats carrying two only - with a Yankee. In not one single case did either of those I sat by say a - single word to me, and when I commenced they just answered my question - very civilly and relapsed into total silence. I may add that this first - experience has been confirmed since, both in street and railway cars. - </p> - <p> - We got to Boston at about seven, and then had our first experience of the - price of things here. It is only four miles out to Lowell’s, who lives on - the other side of Cambridge, but we were obliged to pay five dollars for a - carriage to get out there. We could get nothing but a great handsome - family coach with two horses, and in that, accordingly, out we lumbered. - Cambridge is a very pretty suburb of Boston, the centre point of it being - Harvard College, consisting of four or five large blocks of red brick - building and a stone chapel, standing in the midst of some fine trees. - Elmwood Avenue in which Lowell lives is about half a mile beyond the - College—a broad road shaded on both sides by tows of trees planted - as in the Boulevards, as indeed is done along all the roads. The - Professor’s house is a good, roomy, wooden one standing in the midst of - some thirty acres of his own land, on which stand many good trees, and - especially some pre-revolutionary English elms of which he is very proud. - He was sitting on the piazza of the house with his wife and Holmes’ - brother, taking a pipe and not the least expecting us. The Irish maid told - us to “<i>sit right down</i>” while she went to fetch him. In a minute he - and his wife came and put us at our ease, explaining that no letter had - ever come since we had landed. Mabel was away at the sea for a few days. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Elmwood Avenue, Cambridge, 31s£ August 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> managed with some - difficulty and scramble to get off a letter to you by yesterday’s post, - which <i>ought</i> to go by steamer from New York to-day, bringing my - narrative up to our arrival here. We found Lowell on his verandah with his - wife and friend, and sat there talking till ten. I am not the least - disappointed with him, Henry Cowper notwithstanding. I have never met a - more agreeable talker, and his kindness to me is quite unbounded. Then he - has not a grain of vanity in his composition, but is as simple and - truthful as the best kind of boy. The house is a wooden one, as - four-fifths of the houses in New England are. It is roomy, airy, and - furnished with quaint old heavy pieces, bureaus like ours, and solid heavy - little mahogany tables, all dating from the last century. The plate in the - same way is all of the Queen Anne shape, like your little tea-service and - my grandmother’s milk jugs and tea-pots which George has. The plainness - and simplicity of the living, too, is most attractive. We breakfast at - 8.30, beginning with porridge, and following up with eggs, some hot dish, - corn cakes, toast and fruit. Then there is no regular meal till six—a - terribly late and fashionable dinner hour here, as the prevalent hour is - two or three—and afterwards we have a cup of coffee and crackers - (good plain biscuits) and a glass of toddy at ten. Miss Mabel and others - have given us a desperate idea of the difficulties as to service, but they - certainly do not exist in this establishment just now. The principal - servant that we see is an Irish girl, Rose by name, who reminds me of one - of Mrs. Cameron’s servants except that she is far more diligent. The - ingenious way in which she hid away all my wardrobe in the ample cupboards - and recesses of the bureau in my room was a perfect caution, and she - whisks away my things and gets them beautifully washed, wholly refusing to - allow me to pay for them. The parlour-maid is a little, slight, ladylike - girl, who certainly is not a first-rate waiter, but then there is no need - of one. The dinner is confined to one thing at a time—soup, - sometimes fish, a joint, or chickens, and a sweet. The Professor opens his - own wine at the table and passes it round, and very good it is, but one - scarcely needs it in this climate. A cook whose acquaintance I have also - made, and an Irishman who has been thirty years on the place in a roomy - cottage, and attends to the cows, garden, and farm of thirty acres, - complete the establishment. Mrs. Lowell, who is a very nice, quiet, and - clever woman, is very fond of flowers, and manages to keep a few beds - going about the house, and there are a number of very fine trees, so that - though there is no pretence to the neatness and finish of English grounds - and garden, the place has a thoroughly homely, cultivated atmosphere and - look which is very attractive, and the whole town of Cambridge seems to be - made up of just such houses. We have lost no time in lionising men and - places. On Thursday we took the car into Boston and ascended the monument - on Bunker’s Hill, 290 steps up a dark spiral staircase. Lowell had never - been up it before, nor indeed has any native as far as I can find out. The - view at the top repays you thoroughly for the grind with the thermometer - at eighty in the shade. Boston Harbour, where the tea was thrown out of - the English ships in 1775, and> the whole town and suburbs lie below you - like a map, and are very striking. After descending we hunted up a number - of people, including young Holmes, our Colonel, who was as charming as - ever, absorbed in his law at which he is doing famously, and resolved in - his first holiday to revisit England. He came out to dine, and fraternised - immensely with R——, and with him a young Howells, the editor - of the Atlantic Monthly, whom Conway had brought to our house years ago, - and I had entirely forgotten. However he is a very nice fellow, and I - don’t think I betrayed my obliviousness. Next day, Friday, we had a long - country drive in the morning through broad avenues lined with three - fascinating wooden houses, each standing with plenty of elbow-room in its - own grounds, up to a wooded hill from which we got a splendid view of the - city. Then I went into Boston and called on the Autocrat of the Breakfast - Table, who is one of the best talkers I ever met, and quite worthy to be - the Colonel’s father. He is one of Motley’s oldest friends, and deeply - grieved, as all good men here, at his recall. His chief talk was of his - memories of his English visits, and the folk he met, and so I find it with - all the best men and women here. Notwithstanding the bitterness which our - press created during the war, I am convinced that with a very little tact - and judicious handling on our side the international relations may be - easily made all we can wish as far as New England is concerned. Afterwards - I sauntered about the town, looking at some good statues in their park - (Boston Common), and letting the place sink into me. The Common is about - the size, I should say, of Green Park, but of a regular shape. It lies on - the side of a hill at the top of which are the State House and other - public buildings and private houses. It is well wooded with fine American - and English elms (pre-revolutionary, they say, but I don’t believe it. - They are not used to our elms, and I doubt whether any of these are 100 - years old) on the upper part and along the sides; the middle is a great - playground for the boys, who are diligent there all day at base-ball, our - rounders, which I should think must spoil the enjoyment of the place for - ladies and children. However they can always take to the pretty gardens at - the lower end, in which is a very fine equestrian statue of Washington, - and one of Everett by Story, by no means fine in my opinion. How should it - be, when he insisted on being taken with his arm right up in the air, his - favourite attitude in speaking, and stands up in that attitude in ordinary - buttoned frock coat and trousers? Everett has not been a trustworthy - public man to my mind, and is simply nothing unless it is an orator, and I - can’t say I think it wise to put him up there on the palpable stump. But - we have made so many mistakes in our public statues that I suppose it must - run in the blood. The best houses in the town, really charming residences, - line the two sides and top of the Common, and fine stores the bottom. I - have never seen a place I would so soon live in out of England as in one - of these houses looking on to Boston Common. The old business town is - being rebuilt just as London—red brick two or three story houses - giving way everywhere to five or six stories of granite or stone. The town - has as old and settled a look and feeling about it as any I know; but they - have few old buildings, and I am afraid are going to pull down the most - characteristic, the old State House, because it has ceased to be used for - public purposes, and its removal will make a fine broad place and relieve - the traffic of several narrow streets in the heart of the town. It will be - a sad pity, and so unnecessary here, for they might carry it off bodily to - any other site. You know how we have often heard, and wondered, scarce - believing, of the raising bodily of the great hotels, etc., at Chicago. - Well, suddenly, in Boston I came across a great market, three stories high - (the upper part being occupied as houses) and 150 or 200 feet long, as - big, say, as three houses in Grosvenor Square, which they were moving - bodily back on rollers so as to widen the street. There were the wooden - ways and the rollers, and the great block with all its marketing and - living inhabitants lying on them, and already some twelve feet on its - journey. It did not look any the worse for its journey unless it were in - the foundations, where there were a few places which had been filled up, I - saw, with new brickwork. The long pit twelve feet deep which has been left - between the market and the street will now be turned into cellars, over - which the new pavement will pass. On the Saturday we dined with the - Saturday Club at 2.30 P.M., where were all the New England notables now in - town. I sat on the right of Sumner, the State Senator, who was in the - chair, with Boutwell, the Secretary of the Treasury, on my right, and - Emerson on the other side of Sumner. So you may fancy how I enjoyed the - sitting. Emerson is perfectly delightful: simple, wise, and full of humour - and sunshine. The number of good Yankee stories I shall bring back unless - they burst me will be a caution. Forbes, a great Boston merchant who owns - an island seventy-two miles long off the coast close to Nantucket and Cape - Cod, which you will find in the map, came up and claimed to have seen me - for five minutes when I had the small-pox in 1863. - </p> - <p> - He knows J——— well, and insisted on carrying us off to - his island that night, that we might attend a huge campmeeting on a - neighbouring island on Sunday. So he drove up here with us and we packed—the - dear Professor agreeing that we ought to do it—went down sixty miles - by rail, slept on his yacht, and found ourselves in the morning at his - wharf on the island. Your second letter came to hand from Cromer when we - returned here, and has as usual lighted up my life. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Cambridge, 2nd September 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e are off this - afternoon for Newport on our way to New York, and so south and west. The - express man will be here directly for my luggage, which will be a little - curtailed, as these dear kind people insist on our returning, and leaving - all we don’t want in our rooms. So I shall drop my beaver, leaving it with - the most serious admonitions in the charge of Rose, the Irish girl, who is - a character. I will now take up the thread of my story, merely remarking - that what you seem to think a dull catalogue of small doings at a small - watering-place is quite unspeakably delightful to me away here. On the - wharf at Nashont Island we found the two young F———s, - the elder a colonel in the war, and five months a prisoner in the South, - the younger, Malcolm, just left college. I never saw two finer young men, - both of them models of strength. They had come down to meet us and bathe, - so we stopped and had a splendid header off the wharf and a swim in the - bay, after careful inquiries by R——— as to sharks, to - which young F——— replied with a twinkle in his eye, that - they didn’t lose <i>many</i> friends that way. We walked up to the house - after our dip, a large wooden building, with deep verandahs and - sun-blinds, furnished quite plainly, even roughly, but capable of holding - nearly any number of people. We were about eighteen at breakfast: Mrs. F——— - a handsome, clever, elderly lady, born a Quaker, and with their charm of - manner, who made tea for the party, and on whose right I sat. Opposite her - was her husband with Mrs. L———, the young widow of - Lowell’s nephew Charles, the famous soldier, on his left, and therefore - opposite me. On my right, a young woman, a cousin of the F———s, - a Mrs. P———, whose husband sat down towards the end of - the table, the manager of a Western railway, who has given us free passes - over his line. Colonel F———, the eldest son, was - Lowell’s major, and served with distinction in the war, in which he was - taken prisoner, and spent five months in Southern prisons; his wife, a - buxom young woman with very good eyes, is Emerson’s daughter, and her - brother, a bright boy of twenty-two or twenty-three, was near me. There - were two daughters of the family, and two other girls and several boys, - all pleasant and easy in hand; but the gem of the party was the young - widow. She is not actually pretty, but with a face full of the nobleness - of sorrow, which has done its work. I have seldom been more touched than - in watching her gentle, cheerful ways, and her sympathy with all the - bright life around her. Since the war, in which her husband and only - brother R. S———(who commanded the first coloured - regiment from Massachusetts, and was buried under his negroes at Fort - Wagner) were killed, she has devoted herself to the Freedmen, and is - Honorary Secretary to the Society for educating them. After breakfast we - started in the yacht for the neighbouring island, on which the great - Methodist camp-meeting was going on. This Sunday was the great day. They - have occupied this island for some years, and have built there a whole - town of pretty little wooden houses like big Chinese toys, dotted about - amongst the trees. Most of them consist of only one long room, divided by - curtains in the middle. The front half opens to the street, but raised one - step above it is the sitting-room, and the inmates sleep in the back, - behind the curtains. A few houses have a story above; but F——— - bought a lot of photographs for us, which will show you the style of house - better than a page of description. There were literally thousands of - people on the island, upwards of two thousand collected in a huge circular - tent in the middle of the houses, where a preacher was shouting to them. - We sat on the skirts of the congregation and listened for some time, but - as he was only talking wildly about Nebuddah, Positivism, Theodore Parker, - and other heresies and heretics, I was not edified, and got no worship - till he had done, when we all stood up and sang the doxology, which was - very impressive. I was much disappointed at the gathering in a religious - point of view. It was a rare chance for a man with a living word in him, - those thousands of decent, sober, attentive New England men and women. - They told me that in the evening it would be much more interesting, when - there would be great singing of hymns, and many persons would tell how - they came to experience religion as they call it; but we could not stay - for this. The meeting lasts for weeks, and is in fact an excuse for the - gathering at a pretty sea-place in the early autumn of a number of good - folk who would think the ordinary watering-places ungodly, but have a - longing for a break in their ordinary colourless lives. We sailed back in - time for early dinner, meeting on the way huge steamers packed with - passengers for the campmeeting, till they were top heavy. Next day we - spent in, fishing off the rocks for blue-fish, and in a beautiful little - lake of three-quarters of a mile long (one of several in the island) for - bass. I caught a blue fish of nine lbs., the biggest and strongest I have - ever caught, also the only bass which was taken; so I naturally crowed - loudly. The island hours are: breakfast, eight o’clock or half past eight; - dinner, two or three; tea, with cold meat, half-past six or seven. After - tea on both evenings we got into full swing on the war. I found Mr. F——— - and his wife deeply grieved and prejudiced as to our conduct, our feeling - to them as a nation, etc., and set myself to work hard to remove all this - as far as I could. As he is a very energetic and influential man it is - worth taking any amount of trouble about, and I think I succeeded. In the - evenings the young folk sang a number of the war songs, several composed - by or for the negro soldiers, going to famous airs, and full of humour and - pathos. The March through Georgia is very spirited, and a version of the - “John Brown” March, which seems to have superseded “We’ll hang Jef - Davies,” etc., exceedingly touching—at least I know it was so to me, - as all the young folk sang— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - He is sifting out the souls of men before His judgment seat: - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Be swift, my soul, to welcome Him! be jubilant, my feet. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me. - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - As he died to make men holy, let us die to make them free. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Our God is marching on. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - To think of what that sweet young woman had gone through (the news of her - husband’s death at the head of his brigade, was read by her in a - newspaper), and to see her sitting there calmly and trying to join in the - chorus, was quite too much for me. However, nobody noticed my emotion. Our - last morning, Tuesday, was spent in a famous wild ride over the island. - After breakfast we found seven very excellent riding horses (three with - sidesaddles) at the door. At home there would have been three grooms, here - each horse has a leathern strap fixed to the bit, which you just buckle - round his neck till you want to stop, and then fasten it to the nearest - tree or lamp-post. The whole turn-out is of course rough, but I don’t wish - to see nicer ladies’ hacks than the three which the two Miss F———s - and Mrs. P——— rode. We sailed back in the yacht to - another little port, a few miles north of New Bedford, F——— - having provided us as a parting present with free passes over almost all - the Western railways, which will save me at least £20 I should think. He - is Chairman of several, and so can do it without any trouble. We found the - dear Lowells expecting us, and my second letter also waiting, so you may - think that I had a joyful evening. Next day, Wednesday, we drove to - Concord to dine with Judge Hoar, the late Attorney-General of the United - States, a very able, fine fellow. We passed over classic ground, the very - road along which the English troops marched in April 1776 to destroy the - stores, when the first collision of the War of Independence took place at - Concord Bridge and in the village of Lexington. You may perhaps remember - in the second series of the <i>Biglow Papers</i> “Sumthin’ in the Pastoral - Line,” in which old Concord Bridge and the monument which has been put up - to commemorate the fight, talk together over the <i>Trent</i> affair. The - Judge’s two sons, very nice young fellows, pulled us up Concord River, - which runs at the bottom of their garden, to the spot, and on the way - (which is very pretty) we saw lots of tortoises sitting and basking on the - stones, and popping in when we approached, and heard a lot of capital - Yankee stories from the Judge. Dinner at three; Emerson came, and there - were two Miss H———s, and a Miss S———, - a handsome girl, sister of the best oar in the Harvard boat of last year. - I enjoyed the dinner and smoke afterwards immensely, and am at last quite - sure that I am doing some good with some of these men, all of whom are - influential, and most of them sadly prejudiced against us still as a - nation. For myself it is quite impossible to express their kindness. They - seem as if they can never do enough for me. When we got back to Cambridge, - we found Miss M——— and Dr. Lowell, brother to James, an - English clergyman, and quite charming too in his way. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - New York. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> think I have told - you already the sort of royal progress I am making. Some principal citizen - always comes to the station to meet us in his carriage, books our luggage - by the express (an admirable institution which saves you all the trouble - with luggage), drives us up to his house, lodges us in the best rooms, has - all the best folks in the neighbourhood to meet us at breakfast, dinner, - tea, takes us to the sights of the neighbourhood, keeps all his servants - out of sight when we are going, so that we can’t give any one a penny or - even pay our washing bills, and finally sends us and our luggage down to - the next boat or steamer, when we are booked already probably by a new - friend. Certainly I never saw, heard of, or could imagine anything like - the hospitality. It is no doubt in some degree, and in individual cases, - owing to the part I took during the war in England, but Democrats as well - as Republicans have been amongst our warmest hosts; in fact, I am fairly - puzzled, and allow the tide at last to carry me along, floating down it - and enjoying everything as well as I can. I think in my last I got to our - start from Boston. No! was it? At any rate, I wrote about our day at - Concord, I know, as to which I shall have to tell you more when we meet. - After we got home Miss Mabel rushed upstairs, got into her photographing - dress, the quaintest turn-out you can conceive, and commenced a series of - groups, etc., which you shall have specimens of when I get back. She is - endless fun; has the most arch way of talking to her father as “sir” every - now and then; is charming with her stepmother; and altogether as bright a - bit of life about a house as you would meet on a summer’s day. I parted - from Lowell and his home feeling that the meeting had been more than - successful. For these eighteen or nineteen years I have revelled in his - books—indeed, have got so much from them and learned to love the - parent of them so well, as I imagined him, that I almost feared the - meeting, lest pleasant illusions should be broken. I found him much better - than his books. We had a pleasant three hours’ rail to Newport, finding - Mr. Field, a Philadelphian banker, at the station with his carriage. We - were friends at once, for he is a famous, frank, goodlooking, John Bullish - man of the world, who has travelled all over Europe and retained his new - world simplicity and heartiness. He drove us all round the fashionable - watering-place, the description of which I must postpone or I never shall - get through (as we say here). His cottage, as he calls it, in accordance - with the fashion here, is a charming villa, on the most southern point of - Newport, close to the rocks on which the grand Atlantic roll was beating - magnificently as we drove up. - </p> - <p> - Saturday morning a lot of men came to breakfast, including Colonel H———, - the officer who had been the first to volunteer to take command of negroes - in Virginia, before the New England States even began mustering them. I - was delighted to make his acquaintance, as I knew his name in my - anti-slavery standard as a real, advanced Radical, and I was anxious to - realise that type of Yankee of which I had only seen Lloyd Garrison in - England. He was very fascinating to my mind, and the most refined man in - manners and look I have yet met, but I should say decidedly a cracked - fellow in the good sense. We adjourned to the spouting rock, just at the - point where the surf was beating gloriously, and as I continued talking - with H———, of course I got a ducking by getting too near - this rock, which is hollow underneath, so that it sends a spout of water - up like a huge whale some second or two after the breaker hits it. The - sight was superb, and well worth the payment of an unstarched waistcoat - and shirt. We got home, and I changed at 11.30 or thereabouts, and when I - came in to dress for dinner there was my waistcoat, washed and starched, - on the bed. Mrs. Field had heard me say in joke that I should be out of - white waistcoats. We went to the Episcopal Church on Sunday morning and - had a good sermon of a quarter of an hour, sitting in the pew of an - acquaintance of the previous day, a Mrs. H——— of New - York, who drove us about in her handsome carriage, and insisted on giving - me two books—one being extracts from Lincoln’s <i>Speeches and - Letters</i>, which I am very glad to have. In the evening we were sent - down to the pier, where we were picked up by the most magnificent steamer - ever seen in the world, I should think, and by six next morning were - running along the north river, one of the many entrances by sea to New - York harbour. The approaches to the city are superb, but the first view of - it disappointed me, the buildings along the water-side being for the most - part poor and almost mean. We found Hewitt’s carriage waiting, he being - out of town for his Sunday, and drove up through Broadway and Fourth - Avenue to his house, which is a splendid roomy one, belonging to his - father-inlaw, Mr. Cooper. The dear old gentleman, a hearty veteran of - seventy-nine, is the founder of the Cooper’s Institute, a working-man’s - college on a large scale. He has spent nearly a million dollars upon it, - and it is certainly the best institution of the kind I have ever seen. He - is one of the most guileless and sweetest of old men, and I shall have - much to tell you of him. Mr. Hewitt, my friend, who is in partnership with - him, and his wife and family live with the old gentleman. Here I found - free admission to the four best clubs in New York—the Union League, - the Century, and even the Manhattan, a democrat club of which Hewitt is a - distinguished member. The nice brisk woman in the house gave us an - excellent breakfast, and we started for the town about eleven. One of the - first places I went to was Roebuck’s store, where I found him very - flourishing. But I can’t go on to catalogue our doings or shan’t get this - off. As very few folk are in New York, we are off to-day to West Point up - the Hudson, where we stay for a military ball to-morrow night; on Friday - we get to Niagara, and then away west, certainly as far as Omaha, to see - prairies, etc., and possibly to San Francisco. We must be back here or in - New England on the 1st of October, on the 6th is the Harvard Memorial - ceremony, laying the first stone of their memorial building, on the 11th I - am in for an address, and after that shall set my face homewards. I have - looked at myself in the glass at your request and believe I look fabulous. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Garrison’s Landing, opposite West Point, Friday, 9th September 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> already look - wistfully along the pages of my pocket-book which intervene between this - and the beginning of November, and feel very like bolting home instead of - going west. The only moments I have for writing are early (it is now 6.30) - or after I come up to bed, as the dear, good folk provide occupation for - all the rest of the time. Well, we got to New York on Monday mornings by - the East River, and left it on Wednesday afternoon by the Hudson, having, - I think, seen it superficially, so that I should retain a clear idea of it - if I never saw it again. We dined on Monday at the Union League Club, - Tuesday at the Manhattan, going in afterwards to the Century—all - three clubs as complete, I think, as ours and open to strangers in every - corner. We left New York on Wednesday afternoon with Mr. O———, - Chairman of the Illinois Central Railway, who has this delicious place on - the slope of the mountain opposite West Point. As usual there were - carriages at the pier, and all trouble, expense, etc., has been taken off - our hands. Mrs. O——— is the nicest Yankee lady we have - seen (except Mabel), like Mrs. Goschen in face and charmingly - appreciative. Her husband, staunch American, about fifty. The more fanatic - Americans they are the more they seem to like to do for me, and as I spend - the greater part of my time in showing them how mistaken they must be in - their views as to England, else how is it that we didn’t interfere and get - to war, I feel I am doing good work. They take to me, I can see, apart - from my proclivities. - </p> - <p> - I am obliged to give up poor old Pam, the mercantile community of England, - and the majority of the aristocracy; but when I have made a Jonah of - these, I always succeed in bringing these good, simple, candid, impulsive - fellows to admit that we did them no bad turn in their troubles. We leave - to-day for Niagara, and during the next fortnight I hardly know how or - when I can write. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Clifton Hotel, opposite Niagara Falls, 11th September 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am glad to find - that I shall be able to get off this one more letter to you by regular - post before we plunge away west for nearly a fortnight. I do so long for - you every now and then when there is something to see which you would - specially appreciate, not only then as you well know, but then specially, - in the glorious reaches of the Hudson near West Point, for instance, where - you have all the beauty of the Scotch Highlands, with a hundred well-kept - rich men’s houses, and a monster hotel or two crowning some high point,—an - excellent substitute, in my view, for the ruined keeps of robber barons on - the Rhine,—and endless steamers and sloops, with their white sails - and great tows, as they call them, of a dozen large flats lashed together - and bringing down lumber and corn from the west, passing up and down; but, - above all, last night, when we went under the light of a glorious full - moon and saw these mighty falls from above, and then went down some 200 - steps, and along under the overhanging cliffs, till we actually got under - the end of the horse-shoe fall on the Canadian side, and looked up and saw - the moon through the falling water. Just as we descended, an American - gentleman and his daughter and an English girl with them came up, to whom - we gave our seats, and when we came back they were still there, so we told - them what we had seen and offered to escort them down. They were - delighted, and “papa” did not object, so down we all went, and so we had a - second treat behind the cataract, and being with these ladies made me - horribly wishful to get you there. The girl (Philadelphian) was very - pretty and simple, so I handed her over to R———, and - gave my arm to the English one. To-day we went across the ferry amid a - great turbulence of waters, and looked up at the descending rivers, to the - English Church on the opposite side. An American bishop preached, and - afterwards we walked on Goat Island, above and between the two falls, and - saw such effects of rainbows, and lilac and green and purple and pure - white surges, as it is utterly impossible to describe, but I shall try to - do it by the help of photographs when I get back. Then we had a bath in - the rush just above the Falls; you have a little room through which a - slice some four feet wide of the water is allowed to rush; you get in at - the side, in the back water, and then take hold of a short rope fixed - close above the rush, and let the waters seize and tear at you, which it - does with a vengeance, tugging as if it would carry off your legs and pull - you in two in the middle. You can get out of it in a moment by just - slewing yourself round, and the sensation is marvellously delicious. I - forget whether you had one of the baths at Geneva, where the blue Rhone - rushes through at about a third of the pace. That is the only bath I ever - remember the least to be compared to this above Niagara. But let me see, I - hadn’t got farther with you than our chateau on the Hudson. Well, we left - it on Friday after breakfast at about nine o’clock, and travelled away - steadily with only twenty minutes’ stop at Albany, where we dined, and a - quarter of an hour at Rochester. The greater part of the road was - decidedly pretty, especially the earlier part which ran along the banks of - the Hudson. We stopped at Rome, Syracuse, and Utica amongst other places, - all busy, stirring places apparently, with their streets all converging on - and open to the line of rail. Every one has to look out for themselves, - and you get in and out of the trains at your own peril. I have heard of - very few accidents, and I don’t believe there are as many as with us; but - I should think a good many people must often be left behind, as the train - starts without any signal, leaving you to climb in as you can, an easy - enough feat for an active man, but scarcely for any one else. This journey - was our first really long one; we did not get to Suspension Bridge, where - we slept, till past midnight, but I didn’t find it very tiring. There was - a drawing-room car on, but I would not go in it. The other cars are quite - comfortable enough, and I like seeing and being with the people, though - they continue to be the most silent and reserved of any race I have ever - been amongst. Next day (Saturday) just glanced at the Falls; we ran round - the west of Lake Ontario, by Hamilton, to Toronto, the capital of the - province, and were exceedingly struck and pleased with the signs of vigour - and prosperity both in the country and cities. The farming is certainly - cleaner and better than on the American side of the lake, and the towns - don’t lose by comparison with those of the same size over the border. At - Toronto I found Dymond, one of my best Lambeth supporters, in the Globe - Office, and we called on one of our <i>Peruvian</i> acquaintances, who - regaled us with champagne in his huge store; we went over the law courts - and other public buildings, dined, and then on to the boat to cross back - to Niagara. It is about two hours’ sail and very pleasant. There were - quite a number of young and pretty girls on board going across for the - trip, as you might drive out in a carriage to any suburb. It seems the - regular afternoon amusement and lounge, and the heads of families take - season tickets which pass all their belongings. There were three Canadian - M.P.‘s also on board, with whom I got a good deal of useful and pleasant - chat; one of them (M.P. for Niagara) induced me to “drink” twice in - ginger-ale and brandy, and again in champagne, which was the first - instance of that pressingly convivial habit supposed to be universal on - this side that I have seen. I am uncommonly glad it doesn’t really - prevail, as nothing I detest more than this irregular kind of drinking. - The pick-me-up is decidedly one of the most loathsome inventions of a - decrepit civilisation. We got to our hotel here, right opposite the Falls, - by about six, saw them first before tea and afterwards by moonlight, as I - have already narrated. In an hour’s time we start for Chicago. Our late - host, Mr. O———, the President of the Illinois Central - Kail, one of the greatest of the Western’s system of railways, has - followed us here, and is going round a tour of inspection of his line, and - to open 150 miles of new way for traffic. So we shall go round in an - express train with him, seeing everything in the most luxurious and - easiest manner—a wonderful piece of luck. It was his nice wife who - persuaded him to come off and do it now at once while he could have us - with him. I am sitting at my open window, outside of which is a broad - verandah with a magnificent view of the Falls. I am getting what I take to - be my last look at them, and for the last time the sound of many waters, - the finest to be heard in the world, I suppose, is in my ears. The - mid-Atlantic when the waves were highest struck me more, but nothing else - I have ever seen in Switzerland or elsewhere comes near this. It is the - first great hotel we have been in, and not a bad specimen I imagine. We - get heaps of meals, and though the cooking is not all one could wish, - there is nothing to hinder your living very well. We are waited on by some - fifteen or twenty real darkies—good, grinning, curly-pated Sambos - and Pompeys—so, of course, I am happy so far as service goes. - Seriously, though, they are much more obliging and quite as intelligent as - their white compeers here and in the States. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Storm Lake, 13th. September 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne line from this - odd little station, right in the middle of the Iowa prairies, which slope - away right out of sight in every direction. It is the highest point - between Fort Dodge and Sioux City. Fifteen months ago there were not three - settlers’ cabins on the whole 140 miles; now they are dotted along every - mile or so, sometimes turf huts, sometimes wooden, with generally a group - of barefooted, healthy children tumbling about the doors. We are sitting - in the little wooden post-office here, on the walls of which hang maps of - the splendid town which is to be run up in the next three or four years, - and notices of a meeting of the citizens of Storm Lake to hear the - addresses of Captain Jackson Orr, the Republican candidate for Congress of - the district, and of Governor G———, who comes to support - him. The whole place at present consists of some ten or twelve wooden - huts, with two more ambitious buildings running up, one an hotel and the - other a big store. The settlers are a fine rough set of fellows, but full - of intelligence, and determined to make their place the most important - city in the State. It is a most exquisite climate, with a lake four miles - by two, in which there are plenty of pickerel, and as we came along in our - express train we have put up lots of coveys of prairie hens, like big tame - grouse, most delicious eating too. <i>Express train</i>, you will look at - with wondering eyes. Well, or rather wâàl, as they pronounce it here, that - is the explanation of the whole <i>city</i>, and accounts for all that is - going to happen on this glorious prairie. A line of rail has been <i>built</i> - right across it by some enterprising folk in New York, who want now to - lease it to the Illinois Central Railway, with which it makes connections - at Fort Dodge. We left Chicago yesterday morning, got to Dubuque on the - Mississippi by night, travelled all through the night to Fort Dodge, and - are on here now fifty-three miles farther inspecting. It is regal - travelling. We have two carriages,—one a charming sleeping-car, in - which I have a beautiful little state-room, another carriage for dining, - etc., equally commodious, all our stores on board, so that we live - splendidly, two negro boys to wait on us. O———, the - present president, and the vice-president of the line, are our only - fellow-passengers, each of whom is as well lodged as I am. We go along as - we please, sometimes at forty, sometimes at ten miles an hour, talking to - the people at each little log-house station, and enjoying the confines of - civilisation in the most perfect luxury. While they are talking about the - price of land round here I have just this ten minutes, and find I can fire - off this note with some chance that it may get off by the New York boat of - Saturday, so that I shan’t lose a post or you a letter. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Fort Dodge, 13th September 1870. - </h2> - <p> - Here we are! September 15, 2 p.m. You will see, if you have got my last - from Sioux City, that the above heading is somewhat wild. The fact is, - that just as I had written the three first words (in fact, while I was - writing them, which accounts for their jerky look), our little train moved - on from Fort Dodge and I couldn’t write, even on our superb springs. Now - we are at Council Bluffs, opposite Omaha. Why, hang it! here we go again - moving on, and I must stop again. - </p> - <p> - 3 p.m.—We only ran three miles and then stopped to lunch and let a - Union-Pacific train pass. Now after a famous lunch in our second or - commissariat car, I am getting a smoke and a few more lines to you before - we are off eastward again. Thank Heaven! after all the wonderful new - sights and sensations of the last three and a half days since we left - Niagara, I confess to the utmost delight at feeling that we have made our - farthest point, and that I am already some three miles plus the breadth of - the Missouri River and Omaha City on my way back to you. It is still more - than a month before we embark for home (if I can hold out as long); still, - we are on our way! However, you must not think that I am not enjoying - myself wonderfully. I am, and am also, I hope, good company, for when one - is treated like the Grand Turk or the Emperor of Russia, the least one can - do is to be pleasant. But if I go on with my sensations, I shall never - pick up my narrative; as it is, I shall be obliged to leave thousands of - things till we meet, when I do hope I shan’t have forgotten anything. - Well, didn’t I leave off at Niagara? We left the hotel in front of the - Falls there on Monday morning after breakfast with O——, who - had no power except for himself till we got to Chicago; we had been - furnished with free passes, and rode in the ordinary cars through Ontario - province to Windsor, opposite Detroit. In Canada, again, the difference - was at once visible between the two peoples; but I am not at all prepared - to admit that the Canadians have the worst of it, certainly not in the - roadside cookery, for we had the best joint of beef we have seen since we - left home at dinner, and the best bread and butter at tea. At Windsor the - train ran quietly on to the huge ferry-boat-steamer, and we had a - moonlight passage to the railway station at Detroit. Here we secured - berths in the Pullman sleeping car, for which you pay rather more than you - would for a bed at a first-class hotel. However, they are an admirable - institution, and enable one to get through really wonderful travelling - feats. We were at Chicago early next morning, and transferred ourselves - directly into our small express train, getting glimpses of the city of - forty years, which within living men’s memory was a small Indian station. - </p> - <p> - It is enormous, spreading over certainly three times the space which an - English city of 250,000 inhabitants would occupy. We shall see the town on - our return; meantime, as we ran out of the suburbs, we saw a house of - considerable size waiting at the crossing for our train to pass before it - went over, as coolly as a farmer’s waggon of hay would wait in England. O———told - us that all the old houses in Chicago are moved in this way. As building - is very expensive, when one of the big folk wants to put up some splendid - new structure—bank, store, or the like—there are always men - ready to buy the old house as it stands. They then just cut away its - foundation, put it on rollers, and tote it away to the site they have - bought in the suburbs. We fell upon breakfast in a half-famished state as - we steamed away westward, and through the whole day were kept on the - stretch. Not that there was any great beauty in the scenery, but the - interest of getting actually into half-settled country was exceedingly - absorbing. The most notable town we passed was Galena, in Northern - Illinois, from which Grant went to the war, leaving his leather yard for - that purpose. The citizens of Galena have bought and presented him a good - square house of red brick on the top of the hill there. Then we ran along - a tributary of the Mississippi, and about 4.30 came out on the father of - waters; where we struck the mighty stream it was not impressive. We came - upon a mighty swamp, not a river, miles and miles of trees, some of them - fine large ones, standing in the water and covered with creepers. The - river was luckily high, so that we had this effect of a forest rising out - of water to perfection. Then there were miles of swamp, half water, half - land, dreary and horrible to look at, sometimes sound enough for cattle to - pick about, and then only fit for alligators and wild-fowl; of the latter - we saw a number, including a white heron. At last we came upon the river, - some three-quarters of a mile wide-up there, 1600 miles from the sea, and - crossed by a gossamer bridge, a real work of high art. On the opposite - side we stopped for tea-dinner at Dubuque, one of the largest towns in - Iowa, and the first border city we had seen,—very quaint to behold, - with streets laid out as broad as Regent Street, here and there a huge - block of stores full of dry goods or groceries, and then a lot of wooden - hovels, a vacant plot perhaps, and then a big hotel, or another great - store,—the streets all as soft as Rotten Row, and much deeper in - dirt, side pavements of wood, every house placarded in huge letters with - the name and business of the owner. Here, for the first time, we saw - emigrants’ waggons packed with their household goods and lumber (sawed - planks) for their houses, bound for the prairies beyond, on which they - settle under the homestead acts. In short, the pushing slipshod character - of the great West was thoroughly mirrored in the place, and above all the - other buildings was a fine common school open to every child in the place. - This is the one universal characteristic of these towns and villages; - almost the first thing they do is to build a famous big school. The member - of Congress for the place and one or two other notables came down to see - us after tea, and smoked a cigar with us in our saloon car before we - started. The talk was, of course, on the wonders of the West, and the - chances of Dubuque to be a big city in a year or two. Then we turned in - and ran all night to Fort Dodge, from which the first line of this letter - was written, a village with the same characteristics as the towns, except - that the only building not of wood was the station, which, strange to say, - was built of gypsum, found in great quantities here, and the only sort of - stone they have. The president of the line—a shrewd, honest, Western - man named Douglas, one of our party—guessed that in another five - years they would have to pull the station down and manure the land with - it. From this place we ran right up into the wild prairies, and at the - highest point between the Mississippi and Missouri, at Storm Lake, I wrote - you the hasty note which, I hope, you have received from those unknown - parts. It is about the largest settlement in the 180 miles, consisting of - perhaps twelve or fourteen wooden houses, one of which was a billiard - saloon kept by an old Cornish man. He said that quite a number of Cornish - miners are over in this district, some at lead and coal mines of a very - primitive kind, others farming. On the whole, the people seemed a good, - steady, independent lot, and the children looked wonderfully healthy, - running about barefooted on the shore of the little lake or amongst the - prairie grass. We made acquaintance with prairie chicken and the little - earth squirrel, a jolly little dog, with a prettily marked back, who - frisks into his hole instead of up a tree like ours. Then we dropped down, - still through wild prairie, over which the single line of rail runs with - no protection at all, till we came to Sioux City on the Missouri, and the - biggest town on the river for 2000 miles from its source. There are 12,000 - inhabitants, and precisely the same features as at Dubuque, except that it - is a far more rowdy place, being still almost under the dominion of Judge - Lynch. Only the day before we arrived, a border ruffian had been - swaggering about the town, pistol in hand, and defying arrest. However, - they did take him at last, and he was safe in prison. A fortnight earlier - a rascal, who confessed to nine murders, had been taken and hung on the - other side of the river. There are sixty-three saloons, at most of which - gambling goes on regularly every night. The editor of the <i>Sioux Tribune</i>, - an Irish Yankee of queer morals and extraordinary “go,” took us into one, - stood drinks round, and expounded the ingenious games by which the - settlers and officers of the Indian fort up the stream are cleared of - their money. A rowdy, loafing, vagabond city, but there they have three or - four fine schools (one had just cost 45,000 dollars), for which they tax - the saloons mercilessly. I have no doubt the place will be quite - respectable in another five years. We slept quietly and dropped down south - along the Missouri to Council Bluffs, from which the earlier part of this - was written. The Missouri is a doleful stream, shallow, with huge - sandbanks in the middle, and great swamps at the side, but striking green - bluffs rising above on the east bank under which we went; and behind them - I saw the sun rise in great beauty. We just crossed the river to Omaha to - say we had been in Missouri and seen the terminus of the Union-Pacific - Railway, and a fine go-ahead place it is, like Dubuque, only twice as big - and finely situate on hills above the Missouri River. We are now back at - Chicago, having seen more frontier towns and prairies on our way here, and - in five days, by the good fortune of this private train, have done more - than we could have managed otherwise in nine. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Chicago, September 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am so afraid that - I shan’t get off a letter regularly twice a week from this run in the - West, that I begin this in a spare three minutes between packing and a - testimonial which is to be given me here by a lot of young graduates of - the American Universities at the Club at four o’clock. This place is the - wonder of the wonderful West, as you know already. A gentleman I met - to-day tells me he came up to this place in 1830, when it consisted of a - fort with two companies, a dozen little wooden huts, and an encampment of - 3000 or 4000 Indians who had come in to get their allowances under treaty - with the United States. Now it is one of the handsomest cities I ever saw, - with 300,000 inhabitants, and progressing at the rate of 1500 a week or - thereabouts. We have had our first experience of a first-rate American - hotel, the Fremont House here. It is decidedly not cheap. At present rates - about fifteen shillings or four dollars a day; but you can eat and drink - anything but wine and spirits all day, with the exception of one hour in - the afternoon between lunch and dinner. I ordered a peach just now for - lunch, and they brought me a whole plateful, not so good as our hot-house - ones, but very fine fruit. Yesterday I went twice to hear Robert Collyer, - a famous Unitarian minister here. He was born in Yorkshire, where he - worked as a blacksmith, preaching as a Methodist, and finally, twenty - years ago, came out to the West and established himself here. He has great - and deserved influence, and is altogether the finest man of the kind I - have ever met. His text was out of Job: “Dost thou know the springs of the - deep?” I forget the exact words, but you will find them in the splendid - 38th chapter, where God is showing Job who is master (as the cabman put - it). He had been for his holiday at the sea, and was full of thoughts - which, as he said, he wanted to get off to his people. He began by a - quotation from Ruskin as to the fantastic power and beauty of the sea, - said that no trace of love for the sea could be found in the Bible, only - fear of it. In the New Jerusalem, St. John dreamed “there shall be no more - sea.” Same with all great poets, even English, illustrated by Burns and - Shakespere, and Dr. Johnson’s saying, “That a ship was a prison with a - chance of being drowned.” Even sailors don’t really look on sea as home, - and fear it, and weave mystical notions of all kinds round it. Yet the sea - has its sweet and gentle side too; it nourishes every plant and flower - that grows by its exhalations, and keeps the rivers sweet and running; and - look at one of the exquisite little shells which you may find after the - fiercest storm, or the bit of sea-weed lying on the shore, or the limpet - on the rock. The lashing of the storm has done them no harm, and there - they lie as perfect as if it had never been raging. about them. So the - great stormy sea of life has its gentle and loving side for every one of - us so long as we trust in God and just obey His laws and do His will. I - have given you the very barest outline of a very striking sermon. In the - evening I went to tea with him, and there was a large bunch of grapes on - my plate with the enclosed little paper, “To Mr. Hughes from the - children,” which touched me much. The children are very nice. Robert - Lincoln, Abe’s son, and a lot of his friends are our entertainers to-day, - and in the evening we go by the night train to St. Louis. I laid aside the - other sheet to go off to this club dinner with the young Chicago men, and - I have never had a more hearty greeting or kinder words and looks than - amongst these youngsters, all graduates of some university, most of them - officers in the late war, who are settled down in the great money-making - town, and are living brave and sterling and earnest lives there. I really - can’t tell you the sort of things they said (they drank your health, and - the proposer made one of the prettiest little speeches in proposing it I - ever heard); in short, I was positively ashamed, and scarcely knew how to - meet it all or what to say to them; but it was less embarrassing than it - would have been with any other young men, for this kind of young American - (like Holmes) is so transparently sincere that you can come out quite - square with him before you have known him an hour. Our good friends of the - Illinois Central gave us free passage to St. Louis, to which we travelled - all night. It is the biggest town in Missouri, was a great slave-holding - place in 1860, and very “secesh” during the war. A fine city it is too, - with its grand quay lined with huge steamers, and its miles of fine - streets. Rowdy though, still, full of low saloons and gambling-houses. The - most drunken town in the United States, the gentleman who met us, and - drove us about and got us free papers here to Cincinnati, told us. The - most characteristic thing that happened to me was that I was shaved by a - negro (and better shaved than I ever was in my life before). He had been - body servant to his master, a rich Southern planter, through the first - three years of the war. His master was at last shot and he managed to get - taken, and so “I’se no slave now,” as he said, with all his ivories - shining. His education has not been much improved, however, for he thought - England was at war, as being somehow part either of France or Germany, he - couldn’t just say which, and would scarcely believe me when I declared - that we were separated by the sea from both. Then we travelled all night - again (I sleep splendidly in these palace cars, so don’t be alarmed), and - got here to the queen city of Ohio this morning, after the most glorious - sunrise I ever saw. This also is a very fine city on the Ohio, with fine - hills all round and a magnificent suspension bridge. The most - characteristic sight I have seen here, however, was two small boys - trotting along together barefooted, with a piece of sugar-cane between - them, each sucking one end. I had a note to Force, one of Sherman’s - generals, now a judge here, who kindly sent us round in a carriage, but - was too busy to come with us. To-night we make another long run to - Philadelphia. We should have gone to Washington and so worked north, but - Philadelphia is the next place where I shall get letters, and I can’t do - any longer without hearing from you, so that’s all about it. I have lots - of friends in Philadelphia, so shall probably make two days’ stay there. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, 23rd September 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>here was I in my - narrative? I guess (I am getting a thorough Yankee in my vernacular) I - gave you a short account of the queen city, as they call Cincinnati. We - left Cincinnati at ten o’clock on Wednesday night and came right away for - 600 miles to Philadelphia. - </p> - <p> - The most interesting part of the road was the crossing the Alleghanies, up - which we wound through vast forest tracks for some thirty miles, and down - the eastern slopes in the sunset, getting daylight for all the most - beautiful parts. As we were rushing up one of the finest gorges, some 200 - yards wide, we were suddenly aware of a huge eagle (bigger than those we - saw on the Danube as we steamed through the Iron Cates) sailing up on the - opposite side, perhaps 100 yards from the train. We were going eighty - miles an hour at the least, and the grand old fellow swept along without - the least apparent effort, keeping abreast of our car for I should think a - couple of miles, when he suddenly turned and settled on a fine pine-tree. - </p> - <p> - After breakfast we had a real field-day in this splendid city, which - rivals Boston in interest and character. Outside it is built of red brick - and white marble, the contrast of which materials is to me singularly - taking, though I daresay it is very bad art. - </p> - <p> - Then the chief streets run away long and straight, and as you look down - them all seem to dive into groups of trees. Walnut Street, Chestnut - Street, and Spruce Street are the names of the oldest and handsomest - avenues. Our friend Field, the banker, was all ready for us, and a dozen - new friends, including General Meade, the first Federal general who won - the battle in the East, and a charming, tall, handsome, grizzled, - gentlemanly soldier. We went over the old State House, a pre-revolutionary - building, from the top of which there is a splendid view of the town, with - the two rivers, the Delaware and Schuylkill, on which it stands. There is - the hall in which the Declaration of Independence was signed, and the - chair in which Hancock sat, and the table on which it lay for signature. - The square is charming, with its old trees and turf, just as it has always - stood, and I am happy to say the Pennsylvanians are very proud «of the old - place, won’t allow it to be touched, and are likely to keep it there till - it burns, as I suppose the State House, with all the old-fashioned timbers - in wall and roof, will some day. Then we went to the great Normal School - for girls here, five hundred strong, the daughters of all sorts of folk, - from physicians and lawyers to labourers. I was exceedingly interested and - instructed in many classes, especially in the history class. The handsome, - self-possessed young woman who was teaching was just beginning the - Revolutionary War as we came in, and “felt like” changing the subject as - she said, but I begged her to go on, and heard the old story from - Lexington down to Cornwallis’s surrender without turning a hair. After - classes, at two, the whole school was gathered for Scripture reading and - singing a hymn. After the hymn, in compliment to us, they began “God save - the Queen”; Rawlins and I got up by a sort of instinct, and to my immense - amusement up got the whole company. Then I was asked to say a few words; - and talked about the grand education they were getting, referred to the - history class and told them no Englishman worth the name now regretted the - end of the struggle one hundred years old, but only that any of the - bitterness should still be left; spoke of the grand country which has been - entrusted to them to be filled with the poor of the whole world, told them - that we had a woman’s rights movement at home as well as they, which I - hoped would not fall into any great absurdities, but there were two rights - they would always insist on—the right of every girl in the States to - such an education as they were getting, and their own right (they are all - being educated as teachers) to go and give this education to those who - want it most in West and South. Then the girls all filed out to march - music, played by a senior girl, winding in and out of the rows of benches - on which they had sat, and so away downstairs and to all parts of the - town, the prettiest sight you can imagine. The girls are at the most - awkward age, and, of course, many of them plain, but altogether as comely - as the same sort would be with us, and not a sign of poverty amongst them, - though many were quite plainly dressed. My democratic soul rejoiced at the - sight as you may fancy. What a chance for straining the nonsense out of a - girl if she has any! We adjourned from the great training-school for girls - to the Girard College for orphan boys, founded by a queer old French - Voltairian citizen of Philadelphia, who died some forty years ago and left - property worth half a million of our money to found this college, with the - express <i>proviso</i> that no parson of any denomination was ever to be - admitted within the walls. I am happy to say, however, that, - notwithstanding this provision, which is observed to the letter, the Bible - is read and every day’s instruction is begun and ended by a religious - service. This, by the way, is the case almost everywhere in the States. - Notwithstanding all the assertions to the contrary, I have found only one - place in which the education is purely secular. This was Cincinnati, where - the result is obtained by a combination of the Roman Catholics with the - German town population. Well, this college, as it is called, is simply a - vast boys’ home, just like our own, except that the boys live in a most - superb white marble building, copied from the Parthenon. The classes were - being taught, and kept in right good order by women, who indeed almost - monopolise teaching in this State, and they are in the proportion of more - than ten to one. The fault of Girard College is that it is not wanted; the - public school system which has grown up since its foundation being open to - every one, and offering at least as good an education. If its funds could - have been used to support the boys while at the public schools it would - have been better. The whole arrangements are decidedly more luxurious than - those at Rugby in my time, and they have not yet established workshops. - After our round of institutions we were entertained at the Union League - Club. The dinner was good and the company better, Mr. MacMichael, the - mayor, who had been the chief mover in establishing the club in the dark - days of 1861, presided, with General Meade, who commanded at Gettysburg on - his left and me on his right. Dear old Field, the most furious and - impulsive of Republicans, and the most ardent lover and abuser of England - and Englishmen, vice-president, and the rest of the company, - staff-officers in the war or marked men in some other way. The club had - sent eleven regiments to the war at its own expense, and had exercised - immense influence on the Union at the most critical time. At last I was - fairly cornered; I had often before had to defend our position in sharp - skirmishes, but now, for the first time, was in for a general engagement. - Well, I just threw away all defensive arms, and attacked them at once. - “You say we were led by our aristocracy, who were savagely hostile to you; - I admit they were hostile, though with many notable exceptions, such as - the Duke of Argyll, Lord Carlisle, Howards and Cavendishes; but what did - you expect? I have taken in three or four American papers for years, and - in your debates in Congress, in your newspapers, in every utterance of - your public men, I have never heard or read anything but savage abuse of - our aristocracy. They don’t reply to your insults, but they don’t forget - them, so when you got into such hard lines they went in heartily for your - enemies. Well, you say the South were England’s real enemies for the last - forty years. True, but aristocracy did not care for that, democracy was - represented by you, and that was what they went against.” There was an - outcry: “Why, here’s a pretty business, we thought you were a Democrat.” - </p> - <p> - “So I am, in our English sense, but I am before all things an Englishman. - I have nothing to do with our aristocracy (except knowing a few of them), - and I fought as hard against them in England through the war as you did - against the rebels; but I am not going to allow you to separate them from - the nation, or to suppose that they can be punished except through the - nation.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, but what do you say for all your great commercial world—bankers, - merchants, manufacturers, our correspondents, look how they turned on us!” - </p> - <p> - “It’s no part of my business to defend them; they were mean, I allow, but - their business was, as they supposed, and as all of you agree, to make - money; besides, after all, who fought your battle better than Cobden, - Bright, Forster, and such men as Kirkman-Hodson, and Tom Baring?” Then - they fell back on the general position that our Government was hostile to - them, and I went through what had really happened in Parliament, and made - them admit that if we had listened to Louis Napoleon, and the blockade had - been broken, it would have been a narrow squeak for the Union. On the - whole, I think, I made a good deal of impression on most of them. General - Meade and the soldiers were on my side throughout, and admitted at once - that, after all the abuse their press heaped on our governing classes, it - was childish to cry out when they proved that they knew of the abuse and - didn’t love the abusers. We all parted the warmest friends, and I went off - to tea at Mrs. W———s’, where we met Dr. Mitchell, a - scientific man, and his sister, and other very pleasant folk, and heard - many interesting stories of the war. The next morning we started for - Gettysburg. I had always made a point with myself of seeing this one at - any rate of the great battlefields. It was the real turning-point of the - war, fought on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of July 1863, after the series of - defeats and failures under M’Clellan, Pope Hooker, Burnside. I well - remember what a long breath we (the Abolitionists) drew in England when - the news came of Lee’s defeat at the farthest point he had ever made to - the North, and felt sure, for the first time, that the war would be put - through, and slavery be abolished right down to the Gulf of Mexico. We had - the best escort possible in the person of Rosengarten, who was aide-decamp - to General Reynolds, commander of the corps which came up first and - sustained the whole weight of battle on the first day. Field also “came - along,” and we had a first-rate time on our journey over the Susquehanna - bridge, which the Northern militia burnt behind them as they escaped from - Lee’s advance. Then we stopped for an hour or two, waiting for a train at - York, a nice shady quiet country town of 11,000 inhabitants. The rebels - had occupied the place for three days and levied a matter of 80,000 - dollars on the people; in all other respects they seem to have behaved - excellently and to have been well under command. The old Episcopalian - clergyman, a warm friend of England, who had been Rosengarten’s tutor, and - to whom we paid a visit, gave us a capital description of the three days’ - occupation, and of the relief the York folk experienced when the poor - ragged rebels marched off for Gettysburg, and left the town very little - poorer than they had found it. We didn’t get to our inn, a huge wooden - building on the first day’s battlefield, till after sunset. Tea over, we - came out on the wooden platform which runs all round the house, and saw - the most glorious sight I have ever seen, I think, in the skies. Steaming - up Memphremagog we saw the aurora borealis splendidly, but that was - nothing to this. In Canada there was no colour in the pure flashes of - light which lit and pulsed over the whole sky, but on Saturday the changes - of colour were splendid, and I should say for half an hour the heavens - were throbbing with the most lovely rose-coloured streamers and sheets and - flashes. With my view of the importance to the poor old world of the - struggle which was descending there, you can fancy that such an - introduction to it was welcome and impressive. Next day we devoted to the - battlefield: began at the beginning where, on Thursday the 1st July 1863, - Rosengarten himself, as Reynolds’s aide-decamp, had ridden forward and - placed the first Federal regiments which came on the ground in position - between the town of Gettysburg, which contains about 3000 inhabitants and - lies in a hollow, and the advancing rebels. Gettysburg is at the junction - of three roads and was a point which both armies were bent on seizing. The - fight on this the north-east side of the town began early on Thursday. - Rosengarten, after carrying out his orders, rode back, and was just in - time to see his General fall from his horse, shot through the neck by a - sharpshooter, and helped to carry him off the field. After many hours’ - hard fighting the Federals were driven back through the town with heavy - loss. Our friend, General Barlow, who commanded a brigade, was also badly - wounded. Luckily, during the day two more corps of the army of the Potomac - had come up and been placed in position on a hill just to the south of the - town, on part of which the cemetery now stands, which was made immortal by - Lincoln’s glorious speech at the inauguration. Behind these fresh troops - the broken 1st and 11th corps rallied and prepared for the next day. - Reinforcements came up to Lee also, and in the town the shopkeepers and - other inhabitants heard them making certain of an easy victory in the - morning. Meade is evidently a man who gains and holds the confidence of - his troops; but as he was slightly outnumbered, and the rebels had the - prestige of the first day’s victory, I take it he must have been beaten - but for the splendid position he had selected. His troops lay along two - lines of hills, covered in many places with wood which sloped away from - the point overlooking the town, leaving a space between them secure from - fire, in which he could move his troops without being seen, while every - move of Lee’s was open to him. The Confederates began attacks early and - kept them up throughout the day, but could not force the position except - at one point, where, after dark, they succeeded in making a lodgment and - spent the night within Meade’s lines. In the morning they were driven out - after a desperate struggle, and later in the day Lee made a determined - attempt with Longstreet’s corps to break the line again. He lost three - generals and about 4000 men in the great effort, and when it failed, and - he had to fall back to his own lines, the back of the Rebellion was broken - and the doom of slavery sealed for ever in North America. At night he went - away south, leaving most of his wounded, but Meade was too much exhausted - to do more than follow slowly. I am writing in hot haste to catch the - post, so can give you no clear idea, I fear, of the great day. The hotel - was a nice, clean, reasonable place, with a landlord and servants really - civil, and we enjoyed our excursion more than I can tell you. - </p> - <p> - Next day we came on to Baltimore, drove as usual in the beautiful park and - about the town in a carriage sent for us by some patriotic citizen, dined - at the Union Club, to which they gave us the <i>entrée</i>, and came on to - Washington. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Washington, Friday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>ou ask whether I - read our papers and the news from Europe. No, except just so far as to - keep abreast of the bare facts. You know how I hate details of - battlefields, and that I have never got over my intense dislike to the - glowing and semi-scientific descriptions of “our own correspondents,” - sitting down in the midst of dying and agonised men to do their penny or - guinea a line. The dry report of a general or staff officer, whose sad - duty it is to be there, I follow with the deepest interest, and recognise - a battlefield as one of the very noblest places from which a true man may - make a “bee-line track” to heaven. The noblest death in our times was - Robert Shaw’s at the attack on Fort Wagner, at the head of his niggers, - under whom he was buried; but, for all that, war and its details are a - ghastly and horrible evil, which the faith of our Master is going yet to - root out of this silly old world, and which none of His servants should - touch unless it is the clear path of supreme duty. - </p> - <p> - I pity the poor French, utterly unmanned as they seem to be by this - nineteen years of the rule of Mammon, and heartily wish they could find - their manhood again, though I see no glimmer of it yet. Trochu seems a - fine fellow, and I can’t help believing that many of my acquaintance and - the members of the Paris associations, will be found ready to die like men - on the walls of the city if they get a chance. By the way, where is N———? - I wonder if he has gone back? If so, there is another brave and true man - in Paris, and perhaps ten may save it. But I must be getting back to my - journal or I shall be dropping stitches. If I don’t forget, my last - brought you with us to Willard’s Hotel, Washington, a great - three-hundred-roomed hotel, mixed, if not of Southern proclivities during - the war, before the door of which more than one duel was fought in those - searching times. At breakfast we found ourselves next the Wards, father - and son, G. B———‘s friends, to whom I had given some - letters. I found they had been even farther west than we; in fact, up to - Denver City, in the bosom of the Rocky Mountains, and had also managed to - get into four or five Southern states; but they had done it at the - sacrifice not only of comfort but of the chance of seeing the home-life of - the Americans, and I value the latter infinitely higher than mere - sight-seeing, so do not regret the least that we didn’t get through the - extra 1500 miles, which at the cost of five days’ more travel would have - let us see the Rocky Mountains and shoot at buffaloes. - </p> - <p> - We went after breakfast to leave some of my letters, and over the White - House, a fine residence of white marble splendidly situated some one and a - half miles from the Capitol, with which it is connected by Pennsylvania - avenue, wider than Portland Place. I shall keep the details till we meet; - the house is as big as the Mansion House I should say, and not very unlike - it. Luckily, soon after we got outside we were recognised (at least I was) - in the street by Blackie, who was over in England with the Harvard crew. - He is in the attorney-general’s office, and consequently has the run of - all the public apartments, and he took us in hand and lionised us - splendidly. The Capitol Patent Office and Treasury I shall bring you - photographs of, and describe at leisure in our winter evenings. The view - from the top, over the city and Maryland to the north, and across the - Potomac over Virginia to the south, is as fine as any I ever saw, General - Lee’s house at Arlington Heights, now a national cemetery, being the most - conspicuous point in the southern view. The thing that struck one most was - the staff of women, mostly young and many pretty, serving in the Treasury. - They say there are upwards of two thousand, and that for counting, - sorting, and repairing the paper currency, they are far superior to men. - They earn one thousand dollars (or £200) a year on an average. Fancy the - boon to the orphan girls of soldiers and sailors. One of the first we saw - was the daughter of a very distinguished Colonel of Marines, who had left - her quite destitute, as ladylike, pretty-looking a girl as you ever saw, - and she was running over bundles of dollar notes with her fingers as fast - as if she were playing the overture to <i>Semiramide</i> with you on the - piano. It nearly took my breath away, and yet I was assured she never made - an error in counting. I wish we could get off a lot of our poor girls in - some such way in Somerset House, and send a lot of our Government clerks - to till the ground or hammer or do some hard, productive work. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps, however, the pleasantest part of the day was the end, when he - took us off on the street-cars down to the Potomac, where we found a - boating club, with their boat-house, etc., just like an Oxford or - Cambridge College. There were eight or ten of them down there who received - us with open arms, and in a few minutes manned a heavy eight-oared boat - with room enough for me and R——— to sit in the stern, - and away we went up under the long bridge, over which the armies used to - cross in the war time, and saw a glorious sunset on the river, with the - stars and stripes floating proudly over our stern. I enjoyed the row - vastly and liked the men, who are just training for a race with the - Potomac club. Boating flourishes all over the states I have been in, and - they have learnt a lesson from their defeat two years ago and pull now in - just as good style as our boys. Oxford and Cambridge must mind their hits, - for they will have a tough job of it the next time they have to meet a - crew from this side. - </p> - <p> - Next morning I called on our minister after breakfast, having heard by - chance that he was in town. I am very glad I did, as I had the pleasure of - hearing him praise C———, his ability, willingness, and - capacity for work, in a strain which would have rejoiced the heart of - poor, dear R. F——— and of the F——— - family. He seems to think C——— will come back here, and - desires it most earnestly. I got from him Lord Clarendon’s last despatch - on the Alabama claims, which will be most useful to me in my stump in the - Boston Music Hall on the 11th. It is the room and the course in which - Wendell Phillips, Emerson, and all the orators and philosophers figure. I - have taken for my subject, “John to Jonathan,” suggested by Lowell’s - famous “Jonathan to John.” They won’t get any eloquence or oratory out of - me, as you know; but I am sure I can say some things in a plain, - straightforward way which will do good and help to heal wounded pride and - other sorely irritating places in the over-sensitive, but simple and - gallant Yankee mind. They have treated me so like a spoilt child from - Boston to Omaha and back, that I know they will let me say anything and - will listen to it affectionately. I really love them too well to say - anything that will really hurt them, and when they see that this kind of - feeling and appreciation is genuine, the more thorough John Bull you are - the better they like it; that is, all the best of them, who rule the - nation in the long run though not directly. When I got back from our - embassy, it was just time to be starting for the train to Philadelphia, - and lo! there were a dozen folk, from secretaries of state downwards, - waiting to offer lodgings, dinners, excursions, lecturings, every sort of - kindness in creation. It was hard work to get off, but I managed somehow - to make tracks, suppressing, I fear, the fact that I was not likely to get - to Washington again. The journey to Philadelphia is very interesting along - the coast, though seldom within sight of the sea, but crossing huge inlets - and rivers (the abode of canvas-backs) on spider bridges. We didn’t change - cars at Baltimore, but were dropped by our engine in the outskirts of the - town. Six fine horses in a string were then hitched on to each long car, - and away we went through the crowded streets along the tramway rails, our - driver, or rather, conductor, for he had no reins, blowing his horn loudly - to warn all good people, and shouting to the train of horses who trotted - along by instinct between the rails. How we missed fifty collisions I - can’t conceive; at last we had one—crash into a confusion of carts - and drays, driven by shouting negroes who had got them all into a hopeless - jam as we bore down on them. Bang we went into the nearest; I saw the - comical, scared look of the grisly old Sambo who was driving, as he was - shot from his seat, but no harm was done except knocking off our own step, - and as we shot past I saw his face light up into a broad grin as he sat on - the bottom of his cart. We had cleared him right away from his dead-lock - with two other vehicles, and he went on his way delighted. At Philadelphia - we found our kindest of hosts, Field, waiting supper for us in his - delightful house, where he is living for a few days’ business as a - bachelor. Quiet evening, with talk till eleven o’clock on all manner of - places, people, and things, mostly English. Lippincott, the great American - publisher, and Rosengarten to breakfast, then a visit from Morrison’s - friend Welsh, reproachful that we had not occupied his house, and full of - interesting stories of the Indian commission, of which he is the moving - spirit. Then more schools, workmen’s houses, etc., with Rosengarten, and a - drive in the park, five miles long on both sides of the river Schuylkill - (as broad as the Thames at Putney), and with views combining Richmond Hill - and Oxford. The Central Park is nothing to it, or any other I ever saw on - heard of. The Quaker city of white marble and red brick fascinated me more - and more. A most interesting dinner at Dr. Mitchell’s, a scientific man—talk - of the war, prairie stories, Yankee stories, wonderful old Madeira and - excellent cigars. This morning, after seeing Lippincott’s store, and a - most interesting talk with Sheridan’s adjutant-general on the last - campaigns (he came to breakfast), we literally tore ourselves away from - Philadelphia and came on here to this splendid, great, empty house, to be - received most hospitably by Maria, the big, handsome, good-natured - Irishwoman in charge. - </p> - <p> - Everything is getting so crowded with me that I have hardly time to turn - round. All sorts of kind friends urging me to stop just for one day here - or there, a few hundred miles making no difference with them, hundreds - (almost) of applications for lectures or addresses, and the engagements - already made driving me nearly wild to know how I am to get through with - them. I shall never get my journal straight. Where was I? With dear old - Peter Cooper, the simplest, most utterly guileless of old men who ever - made a big fortune in this world or any other, I should think. That I - remember, but can’t the least get further. Nothing, however, very - particular happened, except that I was again caught and had to speak a few - words to the Normal Training School of New York, consisting of nine - hundred girls. I managed to get out of going with the beautiful Miss P——— - to her school, but thought I should be safe in going with the dear old - gentleman to the Normal School to be present at the morning service. We - were of course on the dais, and Mr. Cooper, after the singing of a hymn, - read a chapter of the Bible, then another hymn, and then, instead of the - adjournment to their classes at once, as I had expected, I was called - upon. You must imagine what I said, for I really don’t remember. Then I - was photographed alone, and with Mr. Cooper. I enclose a proof of the - latter which, I hope, will not quite fade on the way. They tell me the - prints will be very good, and I hope to have several to bring home. We - left on Wednesday by the afternoon boat to Fall River, the finest boat in - the States, the great cabin of which I shall bring you a photograph, all - the family grouped round the door breaking one down with their kindness. I - slept as usual famously on board the <i>Bristol,</i> and waked at Fall - River about three, and so on by rail to Boston, and by car up here, where - I feel quite at home. Miss Mabel appeared at breakfast, and produced her - photographs made at the time of our last visit with great triumph. They - are excellent, and I shall bring you lots of them. At eleven was the - Harvard memorial ceremony on the laying of the corner-stone of the hall - they are building in honour of the members who died in the war. I walked - in with Mr A——— and heard a good account of his wife and - family. They want me to go out there for a quiet day or two, but, I fear, - it is quite impossible. Two of his sons, the Colonel, and our friend - Henry, who is just named as one of the lecturers, were there also, and - Emerson, Dana, and a number of old and new friends. The ceremony was very - simple, Luther’s hymn, a short <i>extempore</i> prayer, a report, and two - addresses, and the benediction, and then we just broke up and left the - great tent as we pleased. The point of greatest interest was, of course, - the gathering of some seventy or eighty of those who had been in the army, - almost all in their old uniforms, and many of them carrying the marks of - war about them too plainly. Colonel Holmes amongst them as nice as ever, - and young F——— and General M———, with - half a dozen other generals. - </p> - <p> - Lunch afterwards at a very quaint and attractive little club founded in - 1792, and recruited by a few of the best fellows in each year, like the - Apostles at our Cambridge. Longfellow and our friend Field came to dine - here, and the poet was fascinating, full of his English doings, and genial - and modest as a big man should be. To-day I have been preparing for my - lecture, “John to Jonathan,” which comes off next Tuesday, as to which I - am considerably anxious, as it is exceedingly difficult to get a line - which will have the healing effect I intend. Let us hope for the best. I - go for Sunday to Lowell’s brother’s school, twenty miles away. On Monday - evening I meet the Harvard undergraduates, and on Wednesday spend the day - with Emerson at Concord. On Thursday I hope to get away, but where? All - our plans are changing. We now propose, if it can be so arranged, to go - first to Montreal for two or three days to pick up our things, returning - to Ithaca to Goldwin Smith for a long day about the 18th, and so to New - York, from which we should sail about the 22nd. You will, I daresay, be - glad that we don’t go from Quebec; but I don’t believe there is the least - more danger at this time of year by this route than any other. All I have - resolved on is, that nothing shall keep me beyond my time. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - St. Mark’s School, Southborough, Mass., Tuesday, 9th October. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have had a very - charming visit to this little village, twenty miles from Boston, in which - is established a Church of England boarding-school, modelled as nearly as - possible on our public school system, and intended to do for American boys - precisely what Eton, Rugby, etc., do for ours. I am not sure that such - schools are wanted here. - </p> - <p> - Were I living here I should certainly try the public schools first for my - boys. But they say that the teaching there is too forcing in the earlier - stages, and afterwards not liberal enough in the direction of “<i>the - humanities</i>,” so that the boys get trained more into competitive - money-making machines than into thinking cultivated men. There is a very - considerable demand at any rate for this kind of school, as this is only - one of several in New England. There is an objection too amongst New - England mothers. I find that the high schools (as I ought to call them, - and not public schools) being open to every one, a large class of Irish - and other recent arrivals go there whose manners and language make them - dangerous class-mates for their own children. At any rate, St. Mark’s - school is a successful fact, and seeing how fast they go ahead here I - shouldn’t be astonished to hear that in a few years it is as big as Rugby. - Dr. Lowell is the principal, and a first-rate one, a High Church of - England clergyman, not a ritualist. The school is founded as a - denominational one, with a little chancel, which opens from the end of the - big schoolroom, and in which the doctor, in his robes, reads our prayers - morning and evening to the boys. He and his family live entirely with the - boys, taking all their meals in the hall, and there is no fagging, the - monitors having no power or responsibility, except just to keep order in - the schoolroom at certain hours. They have a monthly reception of the - friends from the neighbourhood, which took place on Saturday evening. All - the boys were there, and handed round ices, cakes, and tea to some thirty - ladies and gentlemen who came in, including several of the trustees, a - judge whom I had met in England, a neighbouring squire (Boston merchant by - profession), who is farming largely down there, reclaiming the stony lands - and getting up a most beautiful herd of cattle. Of course I had to - “address a few words” to them, all which they took most kindly. On Sunday - we had two Church of England services in the pretty parish church, a copy - of one in England, the plans of which the Squire, Bartlett, had brought - over. We dined in the middle of the day at his house, which would be a - good squire’s house at home. The family were very nice—a sweet, - pretty wife, a strapping great eldest son now at Harvard, and good in all - ways. He is bent on going out West as soon as he is through college, and, - as a preparation, hired himself out to a farmer this summer vacation, - earned ten dollars a week for some two months at hoeing and other hard - work, and then had a sporting run to Canada. Two more big sons and any - number of younger children. The house was tastefully furnished with some - really good pictures, and altogether it was as nice a home as I have seen - here. On Monday we got back to dear Elmwood, and I went hard at work on my - lecture. Newspaper men came buzzing about all day and seizing my MS. as I - got through with it. Also came up Julian H———, one of - the Chartist prisoners of 1848. I had known him in the socialist times, - and I had always a respect and liking for him, but he had quite slipped - out of sight for some eighteen years. His errand touched me. He reminded - me (which I had entirely forgotten) that he had applied to Lord R——— - in 1851 for a loan of £20 which had been advanced to him through me. He - told the long story of his life since, full of interest; I must keep it - till we meet. At last he landed in the Massachussets state house, where he - is a Government clerk, on a small salary for this country, but out of it - he has saved a few hundred dollars, and the object of his visit was to say - that he was now anxious to pay his old debt with many hearty thanks to - Lord R———. Would I settle whether he should pay for - interest, and he would go and draw it out and send it by me? I said I - couldn’t say whether our friend would take interest, or at what rate, but - promised to let him know when I got back, so that he can remit the exact - amount to London. Even he has never taken up his citizenship here, but - remains an Englishman, and means at any rate to come back and die in the - old country. In the evening we went down to a gathering of all the Harvard - students who had petitioned me to come and talk to them. They were - gathered some five hundred strong in the Massachusetts Hall, and a finer - and manlier set of boys I have never seen. I talked to them on Muscular - Christianity and its proper limits, as they are likely to run into - professional athletics like our boys at home. Told them they lived in a - land which had “struck ile” and was so overflowing with wealth that every - one was hasting to get rich too quick. Exhorted to patience and - thoroughness; read to them Lowell’s “Hebe” (you remember the little gem of - a poem); told them they ought to take more part in public affairs than - their class usually do. All which they swallowed devoutly, and cheered - vehemently, like good boys, and then sang a lot of their college songs: - “Marching through Georgia” splendid, the rest much like our own. The war - has given a magnificent lift to all the young men and boys of this - country, and I think the rising generation will put America in a very - different place from that which she holds now. Last night I gave my - lecture in the Music Hall, which was crammed, and the whole affair a - brilliant success. “John to Jonathan” is printed verbatim in the morning - newspapers, so you will probably see it before I get back, and I think - like it. No more time for the moment. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Ithaca, N.Y., 16th October 1870. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> missed the last - mail through stress of work, chiefly on my lecture, which I mentioned in - my last. The applications for lectures were so numerous and urgent that I - really felt that I ought not to leave the country without giving one at - any rate, and all my friends said that the Music Hall at Boston was the - place if I only spoke once. It is the largest room in New England, holds - nearly three thousand people, is easy to speak in, though it has great - deep galleries running round three sides, and in it all the big folk talk - and lecture, Wendell Phillips and Sumner follow me, so you see the class - of thing at once. Well, as I was in for it much against my will, I was - determined to talk out with the whole Yankee nation the controversy which. - I had been carrying on already with many of them in private. I was anxious - not to leave them with any false impressions, and to let them see clearly - that in our national differences I think that we have a very good case, - and that even if I didn’t think so, I am too good a John Bull not to stand - by my own country. Lowell agreed as to the title and object, but I think - had serious misgivings as to how the affair might turn out. Mundella - thought it very risky and so did most other folk. However, as you know, I - don’t care a straw for applause, and do care about speaking my own mind, - so whether it made me unpopular or not I determined to have my say. In - order that I might say nothing on the spur of the moment, I wrote out the - whole address carefully, and I am very glad I did, as the reporters all - copied from my MS., and consequently I was thoroughly well reported. The - <i>Tribune and Boston Advertiser</i> printed it in full, and I will bring - you home copies. I was a little nervous myself when I got to the hall. Two - ex-Governors and the present Governor of the State were on the platform, - the two Senators (Sumner and Wilson), Longfellow, Judge Hoare, Dana, - Wendell Holmes, Wendell Phillips, Lowell, and, in short, pretty nearly all - the Boston big wigs. The great organ played “God save the Queen” as I came - in, and the audience, generally, I am told, a very undemonstrative one, - cheered heartily. My nervousness, however, wore off at once, when I got on - my legs. I found that my voice filled the hall easily, and so was at my - ease and got through just within the hour, without once losing the - attention of the audience for a minute. They were indeed wonderfully - sympathetic and hearty, and gave me three rounds of cheers at the end, far - more warmly than at the beginning. Every one came and said that it was a - great success; that they had never heard our side fairly stated before; - that this and that fact were quite new to them, etc. In fact, if I didn’t - know how soon the reaction comes in such cases, I should think I had done - some good work towards a better understanding between the nations, and, as - it is, I am sure I have done no harm, and have at any rate made my own - position perfectly clear, and shown them that in the event of a quarrel, - they can’t reckon upon me for any kind of sympathy or aid. After the - lecture whom should I meet as I went out but Craft, the negro who had been - the cause of one of the most exciting meetings ever held in that hall some - twenty years before, when the attempt was made to seize him and his wife - in Boston. I was delighted to see him and to hear a capital account of his - experiment at association in Georgia. Then I went to Field’s, the - publisher, to supper, where were Longfellow, Holmes, Dana, and others, and - so home by the last car, thankful that it was all well over. Next morning - I got a cheque for 250 dollars (£50). I had, of course, never said a word - about any payment, so it was an agreeable surprise. The post brought me I - know not how many letters, begging me to lecture in a dozen states on my - own terms, so when all trades fail, I can come over here and earn a good - living easily enough, which is a consolation. Wednesday, our last whole - day with the dear Lowells, I spent peaceably. Went to his lecture in the - University on Arthurian legends; Miss Mabel photographed the house and us - in groups, and we talked and loafed. In the evening a supper at the house - of one of the professors, to meet the whole staff, and a pleasanter or - abler set of men I have never come across. Thursday, lunch with Longfellow - after packing, then a run down on the car to Boston, to change my cheque, - to take a berth on a packet, so as to be armed against any appeals for - another day or two in New York, and to get a last look at the favourite - points in the old Puritan capital, the place where I should certainly - settle if I ever had to leave England. We drove a rather sad party to Mrs. - Lowell’s sister, and the mother of the beautiful boy whose photograph we - have, and who was killed early in the war, to tea, and from her house went - to the station and took sleeping-car for Syracuse. I cannot tell you how I - like Lowell and all his belongings. It is a dangerous thing to make - acquaintance in the flesh with one with whose writings one is so familiar, - but he has quite come up to my idea of him, and his wife and Miss Mabel - are both very charming in their own ways. I slept well, woke at Albany, - breakfasted, and then on to Syracuse, where Mr. Wansey, Mrs. Hamilton’s - uncle, lives. We got there at two, and I was immediately seized at the - station by Wilkinson, the local banker, whom I had just met at Ned’s this - summer. He drove us all through and round the most characteristic town in - America. Great broad streets lined with lovely maple trees, all turned now - to clouds of scarlet and gold; down the principal one the railway runs - without any fence. Old Mr. Wansey and others came to dine, he a dear old - man of eighty, but hale and handsome, rather like my dear old - grandfather’s picture, the rest pleasant country folk. We played - billiards, and told stories after dinner, and had a decidedly good time - till nearly midnight. The next morning we breakfasted with Mr. White, the - President of this new University, and came on here with him. He is a young - man of about thirty-five, and one of the finest scholars America has to - boast of at present. By the way, he was a classmate of Smalley at Yale. He - is a rich man, and he has nothing whatever to gain by undertaking this - work. In short, he is quite worthy of having Goldwin Smith as a - fellow-worker, and between them, with the excellent staff of professors - and teachers they have got round them, I expect they will make this place - in a wondrous short time a great working-men’s college. Everything is of - course rough at present, as the buildings are still in progress, but two - blocks are completed, and there are about seven hundred pupils living in - them and in the town at the bottom of the hill on which Cornell stands. It - is a most magnificent situation, looking over a large lake, forty miles - long, and two splendid valleys, which are now ablaze with the crimson and - purple colours of the maples, shumachs, American walnuts, and other trees, - which make the hillsides here glow all the later autumn through. We found - Goldwin Smith waiting for us at the wharf and looking much stronger than - he used to do in England, and quite warm in his welcome. All the - professors, with their wives and families, if married, live for the - present in a huge square block of buildings originally intended for a - hydropathic establishment, in which they have a private sitting-room and - bedrooms and dine and take all meals in the hall. You may fancy how much I - am interested in this great practical step towards association. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - New York, Tuesday. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere I am in the - great city again, to spend the last few days before my start for home. The - reception in the great hall, speech, visit to lecture rooms, etc., - enthusiasm of boys, baseball games, and football given in my honour, must - all keep till we meet. For, alas! I have no time to spend here for - writing, as I have another address to give before I start, on Friday - evening, and I must write it carefully, as it is to be on the labour - question, which is mightily exercising our cousins here. They are getting - into the controversy which we are nearly through at home, and if I can - give them a little good advice before I come away, I shall be very glad. - As I am engaged every evening, it will not be easy to find time to do it - as I should like, but I can give the morning, I think, and can at any rate - make sure of not talking nonsense. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - AMERICA—1880 to 1887 - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Cumberland Mountains - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - East Tennessee, 1st September 1880. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere I am at my - goal, and so full of new impressions that I must put some of them down at - once, lest they should slip away like the new kind of recruits, and I - should not be able to lay my hand on them again when I want them. The - above address is vague, as this range of highlands extends for some 200 - miles through this State and Kentucky; but, though fixed as fate myself, I - can for the moment put no more definite heading to my letters. The name of - the town that is to be, and which is already laid out and in course of - building here, is a matter of profound interest to many persons, and not - to be decided hastily. The only point which seems clear is that it will be - some name round which cluster tender memories in the old Motherland. We - are some 1800 feet above the sea, and after the great heat of New York, - Newport, and Cincinnati, the freshness and delight of this brisk, mountain - air are quite past describing. For mere physical enjoyment, I have - certainly never felt its equal, and can imagine nothing finer. - </p> - <p> - And now for our journey down. We left Cincinnati early in the morning by - the Cincinnati Southern Railway, a line built entirely by the city, and - the cost of which will probably make the municipality poor for some years - to come. But it seems to me a splendid and sagacious act of foresight in a - great community, to have boldly taken hold of and opened up at once what - must be one, if not the main, artery of communication between North and - South in the future. I believe the impelling motive was the tendency of - the carrying trade of late years to settle along other routes, leaving the - metropolis of the south-west out in the cold. If this be so, the result - justifies the prompt courage of the citizens of Cincinnati, for the tide - has obviously set in again with a vengeance. The passenger-cars are filled - to the utmost of their capacity, and freight, as we know here too well, is - often delayed for days, in spite of all the efforts of the excellent staff - of the road. Besides its through traffic, the line has opened up an - entirely new country, of which these highlands seem likely to prove a - profitable, as they certainly are the most interesting, tract. This - section has not been open for six months, and already it is waking up life - all over these sparsely-settled regions. Down below on the way to - Chatanooga I hear that the effect is the same, and that in that great - mineral region blast-furnaces are already at work, and coal-mines opening - all along the line. At Chatanooga there are connections with all the great - Southern lines, so that we on this aerial height are, in these six months, - in direct communication with every important seaport from Boston to New - Orleans, and almost every great centre of inland population; and the - settlers here, looking forward with that sturdy faith which seems to - inspire all who have breathed the air for a week or two, are already - considering upon which favoured mart they shall pour out their abundance - of fruits and tobacco, from the trees yet to be planted and seed yet to be - sown. All which seems to prove that Cincinnati, at any rate, has done well - to adopt the motto, “L’audace, toujours l’audace,” which is, indeed, - characteristic of this country and this time. - </p> - <p> - And the big work has not only been done, but done well and permanently. - The engineering difficulties must have been very great; the cuttings and - tunnels had to be made through hard rock, and the bridges over streams - which have cut for themselves channels hundreds of feet deep. We crossed - the Kentucky river, on (I believe) the highest railway bridge in the - world, 283 feet above the water; and rushed from a tunnel in the limestone - rock right on to the bridge which spans the north fork of the Cumberland - river, 170 feet below. The lightness of the ironwork on which these - bridges rest startles one at first, but experience has shown them to be - safe, and the tests to which they have been put on this line would have - tried most seriously the strength of far more massive structures. But it - is only in its bridges that the Cincinnati Southern Railway has a light - appearance. The building of the line has a solid and permanent look, - justifying, I should think, the very considerable sum per mile which has - been spent on it above the ordinary cost in this country. And by the only - test which an amateur is as well able to apply as an expert, that of - writing on a journey, I can testify that it is as smoothly laid as the - average of our leading English lines. For the last fifty miles we ran - almost entirely through forests, which are, however, falling rapidly all - along the side of the line, and yielding place to corn-fields in the rich - bottoms, wherever any reasonably level ground bordered the water-courses, - up which we could glance as we hurried past. I was surprised, and, I need - not say, greatly pleased, to see the apparently excellent terms on which - the white and coloured people were, even in the Kuklux regions through - which we came. A Northern express man, our companion at this point, - denounced it as the most lawless in the United States. About one hundred - homicides, he declared, had taken place in the last year, and no - conviction had been obtained, the juries looking on such things as - regrettable accidents. This may be so, but I can, at any rate, testify, - from careful observation of the mixed gangs of workmen on the road, and - the groups gathered at the numerous stations, to the familiar and - apparently friendly footing on which the races met. As for the decrease of - the blacks, it must be in other regions than those traversed by the - Cincinnati Southern Railway, for the cabins we passed in the clearings and - round the stations swarmed with small urchins, clad in single garments, - the most comic little figures of fun, generally, that one had ever seen, - as they stood staring and signalling to the train. There is something to - me so provocative of mirth in the race, and I have found them generally - such kindly folk, that I regret their absence from this same Alpine - settlement,—a regret not shared, doubtless, by the few householders, - to whom their constant small peculations must be very trying. - </p> - <p> - About five we stopped at the station from which this place is reached, and - turning out on the platform were greeted by four or five young Englishmen, - who had preceded us, on one errand or another, every one of whom was well - known to me in ordinary life, but whom for the first moment I did not - recognise. I had seen them last clothed in the frock-coat and stove-pipe - hat of our much-vaunted civilisation, and behold, here was a group which I - can compare to nothing likely to be familiar to your readers, unless it be - the company of the <i>Danites</i>, as they have been playing in London. - Broad-brimmed straw or felt hats, the latter very battered and worse for - wear; dark-blue jerseys, or flannel shirts of varying hue; breeches and - gaiters, or long boots, were the prevailing, I think I may say the - universal costume, varied according to the taste of the wearer with bits - of bright colour laid on in handkerchief at neck or waist. And tastes - varied deliciously, two of the party showing really a fine feeling for the - part, and one, our geologist, 6 ft. 2 in. in his stockings, and a mighty - Etonian and Cantab, in brains as well as bulk, turning out, with an heroic - scorn of all adornment, in woefully battered nether-garment and gaiters, - and a felt which a tramp would have looked at several times before picking - it out of the gutter. There was a light buggy for passengers and a mule - waggon for luggage by the platform; but how were nine men, not to mention - the manager and driver, both standing over 6 feet, and the latter as big - at least as our geologist, to get through the intervening miles of forest - tracks in time for tea up here? Fancy our delight when a chorus of “Will - you ride or drive?” arose, and out of the neighbouring bushes the Danites - led forth nine saddle-horses, bearing the comfortable half-Mexican saddles - with wooden stirrups in use here. Our choice was quickly made, and - throwing coats and waistcoats into the waggon, which the manager - good-naturedly got into himself, surrendering his horse for the time, we - joined the cavalcade in our shirts. - </p> - <p> - A lighter-hearted party has seldom scrambled through the Tennessee - mountain roads on to this plateau. We were led by a second Etonian, also 6 - ft. 2 in. in his stockings, whose Panama straw hat and white corduroys - gleamed like a beacon through the deep shadows cast by the tall pine trees - and white oaks. The geologist brought up the rear, and between rode the - rest of us—all public schoolmen, I think, another Etonian, two from - Rugby, one Harrow, one Wellington—through deep gullies, through four - streams, in one of which I nearly came to grief, from not following my - leader; but my gallant little nag picked himself up like a goat from his - floundering amongst the boulders, and so up through more open ground till - we reached this city of the future, and in the dusk saw the bright gleam - of light under the verandahs of two sightly wooden houses. In one of - these, the temporary restaurant, we were seated in a few minutes at an - excellent tea (cold beef and mutton, tomatoes, rice, cold apple-tart, - maple syrup, etc.); and during the meal the news passed round that the - hotel being as yet unfurnished and every other place filled with - workpeople, we must all (except the geologist and the Wellingtonian, who - had a room over the office) pack away in the next cottage, which had been - with difficulty reserved for us. If it had been a question of men only, no - one would have given it a thought; but our party had now been swollen by - two young ladies, who had hurried down by an earlier train to see their - brother and brother-in-law, settlers on the plateau, and by another young - Englishman who had accompanied them. A puzzle, you will allow, when you - hear a description of our tenement. It is a four-roomed timber house, of - moderate size, three rooms on the ground floor, and one long loft - upstairs. You enter through the verandah on a common room, 20 ft. long by - 14 ft. broad, opening out of which are two chambers, 14 ft. by 10 ft. One - of these was, of course, at once appropriated to the ladies. The second, - in spite of my remonstrances, was devoted to me, as the Nestor of the - party, and on entering it I found an excellent bed (which had been made by - two of the Etonians), and a great basin full of wild-flowers on the table. - There were four small beds in the loft, for which the seven drew lots, and - two of the losers spread rugs on the floor of the common room, and the - third swung a hammock in the verandah. Up drove the mule waggon with - luggage, and the way in which big and little boxes were dealt with and - distributed filled me with respect and admiration for the rising - generation. The house is ringing behind me with silvery and bass laughter, - and jokes as to the shortness of accommodation in the matter of washing - appliances, while I sit here writing in the verandah, the light from my - lamp throwing out into strong relief the stems of the nearest trees. - Above, the vault is blue beyond all description, and studded with stars as - bright as though they were all Venuses. The katydids are making delightful - music in the trees, and the summer lightning is playing over the Western - heaven; while a gentle breeze, cool and refreshing as if it came straight - off a Western sea, is just lifting, every now and then, the corner of my - paper. Were I young again,—but as I am not likely to be that, I - refrain from bootless castle-building, and shall turn in, leaving windows - wide open for the katydid’s chirp and the divine breeze to enter freely, - and wishing as good rest as they have all so well earned to my crowded - neighbours in this enchanted solitude. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Rugby, Tennessee, 10th September 1880. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> take it I must - have “written you frequent” (as they say here), at this time of year, in - the last quarter-century on this theme, but, if you let me, should like to - go back once more on the old lines. “Loafing as she should be taken” is - likely, I fear, to become a lost art, though to my generation it is the - one luxury. A country without good loafing-places is no longer a country - for a self-respecting man in his second half-century. The rapid - deterioration of our poor dear old England in this respect fills me with - forebodings far more than the Irish Question, which we shall worry through - on the lines so staunchly advocated by you. No fear of that, to my - thinking; but, alas! great fear of our losing the power and the means of - loafing. Time was when John Bull, in his own isle, was the best loafer in - Christendom—(I may say in the world, the Turk and Otaheitan loafer - doing nothing else, and he who does nothing but loaf loses the whole - flavour of it)—and I can remember the time when at the seaside—for - instance, Cromer, and inland, Betwys-y-Coed, Penygurd, and the like—the - true loafer might be happy, gleaning “the harvest of a quiet eye,” and far - from any one who wanted to go anywhere or do anything in particular. The - railway has come to Cromer, and I hear that the guardian phalanx of - Buxtons, Hoares, Gurneys, and Barclays, all good loafers in the last - generation, have thrown up the sponge and gone with the stream. I was at - Betwys and Penygurd last year, and at the former there were three or four - long pleasure-vans meeting every train; at the latter, three parties came - in, in a few hours, to do Snowdon and get back to dinner at Capel Curig or - Bethgellert. Indeed, I was sore to mark that even Henry Owen, landlord and - guide, once a good loafer, has succumbed., Over here it is still worse in - the Atlantic States; but this is a big country, in which oases <i>must</i> - be left yet for many a long year for the loafer, of which this is one. It - lies on a mountain plateau, seven miles from the station, to which a hack - goes twice daily to meet the morning and evening mails (once too often, - perhaps, for the highest enjoyment of the loafer); but otherwise the outer - world, its fidgets and its businesses, no more concern us than they did - Cooper’s jackdaw. I am conscious that regular work here must be done by - some one, as daily meals at 7 A.M., and 12.30 and 6 P.M., never fail, with - abundance of grapes and melons—the peaches, alas! were cut off by - frosts when the trees were in blossom. But beyond this, and the presence - of a young Englishman in the house, who, in blue shirt and trousers, tends - and milks the cows, and puts in six or eight hours’ work a day at one - thing or another in the neighbouring fields, there is nothing to remind - one that this world doesn’t go on by itself, at any rate in these autumn - days. Almost every cottage, or shanty, as they call these attractive - wooden houses, has a deep verandah (from which you get a view, over the - forest, of the southern range of mountains, with Pilot Knob for highest - point), and, in the verandah, rocking-chairs and hammocks, in one or other - of which a chatty host or hostess is almost sure to be found, enjoying - air, view, rocking, and the indescribable depth of blue atmosphere which - laps us all round. There is surely something very uplifting in finding the - sky twice as far off as you know it at home. I felt this first on the - Lower Danube and in Greece; but I doubt if Bulgarian or Greek heavens are - as high as these. Every now and again, a merry group of young folk go by - in waggon or on horseback; but even they are loafers, as they have no - object in view beyond enjoying one another’s company, and possibly lunch - or tea at the junction of the two mountain-streams, the only lion we have - within a day’s journey. Their parents may be found for the most part in - and round the hotel, for they are wise enough to let the young ones knock - about very much as they please, while they take their own ease in the - verandahs or shady grounds of “The Tabard.” That hostelry of historic name - stands on an eminence next to this shanty, and my “loaf-brothers,” when I - get any, are generally saunterers from amongst its guests, and the one who - comes oftenest is perhaps the best loafer I have ever come across. He is a - rancheman on the Rio Grande, and has been out here ever since he left - Marlborough, some fourteen years ago. Since then I should think he has - done as hard work as any man, in the long drives of 2000 miles which he - used to make from Southern Texas up to Colorado or Kansas, before the - railway came. Even now, I take it that for ten months in the year he - covers more ground and exhausts more tissue than most men, which makes him - such a model loafer when he gets away. Yesterday, for instance, he started - after lunch from “The Tabard,” 300 yards off, under a sort of engagement, - as definite as we make them, to spend the afternoon here. On the way he - came across a hammock swinging unoccupied in the hotel grounds, and a - volume of Pendennis, and only arrived here after supper, in the superb - starlight (the moon is objectionably late in rising just now), to smoke a - pipe before bed-time. His experience of Western life is as racy as a - volume of Bret Harte. Take the following, for instance:—At a - prairie-town not far from his ranche, as distances go in the West, there - is a State Court of First Instance, presided over by one Roy Bean, J.P., - who is also the owner of the principal grocery. Some cowboys had been - drinking at the grocery one night, with the result that one of them - remained on the floor, but with sense enough left to lie on the side of - the pocket where he kept his dollars. In the morning, it appeared that he - had been “rolled”—<i>Anglicè</i>, turned over and his pocket picked—whereupon - a court was called to try a man on whom suspicion rested. Roy Bean sat on - a barrel, swore in a jury, and then addressed the prisoner thus: “Now, you - give that man his money back.” The culprit, who had sent for the lawyer of - the place to defend him, hesitated for a moment, and then pulled out the - money. “You treat this crowd,” were Roy’s next words; and while “drinks - round” were handed to the delighted cowboys at the prisoner’s expense, Roy - pulled out his watch and went on: “You’ve got just five minutes to clear - out of this town, and if ever you come in again, we’ll hang you.” The - culprit made off just as his lawyer came up, who remonstrated with Roy, - explaining that the proper course would have been to have heard the - charge, committed the prisoner, and sent him to the county town for trial. - “And go off sixty miles, and hang round with the boys [witnesses] for you - to pull the skunk through and touch the dollars!” said Roy scornfully; - whereupon the lawyer disappeared in pursuit of his client and unpaid fee. - </p> - <p> - It occurs to one to ask how much of the litigation of England might be - saved if Judges of First Instance might open with Roy’s formula: “Now, you - give that man his money back.” I am bound to add that his practice is not - without its seamy side. When the railway was making, two men came in from - one of the gangs for a warrant. A brutal murder had been committed. Roy - told his clerk (the boy in the grocery, he being no penman himself) to - make out the paper, asking: “Wot’s the corpse’s name?” “Li Hung,” was the - reply. “Hold on!” shouted Roy to his clerk; and then to the pursuers: “Ef - you ken find anything in them books,” pointing to the two or three - supplied by the State, “about killin’ a Chinaman, it ken go,” and the - pursuers had to travel on to the next fount of justice. - </p> - <p> - Here is one more: my “loaf-brother” heard it himself as he was leaving - Texas, and laughed at it nearly all the way up. A group of cowboys at the - station were discussing the problem of how long the world would last if - this drought went on, the prevailing sentiment being that they would - rather it worruted through somehow. A cowboy down on his luck here struck - in: “Wall, if the angel stood right thar,” pointing across the room, - “ready to sound, and looked across at me, I’d jest say, ‘Gabe! toot your - old horn!’” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Rugby, Tennessee. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> was roused at - five or thereabouts on the morning after our arrival here by a visit from - a big dog belonging to a native, not quite a mastiff, but more like that - than anything else, who, seeing my window wide open, jumped in from the - verandah, and came to the bed to give me goodmorning with tail and muzzle. - I was glad to see him, having made friends the previous evening, when the - decision of his dealings with the stray hogs who came to call on us from - the neighbouring forest had won my heart; but as his size and attentions - somewhat impeded my necessarily scanty ablutions, I had to motion him - apologetically to the window when I turned out. He obeyed at once, jumped - out, laid his muzzle on the sill, and solemnly, and, I thought, somewhat - pityingly, watched my proceedings. Meantime, I heard sounds which - announced the uprising of “the boys,” and in a few minutes several - appeared in flannel shirts and trousers, bound for one of the two rivers - which run close by, in gullies 200 feet below us. They had heard of a pool - ten feet deep, and found it too; and a most delicious place it is, - surrounded by great rocks, lying in a copse of rhododendrons, azaleas, and - magnolias, which literally form the underwood of the pines and white oak - along these gullies. The water is of a temperature which allows folk whose - blood is not so hot as it used to be to lie for half an hour on its - surface and play about without a sensation of chilliness. On this - occasion, however, I preferred to let them do the exploring, and so at - 6.15 went off to breakfast. - </p> - <p> - This is the regular hour for that meal here, dinner at twelve, and tea at - six. There is really no difference between them, except that we get - porridge at breakfast and a great abundance of vegetables at dinner. At - all of them we have tea and fresh water for drink, plates of beef or - mutton, apple sauce, rice, tomatoes, peach pies or puddings, and several - kinds of bread. As the English garden furnishes unlimited water and other - melons, and as the settlers—young English, who come in to see us—bring - sacks of apples and peaches with them, and as, moreover, the most solvent - of the boys invested at Cincinnati in a great square box full of tinned - viands of all kinds, you may see at once that in this matter we are not - genuine objects either for admiration or pity. I must confess here to a - slight disappointment. Having arrived at an age myself when diet has - become a matter of indifference, I was rather chuckling as we came along - over the coming short-commons up here, when we got fairly loose in the - woods, and the excellent discipline it would be for the boys, especially - the Londoners, to discover that the human animal can be kept in rude - health on a few daily crackers and apples, or a slap-jack and tough pork. - And now, behold, we are actually still living amongst the flesh-pots, - which I had fondly believed we had left in your Eastern Egypt; and I am - bound to add, “the boys” seem as provokingly indifferent to them as if - their beards were getting grizzled. One lives and learns, but I question - whether these states are quite the place to bring home to our Anglo-Saxon - race the fact that we are an overfed branch of the universal brotherhood. - Tanner, I fear, has fasted in vain. - </p> - <p> - Breakfast was scarcely over, when there was a muster of cavalry. Every - horse that could be spared or requisitioned was in demand for an exploring - ride to the west, and soon every charger was bestrid by “a boy” in - free-and-easy garments, and carrying a blanket for camping out. Away they - went under the pines and oaks, a merry lot, headed by our geologist, who - knows the forest by this time like a native, and whose shocking old straw - blazed ahead in the morning sun like, shall we say, “the helmet of - Navarre,” or Essex’s white hat and plumes before the Train Bands, as they - crowned the ridge where Falkland fell and his monument now stands, at the - battle of Newbury. Charles Kingsley’s lines came into my head, as I turned - pensively to my table in the verandah to write to you:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - When all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are green; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen; - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Then hey for boot and horse, lad, and round the world away; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog his day. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Our two lasses are, undoubtedly, queens out here. The thought occurs, are - our swans—our visions, already so bright, of splendid crops, and - simple life, to be raised and lived in this fairyland—to prove - geese? I hope not. It would be the downfall of the last castle in Spain I - am ever likely to build. - </p> - <p> - On reaching our abode, I was aware of the Forester coming across from the - English garden, of which he has charge, followed by a young native. He - walked up to me, and announced that they were come across to tidy up, and - <i>black the boots</i>. Here was another shock, that we should be followed - by the lumber of civilisation so closely! Will boots be blacked, I wonder, - in the New Jerusalem? I was at first inclined to protest, while they made - a collection, and set them out on the verandah, but the sight of the - ladies’ neat little high-lows made me pause. These, at any rate, it seemed - to me, <i>should</i> be blacked, even in the Millennium. Next minute I was - so tickled by a little interlude between the Forester and the native, that - all idea of remonstrance vanished. The latter, contemplating the boots and - blacking-pot and brushes—from under the shapeless piece of old felt, - by way of hat, of the same mysterious colour as the ragged shirt and - breeches, his only other garments—joined his hands behind his back, - and said, in their slow way, “Look ’ere, Mr. Hill, ain’t this ’ere - pay-day?” The drift was perfectly obvious. This citizen had no mind to - turn shoe-black, and felt like discharging himself summarily. Mr. Hill, - who was already busily sweeping the verandah, put down his broom, and - after a short colloquy, which I did not quite catch, seized on a boot and - brush, and began shining away with an artistic stroke worthy of one of the - Shoeblack Brigade at the London Bridge Station. The native looked on for a - minute, and then slowly unclasped his hands. Presently he picked up a boot - and looked round it dubiously. I now took a hand myself. If there was one - art which I learned to perfection at school, and still pride myself on, it - is shining a boot. In a minute or two my boot was beginning “to soar and - sing,” while the Forester’s was already a thing of beauty. The native, - with a grunt, took up the spare brush, and began slowly rubbing. The - victory was complete. He comes now and spends two hours every morning over - his new accomplishment, evidently delighted with the opportunity it gives - him for loafing and watching the habits of the strange occupants, for whom - also he fetches many tin pails of water from the well, in a slow, vague - manner. He has even volunteered to fix up the ladies’ room and fill their - bath (an offer which has been declined, with thanks), but I doubt whether - he will ever touch the point of a genuine “shine.” - </p> - <p> - They are a curious people, these natives, as the Forester (an Englishman, - reared in Lord Denbigh’s garden at Newnham Paddocks, and thirty years out - here) told me, as we walked off to examine the English garden, but I must - keep his experiences and my own observation for separate treatment. The - English garden is the most advanced, and, I think, the most important and - interesting feature of this settlement. If young Englishmen of small means - are to try their fortunes here, it is well that they should have - trustworthy guidance at once as to what are the best crops to raise. With - this view, Mr. Hill was placed, in the spring of this year, in charge of - the only cleared space available. All the rest is beautiful, open - forest-land. You can ride or drive almost anywhere under the trees, but - there is no cultivated spot for many miles, except small patches here and - there of carelessly sown maize and millet, and a rood or two of sweet - potatoes. The Forester had a hard struggle to do anything with the garden - at all this season. He was only put in command in May, six weeks at least - too late. He could only obtain the occasional use of a team, and his - duties in the forest and in grading and superintending the walks - interfered with the garden. Manure was out of the question, except a - little ashes, which he painfully gathered here and there from the reckless - log-fires which abound in the woods. He calls his garden a failure for the - year. But as half an acre which was wild forest-land in May is covered - with water-melons and cantalupes, as the tomatoes hang in huge bunches, - rotting on the vines for want of mouths enough to eat them, as the Lima - beans are yielding at the rate of 250 bushels an acre, and as cabbages, - sweet potatoes, beets, and squash are in equally prodigal abundance, the - prospect of making a good living is beyond all question, for all who will - set to work with a will. - </p> - <p> - In the afternoon, I inspected the hotel, nearly completed, on a knoll in - the forest, between the English garden and this frame-house. It is a - sightly building, with deep verandahs prettily latticed, from which one - gets glimpses through the trees of magnificent ranges of blue - forest-covered mountains. We have named it “The Tabard,” at the suggestion - of one of our American members, who, being in England when the old - Southwark hostelry from which the Canterbury Pilgrims started was broken - up, and the materials sold by auction, to make room for a hop store, - bought some of the old banisters, which he has reverently kept till now. - They will be put up in the hall of the new Tabard, and marked with a brass - plate and inscription, telling, I trust, to many generations of the place - from which they came. The Tabard, when finished, as it will be in a few - days, will lodge some fifty guests; and, in spite of the absence of - alcoholic drinks, has every chance, if present indications can be trusted, - of harbouring and sending out as cheery pilgrims as followed the Miller - and the Host, and told their world-famous stories five hundred years ago. - </p> - <p> - The drink question has reared its baleful head here, as it seems to do all - over the world. The various works had gone on in peace till the last ten - days, when two young natives toted over some barrels of whisky, and - broached them in a shanty, on a small lot of no-man’s land in the woods, - some two miles from hence. Since then there has been no peace for the - manager. Happily the feeling of the community is vigorously temperate, so - energetic measures are on foot to root out the pest. A wise state law - enacts that no liquor store shall be permitted under heavy penalties - within four miles of an incorporated school; so we are pushing on our - school-house, and organising a board to govern it. Meantime, we have - evidence of unlawful sale (in quantities less than a pint), and of - encouraging gambling, by these pests, and hope to make an example of them - at the next sitting of the county court. This incident has decided the - question for us. If we are to have influence with the poor whites and - blacks, we must be above suspicion ourselves. So no liquor will be - procurable at the Tabard, and those who need it will have to import for - themselves. - </p> - <p> - A bridle-path leads from the hotel down to the Clear Fork, one of the - streams at the junction of which the town site is situate. The descent is - about 200 feet, and the stream, when you get to it, from thirty feet to - fifty feet wide,—a mountain stream, with deep pools and big - boulders. Your columns are not the place for descriptions of scenery, so I - will only say that these gorges of the Clear Fork and White Oak are as - fine as any of their size that I know in Scotland, and not unlike in - character, with this difference, that the chief underwood here consists of - rhododendron (called laurel here), azalea, and a kind of magnolia I have - not seen before, and of which I cannot get the name. I passed huge faggots - of rhododendron, twelve feet and fourteen feet long, lying by the walks, - which had been cleared away ruthlessly while grading them. They are three - miles long and cost under £100, a judicious outlay, I think, even before - an acre of land has been sold. They have been named the Lovers’ Walks, - appropriately enough, for no more well-adapted place could possibly be - found for that time-honoured business, especially in spring, when the - whole gorges under the tall pines and white oak are one blaze of purple, - yellow, and white blossom. - </p> - <p> - On my return to the plateau, my first day’s experiences came to an end in - a way which no longer surprised me, after the boot-blacking and the - Lovers’ Walks. I was hailed by one of “the boys,” who had been unable to - obtain a mount, or had some business which kept him from exploring. He was - in flannels, with racquet in hand, on his way to the lawn-tennis ground, - to which he offered to pilot me. In a minute or two we came upon an open - space, marked, I see on the plans, “Cricket Ground,” in which rose a fine, - strong paling, enclosing a square of 150 feet, the uprights being six feet - high, and close enough to keep, not only boys out, but tennis-balls in. - Turf there was none, in our sense, within the enclosure, and what there - must have once been as a substitute for turf had been carefully cleared - off on space sufficient for one full-sized court, which was well marked - out on the hard, sandy loam. A better ground I have rarely seen, except - for the young sprouts of oak, and other scrub, which here and there were - struggling up, in a last effort to assert their “ancient, solitary reign.” - At any rate, then and there, upon that court, I saw two sets played in a - style which would have done credit to a county match (the young lady, by - the way, who played far from the worst game of the four, is the champion - of her own county). This was the opening match, the racquets having only - just arrived from England, though the court has been the object of tender - solicitude for six weeks or more to the four Englishmen already resident - here or near by. The Rugby Tennis Club consists to-day of seven members, - five English and two native, and will probably reach two figures within a - few days on the return of the boys. Meantime the effect of their first - practice has been that they have resolved on putting a challenge in the - Cincinnati and Chatanooga papers offering to play a match—best out - of five sets—with any club in the United States. Such are infant - communities, in these latitudes! - </p> - <p> - You may have been startled by the address at the head of this letter. It - was adopted unanimously on our return in twilight from the tennis-ground, - and application at once made to the State authorities for registration of - the name and establishment of a post-office. It was sharp practice thus to - steal a march on the three Etonians, still far away in the forest. Had - they been present, possibly Thames might have prevailed over Avon. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A Forest Ride, Rugby, Tennessee. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here are few more - interesting experiences than a ride through these southern forests. The - scrub is so low and thin, that you can almost always see away for long - distances amongst pine, white oak, and chestnut trees; and every now and - then at ridges where the timber is thin, or where a clump of trees has - been ruthlessly “girdled,” and the bare, gaunt skeletons only remain - standing, you may catch glimpses of mountain ranges of different shades of - blue and green, stretching far away to the horizon. You can’t live many - days up here without getting to love the trees even more, I think, than we - do in well-kempt England; and this outrage of “girdling,” as they call it—stripping - the bark from the lower part of the trunk, so that the trees wither and - die as they stand—strikes one as a kind of household cruelty, as if - a man should cut off or disfigure all his wife’s hair. If he wants a tree - for lumber or firewood, very good. He should have it. But he should cut it - down like a man, and take it clean away for some reasonable use, not leave - it as a scarecrow to bear witness of his recklessness and laziness. - Happily not much mischief of this kind has been done yet in the - neighbourhood of Rugby, and a stop will now be put to the wretched - practice. There is another, too, almost as ghastly, but which, no doubt, - has more to be said for it. At least half of the largest pines alongside - of the sandy tracts which do duty for roads have a long, gaping wound in - their sides, about a yard from the ground. This was the native way of - collecting turpentine, which oozed down and accumulated at the bottom of - the gash; but I rejoice to say it no longer pays, and the custom is in - disuse. It must be suppressed altogether, but carefully and gently. It - seems that if not persisted in too long, the poor, dear, long-suffering - trees will close up their wounds, and not be much the worse: so I trust - that many of the scored pines, springing forty or fifty feet into the air - before throwing out a branch, which I passed in sorrow and anger on my - first long ride, may yet outlive those who outraged them. Having got rid - of my spleen, excited by these two diabolic customs, I can return to our - ride, which had otherwise nothing but delight in it. - </p> - <p> - The manager, an invaluable guest from New York, a doctor, who had served - on the Sanitary Commission through the war, and I, formed the party. The - manager drove the light buggy, which held one of us also, and the handbags - 3 while the other rode by the side, where the road allowed, or before or - behind, as the fancy seized him. We were bound for a solitary guest-house - in the forest, some seventeen miles away, in the neighbourhood of a cave - and waterfall which even here have a reputation, and are sometimes - visited. We allowed three and a half hours for the journey, and it took - all the time. About five miles an hour on wheels is all you can reckon on, - for the country roads, sandy tracts about ten feet broad, are just left to - take care of themselves, and wherever there is a sufficient declivity to - give the rain a chance of washing all the surface off them, are just a - heap of boulders of different sizes. But, after all, five miles an hour is - as fast as you care to go, for the play of the sunlight amongst the varied - foliage, and the new flora and fauna, keep you constantly interested and - amused. I never regretted so much my ignorance of botany, for I counted - some fourteen sorts of flowers in bloom, of which golden-rod and - Michaelmas-daisy were the only ones I was quite sure I knew,—and by - the way, the daisy of Parnassus, of which I found a single flower growing - by a spring. The rest were like home flowers, but yet not identical with - them—at least, I think not—and the doubt whether one had ever - seen them before or not was provoking. The birds—few in number—were - all strangers to me; buzzards, of which we saw five at one time, quite - within shot, and several kinds of hawk and woodpecker, were the most - common; but at one point, quite a number of what looked like very big - swifts, but without the dash in their flight of our bird, and with wings - more like curlews’, were skimming over the tree-tops..1 only heard one - note, and that rather sweet, a cat-bird’s, the doctor thought; but he was - almost as much a stranger in these woods as I. Happily, however, he was an - old acquaintance of that delightful insect, the “tumble-bug,” to which he - introduced me on a sandy bit of road. The gentleman in question took no - notice of me, but went on rolling his lump of accumulated dirt three times - his own size backwards with his hind legs, as if his life depended on it. - Presently his lump came right up against a stone and stopped dead. It was - a “caution” to see that bug strain to push it farther, but it wouldn’t - budge, all he could do. Then he stopped for a moment or two, and evidently - made up his small mind that something must be wrong behind, for no bug - could have pushed harder than he. So he quitted hold with his hind legs, - and turned round to take a good look at the situation, in order, I - suppose, to see what must be done next. At any rate, he presently caught - hold again on a different side, and so steered successfully past the - obstacle. There were a number of them working about, some single and some - in pairs, and so full of humour are their doings that I should have liked - to watch for hours. - </p> - <p> - We got to our journey’s end about dusk, a five-roomed, single-storied, - wooden house, built on supports, so as to keep it off the ground. We went - up four steps to the verandah, where we sat while our hostess, a small, - thin New Englander, probably seventy or upwards, but as brisk as a bee, - bustled about to get supper. The table was laid in the middle room, which - opened on the kitchen at the back, where we could see the stove, and hear - our hostess’s discourse. She boiled us two of her fine white chickens - admirably, and served with hot bread, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and - several preserves, of which I can speak with special praise of the - huckleberry, which grows, she said, in great abundance all round. <i>The - boys</i>, we heard, had been there to breakfast, after sleeping out, and - not having had a square meal since they started. Luckily for us, her white - chickens are a very numerous as well as beautiful family, or we should - have fared badly. She and her husband supped after us, and then came and - sat with us in the balcony, and talked away on all manner of topics, as if - the chances of discourse were few, and to be made the most of. They had - lived at Jamestown, close by, a village of some eight or ten houses, all - through the war, through which the Confederate cavalry had passed again - and again. They had never molested her or hers in any way, but had a fancy - for poultry, which might have proved fatal to her white family, but for - her Yankee wit. She and her husband managed to fix up a false floor in one - of their rooms in which they fed the roosters, so whenever a picket came - in sight, her call would bring the whole family out of the woods and - clearing into the refuge, where they remained peacefully amongst corn-cobs - till the danger had passed. She had nothing but good to say of her native - neighbours, except that they could make nothing of the country. The Lord - had done all He could for it, she summed up, and Boston must take hold of - the balance. We heard the owls all night, as well as the katydids, but - they only seemed to emphasise the forest stillness. The old lady’s beds, - to which we retired at ten, after our long gossip in the balcony, were - sweet and clean, and I escaped perfectly scatheless, a rare experience, I - was assured, in these forest shanties. I was bound, however, to admit, in - answer to our hostess’s searching inquiries, that I had seen, and slain, - though not felt, an insect suspiciously like a British B flat. - </p> - <p> - The cave which we sought out after breakfast was well worth any trouble to - find. We had to leave the buggy and horses hitched up and scramble down a - glen, where presently, through a tangle of great rhododendron bushes, we - came on a rock, with the little iron-stained stream just below us, and - opposite, at the top of a slope of perhaps fifteen or twenty feet, was the - cave, like a long black eye under a red eyebrow, glaring at us. I could - detect no figure in the sandstone rock (the eyebrow), which hung over it - for its whole length. The cave is said to run back more than 300 feet, but - we did not test it. There would be good sitting-room for 300 or 400 people - along the front, and so obviously fitted for a conventicle, that I could - not help peopling it with fugitive slaves, and fancying a black Moses - preaching to them of their coming Exodus, with the rhododendrons in bloom - behind. Maidenhair grow in tufts about the damp floor, and a creeping - fern, with a bright red berry, the name of which the doctor told me, but I - have forgotten, on the damp, red walls. What the nook must be when the - rhododendrons are all ablaze with blossom, I hope some day to see. - </p> - <p> - We had heard of a fine spring somewhere in this part of the forest, and in - aid of our search for it presently took up a boy whom we found loafing - round a small clearing. He was bare-headed and bare-footed, and wore an - old, brown, ragged shirt turned up to the elbows, and old, brown, ragged - trousers turned up to the knees. I was riding, and in answer to my - invitation he stepped on a stump and vaulted up behind me. He never - touched me, as most boys would have done, but sat up behind with perfect - ease and balance as we rode along, a young centaur. We soon got intimate, - and I found he had never been out of the forest, was fourteen, and still - at (occasional) school. He could read a little, but couldn’t write. I told - him to tell his master, from me, that he ought to be ashamed of himself, - which he promised to do with great glee; also, but not so readily, to - consider a proposal I made him, that if he would write to the manager - within six months to ask for it, he should be paid $1. I found that he - knew nothing of the flowers or butterflies, of which some dozen different - kinds crossed our path. He just reckoned they were all butterflies, as - indeed they were. He knew, however, a good deal about the trees and - shrubs, and more about the forest beasts. Had seen several deer only - yesterday, and an old opossum with nine young, a number which took the - doctor’s breath away. There were lots of foxes in the woods, but he did - not see them so often. His face lighted up when he was promised $2 for the - first opossum he would tame and bring across to Rugby. After guiding us to - the spring, and hunting out an old wooden cup amongst the bushes, he went - off cheerily through the bushes, with two quarter-dollar bits in his - pocket, an interesting young wild man. Will he ever bring the opossum? - </p> - <p> - We got back without further incident (except flushing quite a number of - quail, which must be lovely shooting in these woods), and found the boys - at home, and hard at lawn-tennis and well-digging. The hogs are becoming - an object of their decided animosity, and having heard of a Yankee notion, - a sort of tweezers, which ring a hog by one motion, in a second, they are - going to get it, and then to catch and ring every grunter who shows his - nose near the asylum. Out of this there should come some fun, shortly. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Natives, Rugby, Tennessee. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen all is said - and sung, there is nothing so interesting as the man and woman who dwell - on any corner of the earth; so, before giving you any further details of - our surroundings, or doings, or prospects, let me introduce you to our - neighbours, so far as I have as yet the pleasure of their acquaintance. - And I am glad at once to acknowledge that it <i>is</i> a pleasure, - notwithstanding all the talk we have heard of “mean whites,” “poor, white - trash,” and the like, in novels, travels, and newspapers. It may possibly - be that we have been fortunate, and that our neighbours here are no fair - specimens of the “poor whites” of the South. This, and the next three - counties, are in the north-western corner of Tennessee, bordering on - Kentucky. They are entirely mountain land. There are very few negroes in - them, and they were strongly Unionist during the war. At present, they are - Republican, almost to a man. There is not one Democratic official in this - county, and I am told that only three votes were cast for the Democratic - candidates at the last State elections. They are overwhelmed by the vote - of western and central Tennessee, which carries the State with the solid - South; but here Union men can speak their minds freely, and cover their - walls with pictures in coloured broad-sheet of the heroes of the war,—Lincoln, - Governor Brownlow, Grant and his captains. They are poor almost to a man, - and live in log-huts and cabins which, at home, could scarcely be rivalled - out of Ireland. Within ten miles of this place there are possibly half a - dozen (I have seen two) which are equal in accommodation and comfort to - those of good farmers in England. The best of these belongs to our nearest - neighbour, with whom a party of us dined, at noon, the orthodox hour in - the mountains, some weeks since. He is a wiry man, of middle height, - probably fifty-five years of age, upright, with finely cut features, and - an eye that looks you right in the face. He has been on his farm twenty - years, and has cleared some fifty acres, which grow corn, millet, and - vegetables, and he has a fine apple orchard. We should call his farming - very slovenly, but it produces abundance for his needs. He sat at the head - of his table like an old nobleman, very quiet and courteous, but quite - ready to speak on any subject, and especially of the five years of the war - through which he carried his life in his hand, but never flinched for an - hour from his faith. His wife, a slight, elderly person, whose regular - features showed that she must have been very good-looking, did not sit - down with us, but stood at the bottom of the table, dispensing her good - things. Our drink was tea and cold spring water; our viands, chickens, - ducks, a stew, ham, with a profusion of vegetables, apple and huckleberry - tarts, and several preserves, one of which (some kind of cherry, very - common here) was of a lovely gold colour, and of a flavour which would - make the fortune of a London pastry-cook; a profusion of water-melons and - apples finished our repast; and no one need ask a better,—but I am - bound to add that our hostess has the name for giving the best square meal - to be had in the four counties. It would be as fair to take this as an - average specimen of the well-to-do farmers’ fare here, as that of a - nobleman with a French cook of the gentry at home. Our host is a keen - sportsman, and showed us his flint-lock rifle, six feet long, and weighing - 16 lbs.! He carries a forked stick as a rest, and, we were assured, gets - on his game about as quickly as if it were a handy Westley-Richards, and - seldom misses a running deer. The vast majority of these mountaineers are - in very different circumstances. Most, but not all of them, own a log - cabin and minute patch of corn round it, probably also a few pigs and - chickens, but seem to have no desire to make any effort at further - clearing, and quite content to live from hand to mouth. They cannot do - that without hiring themselves out when they get a chance, but are most - uncertain and exasperating labourers. In the first place, though able, to - stand great fatigue in hunting and perfectly indifferent to weather, they - are not physically so strong as average English or Northern men. Then they - are never to be relied on for a job. As soon as one of them has earned - three or four dollars, he will probably want a hunt, and go off for it - then and there, spend a dollar on powder and shot, and these on squirrels - and opossums, whose skins may possibly bring him in ten cents as his - week’s earnings. It is useless to remonstrate, unless you have an - agreement in writing. An Englishman who came here lately, to found some - manufactures, left in sheer despair and disgust, saying he had found at - last a place where no one seemed to care for money. I do not say that this - is true, but they certainly seem to prefer loafing and hunting to dollars, - and are often too lazy, or unable, to count, holding out their small - change and telling you to take what you want. Temperate as a rule, they - are sadly weak when wild-cat whisky or “moonshine,” as the favourite - illicit beverage of the mountains is called, crosses their path. This is - the great trouble on pay nights at all the works which are starting in - this district. The inevitable booth soon appears, with the usual - accompaniment of cards and dice, and probably a third of your men are - thenceforth without a dime and utterly unfit for work on Mondays, if you - are lucky enough to escape dangerous rows amongst the drinkers. The State - laws give summary methods of suppressing the nuisance, but they are hard - to work, and though public sentiment is vehemently hostile to whisky, the - temptation proves in nine cases out of ten too strong. The mountaineers - are in the main well-grown men, though slight, shockingly badly clothed, - and sallow from chewing tobacco; suspicious in all dealings at first, but - hospitable, making everything they have in the house, including their own - beds, free to a stranger, and generally refusing payment for lodging or - food. They are also very honest, crimes against property (though not - against the person) being of very rare occurrence. The other day, a - Northern gentleman visiting here expressed his fears to a native farmer, - who, after inquiring whether there were any prisons and police in New - England, what these were for, and whether his interrogator had locks to - his doors and his safes, and bars to his window-shutters, remarked, “Wal, - I’ve lived here man and boy for forty year, and never had a bolt to my - house, or corn-loft, or smoke-house, and I’ll give you a dollar for every - lock you can find in Scott county.” The cattle, sheep, and hogs wander - perfectly unguarded through the forest, and I have not yet heard of a - single instance of a stolen beast. - </p> - <p> - There is a rough water-mill on a creek close by, called Back’s Mill, which - was run by the owner for years—until he sold it a few months ago—on - the following system. He put the running gear and stones up, and above the - latter a wooden box, with the charge for grinding meal marked outside. He - visited the mill once a fortnight, looked to the machinery, and took away - whatever coin was in the box. Folks brought their corn down the steep bank - if they chose, ground it at their leisure, and then, if they were honest, - put the fee in the box; if not, they went off with their meal, and a - consciousness that they were rogues. I presume Buck found his plan answer, - as he pursued it up to the date of sale. - </p> - <p> - In short, sir, I have been driven to the conclusion, in spite of all - traditional leanings the other way, that the Lord has much people in these - mountains, as I think a young English deacon, lately ordained by the - Bishop of Tennessee, will find, who passed here yesterday on a buggy, with - his young wife and child, and two boxes and ten dollars of the goods of - this world, on his way to open a church mission in a neighbouring county. - I heard yesterday a story which should give him hope as to the female - portion, at any rate, of his possible flock. They are dreadful slatterns, - without an inkling of the great Palmerstonian truth that dirt is matter in - its <i>wrong</i> place. A mountain girl, however, who had, strange to say, - taken the fancy to go as housemaid in a Knoxville family, gave out that - she had been converted, and, upon doubts being expressed and questions - asked as to the grounds on which she based the assurance, replied that she - knew it was all right, because now she swept underneath the rugs. - </p> - <p> - When one gets on stories of quaint and ready replies in these parts, one - “slops over on both shoulders.” Here are a couple which are current in - connection with the war, upon which, naturally enough, the whole mind of - the people is still dwelling, being as much occupied with it as with their - other paramount subject, the immediate future development of the unbounded - resources of these States, which have been really opened for the first - time by that terrible agency. An active Secessionist leader in a - neighbouring county, in one of his stump speeches before the war, had - announced that the Southerners, and especially Tennessee mountain men, - could whip the white-livered Yanks with pop-guns. Not long since, having - been amnestied and reconstructed again to a point when he saw his way to - running for a State office, he was reminded of this saying at the - beginning of his canvas. “Wal, yes,” he said, “he owned to that and stood - by it still, only those mean cusses [the Yanks] wouldn’t fight that way.” - </p> - <p> - The other is of very different stamp, and will hold its own with many - world-wide stories of graceful compliments to former enemies by kings and - other big-wigs. General Wilder, one of the most successful and gallant of - the Northern corps commanders in the war, has established himself in this - State, with whose climate and resources he became so familiar in the - campaign which ended under Look-out Mountain, and has built up a great - iron industry at Chatanooga, in full sight of the battlefields from which - 14,000 bodies of Union soldiers were carried to the national cemetery. - Early in his Southern career he met one of the most famous of the Southern - corps commanders (Forrest, I believe, but am not sure as to the name), - who, on being introduced, said, “General, I have long wished to know you, - because you have behaved to me in a way for which I reckon you owe me an - apology, as between gentlemen.” - </p> - <p> - Wilder replied in astonishment that to his knowledge they had never met - before, but that he was quite ready to do all that an honourable man - ought. “Well now, General,” said the other, “you remember such and such a - fight (naming it)? By night you had taken every gun I had, and I consider - that quite an ungentlemanly advantage to take, anyhow.” By the way, no man - bears more frank testimony to the gallantry of the Southern soldiers than - General Wilder, or admits more frankly the odds which the superior - equipment of the Federals threw against the Confederate armies. His corps, - mounted infantry, armed with repeating rifles, were equal, he thinks, to - at least three times their numbers of as good soldiers as themselves with - the ordinary Southern arms. There are few pleasanter things to a hearty - well-wisher, who has not been in America for ten years, than the change - which has taken place in public sentiment, indicated by such frank - admissions as the one just referred to. In 1870, any expression of - admiration for the gallantry of the South, or of respect or appreciation - of such men as Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, or Johnson, was received either - silently, or with strong disapproval. How it is quite the other way, so - far as I have seen as yet, and I cannot but hope that the last scars of - the mighty struggle are healing up rapidly and thoroughly, and that the - old sectional hatred and scorn lie six feet under ground, in the national - cemeteries:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - No more shall the war-cry sever, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Or the inland rivers run red; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We have buried our anger for ever, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - In the sacred graves of the dead. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Under the sod and the dew, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Waiting the Judgment Day; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Love and tears for the blue! - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Tears and love for the gray! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - No man can live for a few weeks on these Cumberland Mountains, without - responding with a hearty “Amen!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Our Forester, Rugby, Tennessee. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>othing would - satisfy our Forester but that some of us should ride over with him, some - nine miles through the forest, to see Glades, the farm upon which he has - been for the last eight years. He led the way, on his yellow mare, an - animal who had nearly given us sore trouble here. The head stableman - turned all the horses out one day for a short run, and she being amongst - them, and loving her old home best, went off straight for Glades through - the woods, with every hoof after her. Luckily, Alfred, the Forester’s son, - was there, and guessing what was the matter, just rode her back, all the - rest following. The ride was lovely, glorious peeps of distant blue - ranges, and the forest just breaking out all over into golds, and - vermilions, and purples, and russets. We only passed two small farms on - the way, both ramshackle, and so the treat of coming suddenly on some one - hundred acres cleared, drained, with large, though rough, farm buildings, - and bearing the look of being cared for, was indescribably pleasant. Mrs. - Hill and her son Alfred received us, both worthy of the head of the house; - more I cannot say. They run the farm in his absence with scarcely any - help, Alfred having also to attend to a grist and saw mill in the - neighbouring creek. There were a fine mare and filly in the yard, as tame - as pet dogs, coming and shoving their noses into your pockets and coaxing - you for apples. The hogs are good Berkshire breed, the sheep Cotswolds. - The cows (it is the only place where we have had cream on the mountains), - Alderney or shorthorns. The house is a large log-cabin, one big room, with - a deep, open fireplace, with a great pine-log smouldering at the back - across plain iron dogs, a big hearth in front, on which pitch-pine chips - are thrown when you feel inclined for a blaze. The room is carpeted and - hung with photographs and prints, a rifle and shot gun, and implements of - one kind or another. A small collection of books, mostly theological, and - founded on two big Bibles, two rocking and half a dozen other chairs, a - table, and two beds in the corners furthest from the fire, complete the - furniture of the room, which opens on one side on a deep verandah, and on - the other on a lean-to, which serves for kitchen and diningroom, and ends - in a small, spare bedroom. A loft above, into which the family disappeared - at night, completes the accommodation. I need not dwell on our supper, - which included tender mutton, chickens, apple-tart, custard pudding, and - all manner of vegetables and cakes. Mrs. Hill is as notable a cook as her - husband is a forester. After supper we drew round the big fireplace, and - soon prevailed on our host to give us a sketch of his life, by way of - encouragement to his three young countrymen who sat round, and are going - to try their fortunes in these mountains:— - </p> - <p> - “I was born and bred up in one of Lord Denbigh’s cottages, at Kirby, in - Warwickshire. My father was employed on the great place, that’s Newnham - Paddocks, you know. He was a labourer, and brought up sixteen children, - not one of whom, except me, has ever been summonsed before a justice, or - got into any kind of trouble. I went to school till about nine, but I was - always longing to be out in the fields at plough or birdkeeping; so I got - away before I could do much reading or writing. But I kept on at Sabbath - School, and learnt more than I did at the other. The young ladies used to - teach us, and they’d set us pieces and things to learn for them in the - week. My Cæsar (the only ejaculation Amos allows himself; he cannot - remember where he picked it up), how I would work at my piece to get it - for Lady Mary! I’ve fairly cried over it sometimes, but I always managed - to get it, somehow. After a bit, I was taken on at the house. At first, I - did odd jobs, like cleaning boots and carrying messages; and then I got - into the garden, and from that into the stable, and then for a bit with - the keepers, and then into livery, to wait on the young ladies. So you see - I learnt something of everything, and was happy, and earning good wages. - But I wanted to see the world, so I took service with a gentleman who was - a big railway contractor. I used to drive him, and do anything a’most that - he wanted. I stayed with him nine years, and ’twas while going - about with him that I met my wife here. We got married down in Kent, - thirty-six years ago. Yes (in answer to a laughing comment by his wife), I - wanted some one to mind me in those days. That poaching trouble came about - this way. I had charge for my master of a piece of railway that ran - through Lord————‘s preserves, in Wales. There were - very strict rules about trespassing on the lines then, because folks there - didn’t like our line, and had been putting things on it to upset the - trains. One day I saw two keepers coming down the line, with a labourer I - knew between them. He was all covered with blood, from a wound in his - head. ‘Why,’ said I, ‘what’s the matter now?’ ‘I’ve been out of work,’ he - said, ‘this three weeks, and I was digging out a rabbit to get something - to eat, when they came up and broke my head.’ From that time the keepers - and I quarrelled. I summonsed them, and got them fined for trespassing on - the line; and then they got me fined for trespassing on their covers. We - watched one another like hawks. I’d often lie out at night for hours in - the cold, in a ditch, where I knew they’d want to cross the line, and then - jump up and catch them; and they’d do the same by me. Once they got me - fined £3: 10s. for poaching. I remember it well. I was that riled, I said - to the justices right out, ‘How long do you think it’ll take me, - gentlemen, to pay all that money, with hares only 1d. apiece?’ Then I went - in for it. I remembered the text, ‘What thy hand findeth to do, do it with - thy might.’ I did it. I used to creep along at night, all up the fences, - and feel for the places where the hares came through, and set my wires; - and I’d often have ten great ones screaming and flopping about like mad. - And that’s what the keepers were, too. I’ve given a whole barrowful of - hares away to the poor folk of a morning. Well, I know (in answer to an - interpellation of Mrs. Hill), yes, ’twas all wrong, and I was a - wild chap in those days. Then I begun to hear talk about America, and all - there was for a man to see and do there, so I left my master, and we came - over, twenty-seven years ago. At first I took charge of gentlemen’s - gardens, in New York and New Jersey. Then we went to Miscejan, where I - could earn all I wanted. Money was of no account there for a good man in - those days, but the climate was dreadful sickly, and we had our baby; the - first we had in twelve years, and wanted to live on bread and water, so as - we could save him. So we went up right amongst the Indians, to a place - they call Grand Travers, a wonderful healthy place, on a lake in the - pine-forest country, as it was then. I went on to a promontory, where the - forest stood, not like it does here, but the trees that thick, you had - scarce room to swing an axe. Well, it was a beautiful healthy place, and - we and baby throve, and I soon made a farm; and then folk began to follow - after us, and before I left, there were twenty-three saw-mills, cutting up - from 80,000 to 150,000 feet a day, week in and out. They’ve stripped the - country so now, that there’s no lumber for those mills to cut, and most of - them have stopped. I used to have a boat, with just a small sail, and I’d - take my stuff down in the morning, and trade it off to the lumber-men, and - then sail back at night, for the wind always changed and blew back in the - evenings, most part of the year. Well, then, the war came, and for two - years I kept thinking whether I oughtn’t to do my part to help the - Government I’d lived under so long. Besides, I hated slavery. So in the - third year I made up my mind, and ’listed in the Michigan Cavalry. - I took the whole matter before the Lord, and prayed I might do my duty as - a soldier, and not hurt any man. Well, we joined the Cavalry, near 60,000 - strong down in these parts; and I was at Knoxville, and up and down. It - was awful, the language and the ways of the men, many of them at least, - swearing, and drinking, and stealing any kind of thing they could lay - hands on. Many’s the plan for stealing I’ve broken up, telling them they - were there to sustain the flag, not to rob poor folks. I spoke very plain - all along, and got the men, many of them any way, to listen. I got on - famously, too, because I was never away plundering, and my horse was - always ready for any service. An officer would come in, after we had had a - long day’s work, to say a despatch or message must go, and no horse in our - company was fit to go but mine, so the orderly must have him; but I always - said no, I was quite ready to go myself, but would not part company from - my horse. The only time 1 took what was not mine was when we surprised a - Confederate convoy, and got hold of the stores they were carrying. There - they were lying all along the roads, greatcoats and blankets, and meal - bags, and good boots, with English marks on them. My Cæsar, how our men - were destroying them! I got together a lot of the poor, starving folk out - of the woods that both sides had been living on, and loaded them up with - meal and blankets. My Cæsar, how I loved to scatter them English boots! - They never had seen such before. No, sir (in reply to one of us), I never - fired a shot all that time, but I had hundreds fired at me. I’ve been in - the rifle-pits, and now and again seen a fellow drawing a bead on me, and - I’d duck down and hear the bullet ping into the bank close above. They got - to employ me a good deal carrying despatches and scouting. That’s how I - got took at last. We were at a place called Strawberry Plains, with - Breckenridge’s division pretty near all round us. I was sent out with - twelve other men, to try and draw them out, to show their force and - position; and so we did, but they were too quick for us. Out they came, - and it was a race back to our lines down a steep creek. My horse missed - his footing, and down we rolled over and over, into the water. When I got - up, I was up to my middle, and, first thing I knew, there was a rebel, who - swore at me for a G—d d———Yankee, and fired his - six shooter at me. The shot passed under my arm, and before he could fire - again an officer ordered him on, and gave me in charge. I was taken to the - rear, and marched off with a lot of prisoners. The rebels treated me as if - I’d been their father, after a day or two. I spoke out to them about their - swearing and ways, just as I had to our men; and I might have been tight - all the time I was a prisoner, only I’m a temperance man. They put me on - their horses on the march, and I was glad of it, for I was hurt by my roll - with my horse, and had about the chest. After about six days I got my - parole, with five others. They were hard pressed then and didn’t want us - toting along. Then we started north, with nothing but just our uniforms, - and they full of vermin. The first house we struck I asked where we could - find a Union man about there. They didn’t know any one, didn’t think there - was one in the county. I said that was bad, as we were paroled Union - soldiers,—and then all was changed. They took us in and wanted us to - use their beds, which we wouldn’t do, because of the vermin on us. They - gave us all they had, and I saw the women, for I couldn’t sleep, covering - us up with any spare clothes they’d got, and watching us all night long. - They sent us on to other Union houses, and so we got north. I was too ill - to stay north at my old work, so I sold my farm, and came south to - Knoxville, where I had come to know many kind, good people, in the war. - They were very kind, and I got work at the improvements on Mr. Dickenson’s - farm (a model farm we had gone over), and in other gentlemen’s gardens. - But I didn’t get my health again, so eight years ago I came to this place - on the mountains, which I knew was healthy, and would suit me. Well, they - all said I should be starved out in two years and have to quit, but before - three years were out I was selling them corn and better bacon than they’d - ever had before. Some of ’em begin to think I’m right now, and - there’s a deal of improvement going on, and if they’d only, as I tell ’em, - just put in all their time on their farms, and not go loafing round - gunning, and contented with corn-dodgers and a bit of pork, and give up - whisky, they might all do as well as I’ve done. I should like to go back - once more and see the old country; but I mean to end my days here. There’s - no such country that I ever saw. The Lord has done all for us here. And it - seems like dreams, that I should live to see a Rugby up here on the - mountains. I mean to take a lot in the town, or close by, and call it - Newnham Paddocks. So I shall lay my bones, you see, in the same place, as - it were, that I was reared in.” - </p> - <p> - I do not pretend that these were his exact words,—the whole had to - be condensed to come within your space,—but they are not far off. It - was now past nine, the time for retiring, when Amos told us that he always - ended his day with family prayers. A psalm was read, and then we knelt - down, and he prayed for some minutes. Extemporary prayers always excite my - critical faculty, but there was no thought or expression in this I could - have wished to alter. Then we turned in, I, after a pipe in the verandah, - in one clean white bed, and two of the boys in the big one in the opposite - corner. There I soon dozed off, watching the big, smouldering, white - pine-log away in the depth of the chimney-nook, and the last flickerings - of the knobs of pitch pine in front of it, between the iron dogs, and - wondering in my mind over the brave story we had just been listening to, - so simply told (of which I fear I have succeeded in giving a very poor - reflection), and whether there are not some—there cannot, I fear, be - many—such lives lying about in out-of-the-way corners, on mountain, - or plain, or city. My last conscious speculation was whether the Union - would have been saved if all Union soldiers had been Amos Hills. - </p> - <p> - I waked early, just before dawn, and was watching alternately the embers - of the big log, still aglow in the deep chimney, and the white light - beginning to break through the honeysuckles and vines which hung over the - verandah, and shaded the wide, open window, when the clock struck five. - The door opened softly, and in stepped Amos Hill in his stockings. He came - to the foot of our beds, picked up our dirty boots, and stole out again, - as noiselessly as he had entered. The next minute I heard the blacking - brushes going vigorously, and knew that I should appear at breakfast with - a shine on in which I should have reason to glory, if I were preparing to - walk in Bond Street, instead of through the scrub on the Cumberland - Mountains. I turned over for another, hour’s sleep (breakfast being at - 6.30 sharp), but not without first considering for some minutes which of - us two—if things were fixed up straight in this blundering old world—ought - to be blacking the other’s boots. The conclusion I came to was that it - ought <i>not</i> to be Amos Hill. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Negro “Natives”, Rugby, Tennessee, 30th October 1880. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here is one - inconvenience in this desultory mode of correspondence,—that one is - apt to forget what one has told already, and to repeat oneself. I have - written something of the white native of these mountains; have I said - anything of his dark brother? The subject is becoming a more and more - interesting and important one every day, through all these regions. In - these mountains, the negro, perhaps, can scarcely be called a native. Very - few black families, I am told, were to be found here a year or two since. - My own eyes assure me that they are multiplying rapidly. I see more and - more black men amongst the gangs on roads and bridges, and come across - queer little encampments in the woods, with a pile of logs smouldering in - the midst, round which stand the mirth-provoking figures of small black - urchins, who stare and grin at the intruder on horseback, till he rides on - under the gold and russet and green autumnal coping of hickories, - chestnuts, and pines. - </p> - <p> - I am coming to the conclusion that wherever work is to be had, in - Tennessee, at any rate, there will the negro be found. He seems to gather - to a contractor like the buzzards, which one sees over the tree-tops, to - carrion. And unless the white natives take to “putting in all their time,” - whatever work is going will not long remain with them. The negro will loaf - and shirk as often as not when he gets the chance, but he has not the same - craving for knocking off altogether as soon as he has a couple of dollars - in his pocket; has no strong hunting instinct, and has not acquired the - art of letting his pick drop listlessly into the ground with its own - weight, and stopping to admire the scenery after every half-dozen strokes. - The negro is much more obedient, moreover, and manageable,—obedient - to a fault, if one can believe the many stories one hears of his readiness - to commit small misdemeanours and crimes, and not always small ones, at - the bidding of his employers. There is one thing, however, which an - equally unanimous testimony agrees in declaring that he will not do, and - that is, sell his vote, or be dragooned into giving it for any one but his - own choice; he may, indeed, be scared from voting, but cannot be - “squared,” a singular testimony, surely, of his prospective value as a - citizen. Equally strong is the evidence of his resolute determination to - get his children educated. In some Southern States the children are, I - believe, kept apart, but in the only school I have had the chance of - seeing, black and white children were together. They were not in class, - but in the front of the barn-like building, used both for church and - school, having just come out for the dinner hour. There was a large, - sandy, trampled place under the trees, by no means a bad play-ground, on - which a few of the most energetic, the blacks in the majority, were - playing at some game as we came up, the mysteries of which I should have - liked to study. But the longer we stayed, the less chance there seemed of - their going on, and the game remains a mystery to me still. Where these - children, some fifty in number, came from, is a problem; but there they - were, from somewhere. And everywhere, I hear, the blacks are forcing the - running, with respect to education, and great numbers of them are showing - a thrift and energy which are likely to make them formidable competitors - in the struggle for existence in all states south of Kentucky, at any - rate. - </p> - <p> - In one department (a very small one, no doubt), they will have crowded out - the native whites in a very short time, if I may judge by our experience - in this house. We number two ladies and six men, and our whole service is - done by one boy. Our first experiment was with a young native, who “reared - up” on the first morning at the idea of having to black boots. This - prejudice, I think I told you, was removed for the moment, and he stayed - for a few days. Where it was he “weakened on us” I could not learn for - certain, but incline to the belief that it was either having to carry the - racquets and balls to the lawn-tennis ground, or to get a fire to burn in - order to boil the water for a four-o’clock tea. Both these services were - ordered by the ladies, and I thought I saw signs (though I am far from - certain) that his manly soul rose against feminine command. Be that as it - may, off he went without warning, and soon after Amos Hill arrived, with - almost pathetic apologies and a negro boy, short of stature, huge of - mouth, fabulous in the apparent age of his garments, named Jeff. He had no - other name, he told us, and did not know whether it signified Jefferson or - Geoffrey, or where or how he got it, or anything about himself, except - that he had got our place at $5 a month,—at which he showed his - ivory, “some!” - </p> - <p> - From this time all was changed. Jeff, it is true, after the first two - days, gave proofs that he was not converted, like the white housemaid who - had learned to sweep under the mats. His sweeping and tidying were - decidedly those of the sinner, and he entirely abandoned the only hard - work we set him, as soon as it was out of sight from the Asylum. It was a - path leading to a shallow well, which the boys had dug at the bottom of - the garden. The last twenty yards or so are on a steeper incline than the - part next the house, so Jeff studiously completed the few feet that were - left to the brow, and never put pick or shovel on the remainder, which lay - behind the friendly brow of the slope. But in all other directions, where - the work was mainly odd jobs, a respectable kind of loafing, Jeff was - always to the fore, acquitting himself to the best, I think, of his - ability. We did not get full command of him till the arrival of a young - Texan cattle-driver, who taught us the peculiar cry for the negro, by - appending a high “Ho” to his name, or rather running them together, so - that the whole sounded, “Hojeff!” as nearly as possible one syllable. Even - the ladies picked up the cry, and thenceforward Jeff’s substitute for the - “Anon, anon, sir!” of the Elizabethan waiter was instantaneous. He built a - camp-oven, like those of the Volunteers at Wimbledon, and neater of - construction, from which he supplied a reasonably constant provision of - hot water between six and six, of course cutting his own logs for the - fire. His highest achievement was ironing the ladies’ cotton dresses, - which they declared he did not very badly. Most of us entrusted him with - the washing of flannel shirts and socks, which at any rate were faithfully - immersed in suds, and hung up to dry under our eyes. The laundry was an - army tent, pitched at the back of the Asylum, where Jeff spent nearly all - his time when not under orders, and generally eating an apple, of which - there was always a sack, a present from some ranche-owner, or brought over - from the garden, lying about, and open to mankind at large. I never could - find out whether he could read. One evening he came up proudly to ask - whether his mail had come, and sure enough when the mail arrived there was - a post-card, which he claimed. We thought he would ask one of us to read - it for him, but were disappointed. He had a habit of crooning over and - over again all day some scrap of a song. One of these excited my curiosity - exceedingly, but I never succeeded in getting more than two lines out of - him— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Oh my! oh my! I’ve got a hundred dollars in a mine! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - One had a crave to hear what came of those 100 dollars. It seems it is so - almost universally. The nearest approach to a complete negro ditty which I - have been able to strike is one which the Texan gives, with a wonderful - roll of the word “chariot,” which cannot be written. It runs:— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The Debbie he chase me round a stump, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine for to carry me home; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He catch me most at ebery jump, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine for to carry me home. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Swing low, sweet chay-o-t, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine for to carry me home. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The Debbie he make one grab at me, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine, etc., - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He missed me, and my soul goed free, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Swing low, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh! won’t we have a gay old time, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A eatin’ up o’ honey, and a drinkin’ up o’ wine. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Gwine, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Swing low, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This, sir, I think you will agree with me, though precious, is obviously a - fragment only. It took our Texan many months to pick it up, even in this - mutilated condition. But after all, Jeffs character and capacity come out - most in the direction of boots. It. is from his attitude with regard to - them that I incline to think that the Black race have a great future in - these States. You may have gathered from previous letters that there is a - clear, though not a well marked, division in this settlement as to - blacking. Amos Hill builds on it decidedly, and would have every farmer - appear in blacked boots, at any rate on Sunday. The opposition is led by a - young farmer of great energy and famous temper, who, having been - “strapped,” or left without a penny, 300 miles from the Pacific coast, - amongst the Mexican mines, and having made his hands keep his head in the - wildest of earthly settlements, has a strong contempt for all amenities of - clothing, which is shared by the geologist and others. How the point will - be settled at last, I cannot guess. It stands over while the ladies are - still here, and I have actually seen the “strapped” one giving his - wondrous boots a sly lick or two of blacking on Sunday morning. But, - anyhow, the blacks will be cordially on the side of polish and the - aristocracy. This one might, perhaps, have anticipated; but what I was not - prepared for, was Jeffs apparent passion for boots. I own a fine, strong - pair of shooting-boots, which he worshipped for five minutes at least - every morning. As my last day in the Asylum drew on, I could see he was - troubled in his mind. At last, out it came. Watching his chance, when no - one was near, he sidled up, and pointing to them on the square chest in - the verandah which served for blacking-board, he said, “I’d like to buy - dem boots.” After my first astonishment was over, I explained to him that - I couldn’t afford to sell them for less than about six weeks of his wages, - and that, moreover, I wanted them for myself, as I could get none such - here. He was much disappointed, and muttered frequently, “I’d like to buy - dem boots!”—but my heart did not soften. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps I ought rather to be giving your readers more serious experiences, - but somehow the negro is apt to run one out into chaff. However, I will - conclude with one fact, which seems to me a very striking confirmation of - my view. All Americans are reading the <i>Fool’s Errand</i>, a powerful - novel, founded on the state of things after the war in the Kuklux times. - It is written by a Southern judge, a fair and clever man, clearly, but one - who has no more faith in the negro’s power to raise himself to anything - above hewing wood and drawing water for the “Caucasian” than C. J. Taney - himself. In all that book there is no single instance of the drawing of a - mean, corrupt, or depraved negro; but the negroes are represented as full - of patience, trustfulness, shrewdness, and power of many kinds. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Opening Day, Rugby, Tennessee. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ur opening day - drew near, not without rousing the most serious misgivings in the minds of - most of us whether we could possibly be ready to receive our guests. - Invitations had been issued to our neighbours—friends, as we had - learnt to esteem them—in Cincinnati, Knoxville, Chatanooga, whose - hospitalities we had enjoyed, and who had expressed a cordial sympathy - with our enterprise, and a desire to visit us. We looked also for some of - our own old members from distant New England, in all probability seventy - or eighty guests, to lodge and board, and convey from and back to the - railway, seven miles over our new road,—no small undertaking, under - our circumstances. But the hotel was still in the hands of the contractor, - from whom, as yet, only the upper floors had been rescued. The staircase - wanted banisters, and the hall and living-rooms were still only - half-wainscotted, and full of carpenters’ benches and plasterers’ trays; - while the furniture and crockery lumbered up the big barn, or stood about - in cases on the broad verandah. As for our road, it was splendid, so far - as it went, but some two miles were still merely a forest track, from - which all trees and stumps had been removed, but that was all; and the - bridge over the Clear Fork stream, by which the town site is entered, had - only the first cross timbers laid from pier to pier, while the approaches - seemed to lie in hopeless, weltering confusion, difficult on horseback, - impossible on wheels. However, the manager declared that we should drive - over the bridge on Saturday afternoon, and that the contractor should be - out of the hotel by Monday midday. With this we were obliged to be - content, though it was running things fine, as we looked for our guests on - that Monday afternoon, and the opening was fixed for the next morning. And - so it came to pass, as the manager said. Bridge and road were declared - passable by the named time, though nervous persons might well have thought - twice before attempting the former in the heavy omnibuses hired for the - occasion; and we were able to get possession and move furniture and - crockery into the hotel, though the carpenters still held the unfinished - staircase. - </p> - <p> - So far so good; but still everything, we felt, depended on the weather. If - the glorious days we had been having held, all would be well. The promise - was fair up to Sunday evening, but at sunset there was a change. Amos Hill - shook his head, and the geologist’s aneroid barometer gave ominous signs. - They proved only too correct. Early in the night the rain set in, and by - daybreak, when we were already astir, a steady, soft, searching rain was - coming down perpendicularly, which lasted, with scarcely a break, clear - through the day, and till midnight. With feelings of blank despair we - thought of the new road, softened into a Slough of Despond, and the - hastily thrown-up approaches to the bridge giving way under the laden - omnibuses, and waited our fate. It was, as usual, better than we looked - for. The morning train from Chatanooga would bring our southern guests in - time for early dinner, if no break-down happened; and sure enough, within - half an hour of the expected time up came the omnibuses, escorted to the - hotel door by the manager and his son on horseback; and the Bishop of - Tennessee, with his chaplain, the Mayor of Chatanooga, and a number of the - leading citizens of that city and of Knoxville, descended in the rain. In - five minutes we were at our ease and happy. If they had all been - Englishmen on a pleasure-trip, they could not have taken the down-pour - more cheerily as a matter of course, and pleasant, rather than otherwise, - after the long drought. They dined, chatted, and smoked in the verandah, - and then trotted off in <i>gum</i> coats to look round at the walks, - gardens, streets, and cots, escorted by “the boys.” The manager reported, - with pride, that they had come up in an hour and a quarter, and without - any kind of <i>contretemps</i>, though, no doubt, the new road <i>was</i> - deep, in places. - </p> - <p> - All anxiety was over for the moment, as the Northern train, bringing our - Cincinnati and New England friends, was not due till after dark. We sat - down to tea in detachments from six to eight, when, if all went well, the - northerners would be about due. The tables were cleared, and relaid once - more for them, and every preparation made to give them a warm welcome. - Nine struck, and still no sign of them; then ten, by which time, in this - early country, all but some four or five anxious souls had retired. We sat - round the stove in the hall, and listened to the war-stories of the Mayor - of Chatanooga, and our host of the Tabard, who had served on opposite - sides in the terrible campaigns in the south of the State, which had ended - at Missionary Ridge, and filled the national cemetery of Chatanooga with - 14,000 graves of Union soldiers. But neither the interest of the stories - themselves, nor the pleasure of seeing how completely all bitterness had - passed out of the narrators’ minds, could keep our thoughts from dwelling - on the pitch-dark road, sodden by this time with the rain, and the <i>mauvais - pas</i> of the bridge. Eleven struck, and now it became too serious for - anything but anxious peerings into the black night, and considerations as - to what could be done. We had ordered lanterns, and were on the point of - starting for the bridge, when faint sounds, as of men singing in chorus, - came through the darkness. They grew in volume, and now we could hear the - omnibuses, from which came a roll of, “John Brown’s body lies mouldering - in the grave,” given with a swing and precision which told of old - campaigners. That stirring melody could hardly have been more welcome to - the first line waiting for supports, on some hard-fought battle-ground, - than it was to us. The omnibuses drew up, a dense cloud rising from the - drenched horses and mules, and the singers got out, still keeping up their - chorus, which only ceased on the verandah, and must have roused every - sleeper in the settlement. The Old Bay State, Ohio, and Kentucky had sent - us a set of as stalwart good fellows as ever sang a chorus or ate a - beef-steak at midnight; and while they were engaged in the latter - operation, they told how from the break-down of a freight-train, theirs - had been three hours late, how the darkness had kept them to a - foot’s-pace, how the last omnibus had given out in the heavy places, and - had to be constantly helped on by a pair of mules detached from one of the - others. “All’s well that ends well,” and it was with a joyful sense of - relief that we piloted such of our guests as the hotel could not hold - across to their cots in the barracks at one in the morning. By nine, the - glorious Southern sun had fairly vanquished rain and mist, and the whole - plateau was ablaze with the autumn tints, and every leaf gleaming from its - recent shower-bath. Rugby outdid herself and “leapt to music and to light” - in a way which astonished even her oldest and most enthusiastic citizens, - some half dozen of whom had had something like twelve months’ experience - of her moods and tempers. Breakfast began at six, and ended at nine, and - for three hours batches of well-fed visitors were turned out to saunter - round the walks, the English gardens, and lawn-tennis grounds, until the - hour of eleven, fixed by the Bishop for the opening service. The church - being as yet only some six feet above ground, this ceremony was to be held - in the verandah of the hotel. Meantime, Bishop and chaplain were busy - among “the boys,” organising a choir to sing the hymns and lead the - responses. The whole population were gathering round the hotel, some four - or five buggies, and perhaps twenty horses, haltered to the nearest trees, - showed the interest excited in the neighbourhood. In addition to the seats - in the verandah, chairs and benches were placed on the ground below for - the surplus congregation, behind whom a fringe of white and black natives - regarded the proceedings with grave attention. Punctual to time, the - Bishop and his chaplain, in robes, took their places at the corner of the - verandah, and gave out the first verses of the “Old Hundredth.” There was - a moment’s pause, while the newly-organised choir exchanged glances as to - who should lead off, and the pause was fatal to them for the moment. For - on the Bishop’s left stood the stalwart New Englander who had led the - pilgrims of the previous evening in the “John Brown” chorus. He, unaware - of the episcopal arrangements, and of the consequent vested rights of “the - boys,” broke out with “All people that on earth do dwell,” in a voice - which carried the whole assembly with him, and at once reduced “the boys” - to humble followers. They had their revenge, however, when it came to the - second hymn at the end of the service. It was “Jerusalem, the golden,” - which is apparently sung to a different tune in Boston to that in use in - England, so though our musical guest struggled manfully through the first - line, and had almost discomfited “the boys” by sheer force of lungs, - numbers prevailed, and he was brought into line. The service was a short - one, consisting of two psalms, “Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle?” - and “Except the Lord build the house,” the chapter of Solomon’s prayer at - the dedication of the Temple, half a dozen of the Church collects, and a - prayer by the Bishop that the town and settlement might be built up in - righteousness and the fear and love of God, and ‘prove a blessing to the - State. Then, after the blessing, the gathering resolved itself into a - public meeting after American fashion. The Board spoke through their - representatives, and Bishop, judge, general manager, and visitors - exchanged friendly oratorical buffets, and wishes and prophecies for the - prosperity of the New Jerusalem in the Southern highlands. A more genuine - or healthier act of worship it has not been our good-fortune to attend in - these late years. - </p> - <p> - Dinner began immediately afterwards, and then the company scattered again, - some to select town lots, some to the best views, the Bishop to organise a - vestry, and induce two of “the boys” to become lay readers, pending the - arrival of a parson (in which he was eminently successful); the chaplain - to the Clear Fork with one of “the boys’” fishing-rods, after black bass; - and a motley crowd to the lawn-tennis ground, to see some set played which - would have done no discredit to Wimbledon, and excited much wonder and - some enthusiasm amongst natives and visitors. A cheerful evening followed, - in which the new piano in the hotel sitting-room did good service, and - many war and other stories were told round the big hall stove. Early the - next morning the omnibuses began carrying off the visitors, and by night - Rugby had settled down again to its ordinary life, not, however, without a - sense of strength gained for the work of building up a community which - shall know how to comport itself in good and bad times, and shall help, - instead of hindering, its sons and daughters in leading a brave, simple, - and Christian life. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Life in an American Liner - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is some years - since I addressed you last over this signature—indeed I should doubt - if five per cent of your present readers will remember the “harvests” of a - quiet (ought I to say “lazy” rather than “quiet”?) eye, which I was wont - in those days, by your connivance, to submit to them in vacation times. - Somehow to-day the old instinct has come back on me, possibly because I - happen to be on an errand which should be of no small interest to us - English just now; possibly because the last days of an Atlantic crossing - seem to be so naturally provocative of the instinct for gossiping, that - one is not satisfied with the abundant opportunities one gets on board the - vessel in which one is a luxurious prisoner for ten days. - </p> - <p> - We have been going day and night since we left Queenstown harbour at an - average rate of 18 (land) miles an hour. We are more than 1300 passengers - (roughly 200 saloon, and the rest steerage), whose baggage, when added to - the large cargo of dry goods we are carrying, sinks our beautiful craft - till she draws 24 feet of water. She herself is more than 150 yards long, - and weighs as she passes Sandy Hook,—well, I am fairly unable to - calculate what she weighs, but as much, at any rate, as half a dozen - luggage-trains on shore. We have had our last, or the captain’s dinner, at - which fish, to all appearance as fresh as if the sailors had just caught - them over the side, and lettuces, as crisp as if the steward had a nursery - garden down below, have been served as part of a dinner which would have - done no discredit to a first-class hotel; beginning with two sorts of - soup, and ending with two sorts of ices. Similar dinners, with other meals - to match—four solid ones in the twenty-four hours, besides odds and - ends—have been served day by day, without a hitch, in a cabin kept - as sweet as Atlantic air, constantly pumped into it by the engine, can - make it. - </p> - <p> - By the way, sir, I may remark here, in connection with our feeding, that - if we might be taken as average specimens of our race, there is no ground - whatever for anxiety as to the Anglo-Saxon digestion, of which some - disagreeable philosophers have spoken with disrespect and foreboding in - recent years. There were, perhaps, ten persons whose native tongue was not - English, and yet we carried our four solid meals a day with resolution - bordering on the heroic. The racks were never on the tables, and we had - only for a few hours a swell, which thinned our ranks for two meals; and - yet when I look round, and make such inquiry as I can, I can see or hear - of nothing more than a very slight trace of dyspepsia here and there. The - principal change I remarked in the manners and customs on the voyage was - the marked increase of play and betting on board. When I first crossed, - ten years ago, there was nothing more than an occasional game at whist in - the saloon or smoking-room. This voyage it was not easy to get out of the - way of hard play except on deck. The best corner of the smoking-room was - occupied from breakfast till “Out lights” by a steady poker party, and - other smaller and more casual groups played fitfully at the other tables. - There were always whist and other games going on in the saloon, but of a - soberer and (in a pecuniary sense) more innocent character. There were - “pools” of a sovereign or a half sovereign on every event of the day, “the - run” being the most exciting issue. The drawer of the winning number - seldom pocketed less than £40, when it was posted on the captain’s chart - at noon. I heard that play is rather favoured now than otherwise on all - the lines, as a percentage is almost always paid to the funds of the - Sailors’ Orphan Asylum, for which excellent charity a collection is also - legitimately made during every passage. We were good supporters, and - collected nearly £70 at our entertainment, which I attribute partly to the - fact that we had on board a leading American actor, who most - good-naturedly “turned himself loose” for us, and that the plates at the - two doors were held by the daughters of an English earl, and an (late, - alas!) American ambassador of great eminence. The countries could not have - been more characteristically or charmingly represented, and the charity - owes them its best thanks. - </p> - <p> - There was the usual mine of information and entertainment, to be struck - with ease by the merest novice in conversational shaft-sinking. Why is it - that folk are so much more ready to talk on an Atlantic steamer than - elsewhere? I myself “struck ile,” in several directions, one of a sad kind—Scotch - farmers of the highest type going out to select new homes, where there - will be no factors. The most remarkable of these appeared to have made up - his mind finally when he had been told that he would not be allowed a - penny at the end of his lease for the addition of three rooms he was - obliged to make to his house, as his family were growing up. Have - landlords and factors gone mad, in face of the serious times which are on - them? - </p> - <p> - There were quite an abundance of parsons, of many denominations, and all - of mark. Prayers on Sunday were read by a New England Episcopalian, and - the sermon preached by a Scotch Free Kirk minister. All were men of broad - views, in some cases verging on Latitudinarianism to a point which - rejoiced my heretic soul, e.g. a Protestant minister in a great American - western city, whose church had recently been rebuilt. Looking round to - find where his flock could be best housed on Sundays, pending - reconstruction, he found the neighbouring synagogue by far the most - convenient, and proposed to go there. His people cordially agreed, and - despite the furious raging of the (so-called) religious press, into the - synagogue they went for their Sunday services, stayed there six months, - and when they left, were only charged for the gas by the Rabbi. An - intimacy sprung up. It appeared that the Rabbi looked upon our Lord as the - first of the inspired men of his nation, greater than Moses or Samuel, and - in the end the two congregations met at a service conducted partly by the - Rabbi and partly by my informant!—a noteworthy sign of the times, - but one at which I fear many even of your readers will shake their heads. - </p> - <p> - There were some Confederate officers, ready to talk without bitterness of - the war, and I was very glad to improve the occasion, having never had the - chance of a look from that side the curtain. Anything more grim and - humorous than the picture of Southern society during those awful four - years I never hope to meet with. The entire want of regular medicines, - especially bark, was their greatest trouble in his eyes. In his brigade - their remedy for “the shakes” came to be a plaster of raw turpentine, just - drawn from the pine woods, laid on down the back. Some one suggested that - pills were very portable, and easily imported. “Pills!” he said - scornfully; “pills, sir, were as scarce in our brigade as the grace of God - in a grog shop at midnight.” Nothing so much brought out to me the horrors - of civil war as his account of the perfect knowledge each side had of the - plans and doings on the other. A Northern officer, he had since come to - know, was leaning against a post within three yards of Jeff. Davis when he - made his famous speech announcing the supersession of Joe Johnson as the - general fronting Sherman. Sherman had heard it in a few hours, and was - acting on the news before nightfall. The most terrible example was that of - the mining of the Richmond lines. The defenders knew almost to a foot - where the mines were, and when they were to be fired. Breckenbridge’s - division, in which he fought, were drawn up in line to repel the attack - when the earthworks went up in the air, and the assailants rushed into the - great gap which had been made, and which was nearly filled, before they - fell back, with the bodies of Northern soldiers. For the last two years, - in almost every battle he had all he could do to hold his own against the - front attack, knowing and feeling all the while that the enemy was - overlapping and massing on both flanks, and that he would have to retire - his regiment before they could close. And yet they held together to the - last! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - I pity mothers, too, down South, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Altho’ they sat amongst the scorners. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It is a curious experience, and one well worth trying, this ten days’ - voyage. When you go on board at Liverpool, and look round at the first - dinner, there are probably not half a dozen faces you ever saw before. By - the time you walk out of the ship, bag in hand, on to the New York - landing-place, there are scarcely half a dozen with» whom you have not a - pleasant speaking acquaintance; while with a not inconsiderable number you - feel (unless you have had singularly bad luck) as if you must have known - them intimately for years, without having been aware of it. As you touch - the land, the express men and hotel touts rush on you, and the spell is - broken. The little society resolves itself at their touch into separate - atoms, which are whirled away, without time to wish one another God-speed, - into the turbulent ocean of New York life, never again to be gathered - together as a society in this world, for worship, for food, or fun. “The - present life of man, 0 king!” said a Saxon thane in Edwin’s Witenagemot, - when they were consulting whether Augustine and his priests should be - allowed to settle at Canterbury, “reminds me of one of your winter feasts - where you sit with your thanes and counsellors. The hearth blazes in our - midst, and a grateful heat is spread around, while storms of rain and snow - are raging without. A little sparrow enters at one door and flies - delighted around us, till it departs through the other. Such is the life - of man, and we are as ignorant of the state which went before us as of - that which will follow it. Things being so,” went on the thane, “I feel - that if this new faith can give us more certainty, it deserves to be - received,”—which last sentiment has, I allow, no bearing on the - present subject, nor, perhaps you will say, has the rest of it. But - somehow the old story came into my head so vividly as I was leaving the - steamer, that I feel like tossing it on to your readers, to see what they - can make of it; though I own, on looking at it again, I am not myself - clear as to the interpretation, or whether I am the sparrow or the thane. - </p> - <p> - New York is more overwhelming than ever,—surely the most tremendous - human mill on this planet; but I must not begin upon it at the end of a - letter. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Life in Texas, Ranche on the Rio Grande, 16th September 1884. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t must be many - years now (how they do shut up in these latter days like a telescope) - since I confided to you in these columns the joy—not unmixed with - reverence—of my first interview with that worthy small person (I am - sure he must be a person) the tumble-bug of the U.S.A. I looked upon him - in those days as on the whole the most industrious and athletic little - creature it had ever been my privilege to encounter. I am obliged now to - take most of that back, for to-day I have discovered that he isn’t a - circumstance to his Mexican cousin on this side the Rio Grande. At any - rate, the specimens I have met with here are not only bigger, but work - half as hard again, and about twice as quick. I was sitting just now in - the verandah in front of this ranche cabin, waiting for the horses to be - saddled-up at the corral just below, and looking lazily, now eastward over - the river and the wide Texan plains beyond, fading away in the haze till - the horizon looked like the Atlantic in a calm, now westward to the jagged - outline of the Sierra Nevada, gleaming in the sunshine sixty miles away, - when I became aware of something moving at my feet. Looking down I found - that it was a tumble-bug rolling a ball of dirt he had put together, till - it was at least four times as big as himself, towards the rough stony - descent just beyond the verandah, at a pace which fairly staggered me. In - a few seconds he was across the floor, and in amongst the stones which lay - thickly over the slope beyond. Here his troubles began. First he pushed - his ball backwards over a big stone, on the further side of which it fell, - and he with it, headlong—no, not headlong, stern foremost—some - five inches, rolling over one another twice at the bottom. But he never - quitted hold, and began pushing away merrily again without a moment’s - pause. Then he ran the ball into a <i>cul-de-sac</i> between two stones, - some inches high. After two or three dead heaves, which lifted the ball at - least his own length up the side of the stones—and you must - remember, to judge of the feat, that he was standing on his head to do it—he - quitted hold, turned round, and looked at the situation. I am almost - certain I saw him scratch his ear, or at least the side of his head, with - his fore-claw. In a second or two he fixed on again with his hind-claws, - pushed the ball out of the <i>cul-de-sac</i>, and continued his journey. - If that bug didn’t put two and two together, by what process did he get - out of that <i>cul-de-sac?</i> “Cogito, ergo sum.” Was I wrong in calling - him a person? Well, I won’t trouble you further with particulars of his - journey, but he ran his big ball into his hole under a mesquite-bush, 19 - 1/2 yards from the spot on the verandah where I first noticed him, in - eleven minutes and a few seconds by my watch. I made a calculation before - mounting that, comparing my bug with an average Mexican, five feet eight - inches high, and weighing ten stone, the ball of dirt would be at least - equal to a bale of cotton, eight feet in diameter, and weighing half a - ton, which the man would have to push or carry 2 1/2 miles in eleven - minutes, to equal the feat of his tiny fellow-citizen. In the depressed - condition of Mexico, might not this enormous bug-power be utilised somehow - for the benefit of the Republic? - </p> - <p> - I had barely finished my ciphering when I was called to horse, and in a - few minutes was riding across a vast plain, nearly bare of grass in this - drought, but dotted with mesquite-bushes, prickly pear, and other scrub, - so that the general effect was still green. The riding was rough, as much - loose stone lay about, and badgers’, “Jack Rabbits’” and other creatures’ - holes abounded; but the small Mexican horse I rode was perfectly - sure-footed, and I ambled along, swelling with pride at my quaint saddle, - with pummel some eight inches high, and depending lasso, showing that for - the time I was free of the honourable fraternity of “gentlemen - cow-punchers.” Besides myself, our party consisted of the two ranche-men—an - Englishman and an American, aged about thirty, old comrades on long drives - 1000 miles away to the North, but now anchored on this glorious ranche on - the Bio Grande—and a cowboy. The Englishman’s yellow hair was - cropped close to his head, and his fair skin was burnt as red, I suppose, - as skin will burn; the Marylander’s black hair was as closely cropped, and - his skin burnt an equally deep brown. The cowboy, an English lad of about - twenty, reconciled the two types, having managed to get his skin tanned a - deep red, relieved by large dark brown freckles, from the midst of which - his great blue eyes shone out in comical contrast. I fear— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - The very mother that him bare, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - She had not known her child. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - They were all attired alike, in broad felt sombreros, blue shirts, and - trousers thrust into boots reaching to the knees. Each had his lasso at - pummel, and between them they carried a rifle, frying-pan, coffee-pot, big - loaf, and forequarter of a porker—for we were out for a long day. A - more picturesque or efficient-looking group it would be hard to find. I - must resist the temptation of telling all we did or saw, and come at once - to our ride home shortly before sunset. The ranche-men and I were abreast, - and the cowboy a few yards behind, when we came across a bunch of cattle, - conspicuous amongst which strode along a stalwart yearling bull calf, - whose shining brindle hide and jaunty air showed that he, at least, was - not suffering from the scanty food which the drought has left for the - herds on these wide plains. He was already as big as his poor raw-boned - mother, who went along painfully picking at every shrub and tuft in her - path, to provide his evening meal at her own expense. Now these dude - calves (who insist on living on their parents, and will do nothing for - their own livelihood) can only be cured by the insertion of a horse-ring - in the upper lip, so that they cannot turn it up to take hold of the - maternal udder, and it is often in bad times a matter of life or death to - the cows to get them ringed. After a conference of a few seconds, the - Marylander shifted the rifle to the saddle of the Englishman (already - ornamented with the frying-pan and the coffee-pot), and calling to the - cowboy, dashed off for the bunch of cattle. Next moment the cowboy shot - past us at full speed, gathering up his lasso as he went; the bull-calf - was “cut out” of the bunch as if by magic, and went straight away through - mesquite-brush and prickly pears, at a pace which kept his pursuers at - their utmost stretch not to lose ground. It was all they could do to hold - it, never for a full mile getting within lasso-reach of Boliborus, the - ranche-man following like fate, upright from shoulder to toe (they ride - with very long stirrups), bridle hand low, and right hand swinging the - lasso slowly round his head, awaiting his chance for a throw; the cowboy - close on his flank; ranche-man number two clattering along, pot, kettle, - and rifle “soaring and singing” round his knees, but availing himself of - every turn in the chase, so as to keep within thirty or forty yards. I, a - bad fourth, but near enough to see the whole and share the excitement (if, - indeed, I hadn’t it all to myself, the sport being to the rest a part of - the daily round). The crisis came just at the foot of a mound, up which - Boliborus had gained some yards, but in the descent had slackened his pace - and the pursuers were on him. The lasso flew from the raised hand, and was - round his neck, a dexterous twist brought the rope across his forelegs, - and next moment he was over on his side half, throttled. I was up in some - five seconds, during which his lassoer had him by the horns, ranche-man - number two was prone with all his weight upon his shoulders, and the - cowboy on his hind quarters, catching at his tail with his left hand. That - bull calf’s struggle to rise was as superb as Bertram Risingham’s in <i>Rokeby</i>, - and as futile; for the cowboy had caught his tail and passed it between - his hind legs, and by pulling hard kept one leg brandishing aimlessly in - the air, while the weight of the ranche-men subdued his forequarters. The - ring was passed through his upper lip, and the lasso was off his neck in a - few seconds more, and the ranche-men turned to mount, saying to the - cowboy, “Just hold on a minute.” The cowboy passed the tail back between - the hind legs, grasped the end firmly, and stood expectant. Boliborus lay - quiet for a second or two, and then bounded to his feet, glaring round in - rage and pain to choose which, of his foes to go for, when he became aware - of something wrong behind, and looking round, realised the state of the - case. Down went his head, and round he went with a rush for his own tail - end, but the tail and boy were equal to the occasion, and the latter still - holding on tight by the former, sent back a defiant kick at the end of - each rush, which, however, never got within two feet of the bull’s nose, - and could be only looked upon as a proper defiance. Then Boliborus tried - stealing round to take his tail by surprise, but all to as little purpose, - when the ranche-men, who were now both mounted, to end the farce, rode - round in front of the beast, caught his eye, and cried, “Let go.” Whisking - his freed tail in the air he made a rush, but only a half-hearted one, at - the nearest, who just wheeled his horse, and as he passed administered a - contemptuous thwack over his loins with a lasso. Boliborus now stood - looking down his nose at the appendant ring, revolving his next move, with - so comic an expression that I burst into a roar of laughter, in which the - rest joined out of courtesy. This was too much for him, as ridicule proves - for so many two-legged calves, so he tossed his head in the air, gave a - flirt with his heels, and trotted off after his mother, a sadder, and let - us hope, wiser bull-calf; in any case, a ringed one, and bound in future - to get his own living. - </p> - <p> - On my ride home my mind was much occupied by that cowboy, who rode along - by me—telling how he had been reading <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i> - again (amongst other things), found it wasn’t a mere boy’s book, and - wanted to get a Life of Swift—in his battered old outfit, for which - no Jew in Rag-Fair would give him five shillings. The last time I had seen - him, two years ago, he had just left Hallebury, a bit of a dandy, with - very tight clothes, and so stiff a white collar on, that on his arrival he - had been nicknamed “the Parson.” - </p> - <p> - At home he might by this time be just through responsions by the help of - cribs and manuals, having contracted in the process a rooted distaste for - classical literature. Possibly he might have pulled in his college boat, - and won a plated cup at lawn tennis, and all this at the cost of, say, - £250 a year. As it is, besides costing nothing, he can cook a spare-rib of - pork to a turn on a forked stick, hold a bull-calf by the tail, and is - voluntarily wrestling (not without certain glimmerings of light) with <i>Sartor - Resartus</i>. Which career for choice? How say you, Mr. Editor? - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Crossing the Atlantic, 4th September 1885. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> mug-wump! I - should like to ask you, sir—not as Editor, not even as English - gentleman, but simply as vertebrate animal—what you would do if a - stranger were all of a sudden to call your intimate friends “mug-wumps,” - not obscurely hinting that you yourself laboured under whatever imputation - that term may convey? I don’t know what the effect might have been in my - own case, but that the story of O’Connell, as a boy, shutting up the - voluble old Dublin applewoman by calling her a “parallelopiped,” rushed - into my head, and set me off laughing. I haven’t been able to learn more - of the etymology of the word than that it is said over here to have been - first used in a sermon (?) by Mr. Ward Beecher, and now denotes “bolters” - or “scratchers,” as they were called last autumn, or in other words, the - Independents, who broke away from the party machine of Republicanism and - carried Cleveland. More power to the “mug-wump’s” elbow, say I; and I only - wish we may catch the “mugwumps,” “mug-wumpism,” or whatever the name for - the disease may be, in England before long. One of the groups on the deck - of the liner, amongst whom I first heard the phrase, was a good specimen - of the machine-politician, a democrat of the Tammany Hall type. “You bet” - I stuck to him till I got at his candid account of the campaign of last - autumn, most interesting to me, but I fear not so to the general English - reader, so I will only give you his concluding sentence:—“Well,” - with a long suck at the big cigar he was half-eating, half-smoking, “I - tell you it was about the thinnest ice you ever saw before we were over,—but, - <i>I got to land!</i>” From what I heard on board and since, I believe the - President is doing splendidly; witness his peremptory order for the great - ranche-men to clear out of the Reserves which they had leased from the - Indians, and fenced to the extent of some millions of acres; the - righteousness of which presidential action is proved (were proof needed) - by the threatened resistance of General B. Butler, one of the largest - lessees. I can see too clearly looming up a determined opposition to the - President’s Civil Service reform from politicians of both parties, mainly - on the ground that he is “establishing a class” in these U.S.—a - policy which “the Fathers” abhorred and guarded against, and which their - only legitimate heirs, the machine politicians, will fight to the death. - You may gauge the worth of this opposition by contrasting their two - principal arguments—(1) Nine-tenths of the work of the Departments - (Post Office, Customs, etc.) can be learnt just as well in three months as - in ten years; and (2) the other tenth, requiring skilled and experienced - officers, has never been interfered with by either side. But, if argument - two is sound, <i>cadit quostio</i>, as there is <i>ex hypothesi</i> - already a permanent class of civil servants, I conclude that were I an - American I would accept “mug-wump” as a title of honour instead of - resenting it, and help to get up a “Mug-wump” club in every great city. - </p> - <p> - We had a splendid crossing, deck crowded all the way, and the company - gloriously cosmopolitan and communicative during the short intervals - between the orthodox four full meals a day. There is surely no place in - the world where that universal instinct, the desire to get behind the - scenes of one’s neighbours’ lives, is so easily and abundantly gratified. - Here is one of my rather odd discoveries. On reaching the deck, after my - bath on the first morning, for the tramp before breakfast, I was joined by - a fine specimen of an old Yorkshireman. It seems we had met years ago, at - some political or social gathering, and as he looked in superb health and - fit to fight for his life, I congratulated. Yes, he said, it was all owing - to his having discovered how to pass his holiday. He used to go to some - northern seaside place, one as bad as the other, for “whenever the wind - blew on shore you might as well be living in a sewer.” So he saved enough - one year to buy a return-ticket on a Cunard liner, calculating that - whatever way the wind blew he must be getting sea-air all the time. He has - done it every year since, having found that besides sea-air he gets better - food and company than he could ever command at home. My next “find” was a - pleasant soldierly-looking man who called to me from the upper deck to - come up and see a sword-fish chasing a whale. Alas! I arrived too late. - The uncivil brutes had both disappeared by the time I got up; but I was - much consoled by the talk which ensued with my new acquaintance. He was a - Lieutenant of Marines in the Admiral’s flag-ship off Palermo in King - Bomba’s last days, and was sent ashore to arrest and bring on board all - sailors found with the Garibaldini. He seems to have found it necessary to - be present himself at the battle of Metazzo (I think that was the name) - and at the storming of the town afterwards, in which the Garibaldini - suffered severely. The dead were all laid out before the gate after the - town was taken, and he counted no less than seventy bluejackets amongst - them! They used to drop over the sides of the ships and swim ashore, or - smuggle themselves into the bum-boats which came off to the fleet with - provisions. No wonder that we have been popular in Italy ever since. - </p> - <p> - Then, attracted by a crowd on the fore part of the deck, roped off to - divide steerage from saloon passengers, I became one of a motley group - assisting at a sort of moral “free-and-easy,” got up for the 300 steerage - folk by two ecclesiastics, whom I took at first for Romish priests from - their costume. I found I was mistaken, and that they were the Principal - and a Brother of “the Fraternity of the Iron Cross,” an order of the - American Episcopal Church, which, it seems, has taken root in several of - the large cities. The Brethren are vowed to “poverty, purity, and - temperance” (or obedience, I am not sure which); and these two were - crossing in the steerage to comfort and help the poor folk there—no - pleasant task, even in so airy a ship and such fine weather. One can - imagine what power this kind of fellowship must give the Iron Cross - Brethren with their rather sad fellow-passengers, to whom they could say—one - of them, indeed, did say it—“We are just as poor as the poorest of - you, for we own no property of any kind, and never can own any till our - deaths.” This Brother (a strapping young fellow of twenty-five, who I - found had been an athlete at Oxford) waxed eloquent to them on his - experiences in Philadelphia, especially on the working-men Brethren there. - One of these, a big, rough chap, with a badly broken nose, he had rather - looked askance at, first, till he found that the broken nose had been - earned in a rough-and-tumble fight with a fellow who was ill-using a - woman. Now they were the closest friends, and he looked on the broken nose - as more honourable than the Victoria Cross, and hoped none of the men - there would fail to go in for that decoration if they ever got the same - chance. - </p> - <p> - In melancholy contrast to the Iron Cross Brethren were two other diligent - workers in quite another kind of business. They haunted the smoking-room - from breakfast till “lights out,” officious to help to arrange the daily - sweepstakes on the ship’s run; gloating over, and piling caressingly as - they rattled down on the table, the dollars and half-crowns; always on the - watch and ready to take a hand at cards, just to accommodate gents with - whom time hung heavily. Bagmen, they were said to be; but I doubt if they - travel for any industry except plucking pigeons on their own account—unmistakable - Jews of a low type, who never looked any man in the face:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In their eyes that stealthy gleam, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Was not learned of sky or stream, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But it has the hard, cold glint - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Of new dollars from the mint. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Their industry was pursued cautiously, as the fine old captain is known to - hold strong views about gambling, and there was less on this ship than any - other I have crossed on. No baccarat-table going all day, with excited - youngsters punting their silver (gold, too, now and then) over the - shoulders of the players,—only a quiet hand at euchre or poker at a - corner table, in the afternoon and after dinner; but even with such - straitened opportunities, youngsters may be plucked to a fairly - satisfactory figure. From £10 to £20 was often at stake on one deal at - poker, and, I was told, not seldom much higher sums. I saw myself one mere - boy inveigled into blind-hookey for a minute or two while the poker party - was gathering. He won the first cut; and two minutes later I saw “Iscariot - Ingots, Esq., that highly respectable man,” looking abstractedly across - the room, and dreamily gathering up a large handful of silver which the - boy rattled down as he flung off to take his seat at the poker-table; and - so on, and so on. - </p> - <p> - It occurs to one to ask, not without some indignation, why this sort of - thing is allowed on these Atlantic steamers. My own observation confirms - the general belief that professionals cross on nearly every boat; and, on - every boat, there are youngsters fresh from school or college, out of - leading-strings for the first time, and with considerable sums in their - pockets. It is a bad scandal, and might be stopped with the greatest ease. - Prohibit all cards, except whist for small points in the smoking-room; and - let it be the purser’s or some other officer’s duty to see the rule - enforced. As things stand, I do not know of a more dangerous place for - youngsters—American or English—than an Atlantic steamer. - </p> - <p> - One never gets past Sandy Hook, I think, without some new sensation. This - time, for me, it was the harbour buoys, each of which carried a brilliant - electric lamp. They are lighted from the shore! - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_NOTE" id="link2H_NOTE"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Notes from the West, Cincinnati, 24th September 1886. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> never come to - this country without stumbling over some startling differences between our - kin here and ourselves, which it puzzles me to account for. Take this - last. Some days ago, I met a young Englishman from a Western ranche. He - had run down some six hundred miles, from Kansas City, into which he had - brought a “bunch” of steers from the ranche. As he would not be wanted - again for a fortnight, he had taken the opportunity of looking in on his - friends down South. In our talk the question of railway fares turned up. - “Oh, yes,” he said, “the fare is $25; but I only paid $16.” - </p> - <p> - “How is that?” - </p> - <p> - “Why, I just went to the ‘ticket-scalpers’,’ right opposite the railway - dépôt—here is their card (handing it to me); and, you see, my ticket - is to Chatanooga; so I might go on for another hundred and fifty miles if - I wanted to.” There was the business card, “Moss Brothers, ticket-brokers, - opposite central dépôt, Kansas City, members of the Ticket Brokers’ - Union.” It went on to say that every attention is paid to travellers, - inquiries made, and information given, by these enterprising Hebrews; and - on the back, a list of the towns to which they could issue tickets, - including nearly every important centre in the Northern and Western - States. Since then I have made inquiries at several towns, and find that - the “scalper” is an institution in every one of them; and, apart from the - saving of money, is much in favour with the travelling public, on account - of his civility and intelligence. The ordinary railway clerk is a - remarkably short-tempered and ill-informed person, out of whom you can - with difficulty extract the most trifling piece of information, even as to - his own line; while the despised “scalper” across the road (generally a - Jew) will take any amount of trouble to find out how you can “make - connections,” while furnishing you with a ticket, which he guarantees, at - a third less, on the average, than his legitimate but morose rival in “the - dépôt.” But the strangest thing of all is, that even the railway directors - seem to think it all right; or, at any rate, that it is not worth their - while to try to stop this traffic. One friend, a first-rate business man, - actually said that he should have no scruple what, ever in going to the - “scalpers” when off his own system, over which, of course, he is - “dead-headed.” I heard several explanations of the phenomenon, the only - plausible one being that it is impossible to control the enormous issues - of cheap excursion tickets which are made by all the main lines. But - surely, then, the question occurs, “Why impossible!” At any rate, the - average Briton is inclined to think that if such establishments appeared - opposite the Euston Square or Waterloo termini, they would soon hear - something from Mr. Moon and Mr. Ralph Dutton not to their advantage. - </p> - <p> - I gleaned other items of information from my young friend from Kansas - which may be useful to some of your readers, now that there is scarcely a - family in England (so it seems to me, at least) which is not sending out - one or more of its younger members to try their fortunes in the Far West. - This, for instance, seems worth bearing in mind: When a young fellow comes - out from home, he shouldn’t go and hire himself out at once to a farmer. - If he does, he’ll find they’ll make the winter jobs for an Englishman - pretty tough. He’ll get all the hardest work laid out for him, and mighty - poor pay at the end. Let him go and board with a farmer. Any one will be - glad to take him for a few dollars. Then he can learn all he wants, and - they’ll be glad of his help, because they’ll see it’s a picnic. If you - like it, you can buy and settle down. If not, you can just pull out, and - go on somewhere else. - </p> - <p> - The administration of justice on the plains is still in a primitive - condition. The difficulty of getting a jury of farmers together makes a - gaol delivery a troublesome matter. Another youngster from Dakota - illustrated this from his section. There was a turbulent member of the - community who, after committing other minor offences, at last got lodged - in the shanty which does office for a gaol, on the serious charge of a - murderous attack on a girl who refused any longer to receive his - attentions, and on her father when he came to the rescue. He had lain in - gaol for some weeks, waiting for a judge and jury, when 4th July came - round. The Sheriff-Constable, with all the rest of the neighbours, was - bound for the nearest railway-station, some ten miles off, where the - anniversary of “the glorious Fourth” was to be commemorated, with trotting - marches and other diversions. He had one other prisoner in charge, and so, - after weighing the matter well, and taking the length of their - incarceration into account, came to the ingenious conclusion to let them - out for the day, each going bail for the return of the other on the - following day. On the morrow, however, it was found that the chief culprit - had not turned up, and the fathers of the little community gathered in - indignant council to consider what was to be done. After some debate the - Sheriff-Constable gave it as his opinion that, on the whole, Dogberry’s - advice was sound, and they should let him go, and thank God they were rid - of a knave, “the country having spent too much already over the darned - cuss.” To this the <i>patres conscripti</i> agreed, and went home to their - farms. Even stranger is another well-authenticated story from one of the - most active and important of the new cities in the North-West. Amongst the - first settlers there was one who had dabbled in real estate, and grown - with the growth of the city, until he had become “one of our principal - citizens.” No one seemed to know whether he was a lawyer by profession, - and he never conducted a case in Court. But one thing was quite clear, - that he was intimate with all the judges, had the <i>entrée</i> to their - private rooms, and, especially in the case of the Judges of the Supreme - Court, scarcely ever failed to avail himself of this privilege when the - Courts were sitting. He had a capital cook and good horses, which were - always freely at the service of the representatives of justice. Gradually - it began to be quietly understood, no one quite knew how, amongst suitors, - that it was possible, and very desirable, to interest the gentleman in - question in their cases. He was ready, it would seem, to accept a - retaining-fee. His charge was fixed at a very moderate percentage on the - value of the property in dispute, which nobody need pay unless they - thought it worth while. Moreover, the system was one of “No cure, no pay.” - He gave every one an acknowledgment in writing of the amount paid in their - respective cases, with an undertaking to return the full sum in the event - of their proving unsuccessful. It therefore naturally appeared to the - average Western suitor about as profitable an investment as he could make. - Strange to say, this queer practice seems to have gone on for years, and - no shadow of suspicion ever fell on this “principal citizen,” whatever - might have been the case as to his friends the judges. The strong - individuality and secretiveness which marks the Western character may - probably account for the fact that during his life no one would seem to - have taken any public notice of this peculiar industry. If a suitor was - successful, he was content; if not, he got back his money, and it was - nobody’s affair but his own. Well, the good man died, and was buried, and - his executors, in administering his estate, were astonished to find - bundles of receipts from suitors of all classes and degrees, acknowledging - the repayment to them of sums varying in amount from $5 and upwards “in - the case of Brown v. Jones,” “in the matter of United States v. Robinson,” - “<i>ex parte</i> White,” etc. This led to further inquiry, and the facts - came ~ gradually to light. The sagacious testator had, in fact, taken his - percentage <i>from both sides</i> in almost every case of any importance - which had been heard in the Courts for years. He had never mentioned suit - or suitor to any of the judges, his visits to them being simply for the - purpose of asking them to dinner, offering them a drive, or a bed if they - were on circuit away from home, or interchanging gossip as to stocks, - railways, or public affairs. And so for years five honest men had been - presiding in the different Courts, entirely innocent of the fact that - almost every suitor was looking upon each of them as a person who had - received valuable consideration for deciding in his favour. I own that my - experience, though, of course, narrow, is decidedly favourable as to the - ability and uprightness of the judges in out-of-the-way districts; so that - nothing but what I could not but regard as quite unimpeachable evidence - would have satisfied me that a whole-community of litigants should have - gone on paying black-mail in this egregiously stupid manner. - </p> - <p> - I was considerably astonished, and a little troubled, to find so many of - my friends among Northern Republicans—men who had gone through and - borne the burden of the War of Secession—not, indeed, sympathising - with the Irish, whom they dislike and distrust more than we do, but - saying: “Oh, you had better let them have their own way. Look at our - experience of twenty years after the war. Until we let the Southern States - have their own way, and withdrew the troops, and threw over the - carpetbaggers, we had no peace; and now they are just as quiet as New - England.” To which, of course, I made the obvious reply: “Let the seceding - States have their own way, did you? Why, I had always understood that they - went out because you elected a free-soil President, pledged to oppose any - further extension of their peculiar institution, and that at the end of - the war that institution had not only been confined within its old limits, - but had absolutely disappeared. The parallel would have held if you had - said to Mr. Jefferson Davis and his backers in the spring of 1861, ‘Do - what you please as to your negroes; take them where you will; it is a - purely domestic matter for you to settle in your own way.’ Instead of - this, you said, ‘You shall not take your slaves where you please, and you - shall not go out of the Union.’ In the same way, we have to say now to the - Irish, ‘You shall not do what you please with the owners of property in - Ireland, and you shall not go out of the Union.’” - </p> - <p> - You will be glad to hear that, wherever I went, there seemed to be the - expectation of a revival of trade in the near future. I can see no ground - myself for the expectation, so long as all industry remains in its present - competitive phase, and the power of production goes on increasing instead - of diminishing. Why should men not desire as eagerly to take each other’s - trade this next year as they did last year? But the knowing people think - otherwise, and I suppose that is good for something. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Westward Ho! 2nd April 1887. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t must be nearly - thirty years since I first wrote to you over this signature, but never - before except in long vacations, and from outlandish parts. Why not keep - to a good rule? you may ask, at this crowded time of year. Well, the fact - is I really want to say something as to this “Westward Ho!” gadfly, which - seems to have bitten young England with a vengeance in these last months. - I am startled, not to say alarmed, at the number of letters I get from the - parents and guardians—generally professional men—of youngsters - eagerly bent on cattle-ranches, horse-ranches, orange-groves in Florida, - vineyards, peach and strawberry-raising, and I know not what other golden - dreams of wealth quickly acquired in the open air, generally with plenty - of wild sport thrown in. I suppose they write from some fancy that I know - a good deal about such matters. That is not so; but I do know a very - little about them, and may possibly do some good by publishing that little - just now in your columns. - </p> - <p> - First, then, as to cattle and horse-raising on ranches. This is - practically a closed business on any but a small scale, and as part of - farm work. All the best ranche-grounds are in the hands of large and rich - companies, or millionaires, with whom no newcomer can compete. It will, no - doubt, be a valuable experience for any young man to work for a year or - two on a big ranch as a cowboy; but he must be thoroughly able to trust - his temper, and to rough it in many ways, or he should not try it. At the - end, if prudent, he will only have been able to save a few hundred - dollars. But this is not the kind of thing, so far as I see, that our - youngsters at all expect or want. Orange-groves are excellent and - profitable things, no doubt, and there are parts in Florida and elsewhere - where there is still plenty of land fit for this purpose, though the - choice spots are probably occupied. But an orange-grove will not give any - return till the sixth year, cautious people say the seventh. - </p> - <p> - Vineyards may, with good luck, be giving some return in the third or - fourth year; but the amount of hard work which must be put into the soil - in breaking up, clearing out stumps, and ploughing, even if there is no - timber to fell, is very serious; and the same may be said of - peach-orchards and early, fruit and vegetable-rearing. Moreover, the - choice places for such industry, such as Lookout Mountain, are for the - most part occupied. In a word, though it is quite possible to do well in - other industries, and in ordinary farming, nothing beyond a decent living - can be earned, without at any rate as free an expenditure of brain and - muscle as high farming requires at home. On the other hand, sport, except - for rich ranche-men who can command waggons, horses, and men, and travel - long distances for it, is not to be had generally, and apt to disappoint - where it can be had. - </p> - <p> - So much for the working side of the problem. The playing side—outside - whisky-shops, which I will assume the young Englishman means to keep clear - of—ought also to be looked fairly in the face before the experiment - is tried. Perhaps the most direct way to bring it home to inquirers will - be to quote from the letter of a young English public-school boy who has - lately finished his first year as a cowboy on the cattle-ranche of one of - the big companies:— - </p> - <p> - <i>Friday night</i> we had quite a time. We went to an exhibition of the - home talent of——, and really of all shows this was the worst I - ever saw. One man, the town barber, and our greatest “society man,” played - a nigger, and played it so well that one could not help fancying he has at - one time been a “profesh.” The rest were so dull and such sticks that it - made him shine more than ever. After the home talent, there was a “social - hop,” at which Jerry and I shone as being the “bored young men.” You can, - of course, see why I was bored; and Jerry, he is from Ohio, and of course——— - cannot compete with Ohio. However, as Jerry was somewhat of a great man, - the quadrilles being all called by him—i.e. he stood on the stage - and shouted, “balance all,” “swing your partners,” “lady’s chain,” at the - right time—we had to stay, and more or less to dance. Jerry took - great pains to find me partners worthy of a man who had danced in a - dress-coat. He did not succeed but once, when he introduced me to a very - lively little school-lady, “marm,” I should say; the rest were very wooden - in movement and conversation. The school-marm amused me very much. She had - not long returned from the————- University, where - all the young ladies, though they met the other sex at school, were not - allowed to speak to them at other times. The girls were allowed to give - dances, but she and three or four others thought that a “hen-pie” dance - was too much of a fraud, so they contrived a plan by which they could get - three or four dancing men in without going to the door. They fastened a - pulley on to the beam where the bell hung, and with the aid of a - clothes-basket and a rope they spoiled the “hen-pie” with two or three - young men. This plan worked well several times, till one night three or - four of them were exerting themselves to get a very heavy boy up, when - instead of a boy they perceived the bearded face of the head-master. In - horror they turned loose the rope and fled, leaving him twelve feet from - the ground, hanging on by his fingers to the window-sill, from which, as - no one would respond to his call for help, he finally dropped. The young - lady told it much better than I have. Jerry was very popular as a - “caller.” I noticed he understood his audience well, and whenever they got - a figure they didn’t know, he came in with “grand chain,” which they all - knew and performed very nicely; so you would see a whole set lost in the - intricate feat of “visiting” (say) and all muddled up, when you would hear - the grand voice of Jerry, “grand chain,” and all the dancers would smile - and go to it, and Jerry was quite the boss. We however lost our reputation - as good young men, as towards midnight we were overcome with a great - thirst; so wicked I, a hardened sinner, persuaded the social barber to let - me have half-a-pint of whisky; and J——— and I were - caught in the barber’s shop, eating tinned oysters with our pocket-knives, - and biscuits, and indulging in whisky-and-water. We were caught by three - young men who had “got religion” last fall, and who were, of course, - highly shocked; but I think they would have overcome all their scruples - but for the stern mothers in the background, and they not only envied us - our whisky-and-water, but also our mothers. Half the fight in drinking, I - think, is to have been “raised” to look upon it as an every-day luxury, - and not as a thing to be had as a great treat on the sly. Well, good-bye! - I have written a lot of rubbish, but beyond that am fatter than I have - ever been in America. - </p> - <p> - This will probably give readers a pretty clear notion of the social life - available in the West. It is, as they will see at a glance, utterly unlike - anything they have been used to. If this kind of social life (and there is - something to be said for it) is what they want, in the interludes of - really hard manual labour and rough board and lodging, let them start by - all means, and they may do very well out West. Otherwise they had better - look the thing round twice or thrice before starting. In any case, no - young man ought to take more ready money with him than will just keep him - from starving for about a month. - </p> - <p> - If he cannot make his hands keep him by that time, he has no business, and - will do no good, in the West. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Hermit, Rugby, Tennessee, 19th September 1887. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have always had a - strong curiosity about hermits—remember I paid a shilling as a small - boy, when I could ill afford it, to see one, somewhere up by Hampstead, a - cruel disappointment—used to make shy approaches to lonely turnpike - keepers before they were abolished, with no success; finding them always, - like Johnson’s “hoary sage,” inclined to cut sentiment short with, “Come, - my lad, and drink some beer,” I came to the conclusion long since that the - genuine hermit is as extinct as the dodo in the British Isles. I was - almost excited, therefore, the other morning, to get a note on a dirty - scrap of paper here, asking for the loan of a book on geology, for, on - inquiry, I found it came from “the Hermit.” He had suddenly appeared to - the man who drives the hack, and sent it in by him. No one could tell me - anything more except that the writer was “the Hermit,” and lived, no one - knew how, in a shanty four miles away in the forest. I got the book out of - the library, “loaned” a pony, and in due course found myself outside a - dilapidated snake-fence, surrounding some three acres of half-cleared - forest, and the rudest kind of log-hut; evidently the place I was in - search of, but no hermit. While I was meditating my next move, a dismal - howl, like, I should think, the “lulilooing” of Central Africa, came from - out the neighbouring bush. I shouted myself, and in a few moments “the - Hermit” appeared, and certainly at first glance “filled the bill” - satisfactorily. His head was a tangled mass of long hair and beard, out of - which shone two big, blue eyes; a long, lean figure, slightly bent, and - clothed in a tattered shirt, and trousers which no old Jew clothesman - would have picked off a dunghill. I explained my errand and produced the - book. - </p> - <p> - He thanked me, excused his dress; had other clothes, he said, in the - house, which he would have put on had he expected me; was rather excited, - so I must excuse him, as his “buck” had gone right off, in disgust, he - believed, at the smallness of his flock, as he had only eight ewes. “Buck” - I found to be <i>Anglice</i> “ram,” and that it was in the hope of luring - back the insufficiently married lord of his flock that he had been howling - when I came up. On my doubting whether such a call would not be more - likely to speed the flight of the truant “buck,” he rushed awray in the - other direction and uplifted it again; and in two or three minutes the - eight ewes, with several lambs, were all round him, rubbing against his - legs, while an Angora goat looked on with dignity from some yards off. - From our talk I found that he was a Shrewsbury man, knew three or four - languages, and mathematics up to the differential calculus; found England - “too noisy,” and, moreover, could get no land there; had come out and gone - to the agricultural class at Cornell University; had now bought this bit - of land, on which he could live well, as he was a vegetarian (pointing - round to some corn, turnips, etc., in his enclosure); had indigestion at - first, but now had found out how to make bread which agreed with him. His - trouble was the forest hogs, which were always watching to get at his - crops, and his fence, having weak places, would not keep them out, so he - had to be always on the watch. If he had any one to keep out the hogs, he - could go and find his “buck,” he said, wistfully. The better man within me - here was moved to offer to keep watch and ward against hogs while he - sought his “buck”; but, on the whole, as the sun was already westering, - and I had doubts as to when he might think of relieving guard, my better - man did not prevail, and I changed the subject to the book I had brought. - He glanced at the title-page, was pleased to find that it was of recent - date, as his geology was rusty. Then, as he did not invite me into his - log-hut, I rode away. Next evening, as I was strolling down our street, my - attention was called to the noticeboard outside the chief store, kept by - an excellent, kindly New Englander, Tucker by name, who very liberally - allows any of his neighbours to use it. Here I found the following notice - from “the Hermit,” which had been sent up by the hackman, to be posted. It - opens, you will remark, in the true prophetic style. It ran: “Ho! all ye - passers by! Strayed—like a fool!—a Ram (a male sheep,) butts - like a nipper, and runs after! God will bless the seer if he lets Isaac - Williams, of Sedgemoor Road, know. That is all. Please, Mr. Tucker, post - this. Oh, I forgot,—Buy of Tucker!” I think you will agree that I - have struck a <i>bona fide</i> hermit in my old age. - </p> - <p> - But to return to my loafing idyll. Perhaps, if I had to select out of - several the ideal loafing haunt in these parts, it would be the verandah - of our doctor, another bright New Englander, a graduate of Harvard, and - M.D., who, after fourteen years’ practice at Boston, was driven South by - threatenings of chest troubles, and happily pitched on this tableland - amongst the mountains. Not that he is a loaf-brother, except on rare - occasions; a man diligent in his business, and prompt to answer any - professional call; but as nobody seems ever to be ill, his leisure is - abundant. The greater part of this he spends in the study and practice of - grape-culture, in which he has, in the five years since he took it up, - earned a high reputation. But in these autumn months, all the pruning, - thinning, and tending are over in the forenoon, and in the hours which - follow, which are delightfully hot and enjoyable to all sun-lovers, he is - generally to be found in his verandah, well supplied with rocking-chairs. - In front of the verandah is his principal vineyard, sloping south, and at - the bottom of the slope, right away to the distant mountain-range (with - Pike’s Peak soaring to the clouds, the centre of the military telegraph - system in the war, from which messages were flashed to Look-out Mountain, - over Chattanooga, in the critical days of battle, before Sherman started - on his march to the sea), wave beyond wave, as it were, of many-coloured - forest, each taking fresh tints as clouds flit over, and the triumphant - old sun slopes to the West. There one may find the doctor in his rocker, - his feet higher than his head on one of the verandah supports—and - all who have learnt to appreciate the rocking-chair will agree that “heels - up” is half the battle—his tobacco and a book on vines on a small - table by his side, and over his head, within easy reach, a rope depending - from the verandah roof. At first I took it for the common domestic - bell-pull, but soon discovered its more subtle bearing on the luxury of - loafing. The doctor had been much exercised by the visits of birds of - outrageous appetite to his “Norton’s Virginia,” and other precious vines. - At first he had resorted to his double-barrelled gun and small shot—indeed, - it yet stood in a corner of the balcony, loaded—but had soon - abandoned it. Its use was compatible neither with his love for birds nor - the enjoyment of his rocking-chair. So, by an ingenious arrangement, he - had hung bells at five or six points in the vineyard, connecting each and - all with the depending-rope, so that no sooner did a bird settle with a - view to lunch or dinner, than it was saluted by a peal from a bell close - by, which sent it skirling back to the forest, while the doctor had - neither to lower his heels nor take the pipe from his mouth. - </p> - <p> - Watching the entire discomfiture of the birds adds, I must own, a keener - zest even to the delicious view and air, and to the racy stories of - Western life poured out by one or another of the loaf-brethren. A specimen - or two may amuse your readers. Placard over the piano in a favourite - resort of Texan cowboys: “Don’t shoot the musician; he is doing his best.” - Cowboy entering the cars at midnight, thermometer below zero, after - snorting for a minute, lets down a window, is remonstrated with, and - replies, “Wal, I’d as soon sleep with my head in a dead horse as in this - car with the windows shut!” Another tale I repeat with hesitation, though - it was seriously vouched for by the narrator as going on in his - neighbourhood, and within his own cognisance. An eccentric settler, who - played the fiddle powerfully, and lived next a man who had thrown a bridge - over a creek, in respect of which the knotty question of “right of way” - had arisen between them, read, or discovered somehow, that excessive - vibration was the cause of the fall of bridges, and that a well-known - railway iron bridge had been distinctly felt to vibrate to the notes of a - fiddle, all that was necessary being to find the right chord and play up. - Thereupon he set himself on the peccant bridge, and fiddled till he had - hit on the sympathetic chord to his own satisfaction; since which he has - put in all his spare time at the bridge, fiddling on the right chord and - looking for the signs of a crash and the discomfiture of his neighbour. A - mad world, my masters! And lucky for the world, say I. But for the cracked - fellows going up and down, what a dull place it would be! - </p> - <p> - The whole neighbourhood, or, at any rate, the men of hunting age, have - suddenly been roused into unwonted excitement and activity by the presence - of a specimen of the larger carnivora close to this town. It is either a - large panther or what they call a Mexican lion—at any rate, as big a - beast of this kind as are bred over here, as his footprint, seen of many - persons, clearly proves. He has been heard to roar by numbers, and Giles, - the saw-mill man, who, passing along wholly unarmed, saw him gliding - through the bush close by, puts him at five feet from nose to tail (root, - not tip) at least. Giles adds that, at the sight, his hair stood up and - distinctly lifted his straw hat—so perhaps his evidence must be - discounted considerably. Any way, a party, now collecting dogs to bring - him to bay, start to-morrow at dawn to give an account of him. It is more - than a year since one has ventured down this way. A slaughter-house which - has lately been set up in the woods near by would seem to have drawn him. - Let us hope that no cunning old sportsman will watch there to-night and - bag him single-handed, and I may possibly have to tell you of a memorable - hunt next week. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - American Opinion on the Union, SS. Umbria, 5th October 1887. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat panther-hunt - went off in a “fizzle.” Our contingent of determined sportsmen kept tryst - at daylight, fully armed, but some neighbours who were to bring the proper - dogs failed. The sun rose, broad and bright, and so, after a short advance - in skirmishing order over the ground where the sawmill man had been so - scared—just to save their credit as Nimrods—the chase was - abandoned; wisely, I should think, for I can scarcely imagine a more - hopeless undertaking than the pursuit of a panther in a Tennessee forest - in broad daylight without dogs. Whether Sawyer Giles had grounds for his - scare, and what was the length of that panther, must now remain for all - time in that useful category of insoluble questions—like the - identity of “Junius,” and Queen Mary’s guilt—which innocently employ - so much of the spare time of the human race. - </p> - <p> - I have been back for the last fortnight “in amongst the crowd of men,” and - if the things they have done are but “earnest of the things that they - shall do,” well, our grandchildren will have a high old time of it! At any - rate, our cousins hold this faith vigorously. Take, for instance, the case - of a leading dry-goods man who has been sitting by me in the smoking-room - of this ship, which has been carrying us for the last four days against a - head-wind at the average rate of twenty miles an hour. Recollect, sir, - that this ship is about 400 feet in length, of 8800 tons register, with - engines of 14,000 horse-power, and must at this moment be as heavy as - (say) lour big luggage-trains. I ventured to suggest that, whatever may be - in store for us in the way of flying, science has about said her last word - in the direction of driving steam or any other ships on the Atlantic. I - felt almost inclined to resent the pity tinged with scorn with which he - said, “Why, <i>sir!</i> this is the hundred and twenty-eighth time I have - crossed this ocean. The first time it took me twenty-two days. This vessel - does it in six days and a half, and I shall do it in half that time yet,—yes, - <i>sir!</i>” My friend must be at least sixty! - </p> - <p> - The New York hotels were crammed as I came through with men who had come - from all parts of the States for the yacht-race. I went out on a friend’s - steam-yacht on the Thursday, when the second day’s race should have come - off. There was fog and no wind off Sandy Hook, so after lying-to in a - lopping sea for a couple of hours, we just steamed back, some hundred of - us. But the game had been well worth the candle. Anything so beautiful as - the movements of those two yachts in and out amongst the expectant fleet - of sightseers, I never beheld. There were several old yachtsmen - (Americans) on board, who seemed rather to think the <i>Thistle</i> the - more perfect of the two, and when the second and deciding race had been - sailed, still guessed that if their Commodore, Pain, or Malcolm Forbes had - sailed the <i>Thistle</i>, she would not have been twelve, or any, minutes - behind. - </p> - <p> - As to more serious matters, you may be sure I lost no chance of talking on - our crisis with every intelligent American or Canadian,—and I - happened upon a great number of the latter. Amongst the majority of - Americans I was much struck, and, I own, surprised, to find a sort of lazy - fatalism prevailing, so far as they troubled their heads at all about the - Irish question. Not a man of them believed in the tyranny of the British - Government or the wrongs of the Irish; but they seemed to think it was - somehow destiny. They knew the Irish—were likely to have at least as - bad a time with them as we are having—but, unless you made up your - minds to shoot, there was no putting them down or bringing them to reason. - They had had to shoot—in New York during the war, and at other times—and - might probably have to shoot again \ but then, that was over vital - matters. We should never make up our minds to shoot over letting them have - a Parliament at Dublin, and so they would get it by sheer insolence and - intrigue. Such views would have depressed me had I not found, on the other - hand, that the few men who had mastered the situation, without a single - exception saw that it was a matter, nationally, of life or death, and - hoped our Government would shrink from no measure necessary to restore the - rule of law, and preserve the national life. - </p> - <p> - Amongst the Canadians, on the other hand, I did not happen upon a single - Home-ruler—in fact, was obliged to own to myself that they seemed to - set more store by the unity of the Empire than we do in the as-yet-United - Kingdom. Indeed, if my acquaintances are at all representative of the - views of our Canadian fellow-subjects, I feel very sure that the slight - bond which holds the Dominion to us would part within a few months of the - triumph of the Home-rule agitation. This possible fiasco, however, did not - seem to them much worth thinking about; but what was really exercising - them was the probability of a more intimate union or federation with the - Mother-country. For defensive purposes, I was glad to find that they saw - no difficulty whatever; believed, indeed, that that question was already - solved. But all felt that the really difficult problem was a commercial - union, which, nevertheless, must be managed somehow, if the Empire is to - hold together. On this there were wide differences of opinion, but, on the - whole, a decided inclination to a plan which I will endeavour to put in a - few words. It is, that every portion of the Empire shall be free, as at - present, to impose whatever tariff of customs it might think best for - raising its own revenue; but an agreed discount (say, ten per cent) should - be allowed on all goods the manufacture or product of the Mother-country, - or any of its possessions. Inasmuch, it was argued, as such à plan would - allow the free admission of all food and raw material, it ought not to - hurt the Free-trade susceptibilities of England, while leaving the - self-governing Colonies and India free to raise their own revenue as might - suit their own views or circumstances. On the other hand, it would give an - equal and moderate advantage to all subjects of the Empire. A similar - advantage might also, under this plan, be given to importations made in - ships belonging to any portion of the Empire. - </p> - <p> - You, sir, may very probably have heard of and considered this plan, as I - have been told that it, or one almost identical, has been submitted both - to the London Chamber of Commerce, and to the Colonial Office, by Sir - Alexander Galt. I do not remember, however, to have ever seen it discussed - in your columns, as I think it might be with advantage. One’s brain - possibly is not so fit for the examination of political problems on even - such a magnificent ship as the <i>Umbria</i> as on shore; but “after the - best consideration I can give it,” it does seem to me to be a solution - which might go far to satisfy the scruples of all but fanatics of the “buy - in the cheapest and sell in the dearest market” gospel. - </p> - <p> - We have run 435 miles in the teeth of the wind, in the last twenty-four - hours. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - EUROPE—1876 to 1895 - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A Winter Morning’s Ride - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he proverb that - “The early bird gets most worms” has no truer application than in - travelling, considered as a fine art. Of course to him who uses locomotion - as a mere method of getting from one place to another, it matters nothing - whether he starts at 3 A.M. or at noon. But to the man who likes to get - the most he can out of his life, and looks upon a journey as an - opportunity for getting some new insight into the ways and habits and - notions of his fellowmen, there is no comparison between their value. The - noonday travelling mood, like noonday light, is commonplace and uniform; - while the early morning mood, like the light when it first comes, is full - of colour and surprise. Such, at any rate, has been my experience, and I - never made an out-of-the-way early start without coming upon one or more - companions who gave me a new glimpse into some corner of life, and whose - experience I should have been the poorer for having missed. My last - experience in this matter is very recent. In the midst of the wild days of - last December I received an unexpected summons on business to the north. - My appointment was for eleven o’clock on the morrow, 200 miles from - London. It was too late to make arrangements for leaving home at once, so - I resolved to start by the first morning train, which leaves Euston Square - at 5.15 A.M. Accordingly, soon after four next morning I closed the house - door gently behind me, and set out on my walk, not without a sense of the - self-approval and satisfaction which is apt to creep over early risers, - and others who pride themselves on keeping ahead of their neighbours. - </p> - <p> - It was a fine wild morning, with half a gale of wind blowing from the - north-west, and driving the low rain-clouds at headlong speed across the - deep clear sky and bright stars. The great town felt as fresh and sweet as - a country hillside. Not a soul in the streets but an occasional solitary - policeman, and here and there a scavenger or two, plying their much-needed - trade, for the wet mud lay inches deep. I was early at the station, where - a sleepy clerk was just preparing to open the booking-offices, and a - couple of porters were watering and sweeping the floor of the big hall. - Soon my fellow-passengers began to arrive, labouring men for the most - part, with here and there a clerk, or commercial traveller, muffled to the - eyes. - </p> - <p> - Amongst them, as they gathered round the fire, or took short restless - walks up and down the platform, was one who puzzled me not a little. He - had arrived on foot just before me, indeed I had followed him for the last - quarter of a mile through Euston Square, and had already begun to - speculate as to who he could be, and on what errand. But now that I could - get a deliberate look at him under the lights in the hall, my curiosity - was at once raised and baffled. He was a strongly built, well-set young - fellow of five feet ten or eleven, with clear gray eyes, deep set under - very straight brows. His hair was dark, and would have curled but that it - was cropped too short. He was clean shaved, so that one saw all the lower - lines of his face, which a thick nose, slightly turned up, just hindered - from being handsome. He wore a high sealskin cap, a striped flannel shirt - with turn down collars, and a slipknot tie with a rather handsome pin. His - clothes were good enough, but had a somewhat dissipated look, owing - perhaps to the fact that only one button of his waistcoat was fastened, - and that his boots, good broad double-soled ones, were covered with dry - mud. His whole luggage consisted of the travelling-bag he carried in his - hand, one of those elaborate affairs which generally involve a portmanteau - or two to follow, but swelled out of all gentility and stuffed to bursting - point. - </p> - <p> - An Englishman? I asked myself. Well, yes,—at any rate more like an - Englishman than anything else. A gentleman? Well, yes again, on the whole; - though not of our conventional type—at any rate a man of some - education, and apparently a little less like the common run of us than - most one meets. - </p> - <p> - Here my speculations were cut short by the opening of the ticket-window by - the sleepy clerk, and the object of them marched up and took a third-class - ticket for Liverpool. I followed his example. My natural aversion to - eating money raw in railway travelling inclining me to such economy, apart - from the interest which my problem was exciting in my mind. I am bound to - add that nothing could be more comfortable than the carriages provided on - the occasion for the third-class passengers of the N.W.K. I followed the - sealskin cap and got into the same carriage with its owner. As good luck - would have it, no one followed us. He put his bag down in a corner, and - stretched himself along his side of the carriage with his head on it. I - had time to look him well over again, and to set him down in my own mind - as a young English engineer, who had been working on some continental - railway so long as to have lost his English identity somewhat, when he - started up, rubbed his eyes, took a good straight look at me, and asked if - any one coming from abroad could cut us off in the steamer that met this - train. I found at once that I was mistaken as to nationality. - </p> - <p> - I answered that no one could cut us off, as there was no straighter or - quicker way of getting to Liverpool than this; but that he was mistaken in - thinking that any steamer met the train. - </p> - <p> - Well, he didn’t know about meeting it, but anyway there was a steamer - which went right away from Liverpool about noon, for he had got his - passage by her, which he had bought at the tobacco-store near the station. - </p> - <p> - He handed his ticket for the boat to me, as if wishing my opinion upon it, - which I gave to the effect that it seemed all right, adding that I did not - know that tickets could be bought about the streets as they could be in - America. - </p> - <p> - Well, he had thought it would save him time, perhaps save the packet, as - she might have sailed while he was after his ticket in Liverpool, which - town he didn’t know his way about. But now, couldn’t any one from the - Continent cut her off? He had heard there was a route by Chester and - Holyhead, which would bring any one who took it aboard of her at - Queenstown. - </p> - <p> - I answered that this was probably so, beginning to doubt in my mind - whether my companion might not, for all his straightforward looks and - ways, have come by the bag feloniously. Could it be another great jewel - robbery? - </p> - <p> - I don’t know whether he noticed any doubtful look in my eyes, but he added - at once that he was on the straight run from Heidelberg. He had come from - there to London in twenty-six hours. - </p> - <p> - I made some remark as to the beauty of Heidelberg, and asked if he knew it - well. - </p> - <p> - Why, yes, he said he ought to, for he had been a student at the University - there for the last nine months. - </p> - <p> - Why then was he on the straight run home? I ventured to ask. Term wasn’t - over? - </p> - <p> - No; term wasn’t over; but he had been arrested, and didn’t want to go to - prison at Strasburg, where one American student was in for about two years - already. - </p> - <p> - But how did he manage to get off? I asked, now thoroughly interested in - his story. - </p> - <p> - Well, he had just run his bail. When he was arrested he had sent for the - doctor at whose house he lodged to bail him out. That was what troubled - him most. He wouldn’t have the Herr Doctor slipped up anyway. He was going - to send the money directly he got home, and there were things enough left - of his to cover the money. - </p> - <p> - What was he arrested for? - </p> - <p> - For calling out a German student. - </p> - <p> - But I thought the German students were always fighting duels. - </p> - <p> - So they were, but only with swords, which they were always practising. - They were so padded when they fought that they could not be hurt except - just in the face, and the sword arm was so bandaged that there was no play - at all except from the wrist. You would see the German students even when - out walking, miles away from the town, keeping playing away with their - walking-sticks all the time, so as to train their wrists. - </p> - <p> - What was his quarrel about? - </p> - <p> - Well, it was just this. The American students, of whom there were a large - number there, kept pretty much to themselves, and no love was lost between - them and the Germans. They had an American Club to which they all - belonged, just to keep them together and see any fellow through who was in - a scrape. He and some of the American students were sitting in the beer - garden, close to a table of Germans. Forgetting the neighbourhood, he had - tilted his chair and leant back in it, and so come against a German head. - The owner jumped up, and a sharp altercation followed, ending in the - German’s calling him out with swords. This he refused, but sent a - challenge to fight with pistols by the President of the Club, a real fine - man, who had shot his two men down South before he went to Heidelberg. The - answer to this was his arrest, and arrest was a very serious thing now. - For some little time since, a German and an American fought, with swords - first and then with pistols. The American had his face cut open from the - eye right down across the mouth, but when it came to pistols he shot the - German, who died in an hour. So he was in jail, and challenging with - pistols had been made an offence punishable by imprisonment, and that was - no joke in a German military prison. - </p> - <p> - Did he expect the University authorities would send after him then? - </p> - <p> - No; but his folk were all in Germany for the winter. He had a younger - brother at Heidelberg who had taken his bag down to the station for him, - and would have let his father know, as he had told him to do. If he had - telegraphed the old gentleman might come straight off and stop him yet, - but he rather guessed he would he so mad he wouldn’t come. No; he didn’t - expect to see his folk again for three or four years. - </p> - <p> - But why? After all, sending a challenge of which nothing came was not so - very heinous an offence. - </p> - <p> - Yes, but it was the second time. He had run from an American university to - escape expulsion for having set fire to an outhouse. Then he went straight - to New York, which he wanted to see, and stopped till his money was all - gone. His father was mad enough about that. - </p> - <p> - I said plainly that I didn’t wonder, and was going to add something by way - of improving the occasion, but for a look of such deep sorrow which passed - over the boy’s face that I thought his conscience might well do the work - better than I could. - </p> - <p> - He opened his bag and took out a photograph, and then his six-shooter—a - self-cocking German one, he said, which was quicker and carried a heavier - ball than any he had seen in America; and then his pipes and cigar tubes; - and then he rolled a cigarette and lighted it; and, as the dawn was now - come, began to ask questions about the country. But all in vain; back the - scene he was running from came, do what he would. His youngest brother, a - little fellow of ten, was down with fever. He had spoilt Christmas for the - whole family. It would cut them up awfully. But to a suggestion that he - should go straight back he could not listen. No, he was going straight - through to California, the best place for him. He had never done any good - yet, but he was going to do it now. He had got a letter or two to - Californians from some of his fellow-students, which would give him some - opening. He wouldn’t see his people for four or five years, till he got - something to show them. He would have to pitch right in, or else starve. - He would go right into the first thing that came along out there, and make - something. - </p> - <p> - As we got further down the line the morning cleared, and we had many - fellow-passengers; but my young friend, as I might almost call him by this - time, stuck to me, and seemed to get some relief by talking of his past - doings and future prospect. I found that he had been at Würzburg for a - short time before going to Heidelberg, so had had a student’s experience - of two of the most celebrated German Universities. My own ideas of those - seats of learning, being for the most part derived from the writings of - Mr. Matthew Arnold, received, I am bound to own, rather severe shocks from - the evidently truthful experience of one medical student. - </p> - <p> - He had simply paid his necessary florins (about £1 worth) for his - matriculation fee, and double that sum for two sets of lectures for which - he entered. He had passed no matriculation examination, or indeed any - other; had attended lectures or not, just he pleased—about one in - three he put as his average—but there was no roll-call or register, - and no one that he knew of seemed to care the least whether he was there - or not. However, he seemed to think that but for his unlucky little - difficulty he could easily at this rate have passed the examination for - the degree of doctor of medicines. The doctor’s degree was a mighty fine - thing, and much sought after, but didn’t amount to much professionally, at - least not in Germany, where the doctor has a State examination to pass - after he has got his degree. But in America, or anywhere else, he believed - they could just practise on a German M.D. degree, and he knew of one Herr - Doctor out West who was about as fit to take hold of any sick fellow as he - was himself. Oh, Matthew, Matthew, my mentor! When I got home I had to - take down thy volume on Universities in Germany, and restore my failing - faith by a glance at the Appendix, giving a list of the courses of - lectures by Professors, Privabdocenten, and readers of the University of - Berlin during one winter, in which the Medical Faculty’s subjects occupy - seven pages; and to remind myself, that the characteristics of the German - Universities are “<i>Lehrfreiheit und Lernfreiheit</i>,” “Liberty for the - teacher, and liberty for the learner”; also that “the French University - has no liberty, and the English Universities have no sciences; the German - Universities have both.” Too much liberty of one kind this student at any - rate bore witness to, and in one of his serious moments was eloquent on - the danger and mischief of the system, so far as his outlook had gone. - </p> - <p> - By the time our roads diverged, the young runaway had quite won me over to - forget his escapades, by his frank disclosures of all that was passing in - his mind of regret and tenderness, hopefulness and audacity; and I - sorrowed for a few moments on the platform as the sealskin cap disappeared - at the window of the Liverpool carriage, from which he waved a cheery - adieu. - </p> - <p> - As I walked towards the carriage to go on my own way, I found myself - regretting that I should see his ruddy face no more, and wishing him all - success “in that new world which is the old,” for which he was bound, with - no possessions but his hand-bag and self-reliance to make his way with. I - might have sat alone for thrice as long with an English youngster, in like - case, without knowing a word of his history; but then, such history could - never have happened to an Englishman, for he never would have run his - bail, and would have gone to prison and served his time as a matter of - course. - </p> - <p> - How much each nation has to learn of the other! But I trust that by this - time my young friend has seen to it that the good-natured Herr Doctor who - went bail for him hasn’t “slipped up anyway.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Southport, 22nd March. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> wonder if you - will care to take a seaside letter, at this busiest time of the year? Folk - have no business to be “on the loaf” before Easter, I readily admit. - Still, there is much force and good-sense, I have always held, in that - tough, old regicide Major-General Ludlow’s action, when he found England - under Cromwell too narrow to hold him. He migrated to Switzerland, and - characteristically changed his family motto to “<i>Ubi libertas, ibi - patria</i>” (“Where I can have my own way, there is my country”) or (if I - may be allowed a free rendering to fit the occasion), “Whenever man can - loaf, then is long vacation.” - </p> - <p> - But my motive for writing is really of another kind. In these later years, - a large and growing minority of my personal friends and acquaintances seem - to be afflicted with that demon called Neuralgia,—some kind of - painful affection connected with the nerves of the head and face, which - makes the burden of life indefinitely heavier to carry than it has any - right to be. To all such I feel bound to say, Give this place a trial in - your first leisure. In one case, at any rate, and that an apparently - chronic one, in which every east wind, and almost every sudden change of - temperature, brought with it acute suffering, I have seen with my own eyes - a complete cure effected by a few days in this air. The experiment was - tried three months since, and from that time the demon seems to have been - exorcised, and has been quite unable to return, though we have had a full - average in these parts of sudden changes of temperature,—east winds, - cold rains, and the other amenities of early spring in England. - </p> - <p> - Can I account for this? Well, so far as I can judge, the peculiar - conformation of the shore must have much to say to it. From the open - window where I am sitting, there lies between me and the sea (it being low - water) an almost level stretch of sand of more than half a mile in depth. - Beyond that there is a narrow strip of sea, on which a fleet of tiny - fishermen’s craft, with their ruddy-brown sails, are plying their trade; - and again, beyond that, between channel and open sea, is another long - sand-bank. Now I am told, and see no reason to doubt, that the evaporation - from this great expanse of wet sand is charged with double the amount of - ozone which would rise from the like area of salt-water. But whatever the - cause, the fact stands as I have stated above. In another hour or two the - sea will be close up to these windows, lapping against the sea-wall, and - spoiling the view for the time, but, happily, only for a short time. For - while it is up, there is nothing but very shallow, muddy water to be seen, - on which the faithful old sun, try as he will, can paint no pictures. - Whereas at low tide, the colours of these sandy wastes—the steely - gleam of the wet parts, the bright yellow of the dry, and the warm and - rich tints of brown of the intermediate, and the quaint, black line of the - pier, running out across them all till it reaches the pale blue of the - channel, where the fishing-boats all lie at anchor round the pier-head at - sunset—are one perpetual feast, even to the untrained eye. What the - delight must be to a painter, when the level sun turns the blacks into - deep purples, and glorifies all the yellows and browns, and gives the - steely gleams a baleful and cruel glint, I can only guess, unless, indeed, - it should make him hang himself, in despair of reproducing them on mortal - canvas. That long, black pier is our favourite place of resort. Probably - the ozone is stronger there than elsewhere. It is three-quarters of a mile - long, and at the end, at noon, a most attractive, daily performance comes - off gratis. At that hour the gulls are fed by an official of the pier - company, and afterwards, at intervals, by children, who bring scraps of - viands in their pockets for this purpose. - </p> - <p> - I am not defending the practice, which tends, no doubt, to pauperise a - number of these delightful birds. I have watched them carefully, and never - seen one of them go off to earn his honest, daily fish. There they sit - lightly on the water, with heads turned to the pier-head, and float past - with the tide, rising for a short flight back again, as it carries them - too far past to see when the doles are beginning to be served. When these - begin, they are all in the air, wheeling and crossing each other in - perfect flight to get the proper swooping-point. It seems to be a rule of - the game that they pick up the fragments in their swoop, for when this is - neatly done by any one, the rest leave him alone, though he may carry off - a larger prize than he is able to swallow on the wing. But in a high wind - there is trouble. Not one in a dozen of them can then be sure of his prey - in his swoop, and after one or two attempts the greedy ones alight and - attack the viands on the water. But this seems to be against the rules of - the game, and instantly others alight by the side of the transgressor, and - strive eagerly for whatever of the desired morsel is still outside his - yellow beak. I noted with pleasure that there are generally a few who will - take no part in these squabbles, but if they failed in their swoop, soared - up again with dignity, to wait for another chance. These must, I take it, - be undemoralised gulls, from a distance. Always play your game fair, or - there will be trouble, whether amongst birds or men. - </p> - <p> - At other seaside places the shallowness of the sand limits the pure - delight of children in their castle-building. Here it seems boundless. I - saw one sturdy urchin yesterday throwing out stoneless sand from a hole - some four feet deep. The castles and engineering works are therefore on a - splendid scale, several of them from five to ten yards across, inside - which bits of old spars (portions, I fear, of wrecks) are utilised for - causeways and bridges. The infant builders are ambitious, for I have seen - frequent attempts, not wholly unsuccessful, at putting sand steeples on - the churches. These higher efforts were all made by girls, who, indeed, I - regret to say, seemed to do not only the decorative, but the substantial - work. The boys employed themselves mainly in creeping through the holes - which the girls had dug under the spars, to represent bridges, and in - knocking down the boundary walls. Is this a sign of our topsy-turvy times? - In my day, we boys did all the building and engineering, and the girls - used to come and sit on our walls, and destroy our castles. On this - highest part of the sands, the children’s playground, there stand also - certain skeletons of booths, to be covered with canvas, I presume, in the - summer, for the sale of ginger-beer and cakes. These, the largest - especially, some nine feet high, attracted the boys, several of whom - essayed to reach the highest cross-bar. Only one succeeded while I - watched, a born sailor-boy, who was not to be foiled, and succeeded in - getting on to it. There he sat, and looked scornfully down on the - sand-diggers, in the temper, no doubt, of the chorus of the old sea song— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We jolly sailor boys a-sitting up aloft, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And the land-lubbers funking down below. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - After a time he descended, and, looking for a few moments at the diggers, - went straight away across the sands towards the sea. I saw that he had - only a wooden spade, while most of theirs had iron heads. - </p> - <p> - There is another kind of amusement which is strange to me, being - necessarily confined to great expanses of sand. A boat on wheels, called - the <i>Flying Dutchman</i>, careers along at a splendid pace when there is - wind enough, and I am told can tack handily, and never runs into the sea. - If it did, it would not matter, as it must at once upset in such case in - very shoal water. When the Royal Society was here, several eminent - philosophers were reported to be disporting themselves in the <i>Flying - Dutchman</i>, when the President, Professor Cayley, called on them to read - papers, or make promised speeches. - </p> - <p> - This flat sandy coast is far from being so innocent as it looks. There are - the wrecks of two vessels in sight even now. One of these, I hear, it took - the lifeboat fourteen hours’ <i>continuous hard work</i> to reach, and - they brought off every man of the crew, twenty-five in number—a feat - deserving wider fame than it has attained. They must be glorious - sea-worthies, these Lancashire fishermen! Of the fine public buildings, - the four-miles tramway, the Free Library, Botanic Gardens, and the rest, I - need not speak. Lord Derby’s <i>mot</i> on opening the Botanic Gardens is - enough,—that the Southport folk can skate on real ice in July, and - sit under palm-trees at Christmas. But I may say that the esplanade is a - grand course for tricyclers and bicyclers, who seem fond of challenging - and running races with tradesmen’s carts—a somewhat risky operation - for other vehicles and passengers. - </p> - <p> - One word, however, before I close, about the most striking of the - churches, St. Andrew’s. I was attracted to it by its good proportions, and - the stone tracery of several of the windows, reminding one of the patterns - of the early decorated period of Gothic art. It can seat some 1500 people - on the floor, there being no galleries. I am sorry to say, however, that - appearances are deceitful. It is of no use to have fine proportions and - good decoration if they won’t stand; and unhappily, although the church is - only twelve years old, the cleristory walls have been blown out of the - perpendicular, so that the whole nave roof has to come off that they may - be solidly rebuilt. What would an old monkish architect have said to such - a catastrophe? The more’s the pity, inasmuch as the necessary closing of - the church is going to shelve, probably for months, the most striking - preacher I have heard this month of Sundays. I first learnt, sir, in your - columns the golden rule, that during prayers the worshipper is responsible - for keeping up his own attention, while at sermon-time it is the parson’s - business. Well, I have been to St. Andrew’s for the last three Sundays, - and during sermons, none of which have lasted less than half an hour, have - neither gone to sleep, nor thought about anything but what the preacher - was saying. I suspect it is (as Apollo says of Theodore Parker, in the - “Fable for Critics”) that— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - This is what makes him the crowd-drawing preacher, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There’s a background of God to each hard-working feature, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Every word that he speaks has been fierily furnaced - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In the blast of a life that has struggled in earnest. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Whatever be the cause, however, there is the fact; and I own I am somewhat - surprised, being rather curious about such matters, that I had never heard - the name of Prebendary Cross before I happened to come to this place. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A Village Festival - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>an is dead! So, at - least, those who claim to be teachers of us English on such subjects have - told us; and if our poets cannot be trusted about them, who can? The - present writer, at any rate, does not pretend to an opinion whether Pan is - dead, or, indeed, whether he was ever alive. But if so, he ought to have - kept alive, for never surely was his special business so flourishing in - our country as in these last days. All round the Welsh border on both - sides there is not a hamlet which is not indulging in its “Lupercalia” in - these summer days, in spite of the cold and wet which have inopportunely - come upon us. For the most part, these “feasts of Pan” are almost - monotonously like one another; but I have just returned from one which had - characteristics of its own—a pleasing variety, and creditable, I - think, to gallant little Wales, for the scene of it was over the border. - My attention was called to it by a large red bill at our station, - announcing that, on the 9th inst. the annual festival of the Gresford - Ladies’ Club would be held, for which return tickets might be had at - tempting rates; and further, that “no rifle-galleries, or stalls used for - the sale of nuts and oranges, will be allowed to be put up in the village - or highways on the day.” Why should a ladies’ club invite me, and all men, - by large red bill, to be present at their festival, and at the same time - deprive me of the chance of indulging in the favourite feast pastime of - these parts? I resolved to satisfy myself; and reaching the pretty - station, in due course found myself on the platform with perhaps a dozen - women of all ranks and ages—evidently members of the club, for each - of them wore a white scarf over the right shoulder, and carried a blue - wand with a nosegay at the top. Following admiringly up the steep hill - with other spectators, I saw them enter a wicket-gate under an arch of - flowers, and remained outside, where the brass band of the county yeomanry - were making most energetic music. Presently the gate opened, and a - procession of the members emerged two-and-two, and, headed by the band in - full blast, marched, a dainty procession, each one white-scarfed and - carrying a nosegay-topped wand, to the parish church hard by on the - hill-top. It was a unique procession, so far as my experience goes. First - came the squire’s wife, the club President, with the senior member, - followed by another lady, I believe from the rectory, with the member next - in seniority. These two, both past eighty, I remarked, instead of the - white scarf crossing the shoulder and looped at the waist with blue, wore - large white handkerchiefs, trimmed with blue, over both shoulders, - shawl-wise. This I found was the old custom, the regular members formerly - wearing the shawl, the honorary members the scarf, for distinction’s sake. - Now, all members, regular and honorary alike, wear the scarf. We are - levelling up fast, and I own I regret it, in this matter of dress. As a - boy, I was in this part of Wales, and almost every woman on holidays wore - the red cloak and high black hat, and looked far better, I think, than - their descendants at this Gresford Club fête, though several of these were - as well dressed as the squire’s wife and daughters. I followed the - procession into church, as did most of the crowd through which they - passed, one man only refusing to join in my hearing, on the ground that he - had been already to one service too many. He had got married there, his - neighbour explained, and his wife was in the procession. The service was - short and well chosen, with a good, sound ten-minutes sermon at the end, - and then the procession re-formed, the band still leading, and marched to - tea in the big schoolroom facing the churchyard. “Scholæ elymosynæ Dominæ - Margarettæ Strode, fundatæ 1725, ad pauperes ejus sumptibus erudiendos,” I - read over the door. I notice that the Welsh are rather given to Latin - inscriptions can it be in token of defiance to vernacular English? - </p> - <p> - During the tea-hour I had the pleasure of exploring church and churchyard, - the former a large and fine specimen of the later perpendicular, but - containing relics of painted glass of a much earlier date, probably - thirteenth century. Portions of this, of a fine straw-colour, the Rector - says, are invaluable, the art being lost. I wonder what Mr. Powell would - say to that? The churchyard is glorious with its yews, more than twenty - grand trees, and the grandfather of them the largest but one, if not the - largest, in the Kingdom. He measures 29 feet 6 inches round 6 feet from - the ground, and is confidently affirmed by Welsh experts (who have duly - noted it in the parish register) to be 1400 years old. Without supposing - that Merlin reposed in his shade, one cannot look at him in his glorious - old age and doubt that he must have been a stout tree in Plantagenet - times, and furnished bow-staves for Welshmen who marched behind Fluellen - to the French wars. - </p> - <p> - Presently the band struck up again, and the procession returned to the - wicket-gate, through which I now gained an entrance on payment of 1s. - towards the club funds, one of the best investments of the kind I have - ever made, for inside is the most perfect miniature village green I should - think in the world, take it all in all. It is a natural terrace about one - hundred yards long, by (perhaps) forty broad, on the side of the steep, - finely wooded hill, with the station down below, and the church and - village above. The valley, which runs up into the Welsh hills to the west, - is here narrow, with a bright trout-stream dancing along between emerald - meadows out into the great Cheshire plain, over which, in the distance, - rise the cathedral towers and the castle and spires of Chester. One can - fancy the hungry eyes with which many a Welshman has looked over that - splendid countryside from this perch on the hillside when Hugh Lupus and - his successors were keeping the border, with short shrift for - cattle-lifters. It is well worth the while of any of your readers who may - be passing Gresford Station this autumn, to stop over a train, and go up - and spend an hour there. But I must get back to the ladies’ club, who now, - at 6 P.M., opened the three hours’ dance on the green, the great feature - of the gathering. It began with a country-dance, at which we males could - only gaze and admire. As before, the squire’s wife and the senior member - led off, and went down the thirty or forty couples. What wonderful women - are these Welsh! I was fascinated by the next senior, a dear old soul, who - had only missed this dance twice in more than sixty years, and was in such - a hurry to get under way, that she started before the leading couple had - got properly ahead, rather thereby confusing the subsequent saltations. - When the music at last stopped, she sat herself on a bench, a picture of - joyous old age, and declared that if she had been a rich woman, she should - have spent all her substance in keeping a band. After the country-dance - came polkas, in which I noted that for some time the men, by way of - reprisals, I suppose, danced together; but this did not last long, and - presently the couples were sorted in the usual manner, and when the - station-bell warned me to speed down the hill, I left them all as busy on - the green as the elves (perhaps) may be in the moonlight, or Pan’s troop - in the days before his lamented decease. On my way home I mused on the - cheering evidence the day had afforded of the healthy progress of the - great task which has been laid on this generation, and’ which it seems to - be taking hold of so strenuously and hopefully. I do not know that I ever - saw so entirely satisfactory a blending of all classes in common - enjoyment, which to some extent I attribute to the custom of the - procession, and the sorting of honorary and regular members above noticed. - During the whole afternoon I never heard a word which might not have been - spoken in a drawing-room, and in spite of the rigorous exclusion of - tobacco, there was no lack of young men. I question whether it would be - possible to see the like in any exclusive gathering, either of the classes - or the masses. The club is as prosperous financially, I am glad to hear, - as it is socially, having a reserve fund of some £600, while the - subscriptions are very moderate. No doubt the political and industrial - atmosphere is dark with heavy clouds both’ at home and abroad; but I do - begin to think that this white lining of a truer and fuller blending of - our people than has ever been known before in England, or anywhere else, - is going to do more than compensate for whatever troubles may be in store - for us from wars or other convulsions, and that we shall be in time to - meet them as a united people. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Then let us pray that come it may— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - As come it will for a’ that— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That man to man, the warld o’er, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Shall brithers be for a’ that. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The “Victoria,” New Cut. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>f all the healthy - signs of real social progress in this remarkable age, I know of none more - striking, or, I will add, more thankworthy in a small way, than the - contrast of the present condition of the big People’s Theatre in Southwark - with that which middle-aged men can remember. Probably many of my readers - who in the fifties and sixties held it to be part of the whole duty of man - to attend the University boat-race at Putney, or the Oxford and Cambridge - match at Lord’s, will be able to call up in their memories the “Vic.” of - those days. For my own part, I always felt that the big costermonger’s - theatre suffered unfairly in reputation—as many folk and places - before it have done—for the casual notice of a man of genius. “Give - us the Charter,” Charles Kingsley makes his tailor-hero exclaim in 1848, - “and we’ll send workmen into Parliament who shall find out whether - something better can’t be put in the way of the boys and girls in London - who live by theft and prostitution, than the tender mercies of the - Victoria.” I do not pretend to anything more than a casual acquaintance - with the “Vic.” in those days; but my memory would not bear out Parson Lot - in denouncing it as “a licensed pit of darkness.”, That description would - far better designate the Cider Cellars, the Coal Hole, and other - fashionable resorts on the north side of the Thames, in which a working - man’s fustian jacket and corduroys were never seen. I should say that one - evening spent at Evans’s in those days, or at the mock Court (the judge - and jury) presided over by Baron Nicholson, as that rotund old cynic was - called, would have done any youngster far more harm than half a dozen at - the “Vic.” At the one you might sit smoking cigars and drinking champagne, - if you were fool enough, and hear everything that was sacred and decent - slily or openly ridiculed and travestied, in the company of M.P.‘s, - barristers, and others, all well-dressed people. At the “Vic.” you could - rub shoulders with costers and longshoremen, noisy, rowdy, and prone to - fight on the slightest provocation, while the entertainment was more than - coarse enough, but quite free from the subtle poison of a crim.-con. trial - presided over by Baron Nicholson. With this saving, however, I am bound to - admit that the old “Vic.” was not a place which could have been looked on - without serious misgivings by any one in the remotest degree responsible - for peace or decency in South London. The influence which it exercised, to - put it mildly, though undoubtedly powerful, could by no possibility have - had any elevating effect on the intellect or morals of any human being; - but for all that, it was always a favourite place of resort, and had a - strong hold on the dense population who earn a scanty and precarious - living in the New Cut and the Old Kent Road. How it was that the lease of - the old “Vic.,” with seventeen years still to run, came into the market - some eight years back, I am not aware; but so it happened, and it was - purchased by a financial Company, who, with the best intentions, embarked - on the risky experiment of running the “Royal Victoria Hall,” as it was - now called, as a coffee-tavern and place of entertainment, against the - neighbouring music-halls in which drink was sold. In eight months the - Company lost £2800, and the Victoria was closed, with every chance of - drifting back, on the next change of ownership, into the old ruts. Happily - for South London, a better fate was in store for the “Vic.,” for there - were those who had eyes to see its value if properly handled, not, indeed, - as a commercial speculation, but as a power for lifting the social life of - the neighbourhood on to a higher level. A committee was formed, with the - late Mr. Samuel Morley as chairman, and Miss Cons as honorary secretary - and manager, a guarantee fund was raised, and the Hall reopened. It has - been a hard fight; but with a chairman whose speech in the darkest hour - rang, “We don’t mean to let this thing fall to the ground,” and a lady of - unsurpassed experience and devotion amongst the poor, whose whole life was - from the first freely and loyally given to the work, the field has been - won. I say deliberately “won,” and if any one doubts my word, let him walk - over Waterloo Bridge any evening (for the “Vic.” is always open), and look - at this thing fairly; let him go into the coffee-tavern, the theatre, the - big billiard and smoking-rooms, the reading and class-rooms at the top, - and the gymnasium in the basement, and keep his ears and eyes wide open - all the time,—and then go home and thank God that such work is going - on in the very quarter of our huge city in which the need is sorest. I - say, let him go any evening, but for choice I would advise a Tuesday, for - on Tuesdays the “Penny Science Lectures” are given, which are, of course, - less popular than the variety entertainments and the ballad concerts which - occur whenever the funds allow, or some first-rate artist, such as Sims - Beeves, volunteers to come and sing to the Hew Cut. To return to the - “Penny Science Lectures,” the wonder is, not that eminent men should be - ready to go over to Southwark and give them without payment—that - note of our day has become too common to surprise—but that an - average of over five hundred, mostly of the <i>gamin</i> age, from the Hew - Cut, should be ready to pay their penny and come, and listen, and - appreciate. - </p> - <p> - It was on May Day that I visited the old “Vic.,” almost by chance, and - without a notion of what I was likely to see or hear. The lecture was on - “The Foundation-Stones of London,” and proved to be a geological, not an - archæological one. Mr. H. Kimber, M.P. for the neighbouring division of - South London, was in the chair, and the lecturer was Professor Judd, - F.R.S., who, in a clear, terse address, aided by excellent dissolving - views projected by limelight on the huge drop-scene of the stage, showed - the gravel, clay, chalk, and lower strata, with the fossils found in each, - with admirable clearness. The big theatre was not, of course, full, but - there was a large audience, quite up to the average of upwards of five - hundred, and any one at all used to such scenes could see how keenly - interested they were, and how quick to seize the lecturer’s points. Most - of the men were in their working clothes, but clean and brushed up, and no - lecturer could have wished for a better audience. The only thing that - brought back to my mind the slightest remembrance of the old “Vic.” was, - that by a coster in the centre of the front row of the pit sat a big - brindled bull-terrier of the true fighting type. Strange to say, he - remained looking at the views with perfect gravity till the lecturer made - his bow, when he jumped quietly down at once, and trotted about the pit to - find friends, as though he had learned all he could, and wanted to talk it - over with pals, but was not interested in the formal vote-of-thanks - business. On the three following Tuesdays, as the bills informed me, “The - Moon,” “The Circulation of the Blood,” and “The Backbone of England,” were - the subjects, all, again, illustrated by dissolving views. And these - lectures are kept up on every Tuesday, such speakers as the Dean of - Westminster, Sir John Lubbock, Professor Seeley, taking their turn with - the purely scientific men, and drawing as good attendances. - </p> - <p> - You must find room for one specimen of the quick humour of this New Cut - audience. Dr. Carpenter, in one of his experiments, dispensed with a - prism, explaining to his audience that the objects would now appear - inverted, and they must “put them right way up” in their minds,—“or - stand on yer ’eds,” came the prompt suggestion from the gallery. - Out of these lectures science-classes have grown in the last three years, - encouraged by a committee, selected from the Council, of some hundred - ladies and gentlemen. Of these I have no space to speak; but one fact will - indicate the thoroughness of the work done at them. Dr. Fleming’s report - for 1887 tells us that out of forty students who went in for examination - in the several classes, seven obtained first-class, and eighteen - second-class certificates. I have only touched on what, after all, is an - outgrowth, which has developed naturally from the original scheme, but was - no part of it. This was rational and hearty and clean amusement. The - Council were determined to test whether an answer could not be found to - the straight question of “Poor Potlover” in Punch:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Where’s this cheap and respectable fun - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To be spotted by me? There’s the kink! - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Don’t drink? All serene, if you’ll p’int me to summat that’s better - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - than drink. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - To that “summat” the Victoria Hall Council, all honour to them, have - pointed with quite encouraging success. There is no department of the Hall - which is not in a healthy condition, and the fact that £1800 was taken in - pennies and twopences for admissions during 1887, though the Hall was - closed in the summer for repairs, may well encourage the Council and their - devoted manager to take courage and persevere in their present effort to - purchase the freehold as a fitting memorial to Mr. Samuel Morley. There - was no part of his wide work of philanthropy which that fine old English - merchant valued more than this. He supported it lavishly during his life, - and had he lived till the freehold came into the market, there would have - been little difficulty in raising the necessary sum, £17,000. Of this, - £3500 has already been promised by members of the Council, and I cannot - believe that the opportunity will be allowed to slip, and the - deposit-money of £500 already paid to be forfeited. It seems that the - Charity Commissioners have let it be known that the old “Vic.” will be - accepted by them as one of the People’s Palaces for South London, if the - freehold can only be obtained; and I cannot for a moment doubt that this - will be done if the facts are only fairly known. The teetotalers ought to - do all that remains to be done, in gratitude for the best story in their - quiver, which they owe to the “Vic.” A short meeting is held, called the - “Temperance Hour,” <i>outside</i> the house on Friday nights, at which - working men are the speakers. One of them, a carter, stuck fast at the - bottom of a hill in the suburbs one day. Another man who was passing, - unhitched his own team and helped him up. On an offer to pay being made, - the good Samaritan declared he had been paid beforehand. “Why, I never saw - you before in my life, did I?” “I’ve seen you, though,” said the other; “I - heard you speak one night outside the ‘Vic.’ and I went in and took the - pledge—me and my family has been happy ever since!” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Whitby and the Herring Trade, 30th August 1888. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ny fresh herrings - for breakfast, sir? Four a penny this morning, sir!” Such was my greeting - this day, as I turned out of my lodgings for an early lungs’-full of this - inspiring air. I had almost broken out on that fish-wife with, “Why, you - abominable old woman, you asked me twopence for three yesterday”; but - restraining my natural, if not righteous indignation, I replied meekly, - “Four a penny! Why, what makes them so cheap, ma’am?” - </p> - <p> - “T’ boats all full—ha’n’t had sech a catch this summer,” which news - gladdened me almost as much as if the catch had been my own. No one can - watch these grand fellows, the Dogger Bank fishermen, and not feel, a sort - of blood-relationship to them, and the keenest sympathy with their heroic - business on the great waters. So, thinks I, I’ll go down to the quay - directly after breakfast, and see them all at their best, those - hard-handed, big-bearded, soft-hearted sea-kings from all the East and - South Coast towns of England, from Sunderland to Penzance. When they are - such grand, silent, kindly creatures on every day in the week, even when - the catch has been poor and light, what will they be to-day? - </p> - <p> - I had spent most of my mornings for some days on the quay, watching the - fish-market there with much interest. It goes on nearly all the forenoon - on the pavement, just above that part of the harbour-wall to which the - herring-boats run when they come in from their night’s work on the Dogger - Bank. A simple, hand-to-mouth kind of business, the auction; but well - adapted, at any rate, to clear the boats, and get their daily contents to - market in the quickest and cheapest way. As soon as a boat comes to the - quay, one of the crew (generally numbering five men, or four men and a - boy) comes on shore with a basket half-full of herrings, and turns them - out on the pavement. The fish-broker who acts for that boat comes up, - looks at the sample, and makes an offer for the ship’s take by “the lash” - or ten thousand. If this is accepted, the unloading begins at once; but if - not, as is oftenest the case, the take is put up to auction. The broker - rings a bell, which soon brings round him the seven or eight other brokers - like himself, and other buyers (if any) who are within hearing. Up goes - the first last of ten thousand at once, and no time is lost or talk thrown - away. In very few minutes the whole is sold, and a cart or lorry from the - railway is standing by to carry off the barrels in which the herrings are - packed then and there. Now, on the previous day I had heard the prices - ranging from £7: 10s. to £8 for “the last,” and had not remarked that only - some six boats of the whole fleet had come back from the fishing-grounds, - and that none of these had made anything like a big catch. Consequently, I - came down prepared to hear something like the same prices ruling, and to - see most of the crews drawing at least from £15 to £20 for their night’s - work. - </p> - <p> - Well, in a long life I don’t remember ever to have been more hopelessly - wrong or unpleasantly surprised. I could see at once that all was not - right by the faces of the men and women in the small groups scattered - about the market, which now drew together as the broker’s bell rang for - the sale of the herrings, which lay, a lovely, gleaming mass, at least - three feet deep in the uncovered hold of the <i>Mary Jane</i>, as she - rocked gently on the harbour swell, some twenty feet down below us. I - could scarcely believe my ears as I heard the bids slowly rising by 5 s. - at a time till they reached 30s. the last, and there stopped dead. The - hammer fell, and the whole catch of the <i>Mary Jane</i> passed to the - purchaser in about two minutes at that figure. The next boat, and next but - one, did no better. Broker after broker knocked his client’s catch down at - 30s. Once only I heard an advance on that figure, and this was by private - contract. The handsome Hercules, in long leather boots and blue jersey, - who represented one of the Whitby boats, appealed in my hearing to the - broker, who relented with no very good grace, and agreed to give £2 per - last of ten thousand of the catch of Hercules’s boat. - </p> - <p> - It was a depressing sight, I must own, even in the bright sunshine of this - most picturesque of English harbours, and Sam Weller’s earnest inquiry to - his master, “Ain’t somebody to be wopped for this?” rose vividly in my - mind as the fittest comment on the whole business. Just then a tug which - had been getting up steam was ready to leave the harbour, and two - Hartlepool smacks, whose freights of herrings were still unsold, hitched - on, to be towed out to sea and then run home, in the hope of finding a - better market in the Durham port. An old salt stood next me, whose fishing - days were well over, and who had just taken a good bite of the blackest - kind of pigtail to comfort himself. I looked inquiringly at him as the tug - steamed out between the two lighthouses, with the smacks in tow; but he - shook his head sorrowfully. “Well, but they can’t do worse than here,” I - remonstrated; “herrings maybe scarcer in the colliery district.” He jerked - his head towards the little group of brokers and buyers,—“They’d - know the prices at Hartlepool in five minutes,” he said. This telegraphing - was to his mind the worst thing that had happened for fishermen in his - time. “Did prices often go up and down like this?” I asked. “Yes,” and - worse than this. He had known them as low as 15s. and as high as £15 - within a few days. No, he couldn’t see what was “to odds it” much for the - better. Last time he was across at Liverpool he had stopped at a big - fish-shop where he saw barrels standing which he recognised. “What’s the - price of those herrings?” he asked. “Eight for 6d.” the man answered. “So - I told him I saw they was from Whitby, and that he got them at Whitby for - 6d. a hundred.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Whitby and the Herring Trade, 31st August 1888. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> had got thus far - last night, and posted down again early this morning to the market, which - has a sombre kind of attraction for me. Only two boats in, with light - catches of from one and a half to two lasts each. The first sold at £5: - 5s., which price the second boat refused. Theirs were a first-rate lot, - and they shouldn’t go under £6, for which they were holding out when I had - to leave, and there seemed to be a general belief that they would get it. - This was puzzle enough for any man, to see under his own eyes the same - fish sold on three consecutive summer days for £7:10s., £1:10s., and - £5:5s.!—a sort of thing no fellow can understand. To add to my - bewilderment, I learnt that at Great Grimsby yesterday (the £1:10s. day - here) the last had sold for upwards of £15! So that my old salt’s view as - to the telegraph doesn’t quite hold water, and the two smacks which shook - the water off their bows and sailed for Hartlepool, may have made a good - day’s work of it, after all. Indeed, a sailor on the quay declared that - they had sold at £5, so that, after paying £2 apiece for the tug, which - had towed them all the way, they still got £3 a last, or double the price - they would have realised at Whitby. “So it comes to this, that the more - fish you catch, the less pay you get,” I said to my informant. “Yes,” he - seemed to think that was mostly the case, adding that to his mind it was - the railways that made all the money out of fish— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It is an old story enough, but scarcely less true or sad in 1888 than when - most of the world’s hardest work was done by slaves. However there are, - happily, signs in the air that, here in England at any rate, we are waking - up to the truth, that if we can find no better way of organising industry - than competition run mad, we are going to have real bad times. Royal - Commissions on the sweating system; Toynbee Hall interventions in great - strikes; co-operative effort springing up all over the country, and - finding its most zealous and devoted advocates at least as much amongst - those who don’t work with their hands as those who do,—all go to - prove that the reign of king <i>laissez faire</i>, with his golden rule of - “cash payment the sole <i>nexus</i> between man and man,” is over. Indeed, - our danger may soon be from too much meddling with and mothering industry. - Nevertheless, no one can spend a few hours on the quay here in the herring - season and not long for some one—scholar, philanthropist, political - economist (new style), co-operator—to come along and teach these - fine fellows to read their sphinx riddle. It would not be, surely, such a - difficult task as it looks at first sight. There is no need to begin with - the vast herring-fishing industry, with its distant markets at - Billingsgate, Liverpool, and Manchester. The reform might begin at once on - a modest scale. Beside the herrings, one sees every morning other fish - lying on the quay—skate, cod, ling, whiting, rock-salmon—brought - in by the smaller and less venturesome boats by dozens, not by lasts of - ten thousand. Take the cod as the most valuable of these fish. I saw four - fine cod-fish sold by auction yesterday on the quay for 5s. 3d. Within a - few hundred yards, and all over the town, cod was selling at the shops at - 6d. the pound. Surely a very moderate amount of organising ability would - enable those who catch these fish to get the retail prices prevailing on - the same day in the home market, and then the experience gained might - assist materially in the solution of the larger problem. - </p> - <p> - Meantime, besides the almost unique interest and beauty of its - surroundings,—the steep cliffs, on which the quaint old red-roofed - houses, with their wooden balconies, are piled in most picturesque and - unaccountable groups; the grand old abbey ruin looking down from the - highest point; the swing-bridge between the two harbours, and the estuary - beyond, running up into a fine amphitheatre of green meadow and dark wood, - dotted with village churches and old windmills, and backed by the high - moors,—there is a joyous side to Whitby harbour, even on days when - the market goes most against the Dogger Bank fishermen. If the fathers - have too often to eat sour grapes, their children’s teeth are not set on - edge,—such merry, well-fed, bare-footed urchins of both sexes I - never remember to have seen elsewhere. They swarm, out of school hours, - along the quays; skim up and down the water-worn harbour-walls wherever - there is a rope hanging; run over the herring boats lying side by side, as - soon as the freights are cleared; and toboggan down the boat slides at the - gangways, dragging themselves along on their stomachs when these are not - slippery enough for the usual method of descent. There seems, too, to be a - large supply of old rickety tubs kept for their special use; for all day - long you see two or three of them scrambling into one of these, and - sculling about the harbour, no man hindering or apparently noticing them. - Finer training for their future life would be hard to find, and one cannot - help doubting as one sees their straight toes, as handy almost as fingers - in their climbing feats, whether the last word has been spoken as to - clothing the human foot, at any rate up to the age of ten or twelve. It is - not often, I think, that one comes on early surroundings and heroes - entirely suited to each other; but Whitby’s hero—patron saint I had - nearly called him—could have found no such suitable place to have - been raised in all the world round. James Cook was born in a neighbouring - village, but first apprenticed on board a Whitby collier, and to the last - days of his life retained a most loving remembrance of the old town. Every - one of his famous ships, the <i>Endeavour</i>, the <i>Resolution</i>, and - the <i>Discovery</i>, were built at Whitby. The house, of his master, Mr. - Walker, with whom he lived during his apprenticeship as a sailor lad, and - to whom most of his letters were written after he had mapped the Quebec - reaches of the St. Lawrence under the fire of the French guns, and was a - gold-medallist of the Royal Society and the most famous of eighteenth - century navigators, is still fondly pointed out in a narrow street running - down to the inner harbour. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Sunday by the Sea, Whitby, 7th September 1888. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e saw something of - the industrial life of Whitby last week. The spiritual is quite as - interesting, and certainly, so far as my observation goes, has a character - of its own, distinct from that of any other of our popular seaside - resorts. It may be the presence of so large a seagoing element; at any - rate, unless appearances are quite misleading, there is an earnest and - deep though quiet religious impulse working amongst the harbour-folk and - townspeople, not without its influence in the new quarter which has grown - on to the old town, and with its casino and large cricket and lawn tennis - grounds, is becoming a popular—though, happily, not a fashionable—summer - resort. This is, of course, most apparent on Sundays, on which the absence - of anything like the annoyances, both religious and secular, which spoil - the day of rest at so many health-resorts, is very noteworthy. Not that - Whitby is without its open-air services. On the contrary, they are at - least as frequent as elsewhere, on quays, shore, cliffs; but after - watching them with some care I do not remember anything fanatical or - startling, or in the bad taste of coarse familiarity with mysteries which - so often revolts one in street and field preaching elsewhere. One of these - I had never seen the like of before, and am inclined to think it may - interest your readers. On my first Sunday afternoon I was watching a - crowded service on the quay, at the foot of the West Cliff, from above. As - it ended, and began to disperse, a man in sailor’s Sunday suit of thick - blue cloth severed himself from the crowd, and came leisurely up the stone - steps, with a Bible and hymn-book in his hand. At the top of the steps is - a public grass-plot, some thirty by twenty yards in size, the only part of - the sea-front which has escaped enclosure on this cliff. Round it are some - fifteen or sixteen benches, very popular with those who will not pay to go - into the casino enclosure. They were all occupied by people chatting, - smoking, courting, looking at the view, when the newcomer walked into the - middle of the plot, took off his fur-trimmed sailor’s cap, opened his - Bible, and looked round. He was good to look at, with his strong, - weather-beaten, bronzed features, short-cropped, grizzled hair, and kindly - blue eye, part-owner and best man in one of the Penzance boats, I heard. - On looking at him, passages in the lives of Drake and Hawkins, and Wesley - and Whitfield, and Charles Kingsley’s loving enthusiasm for the Cornish - sailor-folk, became clearer to me. Not a soul noticed him or moved from - their seats, and the talking, smoking, courting went on just as though he - were not there, standing alone on the grass, Bible in hand. I quite - expected to see him shut his book and depart. Not a bit of it. Clearly he - had come up there to deliver his testimony. That was his business; whether - any one chose to listen to it or not, was theirs. So he read out two or - three verses from the Epistle to the Romans, and began to preach. His - subject was Paul’s conversion, which he described almost entirely in St. - Luke’s and the Apostle’s own words, which he quoted without referring to - his Bible, and then urged roughly, but with an earnestness which made his - speech really eloquent, that the same chance was open to every one. He - himself had heard the call thirty years ago, and had been happy ever - since. He had been in peril of death again and again since then, had seen - boats founder with all hands, but had no fear, nor need any man have, by - sea or land, who would just hear and follow that call. Then he stopped, - wiped his brow, and looked round. The sitters had all become silent, but - not a soul of them moved or spoke. I was standing, with one or two others, - behind the high rails of the enclosure, or I think we should have gone and - stood by him as he gave out a hymn; but we knew neither words nor tune, so - were helpless. He sang it through by himself, made a short prayer “that - the word that day might not have been spoken in vain,” and then put on his - cap, and went down the steps into the crowd below. One voice from the - benches said “Thank you!” as he left the plot. - </p> - <p> - The next service I came across was a strange contrast. Under the cliff, in - front of the Union Jack planted in the sands, was a large gathering, - composed mostly of children sitting in rows, with mothers and nurses - interspersed, and a number of men and women standing round the circle. As - I came up, I was handed a leaflet of hymns, which explained that it was a - gathering of the “Children’s Special Service Mission,” which has its - head-quarters, it seems, in London, and is presided over by Mr. Stuart, - the vicar of St. James’s, Holloway. The service was conducted by a young - man not in orders, with a strong choir to help him. He, too, did his - preaching earnestly and well; and though it seemed to me above the younger - children’s heads, who for the most part made sand-castles or mud-pies - furtively, was evidently listened to sympathetically by the elder part of - the audience who stood round. But if the teaching scarcely touched the - children, they all left their mud-pies and enjoyed the singing. The - Mission, I was told, holds these services on the sands through the seaside - season, at all the chief resorts on the coast. The leaders and organisers - are mostly young men and women, and all, I believe, volunteers. A - noteworthy sign of our time the Mission seemed to me, and I was glad to - hear that it is countenanced, if not actively supported, by the resident - Church clergy. - </p> - <p> - If we turn from the volunteer to the regular side of Church work, Whitby - still has an almost unique attraction for the student of the religious - movement in England. The late Dean Stanley, who loved every phase of the - historical development of the life of the National Church, and mourned - over the thoroughness of recent restorations, which, as he thought, - threaten the entire disappearance of the surroundings and forms of the - worship of the Georgian era, would have thanked God and taken courage if - he could have visited Whitby Parish Church in 1888, for church and service - are a perfect survival. The wave of Victorian ecclesiastical reform, - without destroying anything, seems to have gently removed all that was - really objectionable, and breathed new life into the dry bones of Georgian - worship. I am not sure that I should say “everything objectionable,” for - probably the vast majority of even truly Catholic church-goers would not - agree as to the big shield with the national arms which hangs over the - centre of the chancel arch, dividing the two tables of the Ten - Commandments. I am prepared to admit that this particular lion and unicorn - are not good specimens of discreet beasts of their respective kinds. But - even as they stand they are national symbols, and no reminder that Church - and nation are still one can be spared nowadays; and they are not half so - grotesqile as most of the gurgoyles you will see in the noblest Gothic - cathedrals. And then they vividly remind my generation of the days when - they first toddled to church in the family procession. The church itself - is a gem, though with no orthodox architectural beauty, for it retains - traces of the handiwork of thirty generations in its walls, pillars, - galleries, and stunted square tower,—from the round arches (there - are still two, though the best, a fine Norman window, has been bricked up) - of its earliest builders in the twelfth, to the white-washed walls and - ceilings and square-paned windows of eighteenth century churchwardens. I - should think the three-decker (I am obliged to use the profane name, - having forgotten the correct one), the clerk’s desk, reading-desk, and - pulpit rising one above the other in front of the chancel, must be unique, - the last of its race. The clerk has, indeed, retired into the choir; but - the rector still reads the prayers and lessons admirably from his desk, - and ascends the pulpit, where he is on a level with the faculty pew of the - squire, and the low galleries, to deliver his excellent short discourses. - Long may he and his successors do so. One is only inclined to regret that - he does not take off his surplice in the reading-desk, and ascend to - preach in his black gown. Curious it is to remember that less than thirty - years ago Bryan King and others excited riots in many parishes by - preaching in the surplice. The pews on the floor are all high oaken boxes - with doors, though the great majority of them are now free. The visitor in - broadcloth is put into one of the larger ones, lined with venerable baize, - once green. These are somewhat narrow parallelograms with seats round the - three sides, so that it requires caution in kneeling to avoid collision - with your opposite neighbour. And the body of the church being nearly - square by reason of the addition of side aisles at different periods, and - the “three-decker” well out on the floor, the pews have been planned so - that they all face towards it, and consequently all the congregation can - see each other. This is supposed to be a drawback to worship; probably is—must - be, where people have been always used to looking all one way. That it - really hinders a hearty service, no one would maintain who has attended - one in Whitby Parish Church. It was quite full, when I was there, of a - congregation largely composed of men, and the majority of these sailors - and other working folk. Let any reader who still goes to church make a - point of ascending the 190 stone steps which lead up to it from the old - town, and looking at the matter with his own eyes, if ever he should be - within reach. The rector is a sort of successor to the old abbots of St. - Hilda, with ecclesiastical jurisdiction over the whole town, wherein are - five or six churches worked by curates, all in the modern style, seats - facing eastward, no three-deckers, surpliced choirs, and chanted psalms, - and canticles. Indeed, in one place of worship, those who have a taste for - gabbled prayers, bowings and posturings, lighted candles, and the rest of - the most modern ritual, can find it, but in a proprietary chapel not under - the jurisdiction of the rector. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Singing-Matches in Wessex, 28th September 1888. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> remember, sir, - that some quarter of a century ago, you were interested in the popular - songs of our English country-folk, and so may possibly think gleanings in - this field still worthy of notice. In that belief, I send this note of - some “singing-matches,” which, by a lucky chance, I was able to attend - last week in West Berks. The matches in question were for both men and - women, a prize of half a crown being offered in each case. The occasion - was the village “veast,” or annual commemoration of the dedication of the - parish church, still the immemorial day of gathering and social reunion in - every hamlet of this out-of-the-way district. I was glad to find the old - word still in use, for as a Wessex man it would have been an unpleasant - shock to me to find the “veast” superseded by a “festival,” habitation, or - other modern gathering. In some respects, however, I must own that the - character of the “veast” has changed; these singing-matches, for instance, - being a complete novelty to me. There used to be singing enough after the - sports, as the sun went down, and choruses, rollicking and sentimental, - came rolling out of the publicans’ booths—for the most part of - dubious character—but singing-matches for prizes I never remember. I - suppose the craze for competitive examination in every department of life - may account for this new development; anyhow, there were the matches to - come off—so the bills assured us—in the village schoolroom, of - all places, which was thrown open for this purpose, and for dancing, at - sunset. Hither, then, I repaired from the vicar’s fields, where the sports - had been held, in the wake of a number of rustic couples and - toffee-sucking children. The school is a lofty room, fifty feet long, with - a smaller class-room as transept at the upper end, along which ran a - temporary platform. Upon this the Farringdon Blue-Ribbon Band, in neat - uniforms, were already playing a vigorous polka. Presently this first - dance ended, the band stood back, and the three judges coming to the - front, announced the terms of the competition, the men to begin, and a - dance to be interpolated after every two songs, every singer, one at a - time, to come up on the platform. There was no hesitation amongst the - singers, the first of whom stepped up at once, and so the matches went on, - two songs and a dance alternately, until all who cared to compete had - sung. Then, at about 9 P.M., the prizes were awarded, and I left, the - dancing going on merrily for another two hours. - </p> - <p> - I was amused by the award of the men’s prize to the singer of a - vociferously applauded ditty, entitled “The Time o’ Day,” for it showed - that the keenest zest of the Wessex rustic is still, as it was thirty - years ago, to get a rise out of—or, in modern slang, to score off—“thaay - varmers.” It began:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A straanger wunst in Worcestershèer, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - A gen’lman he professed, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He lived by takin’ o’ people in, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - He wuz so nicely dressed. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Wi’ my tol-de-rol, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - This stranger, having a gold chain round his neck, swaggers in the - farmers’ room on market-day, till— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He zets un in a big arm-cheer, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And, bein’ precious deep, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Sticks out his legs, drows back his arms, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And “gammots” off to sleep. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The farmers canvas him, and doubt if he has any watch to his chain. His - friend, “by them not understood,” pulls out the chain, shows a piece of - wood at the end, and puts it back. The stranger wakes; the farmers ask him - “the time o’ day”; he excuses himself, on the plea that last night, having - taken a glass too much, he did not wind up his watch. At this— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The varmers said, and did protest, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Ez sure ez we’re alive, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thet thee dost not possess a watch - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Of pounds we’ll bet thee vive. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The stranger covers the bets, pulls out a piece of wood, touches a spring, - and shows a watch inside:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ‘Bout vifty pounds thaay varmers lost, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Which in course thaay hed to paay, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And the bwoys run arter’em down the street, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Wi’ “Gee us the time O’ daay.” - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Wi’ my tol-de-rol, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I did not, however, concur in the award myself. I should have given the - prize for a love-song, a sort of rustic rendering of “Phyllis is my only - Joy,” the chorus of which ran:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For ef you would, I’m sure you could - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Jest let a feller know; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ef it strikes you as it likes you, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Answer yes or no. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The judges, however, followed, if (two being “varmers”) they did not - thoroughly sympathise with, the obvious feeling of the crowded room. The - patriotic songs, I noticed, had quite changed their character. They never - were of the vulgar jingo kind in Wessex, but there used to be much of the - old Dibdin and tow-row,-row ring about them. “The Poor Little Soldier Boy” - may be taken as a specimen of the new style. His father dies of wounds; he - ’lists; comes home; is discharged; wanders starving, till, opposite - a fine gate, he sinks down, asking the unknown inmates how they will like - to find him, “dead at their door in the morn.” At this crisis a lady - appears, who takes him in and provides for him for life. The only lines I - carried away were from a song even more pacific in tone than “The Poor - Little Soldier Boy.” They ran:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ef I wur King o’ France, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Or, better, Pope o’ Rome, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I’d hev no fightin’ men abroad, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Nor weepin’ maids at home. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But there was an approach to “waving the flag” amongst the women, one of - whom, a strapping damsel, sang:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - We’ve got the strength of will, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And old England’s England still, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And every other nation knows it—“rather”! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - which word “rather” ended every verse of a somewhat vulgar ditty. She did - not get the prize, nor did the matron whom I fixed on as the winner, who - sang without a hitch a monotonous and, I began to think, never-ending - ballad on the rivalries of “young Samuèl” and one “Barnewell” for the - graces of an undecided young woman. The attention with which this somewhat - dreary narrative was listened to deceived me, for the prize went, without - public protest, to a young woman of whose song I could not catch a line, - though I could just gather that it was feebly sentimental. My impression - is that it was her bright eyes, and pretty face and figure, that carried - it with the judges, rather than her singing. If I am right, it will - neither be the first nor last time that the prizes in this world fall to - <i>tes beaux yeux</i>. - </p> - <p> - The school faces the upper end of the village green, and I left it so - crowded that it was a wonder how the dancers could get along at all with - their polkas and handkerchief dances, the latter a kind of country dance, - which were the only ones in vogue. When I got out, I saw lighted booths at - the other end of the green, and went down to inspect. It was a melancholy - sight. - </p> - <p> - There was the publican’s dancing-booth without a soul in it. One swing - only was occupied in the neighbouring acrobatic apparatus, and the - round-about was motionless. The gipsies were there, ready and eager to - tell fortunes, and with a well-lighted alley for throwing at cocoa-nuts - with bowls rather larger than cricket-balls—the most modern and - popular substitute, I am told, for skittles. There they were, but not a - customer in sight, the only human being but myself being the solitary - county policeman, who patrolled the green with most conscientious - regularity, only slackening his pace for a moment or two as he passed - under the bright open windows of the schoolroom, from which the merry - dance-music came streaming out into the moonlight. I could almost find it - in my heart to pity the publican and gipsies, so overwhelming did their - defeat seem, for not a glass of beer had been allowed all day in the - vicar’s fields, where the cricket-match had been played and all the races - run, on milk, tea, or aerated waters. The whole stock of these last - beverages, supplied from the “Hope Coffee Room,” which has faced the - public-house on the village green now for about three years, was drunk out - before the dancing ended and the school closed on “veast” night, to the - exceeding joy of the vicar’s niece and her lieutenants, two bright Cornish - damsels, handy, devoted, and ardent teetotalers. These three have been - fighting the publicans since 1886, when they started the “Hope Coffee - Room,” supplied with bread, butter, and cakes from the vicarage, and - aerated drinks and light literature, all, I take it, at something under - cost price, though this the three ardent damsels will by no means admit. - The vicar, who is no teetotaler himself, shrugs his shoulders laughingly, - plays his fiddle, pays the bills, and lets them have their own way, with - an occasional protest that some night he shall have his barn and ricks - burnt. There is, however, no real danger of this, as he has lived with and - for his poor for more than thirty years with scarcely one Sunday’s break, - and gipsy or publican would get short shrift who damaged him or anything - that is his. I found him quite ready to admit the great improvement which - is apparent in the “veast,” as in many other phases of rustic life, though - he cannot get over, or look with anything but dislike and distrust at, the - cramming and examining system, which, as he mourns, embitters the only - time in the lives of his poor children which used to be really happy, when - they could play about on the village green and in the lanes regardless of - Inspector and Government grant. Nor am I sure that he does not look with - regret at the disappearance of cudgel-playing and wrestling out of the - programme of the yearly “Veast-Sports.” Cricket, fine game as it is, does - hot bring out quite the same qualities. No doubt there were now and then - bad hurts in those sports, and fights afterwards; but these came from - beer, and might happen just as easily over cricket. So he muses, and I - rather sympathise. As has been well sung by the ould gamester:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Who’s vor a bout O’ vrendly plaay, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - As never should to anger move, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Sech spworts be only meant for thaay - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - As likes their mazzards broke for love. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But I should be sorry to believe that there are fewer youngsters to-day in - the West country who “likes their mazzards broke for love” than there used - to be half a century ago. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - The Divining-Rod, 21st September 1889. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>bout a quarter of - a century ago, I had the chance of seeing some experiments in the search - for water by the use of “the divining rod” on a thirsty stretch of the - Berkshire chalk range. Oddly enough (what a lot of odd things there are - lying all round us!) at the highest points of this very range you might - come on “dew-ponds,” which never seemed to run dry, though how the white - chalky water got there, or kept there, no one, I believe, has ever been - able to explain from that day to this. But these “dew-ponds” were of no - use, of course, to the cottages scattered along the hillside, and whoever - wanted spring-water, had to go down about 400 feet for it. Well, I - neglected that chance, and ever since have been regretting it. - </p> - <p> - My notion of the water-diviner was gathered from Sir Walter’s famous - portrait of Dousterswivel in the <i>Antiquary</i>; a fellow “who amongst - fools and womankind talks of the Cabala, the divining-rod, and all the - trumpery with which the Rosicrucians cheated a darker age, and which, to - our eternal disgrace, has in some degree revived in our own.” I was - resolved that the revival should in no case be forwarded by me, and so - lost my opportunity, and have been ever since tantalised by reports of - marvels wrought by the hazel-wand, as to which I was quite at a loss to - form any reasonable opinion. It was with no little satisfaction, - therefore, that I received, and accepted, an invitation to assist at a - water-search about to be undertaken by a diviner of considerable - reputation in the outskirts of Deer Leap Wood, in the parish of Wootton, - Surrey. - </p> - <p> - This wood, notable even amongst the loveliest of that favoured county, - belongs to the worthy representative of the author of <i>Sylva</i> and the - <i>Memoirs</i>, who, having built some excellent cottages on its confines, - desires to find the occupants a good supply of spring-water <i>in situ</i>. - Accordingly a group of us, men and women of all ages, and of all degrees - of scepticism—for I doubt if there was a single believer in the - efficacy of the rod, though the squire himself and a friend preserved a - judicious silence—gathered last Friday after breakfast on the lawn - before Wootton House, to await the arrival of the water-doctor, whom the - agent had gone to meet at the station. It was agreed on all hands that a - preliminary test should be applied, and that the lawn on which we stood - offered quite admirable facilities for this purpose. For, more than two - hundred years ago, John Evelyn had diverted a portion of the stream, which - runs down the valley in which the house stands, for the purpose of making - a fountain on the terraces. (Let it be noted in passing, that the - lead-work of that fountain has needed no repair from that day to this! - There <i>were</i> plumbers in those days!) From this fountain two pipes - carry the water into the house, under the lawn on which we stood. Now the - lawn turf is as smooth as a billiard-table, without the slightest - indication of the whereabouts of these pipes, which indeed was only known - vaguely to the squire, and not at all to any one else of those present. If - the divining-rod could discover these, the experiment at “Deer Leap Wood” - might be undertaken with good hope. - </p> - <p> - Well, the doctor, conducted by the steward, arrived in due course, a stout - middle-aged man, of the stamp of a high-class mechanic; plain and - straightforward in speech, and with no pretence whatever to mystery. In - answer to our questions, he said: “He couldn’t tell how it came about; but - of this he was sure, that he could find springs and running water. Thirty - years ago he was working as a mason at Chippenham, with a Cornish miner - amongst others. He saw this man find water with the rod; had then tried it - himself, and found he could do it. That was all he knew. Any one*of us - might have the same power. Why, two young gentlemen who saw him working at - Warleigh, near Bath, had copied him, and found a spring right under their - father’s library.” We listened, and then proposed that he should just try - about the lawn. He produced a hazel twig shaped like a Y, the arms, each - some eighteen inches long; the point, perhaps, six inches. I may note, - however, that the dimensions can be of no consequence, for he used at - least half a dozen in his trials, cutting them at random out of the - hazel-bush as we walked along, and taking no measure of any of them. - Taking an arm of the Y between the middle fingers of each hand, he walked - across the lawn slowly, stooping slightly forward, so as to keep the point - downwards, about a foot from the ground. He had not gone a dozen yards - before the rod quivered, and then the point rose at once straight up into - the air. “There’s running water here,” he said, “and close to the - surface.” We marked the spot and followed him, and some twenty-five yards - further the point of the Y again sprang up into the air. The steward, who - knew the plans accurately, was appealed to, and admitted that these were - the precise spots under which the pipes ran. In answer to the suggestion - that the point sprang up by pressure of his fingers, voluntary or - involuntary, he asked two of us to hold the arms beyond his fingers, and - see if we could prevent the point rising. We did so (I being one), and did - all we could to keep it pointed downwards, but it rose in spite of us, and - I watched his hands carefully at the same time and could detect no - movement whatever of the muscles. Then he broke one of the arms, all but - the bark, and still the point rose as briskly as ever. Lastly, he proposed - that each of us should try if we had the power. We did so, but without - success, except that in the case of Mrs. Evelyn and another lady the point - trembled, and seemed inclined, though unable, to rise. He then took hold - of their wrists, and at once it rose, nearly as promptly as it had done - with him. This was enough; and we started in procession, on ponies, in - carriage^, or walking, to Deer Leap Wood, where in the course of an hour - he marked with pegs some half dozen spots, under which running water will - be found at from 70 feet to 100 feet. He did not pretend to be able to - give the exact depth, but only undertook to give the outside limits. And - so we all went back to lunch, and Mullins took his fee and departed. I - know, sir, that you have many scientific readers, and can picture to - myself the smile tinged with scorn with which they will turn to your next - page when they get thus far. Well, I own that the boring remains to be - done, the results of which I hope to send you in due course. Meantime, let - me remind them of a well-known adventure of one of the most famous of - their predecessors towards the end of last century. Sir Joseph Banks, - botanising on the downs on a cloudless June day, came across a shepherd - whom he greeted with the customary “Fine day,”—“Ees,” was the reply, - “but there’ll be heavy rain yet, afore night.” Sir Joseph passed on - unheeding, and got a thorough drenching before he reached his inn. Next - morning he went back, found the shepherd, and put a guinea in his hand, - with “Now, my man, tell me how you knew there was going to be rain - yesterday afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - “Whoy,” said Hodge, with a grin, “I zeed my ould ram a shovin’ hisself - back’ards in under thuck girt thornin bush; and wenever a doos that - there’ll sartin sure be heavy rainfall afore sundown.” - </p> - <p> - Note.—Water was found where it was expected by the Diviner, and this - well is now used by the tenants of the Deer Leap Cottages.—October - 1895. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Sequah’s “Flower of the Prairie,” Chester, 26th March 1890. - </h2> - <p> - “Why, what on earth can this be?” I asked of the man who stood next me in - the Foregate some ten days ago, as we paused at a crossing to allow the - strange object which had drawn from me the above ejaculation to pass on, - with its attendant crowd. It was a mighty gilded waggon, certainly - fourteen feet long by six feet or seven feet broad. It was drawn by four - handsome bays. On two raised seats at the front sat eight men, English, I - fancy, every man of them, but clad over their ordinary garments in long - leather coats with fringes, such as our familiar Indians wear in - melodrama, and in the broad-brimmed, soft felts of the Western cowboy. - They were all armed with brass instruments and made the old streets - resound with popular airs. Behind these raised seats, in the body of the - waggon, rode some half dozen, including three strapping brown men, - Indians, I fancy they pose for, but they looked to me more like the - half-castes whom one sees on the Texan and Mexican ranches on the Bio - Grande. They also were clad in fringed leather coats, and wore sombreros - over their long black locks. The sides of the waggon, where not gilt, were - panelled with mirrors, on which were emblazoned the Stars and Stripes and - other coloured devices. Altogether, the thing seemed to me well done in - its way, whatever it might mean; and I turned inquiringly to my neighbour - and repeated my question, as the huge gilded van and its jubilant - followers passed away down the station road. “Oh! ’tis the ‘Merikin chap, - as cures folks’s rheumatics and draws their teeth.” - </p> - <p> - “He must draw something more than their teeth,” I said, “to keep up all - that show.” My neighbour grinned assent. “He’ve drawed pretty nigh all the - loose money as is going hereabouts already,” he said as we parted. “One - more quack to fleece the poor,” I thought, as I walked on. “Well, anyhow, - they get a show for their shillings; that van beats Barnum!” - </p> - <p> - In this mind I reached the vicarage of one of our biggest city parishes to - which I was bound. “I don’t know about quack,” said the vicar, when I had - detailed my adventure on the way, using that disparaging phrase; “but this - I do know, that I have given over writing certificates for my poor from - downright shame, the demand is so great.” And then he explained that the - “medicineman,” whose stage name was Sequah, made no charge to any patient - who brought a clergyman’s certificate of poverty; that the van had now - been in the town above a week; and at first he, the vicar, had given such - certificates freely, both for treatment (tooth-drawing) and for the - medicines, but now refused except in the case of the very poorest. No! not - because Sequah was an impostor; on the contrary, he had done several - noteworthy cures—at any rate temporary cures—on some of the - vicar’s own parishioners: notably in the case of one old man who had been - drawn up to the van in a wheel-chair. He had had rheumatism for two years, - which had quite disabled him, and was in great pain when he got on the - platform. After he had been treated he walked down the steps without help, - and wheeled his chair home himself. Unluckily, Sequah had advised him to - get warm woollen underclothing, and on his pleading that he had not the - money to buy it, had given him a sovereign. This so elated him that he - felt quite a new man, and could not help breaking his sovereign on the way - home to give the new man a congratulatory glass at a favourite pot-house. - This had thrown him back, and his knees were a little stiff again, but the - pain had not returned even in this case. - </p> - <p> - After such testimony from a thoroughly trustworthy and matter-of-fact - witness, I resolved to see this strange thing with my own eyes, and went - off straight from the vicarage to the scene of action, to which the vicar - directed me. This was an old tan-yard about half an acre in extent, and - was full of people when I arrived, the space immediately round the waggon - being densely crowded. It was drawn up in the middle of the plot. The - eight brass-bandsmen had wheeled round so as to look down from their - raised benches on the floor of the waggon, on which was a large leather - chair. In front of the chair, speaking to the crowd from the end of the - waggon, stood a tall figure, in a finer kind of leather-fringed coat, - ornamented with rows of blue, red, and white beads. At first glance I - thought it was a woman from the fineness of the features, and masses of - long, light hair falling on the shoulders. A second glance, however, - showed me that it was a man, and a vigorous and muscular one too. He was - explaining that the medicines he was going to sell presently were not - “scientific,” but “natural” medicines, “compounded of the water of a - Californian spring and certain botanic ingredients”! I will not trouble - you with a list of all the ailments they will cure if taken steadily and - in sufficient doses, but get on at once to the performance. Having - finished his speech, he put on his sombrero, took up a pair of forceps - from a table on which a row of them were displayed, and stood by the - chair. Upon this, advanced an apparently endless line of men, women, and - children, marshalled by the Indians who stood at the foot of the steps. - One by one they came up, sat down in the chair, passed under Sequah’s - hands, and descended the steps on the other side of the waggon into the - wondering crowd, while the band discoursed vigorous and continuous music. - I watched him draw at least fifty teeth in less than as many minutes. The - patient just sat down, opened his mouth, pointed to the peccant tooth, and - it was out in most cases before he could wink. There were perhaps three or - four cases (of adults) in which things did not go quite so smoothly, and - one—that of a young woman, who seized her bonnet and rushed down the - steps in evident pain and rage—after which he stopped the band, and - explained to us that her tooth was so decayed that he had had to break the - stump in the jaw. This he had done, and should have taken the pieces out - without causing any further pain, if she had just waited a few more - seconds. There are rumours flying round that the infirmary is crowded - daily with patients in agonies from broken fangs which have been left in - by Sequah. On the other hand, two of our doctors whom I have met admit - that he is a very remarkable “extractor,” and has first-rate instruments. - </p> - <p> - There were still crowds waiting their turn when he finished his - tooth-drawing for the day, and announced that he would now treat a case of - rheumatism. Thereupon, an elderly man—who gave his name and address, - and stated that he had been rheumatic for twelve years, unable to walk for - two, and was now in great pain—was carried up the steps and put in - the chair. Then buffalo-robes were brought by the Indians, two of whom - held them up so as to conceal Sequah and the third, a rubber, who remained - inside with the patient. Then the brass band struck up boisterously, the - buffalo-robe screen was agitated here and there, and a strong and very - pungent smell (not unlike hartshorn) spread all round. I timed them, and - at the end of eighteen minutes the buffalo-robes were lowered, and there - was the old man dressed again and seated in the chair. The band stopped. - Sequah asked the old man if he felt any pain now. He replied, “No,” and - then was told to walk to the front of the platform, which he did; then to - get down the ladder, walk round the waggon amongst the crowd, and come up - on the other side, which he did, looking, I must say, as astonished as I - was, at his own performance. Then six or seven men, mostly elderly, came - up and declared that they had been similarly treated, and were wonderfully - better, some of them quite cured and at work again. Then Sequah invited - any person who had been treated by him or taken his medicines and were - none the better, to come up into the waggon and tell us about it, as that - was their proper place and not below. This offer seemed quite <i>bona fide</i>, - but it did not impress me, as I doubt whether any protesting patient would - have had much chance of ascending the steps, which were kept by the - Indians and their able-bodied confederates. No one answering, two big - portmanteaus were brought up, out of which he began to sell his medicines - at a dollar (4s.) the set—two bottles and two small packets. The - rush to be served began, people crushing and struggling to get near enough - to hand up their hats or caps with 4s. in them, which were returned with - the medicines in them. I watched for at least ten minutes, when, there - being apparently no end to the purchases, I strolled away, musing on the - strange scene, and wondering what the attraction can be in the Bohemian - life which could induce a man of this evident power to wander about the - world in a gilded waggon, in a ridiculous costume, and talking transparent - clap-trap, to sell goods which apparently want no lies telling about them. - </p> - <p> - I may add that I went again last Saturday, when there was even a greater - crowd, and an older and more severe case of rheumatism was treated with - quite as great (apparent) success. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - French Popular Feeling, 15th August 1890. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> doubt if any of - your readers has less sympathy than I with the yearning to go back twenty, - thirty, or forty years (as the case may be), which seems to be a note of - contemporary literature, and therefore, I take it, of the average mind of - the men and women of our day, who have passed out of their first youth. - “The Elixir of Life,” which Bulwer dreamed and wrote of, which should - restore youth, with its bounding pulses and golden locks, its capacity for - physical enjoyment, and for building castles in Spain, I think I may say - with confidence I would not drink four times a day, with twenty minutes’ - promenade between the glasses (as I am just now drinking of the <i>source - Cosar</i> here), even if an <i>elixir vito source</i> were to come - bubbling up to-morrow in this enchanting Auvergne valley, and our English - doctor here at Royat—known to all readers of Mr. <i>Punch’s</i> - “Water Course”—were to put it peremptorily on my treatment-paper - to-morrow morning. It is not surely the “<i>good fellows</i> whose beards - are gray,” who sigh over the departure of muscular force, and sure - quickness of eye and nerve, which enabled them in years gone by to jump - five-barred gates or get down to leg-shooters. They are glad to see the - boys doing these things, and rejoicing in them; but, for themselves, do - not desire any more to jump five-barred gates or get down to leg-shooters. - They have learned the wise man’s lesson, that there is a time for all - things, and that those who linger on life’s journey and fancy they can - still occupy the pleasant roadside places after their part of the column - has passed on ahead, will surely find themselves in the way of, and be - shouldered out by, the next division, without a chance of being able to - regain their place in the line, side by side with old comrades and - contemporaries. - </p> - <p> - But it is one thing to fall out of the line of march of one’s own accord, - from an unwise hankering after roadside pleasures, and quite another to - have to fall out because one can no longer keep one’s old place in the - column by reason of failing wind, or muscle, or nerve; and the man of - sense who feels his back stiffening, or his feet getting tender, will do - well to listen to such hints betimes, and betake himself at once to - whatever place or regimen holds out the best hope of enabling him to keep - step once more, till the day is fairly over and the march done. It is for - this reason, at any rate, that I find myself at Royat, from which I have - been assured by more than one trustworthy friend who has tested the - waters, that I shall return after three weeks “with new tissues,” and “fit - to fight for my life.” I don’t see any prospect of having to fight for my - life in my old age, though one can’t be too confident with the new - Radicalism looming up so menacingly, and am very well content with my old - tissues, if they can’ only be got into fair working order again, of which - I already begin to think there is good prospect here, though my experience - of the <i>sources</i> “Eugénie” and “Cæsar” is as yet not a week old. - </p> - <p> - It is more than twenty years since I have written to you from France over - this signature, and since that time I have only been once in Paris, for - two days on business. The gay city is much less changed than I expected to - find it, so far as one can judge from a drive across it from the Gare de - l’Ouest to the Gare de Lyon, and a stroll (after depositing luggage at the - latter station) along the Rue de Rivoli and the Quais, and through the - streets of the old city. The clearance which has left an open space in - front of Notre Dame, so that one can get a good view of the western front, - seemed to me the most noteworthy improvement. The great range of public - buildings and offices which have been added to the Louvre are stately and - impressive, but cannot make up for the disappearance of the Tuileries. The - Eiffel Tower is a great disappointment. All buildings should be either - beautiful or useful; but it is neither, and only seems to dwarf all the - other buildings. But one change impressed me grievously. Where are all the - daintily dressed women and children gone to? Perhaps the world of fashion - may be out of town; but there must be some two millions of people left in - Paris, a quarter of them at least well-to-do citizens, and able to give as - much care as of old to their toilets. Nevertheless, I assure you, I sought - in vain for one really dainty figure such as one used to meet by the score - in every street. Can twenty years of the true Republic have made La Belle - France dowdy? It is grievous to think of it, and I hope to be undeceived - before I get back amongst the certainly better got-up women of my native - land. - </p> - <p> - For my nine hours’ journey south, I bought a handful of the cheap - illustrated papers—<i>Le Grelot, Le Troupier</i>, and others—which - seem to be as much the daily intellectual fare of the French travelling - public as (I regret to say) <i>Tit-Bits</i> and its congeners are, at any - rate in my part of England. Of course it is always difficult to know what - “the people” are thinking or caring about; but to get at what they read - must be not a bad test. A perusal of these certainly surprised me - favourably, especially in this respect, that they were almost entirely - free from the pruriency which is so generally supposed to be the - characteristic of modern French literature. - </p> - <p> - I wish I could speak half as favourably of the attitude of France, so far - as these journals disclose it, towards her neighbours; but this is about - as bad as it can be, touchy, jealous, and unfair, all round. Take, for - instance, the <i>Troupier</i>, which is specially addressed to the Army. - The cartoon represents the “Grand Jeu de Massacre,” at which all - passers-by are invited to join free of charge. The <i>jeu</i> consists of - throwing at a row of puppets, citizens of Alsace-Lorraine, in which a - brutal German soldier is indulging, while the French “Ministre des - Affaires (qui lui sont) Etrangères” slumbers peacefully on a neighbouring - seat. But we come off at least as badly as Germany. In a vigorous leader, - entitled “Une Reculade,” on the Zanzibar Question, after a very bitter - opening against England—“il n’y a guère de pays qui n’ait été roulé - dupé et volé par elle,”—the <i>Troupier</i> breaks into a song of - triumph over the backing-down of England, “flanquée d’Allemagne et de ses - alliés,” before the resolute attitude of France. “Cette reculade,” it - ends, “de nos ennemis indique suffisamment que La France a repris la place - et le rang qui lui conviennent, et qu’elle est de taille à se faire - respecter partout et par tous. C’est tout ce que nous desirions.” In all - commercial and industrial matters we are equally grasping and - unscrupulous. There seems to be just now a great stir in the sardine - industry, and, so far as I can make out, English and American Companies - seem to be competing for a monopoly of that savoury little fish. It is, - however, upon the English “Sardine Union Company, Limited”—“qui - s’appelle en France, Société Générale de l’Industrie Sardinière de France”—that - the vials of journalistic wrath are being emptied. “Sept polichinelles,” - it would seem, have subscribed for one share each, and the whole scheme is - utterly rotten. Nevertheless, this bogus Company threatens to buy up all - the sardine manufactories in France at fancy prices, and, the control - being in England, will manufacture there all the metal boxes, and will - build all the fishing-boats over there, “au détriment de nos constructeurs - Français,” and so on, and so on. I was getting quite melancholy over all - these onslaughts on my native country, when I came upon a topic which - alone seems to excite the petit-journaliste more than the sins of the - long-toothed Englishman—viz. those of priests and their followers - and surroundings. Here is a comic example, over which the Grelot foams in - trenchant and sarcastic but incredibly angry sentences. A Belgian Council - has decided to divide the 500 fr. which it has voted to the “Institut - Pasteur,” the vote being “pour M. Pasteur et pour St. Hubert.” This - remarkable vote was carried on the pleading of a Deputy, who, after paying - homage to M. Pasteur, added: “C’est un grand homme qui a opéré des cures - merveilleuses; seulement il y a un autre grand homme, qui depuis onze cent - soixante-trois années a opéré des miracles, c’est St. Hubert—M. - Pasteur devra travailler longtemps avant d’en arriver là.” I am afraid you - will have no room for more than one of the scathing sentences in which the - writer tosses this unlucky vote backwards and forwards: “M. Pasteur - acceptera-t-il de partager les 500 fr. avec St. Hubert (adresse inconnue), - ou St. Hubert refusera-t-il de partager avec M. Pasteur (adresse connue)?—‘That - is the question/ comme disait le nommé Shakespeare.” - </p> - <p> - It was in the midst of such instructive if not entirely pleasant reading, - that I arrived at Clermont, the old capital of Auvergne, by far the most - interesting town I have been in this quarter of a century, not excepting - Chester. From thence, one comes up to Roy at, about three miles, in an - electric tramway, or by ’bus or cab. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Royat les Bains, 23rd August 1890. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ome thirty years - ago, more or less, I remember reading with much incredulous amusement Sir - Francis Head’s “Bubbles of the Brunnen.” It was in the early days of the - Saturday Review, when the infidel Talleyrand gospel of surtout jooint de - zèle was being preached to young England week by week in those able but - depressing columns. I, like the rest of my contemporaries, was more or - less affected by the cold water virus, and was certainly inclined to look - from the superior person standpoint on what I could not but regard as the - outpourings of the second childhood of an eccentric septuagenarian, who - was really asking us to believe that the Schwalbach waters were as - miraculously potent as the thigh-bone of St. Glengulphus, of which is it - not written in <i>The In-goldsby Legends</i>:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And cripples, on touching his fractured <i>os femoris</i>, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Threw down their crutches and danced a quadrille. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I need scarcely say to you, sir, that it is many years since I have been - thoroughly disabused of this depressing heresy; but perhaps one never - quite recovers from such early demoralisation. At any rate, now that I - find myself approaching Sir Francis’s age, and much in his frame of mind - when he blew his exhilarating bubbles, I can’t quite make up my mind to - turn myself loose, as he did, and in Lowell’s words, “pour out my hope, my - fear, my love, my wonder,” upon you and your readers. The real fact, - however, stated in plain (Yankee) prose is, that Schwalbach (I have been - there) “is not a circumstance” to this refuge for the victim of gout, - rheumatism, eczema, dyspepsia, and I know not how many more kindred - maladies, amongst the burnt-out volcanoes of the Department Puy-de-Dome. - Nevertheless, you may fairly say, and I should agree, that my ten days’ - experience of the effect of the waters is scarcely sufficient to make me a - trustworthy witness as to the healing properties of these springs. - Twenty-one days is the prescribed course, and as I am as yet but half - through, I will not “holloa till I am out of the wood,” but will try in - the first place to give you some idea of this Royat les Bains and its - surroundings. - </p> - <p> - Let us look out from this third-floor window at which I am writing, on the - highest guest-floor of the topmost hotel in Royat, to which a happy chance - (or my good angel, if I have one) led me on my arrival. I look out across - a narrow valley, from three to four hundred yards wide, upon a steep hill - which forms its opposite side. They say this hill is a burnt-out volcano. - However that may be, it is now clothed with vineyards on all but the - almost precipitous places where the rock peeps out. On the highest point, - against the sky-line, stands out a small white house, calling itself the - Hôtel de l’Observatoire, from which there must be a magnificent view; but - how it is to be reached I have not yet learned, for there is no visible - road or footpath, and the peasants object to one’s attempting the ascent - through the vineyards. The valley winds up round this hill, taking a turn - to the north, our side widening out and sweeping back behind Royat Church - and village, to which the retreating hill behind forms a most picturesque - background. For, on the lower slope, just above the houses, are stretches - of bright green meadow, interspersed amongst irregular clumps of oak; - above this comes a brown-red belt of rough ground, growing heather and - wild strawberries; and, again above that, all along the brow, are dense - pine woods. The constant changes of colour which this southern sun brings - out all day long on this hillside make it difficult to break away from - one’s window and descend to the <i>établissement</i> to drink waters and - take baths. This institution lies down at the bottom of the valley I have - been describing, some 200 feet below this window, and 150 feet below the - broad terrace which is thrown out from the ground-floor of this hotel. - From the terrace a rough zigzag path leads down to the brook, which rushes - down from Royat village in a succession of tiny waterfalls, sending up to - us all day the murmur of running water. On reaching the brook’s bank, we - have about one hundred yards to walk by its side, when, crossing a good - road which runs round it, we reach the low wall of the park, in which lies - the bathing establishment. From this point the electric tram-cars run to - Clermont, carrying backwards and forwards for two sous baigneurs and - holiday-folk enough, I should say, to pay handsome dividends. This park - occupies the whole breadth of the valley, pushing back the houses on - either side against the hillsides. Its main building, a handsome - structure, built of lava, with red-tiled roof, contains all the separate - baths and a <i>piscine</i>, or swimming bath, besides a good-sized hall - for sanitary gymnastics, and a <i>salle d’escrime</i>, in which a - professor instructs pupils daily in fencing and <i>le boxe</i>. The broad - path runs from top to bottom of this park, having this <i>établissement</i> - building on its left or northern side, and on its right two parallel - terraces, one above the other. On the lower of these is the great <i>source</i>, - the “Eugénie,” which bubbles up here in magnificent style, sending up some - millions of gallons daily. Over the Eugénie <i>source</i> is a pavilion, - with open sides and striped red and white curtains. A second pavilion on - the same terrace, a little lower down, is devoted to the band, which plays - every afternoon for two or three hours; and below that again, the casino. - On the second or upper terrace are a few favoured <i>châlet</i> shops, for - the sale of books, pictures, photographs, and the pottery and <i>bijouterie</i> - of Auvergne. Then, above again, comes the road which encloses the park, on - the opposite side of which are the row of large hotels built against the - rocky side of the valley, and communicating at the back from their upper - stories with the road which runs up to Royat village. The rest of the park - is laid out in lawns and garden-beds, full of bright flowers and walks, - amongst which are found three other sources—the Cæsar, the St. Mart, - and the St. Victor, each of which has its small drinking-pavilion. In - front of these several pavilions and along the terraces are a plentiful - supply of seats, and chairs which you can carry about to any spot you may - select under the shade of the plane-trees and acacias which line the - terraces and walks, with weeping-willows, chestnuts, and poplars happily - interspersed here and there. The abundant water-supply which the brook - brings down is well utilised, so that the whole park, some six acres in - extent, is kept as fresh and green, and the flower-beds as luxuriant and - bright with colour, as if it were in dear, damp England. At the bottom of - the park, a handsome viaduct of arches, built of lava, spans the valley, - seeming to shut Royat in from the outer world, and beyond, the valley - broadens out into a wide plain, with Clermont, the capital of Auvergne, in - the foreground, and beyond the city, stretching right away to Switzerland, - a splendid sea (as it were) of corn and maize and vines and olives, the - richest, it is said, in the whole of <i>la belle</i> France. It is stated - in all the guidebooks, and by trustworthy residents, that on a clear day - you may see Mont Blanc from Royat, but as yet I have not been lucky - enough. - </p> - <p> - Unless I have failed altogether in describing the view which lies - constantly before me—from the pine-clad hillside over Royat village, - with its gray church and white red-roofed houses to the west, away down - over the park and surrounding hotels and shops, and viaduct and city and - plain to the far east—you can now fancy what it must be in the early - morning, when the light mist is lying along the hillsides until the sun - has had time to dispose of the clouds in the upper air, or at night, when - the clear sky is thick with stars, and the Northern Lights flame up behind - the silent volcano opposite this Hôtel de Lyon. There is no place on - earth, from the back-slums of great cities to the mountain-peak or - mid-ocean, to which early morns and evening twilights do not bring daily, - or almost daily, some touch of the beauty of light-pictures which sun and - moon and stars paint for us so patiently, whether we heed them or no; but - to get them in their full perfection, one should be able to look at them - in the light, dry, warm air of such places as these volcanic highlands of - Auvergne. - </p> - <p> - And now for the life we lead in this air and scenery. Every morning at six - I arrive at the Cæsar spring and drink two glasses, with twenty minutes’ - interval between them. Then I climb the hill to <i>café au lait</i> and - two small rolls and butter on the terrace, which comes off about 7 A.M., - as soon as the last of our party of four has come up from the park. Rest - till eleven follows, when we have <i>déjeûner à la fourchette</i>, which, - as we sit down about a hundred, lasts for an hour. In the afternoon I - drink two glasses at the St. Mart spring, and between them have twenty - minutes in the <i>piscine</i>, which is my great treat of the day. Going - punctually at two, when the ladies surrender this swimming-bath to the - men, I almost always get it to myself, and enjoy it as I used to do years - ago, when my blood was warm enough, lying about amongst the waves on the - English coast, and letting them just tumble and toss me about as they - would. This water comes warm from the Eugénie spring daily, and is so - buoyant that one can lie perfectly still on the top of it with one’s hands - behind one’s head; and if there were no roof to the <i>piscine</i>, and - one could only look straight up all the time into the deep-blue sky, twice - as high, so it looks, as ours in England, the physical enjoyment would be - perfect. It is not far from that as it is, and I thoroughly sympathise - with Browning’s Amphibian:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - From worldly noise and dust, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - In the sphere which overbrims - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With passion and thought—why, just - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Unable to fly, one swims. - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Royat les Bains, 30th August 1890. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> suppose there - never was a garden since Eden (unless, perhaps, in the early days of the - Jesuit settlements in the Paraguay) in which the devil has not had a tree - or a corner somewhere; and it would be well for us all if he were no more - in evidence in other health and holiday resorts than he is here in the <i>parc</i>. - His booth is at the end of the middle terrace, a small pavilion, well - shaded by tall acacias, in which in the afternoons you can risk a franc, - occasionally two, every minute on the <i>course des petits chevaux</i>. - The <i>course</i> is a round table, with eight or ten concentric grooves, - in each of which a small horse and jockey runs. Outside this <i>course</i>, - with room for a page-boy to move round between the two, there is a slight - railing with a flat top, at which the players sit round and post their - stakes. These are collected by the page, who lets each player draw a - number in exchange for the francs. As soon as he has made his circuit, the - croupier gives a turn to a handle which works the machinery. The first - turn brings all the horses into line, and the next starts them round the - course, each in his own groove. After another turn or two, the croupier - lets go the handle, and the puppets begin to scatter, the winner being the - one which passes the post last before the machine stops, and they all come - to a standstill. - </p> - <p> - Then the croupier calls out the winning number, and the owner gets all the - stakes, except one, which goes to the table. Beyond this, the Company has - no interest whatever, so it is said. Of course one looks with jealousy at - every such game of chance, and I was inclined to think at first that the - croupier was in league with two women, one spectacled, who sat steadily at - one end of the players, playing in partnership, and seeming to win oftener - than any of the others; but the longer I watched, the weaker grew my - suspicions. Most of the players, by the way, are women, though there are a - few men who come and sit for hours, playing and smoking cigarettes. - Besides the sitters many strollers come up, stake their francs for a - course or two, and then move on, not unfrequently with a handful of - silver. On the whole, if play is to be allowed at all, it can scarcely - take a more harmless form, if only the good-natured French papa could be - kept from letting his children play for him. He comes up with a child of - ten or twelve years, lets them sit down, and supplies them from behind - with the necessary francs, and after a round or two the little faces flush - and hands shake, especially if they be girls, in a way which is painful to - see. A child gambling is as sad a sight, for every one but the devil and - his elect, as this old world can show. - </p> - <p> - Next to the <i>courses des petits chevaux</i>, at some thirty yards’ - distance, comes the large pavilion in which the excellent band sit and - play for an hour in the forenoon and afternoon, and again at 8 P.M. Round - the pavilion is a broad space, gravelled and well shaded, and furnished - with chairs which are occupied all the afternoon by <i>baigneurs</i> and - visitors, mostly in family groups, the women knitting or sewing, and the - children playing about in the intervals of the music, and before and after - the regular concerts. Occasionally they have a <i>bal d’enfants</i> in - this space, controlled by a master of the ceremonies, a dancing-, master, - I am told. Under him the children, boys and girls of thirteen or fourteen, - down to little trots who can scarcely toddle, may enjoy polkas, galops, - and the <i>taran-tole des postilions</i>, as well as the gravel allows; - and now and again comes a <i>défilé</i>, in which, in couples carefully - graduated according to size and age, the children march round the walks, - and in and out amongst the approving sitters. A very pretty, and to me - rather a curious sight, as I much doubt if the English boy could be - induced to perform such a march, even in the hope of small packets of - bonbons at the end, which are distributed to the best performers. - </p> - <p> - The big orchestral platform in this pavilion is often occupied, when the - band is not playing, by itinerant performers, who (I suppose) hire it from - the Company in the hope of getting a few francs out of the sitting and - circulating crowd. The performances are poor, so far as I have seen, - though one conjurer certainly played a trick which entirely beat me at the - time, and for which I am still quite unable to account. He produced what - he called a <i>garotte</i>, made of two stout planks which shut one upon - another (like our old stocks), and in which was a central hole for the - neck, and two smaller ones for the wrists. This garotte he handed round, - and though I did not get hold of it, I inspected it in the hands of a - youth who was standing just in front of me, and satisfied myself that the - planks were solid wood. Then he placed it on a stand, and called up a - stout damsel in the flesh-coloured tights which seem to be <i>de rigueur</i> - for all female performers, who knelt down and laid her neck in the big - hole, and a wrist in each of the smaller ones. The conjurer then let down - the upper plank upon her, and having borrowed a signet ring from an - elderly <i>décoré</i> Frenchman who was sitting near the platform, - proceeded to encircle the two planks with strips of stout paper or tape, - which he sealed with the ring. Then he held up a screen for the space of - twenty seconds, and on lowering it the damsel was posturing in her tights, - while the <i>garotte</i> remained <i>in situ</i>, with the tapes still - there and the seals unbroken. By what trick she got her head and hands out - I was utterly unable to guess, and strolled away with the rather provoking - sense of having been fooled through my eyes. I hope a green parrot who - flew down and sat on the railing close to the <i>garotte</i>, with his - head wisely on one side, flew off better satisfied. - </p> - <p> - Below, on the lowest terrace, at the end of the <i>établissement</i> - buildings, is the <i>salle d’escrime</i>, which is open daily in the - afternoons, when you may see through the big windows the “Maître - d’Escrime, Professeur de S.A.R. le Prince des Galles,” sitting ready to - instruct pupils, or, so it seemed, to try a friendly bout with all comers. - The former were generally too much of mere beginners to make any show - worth seeing, but on one day an awkward customer turned up who ran the - professor, so far as I could judge, very hard. Indeed, I am by no means - sure that he acknowledged several shrewd hits, but my knowledge of fencing - is too small to make my judgment worth much. Le boxe is also announced to - go on here, but I have never seen the gloves put on yet. Indeed, I much - doubt whether young Frenchmen really like having their heads punched for - love. It is an eccentricity which does not seem to spread out of the - British Isles. There was a tempting <i>assaut d’armes</i> last Sunday, - presided over by General Paquette, at which eleven <i>maîtres d’escrime</i> - of regiments in this department, and one professor from Paris were to - fence. I was sorely tempted to go, but as the thermometer stood at 80° in - the shade, and so reinforced my insular prejudices as to the day, - abstained. - </p> - <p> - Again, beyond the Casino, on the upper terrace, is a good croquet-ground - on the broad gravel space at the lower end of the <i>parc</i>. I should - think it a difficult ground to play on, but as a rule the French boys are - decidedly good players, and seem to enjoy the game thoroughly, and to get - round the hoops quicker than any of ours could do on a lawn like a - billiard-table. The Casino, besides a restaurant and reading-room, - contains a theatre, at which there are performances five nights in the - week, and generally a ball on the off-nights. These are often fancy-balls, - and always, I hear, very lively; but I cannot speak from experience, never - having as yet descended either to them or to the plays and operettas. When - one can sit out on a terrace and see the lights coming out in the valley, - and the Milky Way and all the stars in the heaven shining as they only do - down South, even the artists of the Théâtre Français, and the other - theatrical stars who visit the Casino in the season, cannot get me indoors - o’ nights, even at Casino prices. These are very reasonable, the <i>abonnement</i> - for a seat being only 1 franc a night, or 2 francs for a <i>fauteuil</i>. - Your readers may perhaps be able to judge of the kind of entertainment - given by a specimen. To-night there are two operettas,—<i>Violonnaux</i>, - music by Offenbach; and <i>Les Charbonneurs</i>, music by G. Coste. I own - I never heard of either of the pieces. - </p> - <p> - I think, sir, you will allow that there are attractions enough of all - kinds provided by the Compagnie Anonyme des Eaux Minérales de Royat, who - own the <i>parc</i> and run the business. They can well afford it, as - every visitor pays 10 francs as an <i>abonnement</i> for drinking the - waters, and the charges for baths are high, e.g. 2.50 francs for a - separate bath, and 2 francs for the swimming-bath, decidedly more than any - of our English watering-places, not excepting Bath; but one has so much - more fun, if one wants it, for the money. And then there is this immense - thing to be said for this Royat Company,—their park is entirely free - and open to any one who cares to walk through it. I have seen scores of - peasants in blouses, and their wives, sitting about during the concerts, - not on the same terrace with the band, where a sou is charged for chairs, - but near enough to hear the music perfectly; and one meets them all about - the garden, walking and chatting amongst the—I was going to write - “well dressed,” but that they are not, but eminently respectable, if - rather dowdy—crowds of bathers and visitors. I do not, of course, - mean that there are no exceptions, either in the case of dowdiness or - respectability, but they are rare enough to prove the rule. On the other - hand, the number of religious of both sexes is remarkable who come to use - the waters, principally for throat ailments. Sisters of several kinds, - some wearing black hoods with white breastplates, others in large white - head-dresses, with long flaps, like a bird’s wings, which flap as they - walk, are frequent in the early mornings and other quiet times; and - besides the regular clergy, there are three monkish orders represented. Of - these the most striking are two Franciscans, I believe, clad in rough, - ruddy-brown flannel gowns, reaching to the ground, with large rosaries - hanging before and cowls behind, and girt with knotted ropes. Peter the - Hermit preached the First Crusade in the neighbouring Church of St. Mary - of the port at Clermont, assisted doubtless by many a friar clad precisely - as these are, except that the modern monk or friar (as I was disappointed - to note, at any rate in one case) does not go bare-footed, or even in - sandals, but in substantial shoes and trousers! I was much struck by the - quiet, patient, and reverent expression on all the faces, very different - from what I remember in past years. Persecution may very well account, - however, for this. There is no branch, I take it, of the Church Universal - which does not thrive under it, in the best sense. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Auvergne en Fête, 6th September 1890. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hese good folk of - Auvergne seem to get much more fun, or at least much more play, out of - life than we do; at any rate, they have been twice <i>en fête</i> in the - three weeks we have been here. I suppose it is because we have in this - business cut down our saints till we have only St. Lubbock left, with his - quarterly holiday, while they, more wisely, have stuck to the old - calendar. But it seems all wrong that they, who get five times as much sun - as we, should also get three or four times as many holidays; for sunshine - is surely of itself a sort of equivalent for a holiday. Perhaps, however, - if we had lots of it, the national “doggedness as does it” might wear out. - That valuable, but unpleasant characteristic could scarcely have leavened - a nation living in a genial climate; but, with about half Africa on our - hands, in addition to Ireland and other trifles all round the world, the - coming generation will need the “dogged as does it” even more than their - fathers. So let us sing with Charles Kingsley, “Hail to thee, - North-Easter,” or with the old Wiltshire shepherd, claim that the weather - in England must be, anyhow, “sech as plaazes God A’mighty, and wut plaazes - He plaazes I.” - </p> - <p> - Determined to see all the fun of the fair, a friend and I started for - Clermont from Royat by the electric tramway, and reached the Place de - Jaude in a few minutes—the “Forum Clermontois,” as it is called in - the local guidebooks—the largest open space in the ancient capital - of Auvergne. It is a famous place for a fair, being nearly the size and - shape of Eaton Square, with two rows of plane-trees running round it, but - otherwise unenclosed. As we alighted from the tram-car, we could see a - long line of booths, with prodigious pictures in front of them, and - platforms on which bands were playing and actors gesticulating; but before - starting on our tour, we were attracted by a crowd close to the - stopping-place of the cars. It proved to be a ring, four or five deep, - round the carpet of athletes. They were two, a man and a woman, both in - the usual flesh-coloured tights, the latter without any pretence of a - skirt. The man was walking round, changing the places of the weights and - clubs, until sufficient sous had been thrown on to the carpet, the woman - screening her face from the sun with a big fan, and talking with her - nearest neighbours in the ring. She was a remarkably fine young woman, - with well-cut features, and a snake-head on a neck like a column; and, - strange to say, her expression was as modest and quiet as though pink - tights were the ordinary walking-dress on the Place de Jaude. The - necessary sous were soon carpeted, and the performance began. It was just - the usual thing, lifting and catching heavy weights, wielding clubs, etc., - the only novelty being that a woman should be one of the performers. She - followed the man, doing several feats with heavy weights which were - painful to witness, and we passed on to the row of booths. The average - price for entrance was 2 1/2 sous, but after experimenting on the two - first, we agreed that in such a temperature the outside was decidedly the - best part of the show. These two were some Indian dancers, male and - female, who stood up one after another and postured from the hips, and - waved scarfs, the rest beating time on banjos; and a “<i>Miss</i> Flora, - <i>dompteuse</i>,” a snake-tamer. From this announcement over the booth - entrance we rather expected to find a countrywoman, but the performer was - a squat little Frenchwoman, in the same skirtless tights, who took some - sleepy snakes out of a box, put them round her neck, and then wanted to - make us pay a second time, which we declined to do. The next booth ought - to have been amusing, but no boys came to play while we stopped. It was - announced as “Le Massacre d’Innocents.” A number of these “Innocent” - puppets looked out of a row of holes in a large wooden frame, not more - than eight feet from the rail in front of it. Standing behind this rail - the player, on paying 5 centimes, is handed a soft ball, which he can - discharge at any one of the Innocents he may select, and “chaque bonhomme - renversé gagne une demi-douzaine de biscuits.” I suppose the biscuits were - bad, as otherwise the absence of boys seemed incredible. Any English - lower-school boy would have brought down a <i>bonhomme</i> at that - distance with every ball, unless the balls were somehow doctored. But no - boy turned up; so we passed on to the biggest booth in the fair, with - pictures of wondrous beasts and heroic men and women over the platform, on - which a big drum and clarionet invited entrance, in strains which drowned - those of all the neighbouring booths. We read that inside a “Musée - historique, destructive, et amusant” was on show, but contented ourselves - with the pictures outside. - </p> - <p> - Facing the other side of the place, with their backs to the larger booths - along which we had come, were a row of humbler stalls and booths, most of - the latter being devoted to some kind of gambling. There were three or - four <i>courses des petits chevaux</i>, not so well appointed as the - permanent one in the Royat Park, but on the same lines, and a number of - hazard-boards-and other tables, about the size of those which the - thimble-riggers used to carry about at English fairs. These last were new - to me. They have a hollow rim round them, into which the player puts a - large marble, which runs out on to the face of the table, which is marked - all over with numbers, six or eight towards the centre being red, and the - rest black. If the marble stops on one of these red numbers, the player - wins; if on a black one, the table wins. The odds seemed to be more than - twenty to one against the player; but if so, the tables would surely be - less crowded. As it was, they did a merry trade, never for a moment - wanting a player while we looked on. Most of these were soldiers of the - garrison, interspersed with peasants in blouses, who dragged out their - sous with every token of disgust and resentment, but seemed quite unable - to get away from the tables. On the whole, after watching for some time, I - was confirmed in the belief that we are right in putting down gambling in - all public places. Nothing, I suppose, can stop it; but there is no good - in thrusting the temptation under the noses of boys and fools. - </p> - <p> - After making the round of the fair, we strolled up the hill to the - Cathedral, which dominates the city, and looks out over as fair and rich a - prospect as the world has to show. Brassey, when he was building one of - the railways across La Limagne, the plain which stretches away east of - Clermont, is reported to have said that if France were utterly bankrupt, - the surface value of her soil would set her on her legs again in two - years; and one can quite believe him. The streets of the old town, which - surrounds the Cathedral, are narrow and steep, but full of old houses of - rare architectural interest. Many of them must have belonged to great - folk, whose arms are still to be seen over the doors, inside the quiet - courts through which you enter from the streets. In these one could see, - as we passed, little groups of gossips, knitting, smoking, “<i>causer</i>-ing.” - The <i>petit bourgeois</i> has succeeded to the noble, and now enjoys - those grand, broad staircases and stone balconies. They form an excellent - setting to the Cathedral, itself a grand specimen of Norman Gothic, begun - by Hugues de la Tour, the sixty-sixth bishop, before his departure for the - Crusades, and finished by Viollet-le-Duc, who only completed the twin - spires in 1877. But interesting as the Cathedral is, it is eclipsed by the - Church of Notre Dame du Port, the oldest building in Clermont. It dates - from the sixth century, when the first church was built on the site by St. - Avitus, eighteenth bishop. This was burnt 853 A.D., and rebuilt by St. - Sigon, forty-third bishop, in 870. Burnt again, it was again rebuilt as it - stands to-day, in the eleventh century. In it Peter the Hermit is said to - have preached the First Crusade, when the Council called by Pope Urban II. - was sitting at Clermont. Whether this be so or not, it is by far the most - perfect and interesting specimen of the earliest Gothic known to me; and - the crypt underneath the chancel is unique. It is specially dedicated to - St. Mary du Port, and over the altar is the small statue of the Virgin and - Child, around and before which votive offerings of all kinds—crosses - and military decorations, bracelets, jewels, trinkets, many of them, I - should think, of large value—hang and lie. The small image has no - beauty whatever—in fact, is just a plain black doll—but of - untold value to many generations of Auvernois, who regard it as a talisman - which has, again and again, preserved their city from sword and - pestilence. I am not sure whether, amongst the small marble tablets which - literally cover the walls, one may not be found in memory of the great - fight of Gergovia, in which Vercingétorix, if he did not actually defeat - Cæsar, turned the great captain and his Roman legions away from this part - of Gaul. At any rate, amongst the most prominent, is one inscribed with - the names “Coulmiers,” “Patay,” “Le Mans,” the battles which in 1870-71 - stayed the German advance on Clermont, and saved the capital of Auvergne. - The rest are, for the most part, private tablets, thanksgivings for the - cure of all manner of sickness and disease to which flesh is heir. To this - shrine all sufferers have come in the faith which finds a voice all round - these old walls,—“Qu’on est heureux d’avoir Marie pour mère”! That - human instinct which longs for a female protectrix and mediator “behind - the veil,” speaks here, too, as it did 2000 years ago, when the [Greek - phrase] guarded the shrines of Athens and her colonies. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Scoppio Del Carro, Florence, Easter Eve, 1891. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have just come - back from witnessing an extraordinary, and, I should think, a unique - ceremony, which is enacted here on Easter Eve; and, on sitting down - quietly to think it over, can scarcely say whether I am most inclined to - laugh, or to cry, or to swear. In truth, the “Scoppio del Carro”—or - “explosion of the fireworks”—as it is called, is a curious comment - on, or illustration of, your last week’s remarks on Superstitions. “The - carefully preserved dry husk of outward observance” in this case - undoubtedly speaks, to those who have ears to hear, of a heroic time, and - the spectator rubs his eyes, and feels somehow— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - As though he looked upon the sheath - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Which once had clasped Excalibur. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - At any rate, that is rather how I felt, as, standing at noon in the dense - crowd in the nave of the Duomo, I saw the procession pass within a few - feet of me, on their way from the great entrance up to the high altar, - which was ablaze already with many tall candles. Although within a few - feet, the intervening crowd was so thick that I could only see the heads - and shoulders of the taller choristers and priests as they passed; but I - saw plainly enough, though the wearer was low of stature, the tall mitre—it - looked like gold—which the Archbishop wore as he walked in the - procession. Our bishops, I am told, are wearing or going to wear them - (Heaven save the mark!), which made me curious. They threaded their way - slowly up to the high altar; and presently we heard in the distance - intoning and chants; and then, after brief pause, the dove (so called) - started from the crucifix, I think, at any rate from a high point on the - altar, for the open door. But in order to be clear as to what the dove - carries and is supposed to do, we must go back to the Second Crusade. - </p> - <p> - I give the story as I make it out by comparing the accounts in various - guide-books with those of residents interested in such matters. These - differ much in detail, but not as to the main facts. These are, that in - 1147 A.D. a Florentine noble of the Pazzi family, Raniero by name, joined, - some say led, the 2500 Tuscans who went on the Crusade. In any case, he - greatly distinguished himself by his courage, and is said to have planted - the first standard of the Cross on the walls of Jerusalem. For this he was - allowed to take a light from the sacred fire on the Holy Sepulchre, which - he desired to carry back to his much-loved F’orence. An absurd part of the - legend now comes in. Finding the wind troublesome as he rode with the - light, he turned round, with his face to his horse’s tail (as if the wind - always blew in Crusaders’ faces), and so at last brought it safely home, - where his ungrateful fellow-citizens, when they saw him come riding in - this fashion, called out, “Pazzo!” “Pazzo!” or “Mad!” which his family - forthwith wisely adopted as their patronymic. - </p> - <p> - The sacred fire was housed in a shrine in St. Biagio, built by Raniero, - and has never been allowed to go out since that day—so it is said—and - from it yearly are relighted all the candles used in Florentine churches - at the Easter festival. It is a striking custom. Gradually, during the - Good Friday services, the lights are extinguished in the Duomo, and all - the churches, till at midnight they are in darkness, and are only relit - next day by fire brought even yet by a Pazzi, a descendant of Raniero, - from St. Biagio. This is, however, doubtful, some authorities asserting - that the family is extinct, others that it not only exists, but still - spends 2000 lire a year in preserving the sacred fire. A stranger has no - means that I know of, of sifting out the fact. Anyhow, I can testify that - somehow the fire is in the Duomo before noon, as any number of candles - were alight on the high altar when I got there at 11.30, half an hour - before the procession. Anything more orderly than the great crowd I have - never seen. It was of all nations, languages, and ranks, though the great - majority were Tuscan peasants with their families from all the surrounding - country, waiting in eager expectation for the flight of the dove from the - high altar, through the doors to the great car which stands waiting - outside at the bottom of the broad steps in front of the Duomo. If the - dove makes a successful flight, and lights the fireworks which are hung - round the car, there will be a good harvest and abundance of wine and oil, - and of oranges and lemons. This year the faces of the peasants and their - wives and children—and most attractive brown faces they were—were - anxious, for it had been raining hard in the morning, and still drops were - falling. However, all went well. At about 12.10 the chanting ceased, and - the dove—a small firework of the rocket genus—rushed down the - nave, some ten feet over our heads, along a thin wire which I had not - noticed before, and set light promptly to the fireworks on the car, which - began to turn and explode, not without considerable fizzing and - spluttering, but on the whole successfully. Then the dove turned and came - back, still alight, and leaving a trail of sparks as it sped along, to the - high altar. How it was received there, and what became of it, I cannot - say, as I was swept along in the rush to the doors which immediately - followed, and had enough to do to pilot my companion, a lady, to the new - centre of interest. This was the car to which the sacred fire had now been - transferred, and which was about to start on its round to the other - churches. It is chocolate-coloured, and spangled with stars, some twenty - feet high, surmounted by a large crown and Catherine-wheel. As our crowd - swept out of the Duomo and down the steps, to mingle with the still larger - crowd outside, men were rehanging the car with fresh fireworks, and - putting-to four mighty white oxen, gaily garlanded. I remarked that the - conductor, a tall, six-foot man, could not look over the shoulder of one - of these shaft-oxen as he was harnessing him in the shafts! - </p> - <p> - There could be no question as to the very best place for spectators. It - was the centre of the top step leading up to the Duomo façade; and, - finding ourselves there, we stopped and let the crowd surge past us. - Almost at once I became aware that this favoured spot was occupied by the - English-speaking race almost exclusively, the accent of cousin Jonathan, I - think, on the whole predominating. Two Italian boys looked up at us with - large, lustrous brown eyes; otherwise the natives were absent. It seems - like a sort of law of social gravitation, that in these latter days the - speakers of our language should get into all the world’s best places, and - having got there should stop. One cannot much wonder that the speakers in - other tongues should feel now and then as if they were being rather - crowded out. We did not pursue the car as it lumbered away under the - glorious campanile, surrounded by the rejoicing multitude, for the sun had - now got the upper hand, and the whole city and plain right away to the - lower hills, and the snow-capped Apennines in the background, were aglow - with the sort of subdued purple or amethyst light which seems to me to - differentiate Tuscany from all other countries known to me. Now, gradually - to put out all the lights in the churches on Good Friday, and to relight - them from fire from the Holy Sepulchre next day, seems to me a worthy and - pathetic custom; but this mixing it up with the firework business, and - having the Bishop and all the strength of the Cathedral out to help in - this dove trick, spoils the whole thing, and makes one wish one had not - gone to see it, recalling too forcibly, as it does to an Englishman, the - Crystal Palace on a fireworks’ night, and the similar “dove” which travels - from the Royal Gallery, where too-well-fed citizens and others sit - smoking, to light the great “concerted piece” in the grounds below. It was - like inserting “Abracadabra!” in the middle of the “Miserere.” P.S.—Since - writing the ‘above, we have had an arrival in Florence which will interest - your readers,—to wit, fifty young persons of both sexes from Toynbee - Hall, with Mr. Bolton King as conductor; and the English community are - doing all they can to make their stay pleasant. On the morrow of their - arrival Lady Hobart entertained them at her villa of Montauto, the one in - which Hawthorne wrote <i>Transformation</i>. It is a thirteenth-century - house, or, I should rather say, that the villa, with its large, airy suite - of rooms, with vaulted ceilings, has grown round a machicolated tower* of - that date, the highest building on the Bellosquardo Hill, to the - south-west of the city. From the top of it, reached by rather rickety and - casual old stairs, there is, I should think, as glorious a view as the - world can show,—a perfect panorama, with Florence lying right below, - and beyond, Fiesole and Vallombrosa, and the village of stone-cutters on - the slope of the Apennines, which reared the greatest of stonecutters, - Michael Angelo, and beyond, the highest Apennines, still snow-covered; and - to the north, the rich plain of vineyards, and olive-groves, and orange - and lemon gardens, thickly sprinkled with the bright white houses of the - peasant cultivators and the graceful campaniles of village churches, - beyond which one could see clearly on this “white-stone” day the snow-clad - peaks of the Carrara Mountains in the far north. I can hardly say whether - the Toynbee visitors, or those who were gathered to welcome them by the - hospitable hostess, enjoyed the unrivalled view most; but this we soon - discovered, that the visitors were about as well acquainted with the story - of each point of interest, as it was pointed out to them, as the oldest - resident. Surely the schoolmaster is at last abroad with us in England in - many ways of which we have good right to feel proud, and for which we may - well be thankful. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - A Scamper at Easter, 8th April 1893. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>o one can dislike - more than I the habit which has become so common of late years amongst us—thanks, - or rather no thanks, to Mr. Gladstone—of running down our own - English ways of dealing with all creation, from Irishmen to black-beetles. - I believe, on the contrary, that on the whole there is not, nor ever was, - a nation that kept a more active conscience, or tried more honestly to do - the right thing all round according to its lights. Nevertheless, I am - bound to admit that our methods don’t always succeed, as, for instance, - with our treatment of our “submerged tenth,” if that is the accepted name - for the section of our people which Mr. G. Booth, in his excellent <i>Life - and Labour in London</i>, places in his A and B classes (and which, by the - way, are only 8.2, and not 10 per cent), or with our seagulls. Some years - ago I called your readers’ attention to the rapid demoralisation of these - beautiful birds at one of our northern watering-places; how they just - floated past the pier-heads hour after hour, waiting for the doles which - the holiday folk and their children brought down for them in paper-bags. - Our sea-going gulls, I regret to note, are now similarly affected. At any - rate, some forty of them diligently followed the steamer in which I sailed - for my Easter holiday, from the Liverpool docks till we dropped our pilot - and, turned due south off Holyhead. By that time our last meal had been - eaten and the remains cast into the sea. The gulls seemed to be quite - aware of this; and we left them squabbling over the last scraps of fish - and potatoes, or loafing slowly back to Liverpool. Thirty-six hours later - we entered the Garonne, and steamed sixty miles up it to Bordeaux. For all - that distance there were plenty of French gulls on the water or in the - air, but, so far from following us, not one of them seemed to take the - least notice of us, but all went on quietly with their fishing or - courting; and yet our cook’s mate must have thrown out as much broken - victuals after breakfast in the Garonne as he did after luncheon or dinner - on the Welsh coast. It cannot be because the French gulls are Republicans, - for the Republic has, if anything, increased the national appetite for - unearned loaves and fishes. It is certainly very odd; but, anyhow, I hope - our gulls will not take to more self-respecting ways of life, for it is a - real treat to watch them in the ship’s wake, without effort, often without - perceptible motion of the wings, keeping up the fourteen knots an hour. - The Captain and I fraternised over the gulls, whom he loves, and will not - allow to be shot at from his ship. “I’ll shoot whether you like it or - not,” insisted a sporting gent on a recent voyage. “If you do, I’ll put - you in irons,” retorted the Captain; whereupon the sporting gent collapsed—a - pity, I think, for an action for false imprisonment would have been - interesting under the circumstances. I fancy the Captain is right, but - must look up the law after Easter. - </p> - <p> - I am surprised that this route is not more popular with the increasing - numbers of our people who like a short run to the south of France in our - hard spring weather. You can get by this way to Bordeaux quicker than you - can by Dover or Folkestone from any place north of Trent, unless you - travel day and night, and sleep on the trains, and for about half the - money. The packets are cargo-boats, but with excellent cabins and sleeping - accommodation for twelve or fourteen passengers, including as good a bath - as on a Cunard or White Star liner. And yet I was the only passenger last - week. There can scarcely be a more interesting short voyage for any one - who is a decent sailor; but I suppose the fourteen or sixteen hours “in - the Bay of Biscay, oh!” scares people. As far as my experience goes, the - Atlantic roars like a sucking-dove in the Channel and the Bay at - Easter-time. There was not wind enough to dimple the ocean surface, and - until we passed Milford Haven, no perceptible motion on the ship. Then, as - we crossed the opening of the Bristol Channel, she began to roll—quite - unaccountably, as it seemed at first; but on watching carefully, one - became aware that, though the surface was motionless, the great deep - beneath was heaving with long pulsations from the west, which lifted us in - regular cadence every thirty or forty seconds. I have often crossed the - Atlantic, but never seen the like, as always before there has been a - ripple on the calmest day, which gave the effect, at any rate, of surface - motion. The best idea I can give of it is, if on a long stretch of our - South Downs the successive turf slopes took to rising and falling - perpendicularly every minute. The Captain said there must have been wild - weather out west, and these were the rollers. It was a grand sight to - watch the great heave pass on till it reached the Land’s End, and ran up - the cliffs there. We passed near enough to see the mining works, close to - the level of high-tide, and the villages on the cliff-tops above, or - clinging on to the slopes wherever these were not too precipitous. One can - realise what manner of men and sailors this Ear West has bred of old, and, - I hope, still breeds. I pity the Englishman whose pulse does not quicken - as he sails by the Land’s End, and can see with a glass some of the small - harbours out of which Drake and Frobisher and Hawkins sailed, and drew the - crews that followed and fought the Armada right away to the Straits of - Dover. - </p> - <p> - As the Land’s End light receded, we became aware of another light away - some twenty miles to the south-west. It is on a rock not fifty yards - across, the Captain says, at high tide, and often unapproachable for weeks - together—“The Hawk,” by name, on which are kept four lighthouse-men, - who spend there alternate months, weather permitting. I was glad to hear - that there are four at a time, as the sight of “The Hawk” brought vividly - to my mind the gruesome story of fifty years back, when there were only - two men, who were known not to be good friends. One died, and his - companion had to wait with the dead body for weeks before his relief came. - </p> - <p> - I noticed, before we were two hours out, that there was something - unusually smart about the crew, quite what one would look for on the <i>Umbria</i> - or <i>Germanic</i>, but scarcely on a 700-tons cargo-boat plying to - Bordeaux. Several of the young hands were fine British tars, with the - splendid throats and great muscular hands and wrists which stand out so - well from the blue woollen jerseys; but the one who struck me most was the - ship’s carpenter, a gray, weather-beaten old salt, who was going round - quietly, but all the time with his broad-headed hammer, setting little - things straight, helping to straighten the tarpaulins over the hatches and - deck-cargo, and sounding the well. I caught him now and then for a few - words, as he passed my deck-chair, and got the clue. Most of the crew were - Naval Reserve men, and followed the Captain, a lieutenant in the R.N.R., - who could fly the blue ensign in foreign ports, which they liked. Besides, - he was a skipper who cared for his men, looked after their mess and - berths, and never wanted to make anything out of them; charged them only a - shilling a pound for their baccy, the price at which he could get it out - of bond, while most skippers charged 2s. 6d., the shop price. He had come - to this boat while his big ship was laid up in dock, to oblige the owners, - so they had followed him. Besides, he never put them to any work he - wouldn’t bear a hand in; had stood for hours up to his waist last year in - the hold when they were bringing five hundred cattle and seven hundred - hogs from Canada, running before a heavy gale. The water they shipped was - putting out the engine fires, and the pumps wouldn’t work till they had - bailed for ten hours. However, they got in all right, and never lost a - beast. Of course I was keen to hear the Captain on this subject, and so - broached it at his table. Yes, it was quite true; they had run before a - heavy gale from off Newfoundland, and the pumps gave out off the Irish - coast. They got the sludge bailed out enough for all the fires to get to - work just about in time, or would have drifted on the rocks and gone all - to pieces in a few minutes. Yes, it was about the nastiest piece of work - he had ever had to do; the sludge, for it was only half water, was above - his waist, and had quite spoiled his uniform. The deck engineer—a - light-haired man, all big bones and muscle, whom he pointed out to me—was - in the deepest part of the hold up to his arm-pits, and had worked there - for ten hours without coming up! He was a R.N.R. man, like the old - carpenter and most of the rest. The old fellow was one of the staunchest - and best followers, probably because he was tired of going aground. He had - been aground seventeen times! for the Captain in his last ship had a way - of charging shoals, merely saying, “Oh, she’ll jump it!” which she - generally declined to do. The Captain is a strong Churchman, but shares - the prejudice against carrying ministers. “The devil always has a show” - when you’re carrying a minister. The first time he tried it, he was taking - out his own brother, and they were twenty-two days late at Montreal. It - was an awful crossing, a gale in their teeth all the way; most of the - ships that started with them had to put back. I suggested that if he - hadn’t had his brother on board, he mightn’t have got over at all; but he - wouldn’t see it. Next time, a man fell from the mast-head and was killed; - and the next, a man jumped overboard. He would never carry a minister - again if he could help it. - </p> - <p> - One pilot took us out to Holyhead, but it took three French ones to take - us up to Bordeaux. The Garonne banks are only picturesque here and there; - but the flat banks have their own interest, for do we not see the choicest - vineyards of the claret country as we run up? There was the Chateau - Lafitte and the Chateau Margaux. I suppose one ought within one’s heart, - or rather, within one’s palate perhaps, “to have felt a stir”— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As though one looked upon the sheath - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Which once had clasped Excalibur. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But I could not tell the difference between Margaux and any decent claret - with my eyes shut, so I did not feel any stir—unless, perhaps, as a - patriot, when we passed much the most imposing establishment, and the - Captain said, “That is Chateau Gilbey”! I looked with silent wonder, for - did I not remember years ago, when the Gladstone Grocers’ Licences Bill - was young, and the Christie Minstrels sung scoffingly— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ten little niggers going out to dine, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - One drank Gilbey, and then there were nine? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - And here was Gilbey with the finest “caves” and the choicest vineyard in - the Bordelaise! Who can measure the competitive energy of the British - business-man? - </p> - <p> - I must end as I set out, with the birds. As we neared the mouth of the - Garonne, sixteen miles from land, the Captain said, two little - water-wagtails flitted into the rigging. There they rested a few minutes, - and then, to my grief, started off out to sea, but again and again came - hack to the ship. At last a sailor caught one, and the Captain secured it - and took it to his cabin, but thought it would be sure to die. It was the - hen-bird. She did not die, but flitted away cheerfully when he brought her - out and let her fly on the quay of Bordeaux. But I fear she will never - find her mate. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Lourdes, 15th April 1893. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he farthest point - south in our Easter scamper was Lourdes, to which I found that my - companions were more bent on going than to any other possible place within - our range. The attractions even of the Pass of Ronces-valles, of St. - Sebastian, and the Pyrenean battle-fields of 1814, faded with them before - those of the nineteenth-century Port Royal. At first I said I would not - go. The fact is, I am one of the old-fashioned folk who hold that some day - the kingdoms of this world are to become the kingdoms of Christ, and that - all peoples are to be gathered “in one fold under one Shepherd.” It has - always seemed to me that one of the surest ways of postponing that good - time is to be suspicious of other faiths than our own; to accuse them of - blind superstition and deliberate imposture; even to walk round their - churches as if they were museums or picture-galleries, while people are - kneeling in prayer. So I said “No”; I would stop on the terrace at Pau, - with one of the most glorious views in the world to look at, and carefully - examine Henry IV.‘s château, or go and get a round of golf with my - hibernating fellow-countrymen. I thought that the probable result of - visiting Lourdes might be to make me more inclined to think a large - section of my fellow-mortals dupes, and their priests humbugs—conclusions - I was anxious to avoid. However, I changed my mind at the last moment, and - am heartily glad I did. It is an easy twenty miles (about) from Pau, from - which you run straight to the Pyrenees, and pull up in a green nook of the - outlying lower mountains, where two valleys meet, which run back towards - the higher snow-capped range. They looked so tempting to explore, as did - also the grim old keep on the high rock which divides them and completely - dominates the little town, that twenty years ago I couldn’t have resisted, - and should have gone for an afternoon’s climb. But I am grown less lissom, - if not wiser, and so took my place meekly in the fly which my companions - had chartered for the grotto. We were through the little town in a few - minutes, the only noteworthy thing being the number of women who offered - us candles of all sizes to burn before the Madonna’s statue in the grotto, - and the number of relic-shops. Emerging from the street, we found - ourselves in front of a green lawn, at the other end of which was a fine - white marble church, almost square, with a dome—more like a mosque, - I thought, than a Western church; and up above this another tall Gothic - church, with a fine spire, to which the pilgrims ascend by two splendid - semi-circular flights of easy, broad steps, one on each side of the lower - church, and holding it, as it were, in their arms. We, however, drove up - the steep ascent outside the left or southern staircase, and got down at - the door of the higher church, which is built on the rock at the bottom of - which is the famous spring and grotto. We entered by a spacious porch, - where my attention was at once arrested by the mural tablets of white - marble, each of which commemorated the cure of some sufferer: - “Reconnaissance pour la guérison de mon fils,” “de ma fille,” etc., being - at least as frequent as those for the cure of the person who put up the - tablet. I thought at first I would count them, but soon gave it up, as not - only this big vestibule, but the walls of all the chapels, and of the big - church below (built, I was told, and hope, by the Duke of Norfolk at his - own cost), are just covered with them. This upper church was a perfect - blaze of light and colour, much too gorgeous for my taste; but what the - decorations were which gave this effect I cannot say, as I was entirely - absorbed in noting the votive offerings of all kinds which were hung round - each of the shrines, both here and in the lower church. The most - noteworthy of these, to my mind, are the number of swords, epaulettes, and - military decorations, which their owners have hung up as thank offerings. - I do not suppose that French officers and privates differ much from ours, - and I am bold to assert that Tommy Atkins would not part with his cross or - medal, or his captain, for that matter, with his epaulettes or sword, if - they had gone away from Lourdes no better in body than when they went - there hobbling from wounds, or tottering from fever or ague. - </p> - <p> - When we had seen the upper church we went down a long flight of circular - stairs, and came out in the lower (Duke of Norfolk’s) church,—much - more interesting, I think, architecturally, and decorated in better, - because quieter, taste than the upper one. From this we went round to the - grotto in the rock, on which the upper church stands, and in which the - famous spring rises, and over it a not unpleasant (I cannot say more) - statue of the Madonna; and all round candles alight of all sizes, from - farthing-dips to colossal moulds, many of which had been burning, they - said, for a week. A single, quiet old priest sat near the entrance reading - his Missal, but only speaking when spoken to. In front were ranged long - rows of chairs, on which sat or knelt some dozen pilgrims with wistful - faces, waiting, perhaps for the troubling of the waters. These are carried - from the grotto to a series of basins along the rock outside, at one of - which two poor old crones with sore eyes were bathing them, and talking - Basque (I believe)—at any rate some unknown tongue to me. I should - have liked to hear their experiences, but they couldn’t understand a word - of my Anglican French. Here, again, the most striking object is the mass - of crutches of all shapes and sizes, and fearsome-looking bandages, which - literally cover the rock on each side of the entrance to the grotto, for - the space (I should guess) of fourteen or fifteen feet on one side, and - ten or twelve on the other. - </p> - <p> - And so we finished our inspection, and went back to our fly, which we had - ordered to meet us at the end of the lawn above mentioned, which lies - between the churches and the town; and so to the railway station, and back - to Biarritz by Pau. I daresay that people who go there at the times when - the great bodies of pilgrims come, may carry away a very different - impression from mine. All I can say is, that I never was in a place where - there was less concealment of any kind; and there was no attempt whatever - to influence you in any way by priest or attendant. There were all the - buildings and the grotto open, and you could examine them and their - contents undisturbed for any time you chose to give to them, and draw from - your examination whatever conclusions you pleased. So I, for one, can only - repeat that I am heartily glad that I went; and shall think better of my - Roman Catholic brethren as the result of my visit for the rest of my life. - </p> - <p> - Of course, the main interest of Lourdes lies in the world-old controversy - between the men of science and the men of faith, as to the reality of the - alleged facts—miracles, as many folk call them—of the healing - properties which the waters of this famous spring, or the air of Lourdes, - or the Madonna, or some other unknown influence, are alleged to possess, - and to be freely available for invalid pilgrims who care to make trial of - them. Every one in those parts that I met, at Lourdes itself, at Pau, - Biarritz, Bayonne, is interested in the question and ready to discuss it. - Perhaps I can best indicate the points of the debate by formulating the - arguments on each side which I heard, putting them into the mouths of - representative men—a doctor and a priest. I was lucky enough to fall - in with an excellent representative of the scientific side, an able and - open-minded M.D. on his travels. I had no opportunity of speaking to one - of the priests; but their side of the argument is stoutly upheld by at - least half of the people one meets. - </p> - <p> - <i>Dr.</i>—They are nothing but what are called faith-cures, akin to - those which the Yankee Sequah effects when he goes round our northern - towns in his huge car, with his brass band and attendant Indian Sachems in - the costume of the prairie. Of course, here the surroundings are far more - impressive and serious; but the cures are the same for all that—some - action of the nerves which makes patients believe they are cured, when - they are not really. Probably nine-tenths are just as bad again in a few - months. - </p> - <p> - <i>Priest</i>.—Well, don’t we say they are faith-cures? We don’t - pretend that we can do them, as this Sequah you talk about does. You allow - that great numbers <i>think</i> they are cured, and walk about without - crutches or bandages, or pains in their bodies, and enjoy life again for a - time at any rate; which is more than you can do for them, or they wouldn’t - come here to be healed. - </p> - <p> - <i>Dr</i>.—How long do they walk about without crutches or pains in - their limbs? Why don’t you take us behind the scenes, and let us test and - follow up some of these cures? - </p> - <p> - <i>Priest</i>.—We can’t take you behind the scenes, for there are no - scenes to go behind. We tell you <i>we</i> don’t do the cures, or know - precisely how they are done. We can’t hinder your inquiries, and don’t - want to hinder them if we could. There are the tablets of - “reconnaissance,” with names and addresses; you can go to these, if you - like, or talk to the patients whom you see at the spring or in the - chapels. - </p> - <p> - <i>Dr</i>.—Come, now! You don’t really mean to say you believe that - our Lord’s Mother appeared to this girl on 23rd March 1858, and told her - that this Lourdes was a specially favourite place with her; and that she - has since that time given these special healing qualities to the water or - air of Lourdes, or whatever it is that causes these effects at this place? - </p> - <p> - <i>Priest</i>.—We mean to say that the girl thoroughly believed it, - and we hold that her impression—her certainty—didn’t come from - the devil, as it must if it was a lie; that it wasn’t the mere dream of a - hysterical girl, and was not given her for nothing. Else, how can one - account for these buildings, costing, perhaps, as much as one of your - finest cathedrals, all put up in thirty-five years? - </p> - <p> - <i>Dr</i>.—Yes; but that doesn’t answer my question. Did the Mother - of our Lord appear to this girl, and is it she who works the cures. - </p> - <p> - <i>Priest</i>.—If you mean by “appear,” “come visibly,” we don’t - know. But you should remember always that the French have a very different - feeling about the Madonna from you English. Perhaps you can’t help - connecting her with another French girl, Joan of Arc, who believed the - Madonna had appeared to her and told her she should turn you English out - of France, which she did—a more difficult and costly job even than - building these churches. - </p> - <p> - <i>Dr</i>.—Well, we won’t argue about the Madonna, and I am quite - ready to admit that the evidence you have here, in the tablets and votive - offerings, the crutches and bandages, are <i>primâ-facie</i> proof that - numbers of pilgrims have gone away from Lourdes under the impression that - they were cured. What I maintain is, that you have not shown, and cannot - show, that your cures are not merely due to the absorption of diseased - tissue as the result of strong excitement—an effect not at all - common, but quite recognised as not unfrequent by some of the highest - authorities in medical science. - </p> - <p> - There the controversy rests, I think; at any rate, so far as I heard it - debated; and I must own that the scientific explanation does not seem to - me to hold water. To take one instance, would the absorption of diseased - tissue drive a piece of cloth out of a soldier’s leg or body? Perhaps yes, - for what I know; but would the excitement of a mother cure the disease of - her child? These two classes of cures (of which there are a great number) - struck me, perhaps, more than any of the rest. But I must not take up more - of your space, and can only advise all your readers who are really - interested in this problem to take the first opportunity they can of going - to Lourdes, and, if possible, as we did, at a time when the great bodies - of pilgrims are not there, and they can quietly examine the facts there, - for—<i>pace</i> the doctors and men of science—these tablets, - swords, crutches, etc., are facts which they are bound to acknowledge and - investigate. I shall be surprised if they do not come away, as I did, with - a feeling that they have seen a deeply interesting sight for which it is - well worth while to come from England, and that there are two sides to - this question of the Lourdes miracles (so-called), either of which any - reverent student of the world in which he is living may conscientiously - hold. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Fontarabia, 22nd April 1893. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>very year the - truth of Burns’s “the best-laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft a-gley,” - comes more home to me. From the time I was ten the Pass of Roncesvalles - has had a fascination for me. Then the habit of ballad-singing was - popular, and a relative of mine had a well-deserved repute in that line. - Amongst her old-world favourites were “Boland the Brave” and “Durandarté.” - The first told how Boland left his castle on the Rhine, where he used to - listen to the chanting in the opposite convent, in which his lady-love had - taken the veil on the false report of his death, and “think she blessed - him in her prayer when the hallelujah rose”; and followed Charlemagne in - his Spanish raid, till “he fell and wished to fall” at Boncesvalles. The - second, how Durandarté, dying in the fatal pass, sent his last message to - his mistress by his cousin Montesinos. In those days I never could hear - the last lines without feeling gulpy in the throat:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Kind in manners, fair in favour, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Mild in temper, fierce in fight,— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Warrior purer, gentler, braver, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Never shall behold the light. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - They may not be good poetry, but Monk Lewis, the author, never wrote any - others as good. Then Lockhart’s <i>Spanish Ballads</i> were given me, and - in one of the best of those stirring rhymes, Bernardo del Carpio’s - bearding of his King, I read— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Your word, Lord King, was recompense abundant for it all; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Your horse was down, your hope was flown; I saw the falchion - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - shine - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That soon had drunk thy royal blood had I not ventured mine, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Then, a little later, a family friend who had been an ensign in the Light - Division in July 1813, used to make our boyish pulses dance with his tales - of the week’s fighting in and round Roncesvalles, when Soult was driven - over the Pyrenees and Spain was freed. And again, later, came the tale of - Taillefer, the Conqueror’s minstrel, riding before the line at the battle - of Hastings, tossing his sword in the air, and chanting the “Song of - Roland,” and of the “Peers who fell at Roncesvalles.” So you will believe, - sir, that my first thought when I got to Biarritz, with the Pyrenees in - full view less than twenty miles off, was, “Now I shall see the pass where - Charlemagne’s peers, and five hundred British soldiers as brave as any - paladin of them all, had fought and died.” The holidays galloped, and one - day only was left, when at our morning conference I found that my - companions were bent on Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and assured me we - could combine the three, as Roncesvalles, they heard, was close to - Fontarabia. Then my faith in Sir Walter—combined, I fear, with my - defective training in geography—led me astray, for had he not - written in the battle-canto of Marmion:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, for one blast of that dread horn, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - On Fontarabian echoes borne, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - That to King Charles did come, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - When Roland brave, and Oliver, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And every Paladin and Peer, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - At Roncesvalles died, etc. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - Now, of course, if Charlemagne could hear the horn of Roland on the top of - the pass where he turned back, “borne on Fontarabian echoes,” then - Fontarabia must be at the foot of the pass, where Roland and the - rear-guard were surrounded and fighting for their lives. In a weak moment - I agreed to Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and so shall most likely never - see Roncesvalles. It is fourteen miles distant as the crow flies, or - thereabouts; and I warn your readers that the three can’t be done in one - long day from Biarritz. - </p> - <p> - However, I am bound to admit that Fontarabia and San Sebastian make a most - interesting day’s work. I had never been in Spain before, and so was well - on the alert when a fellow-passenger, as we slowed on approaching the - station, pointed across the sands below us and said, “There’s Fontarabia!” - There, perhaps two miles off, lay a small gray town on a low hill with - castle and church at the top, and gateway and dilapidated walls on the - side towards*us, looking as though it might have gone off to sleep in the - seventeenth century—a really curious contrast to bustling Biarritz - from which we had just come. We went down to the ferry and took a punt to - cross the river, which threaded the broad sands left by the tide. It was - full ebb; so our man had to take us a long round, giving us welcome time - for the view, which, when the tide is up, must be glorious. Our - bare-footed boatman, though Basque or Spaniard, was quite “up to date,” - and handled his punt pole in a style which would make him a formidable - rival of the Oxford watermen in the punt race by Christ Church meadow, - which, I suppose, is still held at the end of the summer term. A narrow, - rough causeway led us from the landing-place to the town-gate in the old - wall, where an artist who had joined the party was so taken with the view - up the main street that he sat down at once to about as difficult a sketch - as he will meet in a year’s rambles. For from the gateway the main street - runs straight up the hill to the ruined castle and church at the top. It - is narrow, steep, and there are not two houses alike all the way up. They - vary from what must have been palaces of the grandees—with dim - coats-of-arms still visible over the doorways, and elaborately carved, - deep eaves, almost meeting those of their opposite neighbours across the - street—to poor, almost squalid houses, reaching to the second story - of their aristocratic neighbours’, but all with deep, overhanging, though - uncarved eaves, showing, I take it, how the Spaniard values his shade. Up - we went to the church and castle, the ladies looking wistfully into such - shops as there were, to find something to buy; but I fancy in vain. Not a - tout appeared to offer his services; or a shopkeeper, male or female, to - sell us anything. Such of the Fontarabians as we saw looked at us with - friendly enough brown eyes, which, however, seemed to say, “Silly souls! - Why can’t you stop at home and mind your own business?” Even at the end of - our inspection, when we spread our lunch on a broad stone slab near the - gate—the tombstone once, I should think, of a paladin—there - being no houses of entertainment visible to us, we had almost a difficulty - in attracting three or four children and a stray dog to share our relics. - </p> - <p> - The old castle is of no special interest, though there were a few rusty - old iron tubes lying about, said to have once been guns, which I should - doubt; and Charles V. is said to have often lived there during his French - wars. The church is very interesting, from its strong contrast with those - over the border—square, massive, sombre, with no attempt at - decoration or ornament round the high brass altars, except here and there - a picture, and small square windows quite high up in the walls, through - which the quiet, subdued light comes. The pictures, with one exception, - were of no interest; but that one exception startled and fascinated me. - The subject is the “Mater Dolorosa,” a full-length figure standing, the - breast bare, and seven knives plunged in the heart,—a coarse and - repulsive painting, but entirely redeemed by the intense expression of the - love, the agony, grid the sorely shaken faith which are contending for - mastery in the face. The painter must have been suddenly inspired, or some - great master must have stepped in to finish the work. San Sebastian does - not do after Fontarabia; a fine modern town, with some large churches and - a big new bull-ring, but of little interest except for the fort which - dominates the town on the sea-front. How that fort was stormed, after one - repulse and a long siege of sixty-three days; how, in the two assaults and - siege, more than four thousand gallant soldiers of the British and allied - army fell; and the fearful story of the sack and burning of the old town - by the maddened soldiers, is to me almost the saddest episode in our - military history. I was glad when we had made our cursory inspection and - got back to the station on our return to Biarritz. That brightest and most - bustling of health resorts was our head-quarters, and I should think for - young English folk must be about the most enjoyable above ground. I knew - that it was becoming a formidable rival of the Riviera for spring - quarters, but was not at all prepared for the facts. Almost the first - thing I saw was a group of young Englishmen in faultless breeches and - gaiters, just come back from a meet of the pack of hounds; next came along - some fine strapping girls in walking costume, bent, I should think, on - exploring the neighbouring battlegrounds; next, men and youths in - flannels, bound for the golf links, where a handicap is going on (I wonder - what a French caddie is like?); then I heard of, but did not see, the - start of the English coach for Pau (it runs daily); and then youths on - bicycles, unmistakable Britons,—though the French youth have taken - kindly, I hear, to this pastime. There are four gigantic hotels at which - friends told me that nothing is heard but English at their <i>tables - d’hôte</i>; and in the quiet and excellent small “Hôtel de Bayonne,” at - which we stayed, having heard that it was a favourite with the French, out - of the forty guests or thereabouts, certainly three-fourths were English, - and the other one-fourth mostly Americans. On Easter Monday there was a - procession of cars, with children in fancy dresses representing the local - industries; but the biggest was that over which the Union Jack waved, and - a small and dainty damsel sat on the throne surrounded by boys in the - orthodox rig of a man-of-war’s-man and Tommy Atkins. In fact, a vast - stream of very solvent English seem to have fairly stormed and occupied - the place, to the great delight of the native car-drivers and shopkeepers; - and so grotesque was it that Byron’s cynical doggerel kept sounding in my - head as, at any rate, appropriate to Biarritz: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The world is a bundle of hay, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Mankind are the asses that pull; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Each tugs in a different way, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And the greatest of all is John Bull. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - But, apart from all the high jinks and festive goings-on, there is one - spot in Biarritz which may well prove a magnet to us, and before which we - should stand with uncovered heads and sorrowfully proud hearts; and that - is the fine porch of the English church. One whole side of it is filled by - a tablet, at the head of which one reads: “<i>Pristinæ virtutis memor</i>. - This porch, dedicated to the memory of the officers, non-commissioned - officers, and men of the British army, who fell in the south-west of - France from 7th October 1813 to 14th April 1814, was erected by their - fellow-soldiers and compatriots, 1882.” Then come the names of forty-eight - Line regiments, and the German Legion, followed in each case by the - death-roll, the officers’ names given in full. Let me end with a few - examples. The 42nd lost ten officers—two at Nive, one at Orthez, and - seven at Toulouse; the 43rd—five at Nivelle and Bayonne; the 57th—six - at Nivelle and Nive; the 79th—five at Toulouse, of whom three bore - the name of Cameron; the 95th—six at the Bidassoa, Nivelle, and - Nive. Such a record, I think, brings home to one even more vividly than - Napier’s pages the cost to England of her share in the uprising of Europe - against Napoleon; and it only covers six months of a seven years’ struggle - in the Peninsula! At the bottom of the tablet are the simple words:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Give peace in our time, oh Lord! - </p> - <p> - <br /> <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Echoes from Auvergne, La Bourboule, 2nd July 1893. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e had heard - through telegrams and short paragraphs in the French papers of the sinking - of the <i>Victoria</i> before the <i>Spectator</i> of 1st July came to us - here, in these far-away highlands of Auvergne; but yours was the first - trustworthy account in any detail which reached us. I am sure that others - must have felt as thankful to you as I did, for your word was worthy the - occasion, and told as it should be told, one of the stories which ennoble - a nation, and remain a [Greek phrase] for all time. The lonely figure on - the bridge is truly, as you say, a subject for a great pictorial artist, - and belongs “rather to the poet than the journalist”; and one trusts that - Sir George Tryon’s may stand out hereafter in worthy verse as one of “the - few clarion names” in our annals. But it was surely the noble - steadfastness of all, from admiral to stoker, which has once more given us - all “that leap of heart whereby a people rise” to a keener consciousness - of the meaning of national life. I think one feels it even more out here - amongst strangers than one would have felt it at home, and can give God - thanks that the old ideal has come out again in the sinking of the <i>Victoria</i> - as it did in that of the <i>Birkenhead</i> forty years ago, when the - ship’s boats took off all the women and children, and the big ship went - down at last “still under steadfast men.” - </p> - <p> - Those are, as you know, the words of Sir Francis Doyle, who gave voice to - the mixed anguish and triumph of the nation in worthy verse. I heard the - great story from the lips of one of the simplest of men, Colonel Wright, - who as a subaltern had formed the men up on the deck of the <i>Birkenhead</i> - under Colonel Seton, and stood at his place on the right of the line when - she broke in two. He was entangled for some moments in the sinking wreck, - but managed to free himself, and, being a famous swimmer, rose to the - surface, and struck out for the shore amongst a number of the men. It must - have been one of the most trying half hours that men ever went through; - for, as they swam and cheered one another, now and again a comrade would - suddenly disappear, and they knew that one of the huge sharks they had - seen from the deck, passing backwards and forwards under the doomed ship, - was amongst them. When they had all but reached the shore the man who swam - by Wright’s side was taken. When I heard the tale he was - Assistant-Inspector of Volunteers under Colonel M’Murdo, and going - faithfully through his daily work. Strange to say, neither Horse Guards - nor War Office had taken any note of that unique deck-parade and swim for - life, and Ensign Wright had risen slowly to be Major and Sub-Inspector of - Volunteers. Stranger still, he seemed to think it all right, and there was - no trace of resentment or jealousy in his plain statement of the facts—which, - indeed, I had to draw out by cross-questioning on our march from the - Regent’s Park to our headquarters in Bloomsbury. I was so moved by the - story that I wrote it all to Mr. Cardwell, then at the War Office, and had - the pleasure of seeing Major Wright’s name in the next <i>Gazette</i> - amongst the new C.B.‘s. - </p> - <p> - Well, well! It does one good now and then to breathe for a little in a - rarer and nobler atmosphere than that of everyday, into which we must - after all sink, and live there for nine-tenths of our time,—like the - old fish-wife, Mucklebackit, going back to mending the old nets and - chaffering over the price of herrings which have been bought by men’s - lives. And here we have great placards just out, announcing “Fêtes de jour - et de nuit,” with donkey-races and all manner of games, and fireworks, - including an “embrasement général,” whatever that may forebode. “This life - would be quite endurable but for its amusements,” said Sir G. Cornewall - Lewis, a wise man and excellent Minister of the Crown. - </p> - <p> - Our first Sunday at La Bourboule has been edifying from the Sabbatarian - point of view, and I shouldn’t wonder if the good little parson who is - taking the duty here during the bathing-season holds it up to us for - instruction next Sunday, if he can get a room for service, and a - congregation. There is no English church, and from what I hear not much - prospect of an arrangement for joint worship in the French Protestant - church, which was almost concluded, being carried out. Unfortunately, a - succession of young Ritualists have managed to alarm the French Protestant - pastor and his small flock, by treating them as Dissenters, and making - friends ostentatiously with the Roman Catholic priests. However, happily - the present incumbent (or whatever he should be called) is a sensible - moderately broad Churchman, who it may be hoped will bring things straight - again. But to return to my Sabbatarian story. An English lady fond of - equestrian exercise hired horses for herself and a friend, and invited the - able and pleasant young Irishman who doctors us all, and is also - churchwarden, to accompany them for a ride in these lovely mountains. They - started from this hotel, and, as it happened, just as the parson was - coming by; so, not being quite easy in their consciences (I suppose), - asked him if he saw any harm in it. To this he replied, sensibly enough, - that it was their fight, not his; and if they saw none, he had nothing to - say. So off they rode, meaning certainly to be back by 8 P.M. for supper. - I was about till nearly nine, when they had not turned up; and next - morning I heard the conclusion of the whole matter. The doctor’s horse - cast a shoe, and had to be led home, limping slightly; while the lady’s - horse came back dead-lame, and her companion’s steed with both knees - broken! Judging by the unmistakable talent of these good Bourboulais for - appreciating the value to their guests of their water and other - possessions, I should say that this Sunday ride will prove a costly - indulgence to the excursionists. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - La Bourboule, 10th July 1893. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>urrency questions - are surely amongst the things “which no fellow can understand,”—a - truth for which. I think, sir, I may even claim you as a witness, after - reading your cautious handling of the silver question in recent numbers. - But so far as my experience goes, there are no questions as to which it is - more difficult to shake convictions than those which have been arrived at - by unscientific persons. For instance, in this very charming - health-resort, the authorities at the Établissement des Bains, where one - buys bath-tickets, are under the delusion that 20 fr. (French money) are - the proper equivalent for the English sovereign. On my first purchase of - six tickets, amounting to 15 fr. (each bath costs 2 fr. 50 c., or 50 c. - more than at Royat), the otherwise intelligent person who presided at the - <i>caisse d’établissement</i>, tendered me a single 5 fr. piece; and on my - calling his attention to the mistake, as I supposed it to be, and - demanding a second 5 fr., calmly informed me that 20 fr. was the change - they always gave, and he could give no other. Whereupon, I carried off my - sovereign in high dudgeon, and—there being neither bank nor - money-changer’s office in this place, though more than twenty large - hotels!—applied to two of the larger shops only to find the same - delusion in force. In short, I only succeeded in getting 25 fr. in - exchange for my sovereign as a favour from our kind hostess at this hotel. - Wherefore, as I hear that a great crowd of English are looked for next - month, I should like to warn them to bring French money with them. This - experience reminded me of a good story which I heard Thackeray tell thirty - years ago. (If it is in <i>The Kicklebury’s on the Rhine</i>, or printed - elsewhere, you will suppress it). Either he himself or a friend, I forget - which, changed a sovereign on landing in Holland, put the change in one - particular pocket, and on crossing each frontier on his way to the South - of Italy, before that country or Germany had been consolidated, again - exchanged the contents of that pocket for the current coin of the Kingdom, - Duchy, or Republic he was entering. On turning out the contents at Naples - he found them equivalent to something under 5s. of English money. - </p> - <p> - Before I forget it, let me modify what I said last week as to the - ecclesiastical position of the Protestants here. - </p> - <p> - The Anglicans are now represented by the “Colonial and Continental - Society.” They sent a clergyman, who has managed so well that we are now - on excellent terms with our French Protestant brethren, though we have as - yet no joint place of worship. This, however, both congregations hope to - secure shortly,—indeed, as soon as they can collect £400, half of - which is already in hand. Then the municipality, or the “Compagnie - d’Établissement des Bains,” I am not sure which, give a site, and another - £400, which will be enough to pay for a small church sufficient for the - present congregations. These will hold the building in common, and, let us - hope, will adjust the hours for the services amicably. At present, the - French Protestants worship in the <i>buvette</i>, where we all drink our - waters; and we Anglicans in an annex of the establishment—a large - room devoted during the week to Punch and Judy and the marionettes. This - rather scandalises some of our compatriots; I cannot for the life of me - see why. Indeed, it seems to me a very healthy lesson to most of us, who - are accustomed to the ritual which prevails in so many of our restored, or - recently built, English churches,—the lesson which Jacob learnt on - his flight from his father’s tents, when he slept in the desert with a - stone for pillow, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not.” - Our congregation yesterday was something over thirty. I believe it rises - to one hundred, or more, next month. The service was thoroughly hearty, - and I really think every one must have come meaning to say their prayers. - I felt a slight qualm as to how we should get on with the singing, and - could not think why the parson should choose about the longest hymn in the - book, for there was no organ, harmonium, or other musical instrument, and - no apparent singing-men or singing-women. However, my qualms vanished when - our pastor led off with a well-trained tenor voice which put us all at our - ease. - </p> - <p> - The rest of our Sunday was by no means so successful, for the <i>fête du - jour et du soir</i> began soon after our 11 A.M. <i>déjeûner</i>, and - lasted till about 10 P.M., when the lights in most of the paper-lanterns - had burnt out, and people had gone home from the Casino and the promenade - to their hotels or lodgings. I am old-fashioned enough to like a quiet - Sunday; but here, when the place is <i>en fête</i>, that is out of the - question,—at any rate, if you are a guest at one of the hotels - which, as they almost all do, faces on the “Avenue Gueneau de Mussy.” That - name will probably remind some of your readers of the able and popular - doctor of the Orleans family, who accompanied their exile, lived in - England during the Empire in Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, and was - popular in London society. After 1870 he returned to France, and, it - seems, rediscovered these waters, or, at any rate, made them the - fashionable resort of patients in need of arsenical treatment. In - gratitude, his name has been given to this main avenue of La Bourboule, - which runs the whole length of the town, parallel to the River Dordogne, - which comes rushing down the valley from Mont Dore at a pace which I have - never seen water attain except in the rapids below Niagara, in which that - strongest and rashest of swimmers, Captain Webb, lost his life. The - Avenue, though parallel with, is some fifty yards from the river, and the - intervening space is planted with rows of trees, under which many donkeys - and hacks stand for the convenience of visitors. The opposite bank of the - Dordogne, which is crossed by two bridges, rises abruptly, and is crowned - by the two rival casinos, with the most imposing hotel of the place - between them, where (I am told) you pay 5 fr. a day extra for the - convenience of the only lift in La Bourboule! The fête of last Sunday was - given by the old Casino, and commenced directly after <i>déjeûner</i> with - a gathering in the rooms and in front of the Casino on the terrace, where - the guests sat at small tables consuming black coffee, absinthe, and other - drinks, and strolling now and then into the billiard-room, or the room in - which the <i>jeu aux petits chevaux</i>, and some other game of chance - which I did not recognise, were in full swing. There is an inner room - where baccarat and roulette are going on, supposed to be only open to - tickets bought from the^ authorities, but which a young Englishman, my - neighbour at the <i>table d’hôte</i>, tells me he found no difficulty in - entering without a ticket. The rest of the fête, consisting chiefly of - donkey-races, climbing greasy poles, and fishing half-francs out of meal - tubs with the mouth, came off in a small park and plateau on the hillside - above the Casino. - </p> - <p> - I used to enjoy donkey-races as a boy, when at our country feasts each boy - rode his neighbour’s donkey, and the last past the post was the winner, - and should probably have gone up the hill to witness a French race, but - that I found that here each boy rides his own donkey, and the first past - the post wins. This takes all the fun out of the race, so I abstained. - There were a few second-rate fireworks after dark, and the Casino and most - of the hotels were prettily lighted, and the trees hung with yellow paper - lanterns which looked like big oranges, but to the Englishman, more or - less accustomed to the great Brock’s performances, the illumination - business was very flat. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Comité des Fêtes. 17th July 1893. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>n Englishman can - scarcely avoid the danger of having his national vanity fed in this La - Bourboule. A new hotel is being built on a fine site above the Dordogne, - just beyond the new Casino, and I hear on the best authority that the - proprietor means to have it furnished from top to bottom by Messrs. Maple. - As this will involve paying a duty of from 30 to 50 per cent on the - articles imported, it is not easy to see where the profit can come in, as - the most prejudiced John Bull will scarcely deny that native French - furniture is about as good, and not very much dearer than English. I can - only account for it by the desire of all purveyors here—from the - chief hotel-keepers to the dealers in the pretty Auvergne jewellery and - the donkey-women—to get us as customers,—not, perhaps, so much - from love or admiration for us, as because we have so much less power of - remonstrance or resistance to their charges. Unless he sees some flagrant - overcharge in his hotel bill, the Briton does not care to air his - colloquial French in discussing items with the former, who only meet him - with polite shrugs; and as for the others, they at once fall back upon an - Auvergnese <i>patois</i>, at least as different from ordinary French as a - Durham miner’s vernacular is from a West countryman’s. What satisfaction - can come of remonstrating about 2 fr., even in faultless grammatical - French, when it only brings on you a torrent of explanation of which you - cannot understand one word in ten? - </p> - <p> - But the desire to make us feel at home has another—I may almost say - a pathetic—side. Thus the <i>Comité des fêtes</i> spares no effort - to meet our supposed necessities, and has not only provided tennis-grounds - and other conveniences for <i>le sport</i>, but for the last ten days has - been preparing for a grand <i>chasse au renard</i>, as a special - compliment, I am told, to the English visitors. The grand feature of the - hunt is a <i>recherché</i> luncheon in an attractive spot in the forest, - at the end of the run, at which the Mayor presides, and to which the other - civic dignitaries go in full costume, accompanied by a chief huntsman and - two <i>chasseurs</i> with <i>tridents</i>—of all strange equipments - for a fox-hunt! For this luncheon the charge is 5 fr.; but, so far as I - can learn, you may join the chase without partaking. The question - naturally occurs: “How if Renard will not run that way, or consent to die - within easy distance of the luncheon?” and the answer of the Mayor would, - I suppose, be Dogberry’s: “Let him go, and thank God you are rid of a - knave.” But, in any case, the <i>Comité des fêtes</i> are prepared for - such a mishap, for they have had four foxes ready for some days, <i>in a - large oven</i>—of all places in the world! and one of these will - surely be induced to take the proper course, which is carefully marked - out. As two of them have come from Switzerland, and there cannot be much - to occupy or amuse Swiss foxes in an oven, except quarrelling with their - French cousins, I should doubt as to the condition of the lot on the day - of the hunt, even if all survive to that date. This, I am sorry to say, - cannot be fixed as yet, for it seems that no English visitor has been - found who will take a ticket; so I fear my “course” may be over before the - <i>chasse</i> comes off. In that case I shall always bear a grudge against - your lively contemporary, the <i>Daily Graphic</i>, who, it seems, printed - an illustrated account of the <i>chasse</i> of last summer, to which the - present abstinence of the British sportsman to-day is generally - attributed. Can we wonder at the want of understanding between the two - peoples when one comes across such strange pieces of farce as this, meant, - I believe, for a genuine compliment and advance towards good-fellowship? - </p> - <p> - I wish I could speak hopefully upon more serious things than the <i>chasse - au renard</i>; but in more than one direction things seem to me to be - drifting, or going back, under the Republic. E.g. a friend of mine, who - prefers smoking the cigars he is used to, ordered a box from his - tobacconist in Manchester, who entrusted them to the Continental Parcels - Delivery Company on 15th June. Next day, though notice had been given of - payment of all charges on delivery, they were stopped at the Gare du Nord, - at Paris, where the station-master refused to forward them until he got an - undertaking in writing from my friend to pay all charges. This was sent at - once, but produced no effect for three days, when another letter arrived—not - now from the station-master, but from a person signing himself - “Contributions Agent”—saying that undertaking No. 1 was not in - proper form. Thereupon, undertaking No. 2 is sent; but still nothing - happens, and my friend had almost given up hope of getting his cigars when - he bethought him of advising with a deputy, who was luckily staying here - in the same hotel. That gentleman seemed not at all surprised, but offered - to write to his secretary in Paris to go to the Gare du Nord and look - after the box. The offer was, of course, thankfully accepted, with the - result that the cigars were sent on at once, with the following bill: - “Droit d’entrée, 38 fr. 77 c.; timbre d’acquit à caution, 7 c.; toile - d’emballage—consignation, 40 fr. 27 c.: total, 79 fr. 11 c.”—which - about doubled the original cost. This instance of the slovenliness (if not - worse) of a railway company and the Customs has been quite eclipsed, - however, by the Post Office. Another friend posted a letter here to his - sister in England, but unluckily in the forenoon, when the next departure - was for Bordeaux. To that town, accordingly, his letter went, and thence - to America, whence in due course—i.e. at the end of three weeks—it - reached its destination in England. Again, a lady here received several - dividends more than a week ago, which she forwarded to her husband in - England in a registered letter. This has never reached him; and the - Post-Office officials here are making inquiries (very leisurely ones) as - to what has become of it. Then the clergyman of the church here, having a - payment to make in his parish in England, sent the money, and got the - official receipt several posts before he received a reminder from the same - official (dated a week earlier than the receipt) that the payment was due; - and lastly, <i>pour comble</i>, as they say here, a county J.P. has never - received at all the formal summons from his High Sheriff, sent some weeks - since, to serve on the grand jury at the coming Assizes! Whatever the - consequences may be of utterly ignoring such summons, he has thus incurred - them, which, for all I know, may be equal to the penalties of præmunire. - But seriously, I fear the incubus of the Republican superstition, as you - have defined it, is spreading fast and far in this splendid land. The - centralisation fostered by the Second Empire, and favoured by the Republic - for the last twenty years, seems to have demoralised the national - nerve-centre at Paris under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower—which, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - —and to be spreading its baleful influence through the Departments. - At any rate, that is the only explanation I can suggest for the marked - deterioration and present flabbiness of all Government departments with - which the foreign visitor comes in contact. I am glad to be able, however, - to record, before closing this, that the registered letter containing - dividend warrants mentioned above has reached its destination in England. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Dogs and Flowers, La Bourboule, 24th July. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring the greater - part of our stay, the theatre here was devoted to comic and other operatic - performances, which I did not care for, and so scarcely glanced at the - play-bills, posted up daily in our hotel; and was not even tempted by the - announcement of “une seule représentation extraordinaire” of Le Songe - d’une Nuit d’Eté, as I did not like to have my idea of A Midsummer Night’s - Dream disordered by a French metrical version. When too late, I sorely - regretted it, as, had I even read the caste, I should have gone, and been - able to give you a trustworthy report,—for the three principal - characters were William Shakespeare—by M. Dereims, of the opera (who - would sing his great song of <i>La Reine de Saba</i>)—Falstaff, and - Queen Elizabeth! Next morning I catechised a young Englishman, whose - report was, as near as I can recollect, as follows: “Well, there wasn’t - much of our <i>Midsummer Night’s Dream</i> in it, no Oberon and Titania, - or Bottom, or all that fairy business. Queen Elizabeth and one of her - ladies went out at night disguised, to a sort of Casino or Cremorne - Gardens” [what would Secretary Cecil have said to such an escapade?], “and - coming away they met Shakespeare and Falstaff, and had a good time; and - Falstaff sang a song which brought the house down. Then, as the Queen - falls in love with Shakespeare, they get some girl to marry him right - away.” One more lost opportunity, and to think that I shall probably never - get another chance!— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There is a flower that shines so bright, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - They call it marigold-a: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And he that wold not when he might, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - He shall not’ when he wold-a. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - As you are fond of dog-lore, here is a sample from Auvergne. Just opposite - our hotel lives the young Scotch (not Irish, as I think I called him last - week) doctor. His wife owns a clever pug, whose friendship any - self-respecting dog would be anxious, I should say, to cultivate. One of - the rather scratch-pack gathered for the coming fox-chase, who wandered as - they pleased about the town, seems to have shared my view, for every - morning, between <i>café</i> and <i>déjeûner</i>, he came and paid a visit - of about five minutes to Mrs. Gilchrist’s pug, in the doctor’s vestibule, - always open to man and dog. At the end of his call, he trotted off down - the avenue to whatever other business he might have in hand. Now, his - visits could not have been amatory, as both are of the masculine sex, nor - could they have been gastronomic, for he invariably refused the food which - Mrs. Gilchrist offered him. What other conclusion is possible than that he - came to talk over the gossip afloat in the dog-world of La Bourboule? - </p> - <p> - Lastly, as to the excursions. These are numerous, and very interesting in - all ways, for you drive through great, sad pine-forests (in which I was - astonished to see many of the trees gray with the weeping moss which makes - the Louisiana and Texas forests so melancholy) and breezy heaths all aglow - with wild flowers, getting every now and then indescribably glorious - glimpses of the rich plain which stretches away from this backbone of - Central France to the Alps. The flora is quite beyond me, but I recognised - many varieties of heart’s-ease, fox-gloves, gentians, amongst them an - exquisite blue variety, and the air was often scented with meadow-sweet or - wild-thyme. Then almost every mountain-top is crowned by a peculiarly - shaped block of dark rock, which looks as if some huge saurian, disgusted - with a changing world, had crawled up there to die and get petrified. They - must, however, have been even bigger than the <i>Atlanlosaurus immanis</i>, - the biggest of the family yet found, I believe. I well remember the - delight of Dr. Agnew, of New York, when the American geologists came upon - its thigh bone, two feet longer than that of any European monster. It had - become agate, and I have a scarf-pin made of a polished fragment, and - presented to me by the triumphant doctor. I cannot tell you what these - rocks really are, as I made no ascent, preferring nowadays, like dear - Lowell, “to make my ascents by telescope.” - </p> - <p> - But the human interest of the excursions, as usual, far exceeds the - botanical or geological. The chief of these is the “Tour d’Auvergne,” the - seat of the Count who enlisted to repel invasion, but never would take a - commission from Republic or Napoleon, and died in battle, the “premier - grenadier de la France.” There is nothing left of his tower except the - foundations, and a dungeon on the high rock, on which a native woman sells - photographs and relics, quite as genuine, I should say, as most such. - Opposite, across a deep valley, rises another rock crowned by a chapel, - which is approached by a steep path, up which once a year goes a - procession, past the seven stations, at each of which there is a crucifix, - and on the lowest a figure the size of life. Christianity, they say, has - died down very low in Auvergne. I should doubt it, as I saw no sign of - defacement, either here or on any of the roadside crosses, which are - everywhere. I fear we could hardly say as much if we had them—as I - wish we had—on every English high-road. On the walls of the village - which clusters round the side of the keep, a placard (of which I enclose a - copy) interested me much. The three Municipal Councillors there give their - reasons for resigning their seats on the Council. On the whole, I think - they were wrong, and should have stayed and “toughed it out.” I should - like to know how it strikes you. You will see that the poster bears a - stamp. Might not our Chancellor of the Exchequer raise a tidy sum that - way? What a lump Pears, Hudson, Epps, or Van Houten and Co. would have to - pay, and earn the thanks of a grateful country too! But I must not try - your patience or space further, so will only note the Roman remains at - Mont Dore, another health-resort of the Dordogne Valley, four miles above - La Bourboule, which are worth going all the way to see, as I would advise - any of your readers to do who are looking out for an interesting - countryside, with as fine air as any in the world, in which to spend their - coming holidays. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Dutch Boys, The Hague, 1st May 1894. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>uch may be said - both for and against breaking one’s good resolutions, but no one, I should - think, will deny the merit of making them. Well, sir, before starting for - my Whitsuntide jaunt this year, I resolved firmly that nothing should - induce me to send you any more letters over this signature. Have I not - been trying your patience, and the long-suffering of your readers any time - these thirty years, with my crude first impressions of cities and their - inhabitants, from Constantinople to the Upper Missouri? “Surely,” I said - to myself, “sat prata biberunt.” What can young England in the last decade - of the century—who enjoy, or at any rate read, <i>Dodo, and The - Fabian Essays, and The Heavenly Twins</i>—care or want to know about - the notions of an old fogey, whose faiths—or fads, as they would - call them—on social and political problems were formed, if not - stereotyped, in the first half? What, then, has shaken this wise resolve? - You might guess for a week and never come within miles of the answer. It - was the sight of a group of Dutch boys playing leap-frog in front of this - hotel, and the contrast which came unbidden into my head between the - chances of Dutch and English boys in this matter, and the different use - they make of them. - </p> - <p> - In front of this hotel lies the large open space, now planted with trees, - and about the size of Grosvenor Square, which is called “Tournooiveld,” - and was in the Middle Ages the tilt-yard of the doughty young Dutch - candidates for knighthood. The portion of this square immediately in front - of the hotel, about 40 yards deep and 150 broad, is marked off from the - rest by a semicircular row of granite posts, rather over three feet in - height, and three to four yards apart, two of them being close to - lampposts, but the line otherwise unbroken. No chain connects these posts, - and they have no spike on the top of them. As I stood at the door the - morning after my arrival, admiring the fine linden-trees in full foliage, - enter four Dutch boys from the left, who, without a word, broke at once - into single file, and did “follow my leader” over all the posts till they - got to the end on the extreme right, and disappeared quietly down a side - street. Well, you will say, wouldn’t four English boys have done just the - same % and I answer, Yes, certainly, so far as playing leap-frog over the - posts goes; but they would have to come out here to find such a row of - posts in the middle of a city. At any rate, in the city with which I am - best acquainted in England, the few posts there fit for leap-frog are - connected with chains and have spikes on their tops. Moreover, do I not - pass daily up a flight of steps, fenced on either side by a broad iron - banister, which was obviously intended by Providence for passing boys to - get a delicious slide down 1 But, sir, no English boy on his way to school - or on an errand has ever slid down those banisters, for the British Bumble - has had prohibitory knobs placed on them at short intervals for no - possible reason except to prevent boys sliding down. The faith that all - material things should be made to serve the greatest good of the greatest - number is surely as widely held in England as in Holland, and yet, here - are the tops of these Dutch posts <i>culotté</i>, if I may say so, worn - smooth and polished by the many generations of boys who have enjoyed - leap-frog over them, while the British posts and banisters have given - pleasure to no human being but Bumble from the day they were put up. - </p> - <p> - But it was not of the Dutch posts but the Dutch boys that I intended to - write, for they certainly struck me as differing in two particulars from - our boys, thus. Two of the posts, as I have said, are so close to the - lamp-posts that you can’t vault over them without coming full butt against - the lamp-post on the other side. When the leader came to the first of them - he did not pass it, as I expected, but just vaulted on to the top, and sat - there while he passed his leg between the-post and the lamp-post, and then - jumped down and went on to the next. Every one of the rest followed his - example gravely and without a word; whereas, had they been English boys, - there would have been a bolt past the leader as soon as he was seated, and - a race with much shouting for the lead over the remaining pillars. I have - been studying the Dutch boy ever since, and am convinced that he is the - most silent and most “thorough” of any of his species I have ever come - across; and the boy is father to the man in both qualities. On Whit-Monday - this city was crowded, all the citizens and country-folk from the suburbs - being in the streets and gardens; the galleries and museums, oddly enough, - being closed for the day. Walking about amongst them the silence was - really rather provoking. At last I took to counting the couples we met who - were obviously just married, or courting, and ought at any rate to have - had something to say to each other. Out of eleven couples in one street, - only one were talking, though all looked quite happy and content. It is - the same everywhere. As we neared the landing-place at the Hook of - Holland, our steamer’s bows were too far out, and a rope had to be thrown - from the shore. There were at least twenty licensed porters waiting for - us, in clean white jackets,—one of these, without a word, just - coiled a rope and flung it. It was missed twice by the sailor in our bows, - and fell into the water, out of which the thrower drew it, and just coiled - and threw it again without a word of objurgation or remonstrance, and the - third time successfully. Not one of the white-jacketed men who stood round - had uttered a syllable of advice or comment; but what a Babel would have - arisen in like case at the pier-heads of Calais or Dieppe, or for that - matter at Dover or Liverpool. No wonder that William the Silent is the - typical hero of Dutchmen; there are two statues of him in the best sites - in this city, and half a dozen portraits in the best places in the - galleries. Hosea Biglow’s— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Talk, if you keep it, pays its keep, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But gabble’s the short road to ruin. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ’Tis gratis (gals half price), but cheap - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - At no price when it hinders doing,— - </p> - <p> - ought to be put into Dutch as the national motto. Then as to thoroughness. - Take the most notable example of it first. We have been driving all round - for some days, and have only once come to a slope up which our horse had - to walk. When we got to the top, there was the sea on the other side, - obviously even to the untrained eye at a considerably higher level than - the green fields through which we had just been driving. Of course it is - an old story, the Dutchman’s long war with the German Ocean, but one never - realises it till one comes to drive uphill to the sea, and then it fairly - takes one’s breath away. I was deeply impressed, and took advantage of a - chance that offered of talking the subject over with an expert, who, like - most Dutchmen, happily speaks English fluently. Far from expressing any - anxiety as to the land already won, he informed me that they are seriously - contemplating operations against the Zuider Zee, and driving him - permanently out of Holland! And I declare I believe they will do it, and - so win the right, alone, so far as I know, amongst the nations, of saying - to the sea: “Hitherto shalt thou come and no further, and here shall thy - proud waves be stayed.” One more example,—their thoroughness as to - cleanliness. Not only the pavements of the main thoroughfares, but all the - side-streets are thoroughly well washed and cleansed daily. When you walk - out in the early morning you might eat your breakfast anywhere with - perfect comfort on the sidewalks. We had to look for more than a quarter - of an hour to find a bit of paper in the streets, and the windows in the - back streets, even of houses to let, are rubbed bright and polished to a - point which must be the despair of the passing English housewife. Why are - Dutch house-maidens so incomparably more diligent and clean than English? - Can it be their Puritan bringing-up? In short, ten days’ residence here—I - have never before done anything but rush through the country on my way - east—seems likely to make me review old prejudices, and to exclaim, - “If I were not an Englishman, I would be a Dutchman!” One may read and - enjoy Motley without really appreciating this silent and “thorough” - people, or understanding how it came to pass that by them, in this tiny - and precarious corner of Europe, “the great deliverance was wrought out.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - “Poor Paddy-Land!”—I—6th Oct. 1894. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ix weeks ago, when - I was considering where I should go for my autumn holiday, some remarks of - yours decided me “to give poor Paddy-land a turn” (the phrase is not mine, - but that of the first housemaid I came across in Dublin). When one has - been talking and thinking for the last eight years of little else than - that “distressful country,” it certainly seemed a fair suggestion that one - might as well go and look at it when one got the chance. So I have - scrambled round from Dublin to Kerry, and from Cork to the Giant’s - Causeway, and can bear hearty witness to the soundness of your advice. For - a flying visit of a few weeks, though insufficient for any serious study - of a people or country, may greatly help one in judging both of them from - one’s ordinary standpoint at home. - </p> - <p> - Of course, the first object of an Englishman who has not lost his head - must be to ascertain whether the Irish people really long for a separate - Parliament, and a severance of all connection with the rest of the Empire. - Well, sir, I was prepared to find that the men in the street—car-drivers, - boatmen, waiters, and fellow-travellers on the railways—would, to a - great extent, adapt their opinions to whatever they might think would - please their questioner, but certainly was quite unprepared for the - absolute unanimity with which I was assured that Home Rule is dead. It is - only the American-Irish, and especially the “Biddys of New York,” so my - informants protested, “who want to break up the Union.” I was warned, - however, as to the man in the street. “You must remember that our people - are full of imagination, and you must take off a large discount from all - they tell you; but you’ll always find a groundwork of fact at the bottom - of their stories.” A good piece of advice, which a professional friend in - Dublin started me with, and which I found to be true enough, except that - where local politics or the land came in, the groundwork of fact was apt - to be too minute to be easily discerned. Take, as an example, a story - which was told me on the spot by a thoroughly trustworthy witness. Towards - the end of Mr. Forster’s Chief-Secretaryship a sensation message was - flashed to New York that a Government stronghold had been taken by the - Invincibles, the garrison having surrendered with all the guns and stores. - This announcement produced a liberal response in dollars from the other - side, particularly from “the Biddys of New York.” Now for the “groundwork - of fact” underlying this superstructure. The Government have, it seems, on - their hands a number of Martello towers on the southern coast which are - useless for military purposes. A band of some dozen “bhoys,” headed by a - notorious Invincible, came out of Cork one summer evening and summoned the - garrison of one of these Martello towers. The garrison (an elderly - pensioner), who was at tea with his wife and children, wisely surrendered - at discretion; whereupon the patriots took possession of the single cannon - and some old muskets and ammunition, which latter they carried off next - morning, when they abandoned the tower and cannon on the approach of the - police. But though the groundwork of fact as to the condition of the Home - Rule agitation may be infinitesimal, there is very serious apprehension - still on the Land Question, upon which I found it difficult to draw the - man in the street. I was fortunate enough, however, to come across several - resident landlords and professional men, both Catholic and Protestant, - who, one and all, look with the gravest distrust at the operation of - recent land legislation. The Commissioners who administer these Acts have, - unfortunately, the strongest interest in prolonging the present state of - uncertainty. Their appointments will end with the cessation of appeals by - tenants for further reductions of rent, which, under the circumstances, - does not seem likely to come about before the landlords’ interest has been - pared down bit by bit till it touches prairie-value. The present utter - confusion and uncertainty is at any rate a striking object-lesson as to - the dangers of meddling with freedom of contract by Acts of Parliament. - </p> - <p> - When I landed in Ireland, I was under the impression—for which I - think you, sir, and perhaps the late Lord Beaconsfield, with his dictum - about the “melancholy ocean,” were responsible—that there is a note - of sadness underlying the superficial gaiety of the Irish character, as is - the case with most Celts. Well, whether it be from natural incapacity, and - that each observer only brings with him a limited power of seeing below - the surface in such matters, in any case I wholly failed to discern any - such characteristic in Central or South Ireland, though there may be a - trace of it perhaps in the North, where, by the way, they are not Celts. - On the contrary, the remark of a friendly and communicative Killarney - carman, “Shure, sir, we always try to get on the sunny side of the bush, - like the little birds,” seemed to me transparently true. And next to this - desire for the sunny side of the bush, a happy-go-lucky, hand-to-mouth - temper struck me as the prevailing characteristic, as Sir Walter saw it - when he wrote “Sultan Solomon’s Search after Happiness.” Look at the - national vehicle, the outside car—far more national and popular than - our hansom. Did any race ever invent a conveyance so easy to mount and - dismount from, or which offers the same chances of being shot off at every - street corner or turn in the road? If any reader doubts, let him go over - to the next horse-show at Dublin, and watch the crowd breaking up at the - end of the show. The roads into the city are certainly unusually broad, - but the sight of a dozen jaunting-cars coming along, two or three abreast, - as hard as their horses can trot, the driver lolling carelessly, with a - loose rein, on one side, and a couple of Irishmen on the other, is a sight - to make the Saxon “sit up,” though he may be accustomed to the fastest and - most reckless West End hansoms. Like one of your recent correspondents, I - could distinguish natives from visitors, as each of the latter had a tight - hold of the bar—a precaution which the native scorned. I managed to - extract from an enthusiastic admirer—a young Irish subaltern who had - ridden on them all his life—the confession that he had left a car - involuntarily (or, <i>Anglid</i>, had been shot out) three times in the - last eighteen months; but then, as he explained, he always fell on his - feet! I was touched again and again by the almost pathetic craving for - English appreciation,—quite as strong, I think, as, and certainly - much pleasanter than, that of our American cousins. I was exploring the - Killarney Lakes, in the first-rate four-oared boat of a cadet of the - MacGrillicuddy family, who, with his English wife, exercises a very - delightful hospitality almost under the shadow of “The Reeks,” which bear - his name. It was a perfect day, the changing lights and tints on mountains - and woods and lakes being more delicately lovely than any I could recall, - except, perhaps, at the head of the Lake of Geneva. We had been talking of - the Scotch lakes, and I could not help saying, “Why, this beats Loch - Katrine and Ellen’s Isle out of the field.” - </p> - <p> - “Ah,” said our host, with a sigh, “if only Sir Walter Scott had been an - Irishman!” and then he went on to speak of the neglect of Ireland by the - Royal Family and English governing people—e.g. Lord Beaconsfield had - never set foot in her, and Mr. Gladstone only once, for an hour or two, to - receive the freedom of Dublin. But why had the Queen made her favourite - home in Scotland, and left poor Ireland out in the cold? Why did the - English flock to Scotch rivers and moors and golf-links in crowds every - autumn when only a stray sportsman or tourist found his way to Killarney - or Connemara or Donegal? It was all owing to the Wizard of the North, who - had made Scotland enchanted ground. - </p> - <p> - Without ignoring other and deeper causes, I think one cannot but feel what - a difference it would have made if Sir Walter had been Irish. The Siege of - Derry is a more heroic and pathetic story than any in Scotch annals of the - struggle for the Stuarts, and the genius which has made us intimate - friends of the Baron of Bradwardine and Dugald Dalgetty, of Dandie - Dinmont, Edie Ochiltree, Jeanie Deans, Cuddie and Mause Headrigg, and a - dozen other Scotch men and women, would surely have found as good - materials for character-painting among the Irish peasantry. But the - speculation, though interesting, is too big to deal with at the end of a - paper. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - “Poor Paddy-Land!”—II - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> suppose every one - expects to find Ireland the land of the unlooked-for. I did, at any rate, - but was by no means prepared for several of the surprises which greeted - me. For instance, the best arranged, and for its size and scope the most - interesting, National Gallery I have ever seen. It is only forty years old - (incorporated in 1854), a date since which one would have thought it - scarcely possible to get together genuine specimens of all the great - schools of art, from the well “picked-over” marts of England and the - Continent. But the feat has been accomplished, mainly, I believe, by the - entire devotion and fine taste and judgment of the late director, Mr. - Henry E. Doyle. His untimely death in the spring of this year has left a - blank, social and artistic, which it will be hard to fill; but happily his - great work for Irish art was done, and all that his successors will have - to do will be to follow his lead faithfully. Irish Art owes much to his - family, for he was the son of H. B., and the younger brother of the - immortal “Dicky,” while, I believe, Mr. Conan Doyle is his nephew. - </p> - <p> - But it is not the general collection of pictures, remarkable as that is, - which differentiates the Irish from other national galleries known to me. - It is the happy arrangement which has set apart a fourth of the whole - space for a collection of portraits, and authentic historical pictorial - records, comprising not only the portraits of eminent Irishmen and - Irishwomen, but also of statesmen and others who were politically or - socially connected with Ireland, or whose lives serve in any way to - illustrate her history, or throw light on her social or literary or - artistic records. I think I may safely venture the assertion—for I - spent the greater part of two afternoons in this historical and portrait - department—that there is Scarcely a man or woman, from the time of - Elizabeth to that of O’Connell and Lord Melbourne, of whom one would be - glad to know more, with whom one does not leave it, feeling far better - acquainted. And then they are so admirably and often pathetically grouped, - e.g. Charles I., Cromwell, and R. Cromwell, on a line, all full of - character, and Strafford hard by, with the look of “thorough” on his brow - and mouth as no other portrait I have ever seen has given. Then there are - “Erin’s High Ormonde,” Sir Walter Raleigh, by Zuccaro, painted between his - two imprisonments, and coming down later, Lords Wellesley and Hastings, - and groups of great nobles and Lords-Lieutenant. For fighting men, William - III. as a boy; Walker, the defender of Derry; the Duke, the Lawrences, - Lord Gough, and a score of other gallant Irishmen. The terrible Dean - stands out amongst the literary men, and near him Sir R. Steele and - Sterne, and (<i>longo intervallo</i>, except on shelves) Tom Moore, - Croker, Lever, etc. Then come the “patriots” of all schools: Lord E. - Fitzgerald, and Grattan, and E. Hudson, Secretary of the United Irishmen - in 1784; Wolfe Tone, and Daniel O’Connell; half a dozen Ponsonbys of - different ranks, and several pictures of Burke, one of which especially - (said to be by Angelica Kauffmann) is, to my mind, quite invaluable. Burke - stands upright, his side-face towards you, sublime, as he looked, I am - sure, when he was making his immortal speech at Bristol. By his side, at - right angles, so that you get his full face, is Charles Fox, one hand on - Burke’s shoulder, the other on a table on which he is leaning. You can - hear him saying as plainly as if you were there one hundred years ago, - “Now, my dear Edmund, if you say that in the House, you’ll upset the - coach.” Fox has evidently dined well, and Burke is fasting from all but - indignation. The portraits of women are as interesting, such as Miss - Farren, afterwards Lady Derby; Mrs. Norton, by Watts, which is worth a - visit to Dublin to see, etc. But I must not run on, and will only note one - lesson I carried away. There are two portraits, and three engravings from - portraits, by N. Hone, R.A., an Irishman, but one of our original Royal - Academicians. You will remember what Peter Pindar says of that painter in - his <i>Odes to the Royal Academicians</i>”:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And as for Mr. Nathan Hone, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - In portraits he’s as much alone - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - As in his landscape stands the unrivalled Claude. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Of pictures I have seen enough, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Vile, tawdry, execrable stuff, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But none so bad as thine, I vow to God. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - I have always till now maintained that Peter, with all his cynicism, was - the best art critic, the Ruskin, shall we say, of his time. Now I give him - up. N. Hone was no doubt quarrelsome and disagreeable, but he was a very - considerable portrait-painter. - </p> - <p> - I had noted Derry as one of the places to be seen on account of the siege, - and accordingly went there, to get another startling sensation. Like most - other folk, I suppose, I had always looked on the story as interesting and - heroic, and had wondered in a vague way how some 30,000 men, commanded by - a distinguished French soldier, and a considerable part of them at any - rate well-equipped regular troops, could have been kept at bay for ten - months by a mere handful of regulars, backed by the ’prentice boys - of the town and neighbourhood. Religious zeal was no doubt a strong factor - on the side of the town, and Parson Walker, a born leader of men, “with a - bugle in his throat,” like “Bobs.” But when one remembers that no - provision had been made for a siege, that many of the leading men were for - opening the gates, and indeed that the French officers and James’s deputy - were actually within 300 yards in their boats, to accept the surrender, - when the ’prentices rushed down and shut and manned the gates, and - then looks at the scene on the spot, one is really dumbfounded, and - wanders back in thought to King Hezekiah and Jerusalem. From the - Cathedral, which dominates the city, you can trace distinctly the line of - the old walls, and can hardly believe your eyes. The space enclosed cannot - be more than a quarter of a mile in length, by some 300 yards in breadth - (I could not get exact measurements), and in it, including garrison and - the country folk who had flocked in, were more than 30,000 people. It was - bombarded for eight months, during at least the last four of which famine - and pestilence were raging. No wonder that the parish registers tell of - more than 9000 burials in consecrated ground, while “the practice of - burial in the backyards became unavoidable!” Where can such another story - be found in authentic history? Parson Walker, let us say, fairly earned - his monument. - </p> - <p> - I must own to grievous disappointment as to the farming in Ulster. All - through the South and Centre I had seen the hay in the fields in small - cocks in September, and the splendid ripe crops of oats and barley uncut, - or, if cut, left in sheaf, or being carried in a leisurely fashion, which - was quite provoking, while tall, yellow ragweed was growing in most of the - pastures in ominous abundance. That will all be altered, I thought, when I - cross “Boyne Water.” Not a bit of it! Here and there, indeed, I saw a good - rick-yard and clean fields, but scarcely oftener than about Cork or - Killarney, and no one seemed to mind any more than the pure southern - Celts. One man said, when I mourned over the ragweed three feet or four - feet high, that he did not mind it, as it showed the land was good! As to - leaving hay in cock, well that was the custom—they would get it into - stack after harvest, any way before Christmas; as to dawdling over cutting - and carrying, well, with prices at present rates, what use in hurrying? - There was a comic song called “Clear the Kitchen,” popular half a century - ago, which ran— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I saw an old man come riding by. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Says I, “Old man, your horse will die”; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Says he, “If he dies I’ll tan his skin, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And if he lives I’ll ride him agin.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It fits the Irish temper, North and South, pleasant enough to travel - amongst, but bad, I should think, to live with. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - “Panem et Circenses”, Rome, 21 st April 1895. - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have been asking - myself at least a dozen times a day during the last fortnight, why Rome - should be (to me, at any rate) the city of surprises, far more than Athens - or Constantine, for instance, or any other city or scene of world-wide - interest in Europe or America. Jerusalem and the Nile cities I have never - seen (and fear I never shall now). Surely, to what I take to be the - majority of your readers, who have gone through, as I have, the orthodox - educational mill—public school and college—precisely the - contrary should be true. We spent no small part of from six to ten years - of the most impressionable time of our lives in studying the story of the - Mistress of the Old World, from Romulus and Remus to the Anto-nines. Even - the idlest and most careless of us could scarcely have passed his “greats” - without knowing his geography well enough to point out on the map the - position of each of the seven hills, the Forum, the Janiculum, the Appian - Way, the Arch of Titus, the Colosseum, etc., and must have formed some - kind of notion in his own mind of what each of them looked like. At any - rate, I had no excuse for not knowing my ancient Rome better than I knew - any modern city, both as to its geography and the politics, beliefs, and - habits of its citizens; for I was for two years in the pupil-room of a - teacher (Bishop Cotton) who spared no pains, not only on the texts of - Livy, Horace, Sallust, and Juvenal, and the geography, but in making the - Rome of the last years of the Republic and the first Caesars live again - for us. For instance, he would collect for us all the best engravings then - to be had (it was before the days of photographs) of Rome, and show us - what remained of the old buildings and monuments, and where the Papal city - had encroached and superseded them; and again, would take infinite pains - to explain the changes in the ordinary life of the Roman citizen, which - had been creeping on since the end of the third Punic war, when her last - formidable rival went down, and the struggle between patrician and - plebeian had time and opportunity to develop and work itself out, till it - ended in the Augustan age, when the will of the Cæsar remained the sole - ultimate law, in Rome, and over the whole Empire. Of course the - explanation of the phrase “Panem et circenses,” and the growth of the - system, in the shape of public feastings, shows, baths, and other - entertainments, with which each successful Tribune or General, as he came - to the front, and the Cæsars after them, tried to bribe and sway the mob - of the Forum, formed no small part of this instruction. One item of the - list will best illustrate my text—that of public baths—which - came most directly home to me, as I was devoted to swimming in those days, - and so had great sympathy with the poor citizen of Imperial Rome who - desired to have baths in the best form and without payment. - </p> - <p> - I do not know that there is any trustworthy evidence as to the public - baths of Rome before Imperial times, but we can estimate pretty accurately - how the case stood for the poor Roman in the first and second centuries - A.D. The best preserved of these are the Baths of Caracalla, in which - sixteen hundred bathers could be accommodated at once. The enclosed area - was 360 yards square, or considerably larger than Lincoln’s Inn Fields; - but this included a course for foot-races, in which, I suppose, the - younger bathers contended when fresh from the delights of hot and cold - baths, while their elders looked on from the porticoes adjoining. The - bathing establishment proper, however, was 240 yards in length, by 124 - yards in width, in which the divisions of the “tepidaria,” “calidaria,” - and “frigidaria,” are still confidently pointed out in Baedeker, and - attested by guides if you like to hire them. But the part which interested - me most, apart from the huge masses of wall still standing, was the - depression in the floor, which is said to have been the swimming-bath, and - which is at least twice as large as those of the Holborn and Lambeth - baths, the two largest in London in my time, put together. - </p> - <p> - The remains of the walls are just astounding, eight feet and ten feet - thick, and (I should say) in several places fifty feet high; the thin - Roman bricks, and the mortar in which they are built, as hard as they were - in the second century. I wish I could feel any confidence that any of our - London brickwork would show as well even a century hence. When the floors - were all covered with mosaic pavement, of which small pieces now carefully - preserved still remain, and the brickwork of the walls was faced with - marble, and the statues which have been found here and removed to museums, - still stood round the central fountain and in the courts, my imagination - quite fails to picture what the baths must have looked like. But the Baths - of Caracalla, though best preserved, are not by any means the largest. - Those of Diocletian, on the Quirinal and partly facing the railway - station, were almost twice as big, for the circumference of the bath - buildings was about 2000 yards, or half as large again as the Baths of - Caracalla, while they would accommodate (it is said) three thousand - bathers at once. It is even more impossible, however, to reconstruct these - baths in one’s fancy than those of Caracalla, for the church of St. - Bernardo occupies one domed corner of the area, and a prison another - corner; while a convent, with the Church of St. Maria degli Angeli - attached—built by Michael Angelo by order of Pius IV.—stands - over what was the “tepidarium.” There is still, however, space enough left - for the large square, as big as Bedford Square, and surrounded by - cloisters said to be also the work of Michael Angelo, in which stand a - number of the most interesting statues and busts, and architectural - fragments lately exhumed. - </p> - <p> - I have by no means exhausted the opportunities enjoyed by the Roman - citizen under the Antonines for getting a satisfactory, not to say a - luxurious, wash in the Roman summer, but must turn aside for a minute to - tell you of an interesting little scene which I saw outside on leaving the - Baths of Diocletian. Along the bottom of the old ruined wall still - standing, and looking as firm as that of Caracalla, for about fifty yards, - earth and rubbish has been allowed to accumulate to the height of twelve - or fourteen feet. This dirt-heap covers some twenty feet of the open space - between the old wall and the footway, and, the face of it having been - trampled hard, forms a steep slope, of which the Roman urchin of to-day - seems to have taken possession, and thereon thoroughly to enjoy himself - after his own fashion. This is a very different way from that of our - street-boys, if I may judge by what I saw in passing. A group of some - dozen little ragged urchins—four with bare feet—were at high - jinks as I came up; and this was their pastime. The biggest of them, a - sturdy boy of (perhaps) eleven or twelve, stood at the bottom of the steep - slope, facing the wall, with his feet firmly set, and his arms wide open. - The rest, who were at the top of the slope, against the wall, ran down one - after another and threw themselves into his arms, clasping him round the - neck, and getting a good hug before he dropped them. The object seemed to - be (so far as I could see) to throw him over backwards, but he stood his - ground firmly, only staggering a little once or twice during the two - rounds which I was able to watch. I was obliged then to leave, wondering, - and debating in my mind what would be the result of such a game if tried - by our street boys in a London suburb. - </p> - <p> - To go back to the Baths, there are remains of three more which must have - been no unworthy rivals of Caracalla’s and Diocletian’s—viz. those - of Constantine, Agrippa, and Titus. The first were also on the Quirinal, - and are said to have occupied the greater part of the present Piazza del - Quirinale, including the site of the Royal Palace. But as all that is left - of them is a fragment of the old boundary-wall here and there, one can - form no notion of their size or shape. One may, however, judge of their - character by magnificent colossal marble statues of the “Horse-tamers,” - which are known to have stood one on each side of the principal entrance, - and are believed to remain almost in the place where they stand to-day. - The Baths of Agrippa lay behind the Pantheon, but a fluted column and - ruined dome are all that remain of them in the neighbouring streets, - “Pumbella” and “Cumbella.” Lastly, there were the Baths of Titus, begun by - him in A.D. 80, on the Esquiline, which included the sites of Mæcenas’ - Villa and the Golden Palace of Nero, which (I suppose) he must have - demolished to make room for them; but the tradition as to these ruins - seems even more vague than that of any of the other baths. I think you - must allow that so far I have proved my case, that Rome is the city of - surprises. - </p> - <p> - Ever since my “Roman baths’ round,” the contrast of Imperial Rome and our - London has been popping up. Why have not we, at any rate, one or two - public baths on something like the old Roman scale? Did they really let - any Roman citizen bathe free of charge? Could we possibly do that? and - how? Well, after all, it only wants a Cæsar to work the “panem et - circenses” trick astutely. And have not we got at last our equivalent for - Nero or Titus in our County Council? True, our many-headed Cæsar has not - the tribute of a conquered world to draw on, or an unlimited supply of - prisoners of war, slaves, and poor Christians to set to the work. But has - not he the rates of London at his mercy—not a bad equivalent—and - the Collectivist Trade-Unionist, who may possibly be relied on to do as - fair a day’s work at the scale-wages as the unpaid slave or Christian did - for Titus? Well, I do not know that I should protest vigorously—only - I am no longer a London ratepayer. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - Rome—Easter Day - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e get our London - papers here as regularly as you do, only forty-eight hours later, and I - see that readers at home have been able to follow the course of the - services in St. Peter’s and the Roman Churches during Passion Week about - as well as we who are on the spot, and so to appreciate the thoroughness - which the priesthood, from cardinals downwards, for I am sorry to say the - Pope is still unable to take his usual part, throw into the attempt to - reproduce the supreme drama of our race, so far as this can be done, day - by day, almost hour by hour. I have not, however, noticed any mention of - the “Tenebræ” at St. John Lateran, a service of rather more than an hour, - from 4.30 to 5.30, on the afternoon of Good Friday, when the last words - have fallen from the cross, and Joseph of Arimathæa, with the faithful - women, has borne away the scarred and bleeding body of the Lord of Life to - his own grave, in which no man has yet lain— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - All the toil, the sorrow done, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - All the battle fought and won, - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - as Arthur Stanley says, in one of the noblest hymns in the English - language. We had the good fortune the day before to meet one of the - Monsignori, an old friend, formerly a hard-working and successful London - incumbent, who suggested that we should go, and to whom I shall always - feel grateful for the advice. We accordingly were at the door of that - splendid, but to my mind too sumptuously decorated church, punctually at - 4.30. The procession had already reached the chancel, and were taking - their allotted places. Most of your readers will probably be familiar with - the church, but for those who are not, I may say that the chancel is - wider, I think, than that in any of our cathedrals, and that the whole - space from the high altar to the solid marble rails—about three and - a half feet high, which divide the chancel from the rest of the church—is - open, with the sole exception of the row of stalls which run along each - sidewall, and which are reserved for, and were now filled by, priests. For - this particular service, however (and for this only, as I was told), a row - of chairs was placed just within the chancel-rails, for the Monsignori and - other priests of the Pope’s household, who were already seated, all in - deep black, with their faces to the altar and their backs to the - congregation. They remained seated during the whole service (though - several of the priests from the side-stalls stepped down at intervals and - took part in the service), thus, it seemed to me, emphasising the division - between priests and people, and impressing on us beyond chancel-rails, the - fact that we were there rather as sightseers, spectators of a solemn - ceremony, than joint-sharers in an act of worship. - </p> - <p> - When we arrived the service had scarcely commenced, though the organ was - pealing solemnly through the vast church; but the whole of the space in - front of the chancel-rails was already filled by a dense crowd. Many of - those who were in front, close to the chancel-rails, knelt, leaning on the - rails, but by no means all, and the rest stood—a noteworthy - assembly. For there were at least as many men as women, and of all - classes. It is not easy nowadays to recognise rank by dress or bearing; - but there were certainly a considerable minority of well-dressed, - well-to-do people, mixed with soldiers in half a dozen different uniforms - (as I was glad to see), artisans, peasants, men and women in force, the - latter generally leading a child or two by the hand, with a sprinkling of - young men, preparing, I suppose by their dress, for priests’ orders, who - for the most part had books in which they followed the service - attentively,—no easy task under the surrounding conditions. For - though the front ranks, two or three deep next the chancel-rails, were for - the most part stationary, the great mass behind was constantly moving - about and talking in low tones,—not irreverently, but rather as they - would be in England at any large gathering where they could take no part - themselves in the performance, but felt that it was the right thing to be - there, and that they must not interfere with the minority, who seemed to - understand and appreciate what was going on. I was not one of these - latter, as I do not understand music, and had no book of the words; though - I was quite sensible that the pathos, chequered with occasional bursts of - triumph, and rendered by exquisite tenors and boys’ voices, was equal to - any music I had ever heard. Moreover, the sight of the splendidly dressed - priests, moving frequently about before the altar, without any reason so - far as I could see, and the swinging of censers, the clouds of incense, - and gestures to which I could attach no meaning, inclined me to get out of - the crowd. With this view I looked about for my companion, who, I found, - had managed to reach the altar-rails. So in order that we might be sure to - meet at the end of the service, I got quietly back to the door by which we - had entered, where I could hear the music and voices perfectly, though out - of sight of the chancel. Here I resolved to wait, and at once became much - interested in the people who were constantly passing in or leaving the - church. Soon I remarked that almost all of the former, especially the - peasant men and women with children, turned to the right and disappeared - for a minute or two before going on to join the crowd in front of the - chancel. So I followed, and can scarcely say how much I was impressed by - what I saw. In a small side-chapel, near the entrance, which was their - destination, dimly lighted, a crucifix with a life-sized figure of our - Lord upon it was lying on a stone couch raised some two feet from the - floor. There was no priest in charge, only two bright little choristers (I - suppose) in their white gowns; and perfect silence reigned in the chapel - by the entrance of which I stood and saw several men and women kneeling. - They got up one by one, and approaching the figure dropped again on their - knees, and, stooping, kissed, some the nail-prints in the hands or feet, - some the spear-wound in the side, but none the face. The most touching - sight was the fathers or mothers when they rose from their knees lifting - the children and teaching them to kiss the wounds. I stood there for at - least twenty minutes, until the end of the service in fact, and must have - seen at least a hundred men, women, and children enter. Of these, three - only failed to kneel and kiss the cross, the first, a well-dressed, - middle-aged woman, leading a restless small lap-dog, which pulled and - whined whenever his mistress was not attending to him; the others, two - young girls—but quite old enough to have known better—who - marched in amongst the kneeling figures, open guide-book in hand, noticed - something in the chapel to which it referred, and then marched out. They - passed close enough for me to catch a word or two of their talk, which I - am glad to say was not English. - </p> - <p> - As I stood there and watched and listened, the distant voices seemed to be - chanting that grand old monk’s-Latin hymn, the “Dies Iræ,” and I fancied - (I am afraid it was pure fancy) I could hear:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Quærens me sedisti lassus, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Redeinisti crucem passas, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Tantus labor non sit cassus! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - More than once I was haunted by the wish to enter and kneel and kiss the - cross, by the side of some poor Italian woman and her child. I wish now - that I had, but hope it was a genuine Protestant instinct which hindered - me. At any rate I shall never have another chance. This crucifix is only - brought out once a year—on Good Friday—and I shall never again - be in St. John’s Lateran on that day for the “Tenebræ” service. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - JOHN TO JONATHAN - </h2> - <p> - An Address delivered in the Music Hall, Boston, on the 11th of October - 1870 - </p> - <p> - <i>This Address is printed precisely as it was spoken, at the request of - friends who had read extracts in our newspapers. I am quite aware how - superficial it must seem to English readers, and would only remind them - that I had no Parliamentary debates, or other documents, to which to - refer. I am thankful myself to find that, while there are startling gaps - in it, there are no gross blunders as to facts or dates. The kindliness - with which it was listened to by the audience, and discussed in the - American press, allows me to hope that the time has come when any effort - to put an end to the unhappy differences between the two countries will be - looked upon favourably in the United States. The true men and women on - both sides of the Atlantic feel, with Mr. Forster, that a war between - America and England would be a civil war, and believe with him that we - have seen the last of civil war between English-speaking men. Both nations - are, I hope and believe, for a hearty reconciliation, and it only remains - for the Governments to do their part.</i> - </p> - <p> - Thomas Hughes. - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is with a heavy - sense of responsibility, my friends, and no little anxiety, that I am here - to-night to address you on this subject. I have been in this country now - some two months, and from the day I crossed your frontier I have received, - from one end of the land to the other, from men and women whom I had never - seen in my life, and on whom I had no shadow of a claim that I could - discover, nothing but the most generous, graceful, and unobtrusive - hospitality. I am not referring to this city and its neighbourhood, in - which all Englishmen are supposed to feel very like home, and in which - most of us have some old and dear friend or two. I speak of your States - from New York to Iowa and Missouri, from the Canadian border to - Washington. Everywhere I have been carried about to places of interest in - the neighbourhood, lodged, boarded, and cared for as if I had been a dear - relative returning from long absence. However demoralised an Englishman - may become in his own country, there is always one plank in his social - morals which he clings to with the utmost tenacity, and that is paying his - own postage stamps. My hold even on this last straw is sadly relaxed. I am - obliged to keep vigilant watch on my letters to hinder their being stamped - and posted for me by invisible hands. I never before have so fully - realised the truth of those remarks of your learned and pious - fellow-citizen, Rev. Homer Wilbur, whose lucubrations have been a source - of much delight to me for many years, when he says somewhere, “I think I - could go near to be a perfect Christian if I were always a visitor at the - house of some hospitable friend. I can show a great deal of self-denial - where the best of everything is urged upon me with friendly importunity. - It is not so very hard to turn the other cheek for a kiss.” I should be - simply a brute if I were not equally touched and abashed by the kindness I - have received while amongst you. I can never hope to repay it, but the - memory of it will always be amongst my most precious possessions, and I - can, at least, publicly acknowledge it, as I do here this evening. - </p> - <p> - But, my friends, I must turn to the other side of the picture. There is - nothing—at any rate, no kind of pleasure, I suppose—which is - unmixed. From the deepest and purest fountains some bitter thing is sure - to rise, and I have not been able, even in the New World, to escape the - common lot of mankind in the Old. Everywhere I have found, when I have - sounded the reason for all this kindness, that it was offered to me - personally, because, to use the words of some whom I hope I may now look - on as dear friends, “We feel that you are one of us.” The moment the name - of my country was mentioned a shade came over the kindest faces. I cannot - conceal from myself that the feeling towards England in this country is - one which must be deeply painful to every Englishman. - </p> - <p> - It was for this reason that I chose the subject of this lecture. I cannot - bear to remain amongst you under any false pretences, or to leave you with - any false impressions. I am not “one of you,” in the sense of preferring - your institutions to those of my own country. I am before all things an - Englishman—a John Bull, if you will—loving old England and - feeling proud of her. I am jealous of her fair fame, and pained more than - I can say to find what I honestly believe to be a very serious - misunderstanding here, as to the events which more than anything else have - caused this alienation. You, who have proved your readiness as a people to - pour out ease, wealth, life itself, as water, that no shame or harm should - come to your country’s flag or name, should be the last to wish the - citizen of any other country to be false to his own. My respect and love - for your nation and your institutions should be worth nothing to you, if I - were not true to those of my own country, and did not love them better. - For this reason, then, and in the hope of proving to you that you have - misjudged the England of to-day—that she is no longer, at any rate, - if she ever was, the haughty, imperious power her enemies have loved to - paint her, interfering in every quarrel, subsidising and hectoring over - friends, and holding down foes with a brutal and heavy hand, careless of - all law except that of her own making, and bent above all things on - heaping up wealth—I have consented to appear here tonight. I had - hoped to be allowed to be amongst you simply as a listener and a learner. - Since my destiny and your kindness have ordered it otherwise, I can only - speak to you of that which is uppermost in my thoughts, of which my heart - is full. If I say things which are hard for you to hear, I am sure you - will pardon me as you would a spoilt child. You are responsible for having - taught me to open my heart and to speak my mind to you, and will take it - in good part if you do not find that heart and mind just what you had - assumed them to be. - </p> - <p> - I propose then, to-night, to state the case of my country so far as - regards her conduct while your great rebellion was raging. In a fight for - life, and for principles dearer than life, no men can be fair to those who - are outside. The time comes when they can weigh both sides of the case - impartially. I trust that that time has now arrived, and that I can safely - appeal to the calm judgment of a great people. - </p> - <p> - It is absolutely necessary, in order to appreciate what took place in - England during your great struggle, to bear in mind, in the first place, - that it agitated our social and political life almost as deeply as it did - yours. I am scarcely old enough to remember the fierce collisions of party - during the first Reform agitation, but I have taken a deep interest, and - during the last twenty years an active part, in every great struggle since - that time; and I say without hesitation, that not even in the crisis of - the Free-trade movement were English people more deeply stirred than by - that grapple between freedom and law on the one hand, and slavery and - privilege on the other, which was so sternly battled through, and brought - to so glorious and triumphant a decision, in your great rebellion. There - can be, I repeat, no greater mistake than to suppose that there was - anything like indifference on our side of the water, and no one can - understand the question who makes it. There was plenty of ignorance, - plenty of fierce partisanship, plenty of bewildered hesitation and - vacillation amongst great masses of honest, well-meaning people, who could - find no steady ground on the shifting sand of statement and - counter-statement with which they were deluged by those who <i>did</i> - know their own minds, and felt by instinct from the first that here was a - battle for life or death; but there was, I repeat again, no indifference. - Our political struggles do not, as a rule, affect our social life, but - during your war the antagonism between your friends and the friends of the - rebel States often grew into personal hostility. I know old friendships - which were sorely tried by it, to put it no higher. I heard, over and over - again, men refuse to meet those who were conspicuous on the other side. - Any of you who had time to glance at our papers will not need to be told - how fiercely the battle was fought in our press. - </p> - <p> - It is a mistake, also, to suppose that any section of our people were on - one side or the other. Let me say a few words in explanation of this part - of the subject. And first, of our aristocracy. I do not mean for a moment - to deny that a great majority of them took sides with the Confederates, - and desired to see them successful, and the great Republic broken up into - two jealous and hostile nations. What else could you expect? Could you - fairly look for sympathy in that quarter? Your whole history has been a - determined protest against privilege, and in favour of equal rights for - all men; and you have never been careful, in speech or conduct, to - conciliate your adversaries. For years your papers and the speeches of - your public men had rung with denunciations (many of them very unfair) of - them and their caste. They are not much in the habit of allowing their - sentiments to find public expression, but they know what is going on in - the world, and have long memories. It would be well if many of us Liberals - at home, as well as you on this side, would remember that in this matter - they cannot help themselves. A man in England may be born a Howard, or a - Cavendish, or a Cecil, without any fault of his own, and is apt to “rear - up,” as you say, when this accident is spoken of as though it were an act - of voluntary malignity on his part, and to resent the doctrine that his - class is a nuisance that should be summarily abated. So, as a rule, they - sided with the rebellion; but that rule has notable exceptions. - </p> - <p> - There were no warmer or wiser friends of the Union than the Duke of - Argyll, Lord Carlisle, and others; and it should be remembered that - although the class made no secret of their leanings, and many of them, I - believe, subscribed largely to the Confederate loan, no motion hostile to - the Union was ever even discussed in the House of Lords. They have lost - their money and seen the defeat of the cause which they favoured—a - defeat so thorough, I trust, that that cause will never again be able to - raise its head on this continent. I believe they have learnt much from the - lesson, and that partly from the teaching of your war, partly from other - causes to which I have no time to refer, they are far more in sympathy at - this time with the nation than they have ever yet been. - </p> - <p> - Of course, those who hang round and depend upon the aristocracy went with - them—far too large a class, I am sorry to say, in our country, and - one whose voice is too apt to be heard in clubs and society. But Pall Mall - and Mayfair, and the journals and periodicals which echo the voices of - Pall Mall, do not mean much in England, though they are apt to talk as - though they did, and are sometimes taken at their word. - </p> - <p> - The great mercantile world comes next in order, and here, too, there was a - decided preponderance against you. The natural hatred of disturbances, - which dominates those whose main object in life is making money, probably - swayed the better men amongst them, who forgot altogether that for that - disturbance you were not responsible. The worse were carried away by the - hopes of gain, to be made out of the sore need of the States in rebellion, - and in defiance of the laws of their own country. But amongst the most - eminent, as well as in the rank and file of this class, you had many warm - friends, such as T. Baring and Kirkman Hodgson; and the Union and - Emancipation Societies, of which I shall speak presently, found a number - of their staunch supporters in their ranks. The manufacturers of England - were far more generous in their sympathies, as my friend Mr. Mundella, who - is present here to-night and was himself a staunch friend, can witness. - Cobden, Bright, and Forster were their representatives, as well as the - representatives of the great bulk of our nation. I have no need to speak - of them, for their names are honoured here as they are at home. - </p> - <p> - Now, before I speak of your friends, let me first remind you that it is - precisely with that portion of the English nation of which I have been - speaking that your people come in contact when they are in our country. An - American generally has introductions which bring him into relations more - or less intimate with some sections of that society to which our - aristocracy gives its tone; or he is amongst us for business purposes, and - comes chiefly across our mercantile classes. I cannot but believe that - this fact goes far to explain the (to me) extraordinary prevalence of the - belief here, that the English nation was on the side of the rebellion. - That belief has, I hope and believe, changed considerably since the waves - of your mighty storm have begun to calm down, and I am not without hopes - that I may be able to change it yet somewhat more, with some at least of - those who have the patience and kindness to listen to me this evening. - </p> - <p> - And now let me turn to those who were the staunch friends of the North - from the very outset. They were gathered from all ranks and all parts of - the kingdom. They were brought in by all sorts of motives. Some few had - studied your history, and knew that these Southern men had been the only - real enemies of their country on American soil since the War of - Independence. Many followed their old anti-slavery traditions faithfully, - and cast their lot at once against the slave-owners, careless of the - reiterated assertions, both on your side of the Atlantic and ours, that - the Union and not abolition was the issue. Many came because they had - learned to look upon your land as the great home for the poor of all - nations, and to love her institutions and rejoice in her greatness as - though they in some sort belonged to themselves. All felt the tremendous - significance of the struggle, and that the future of their own country was - almost as deeply involved as the future of America. To all of them the - noble words of one of your greatest poets and staunchest patriots, which - rang out in the darkest moments of the first year of the war, struck a - chord very deep in their hearts, and expressed in undying words that which - they were trying to utter:— - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - O strange New World, thet yit wast never young, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whose youth from thee by gripin’ need was wrung, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Brown foundlin’ o’ the woods, whose baby-bed - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Was prowled roun’ by the Injun’s cracklin’ tread, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - An’ who grew’st strong thru shifts an’ wants an’ pains, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Nussed by stern men with empires in their brains, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With each hard hand a vassal ocean’s mane, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thou, skilled by Freedom an’ by gret events - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To pitch new States ez Old-World men pitch tents, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah’s plan - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Thet man’s devices can’t unmake a man, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - An’ whose free latch-string never was drawed in - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Against the poorest child of Adam’s kin,— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The grave’s not dug where traitor hands shall lay - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In fearful haste thy murdered corse away! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - It was in this faith that we took our stand, with a firm resolution that - no effort of ours should be spared to help your people shake themselves - clear of the dead weight of slavery, and to preserve that vast inheritance - of which God has made you the guardians and trustees for all the nations - of the earth, unbroken, and free from the standing armies, disputed - boundaries, and wretched heart-burnings and dissensions of the Old World. - It was little enough that we could do in any case, but that little was - done with all our hearts, and on looking back I cannot but think was well - done. - </p> - <p> - There was no need at first for any organisation. Until after the battle of - Manassas Junction in 1861, there was scarcely any public expression of - sympathy with the rebellion. The <i>Times</i> and that portion of the - press which follows its lead, and is always ready to go in for the side - they think will win, were lecturing on the wickedness of the war and the - absurdity of the rebel States in supposing that they could resist for a - month the strength of the North. The news of that first defeat arrived, - and this portion of our press swung round, and the strong feeling in - favour of the rebellion which leavened society and the commercial world - began to manifest itself. The unlucky <i>Trent</i> business, and your - continued want of success in the field, made matters worse. We were - silenced for the moment; for though, putting ourselves in your places, we - could feel how bitter the surrender of the two archrebels must have been, - we could not but admit that our Government was bound to insist upon it, - and that the demand had not been made in an arrogant or offensive manner. - If you will re-read the official documents now, I think that you too will - acknowledge that this was so. Then came Mr. Mason’s residence in London, - where his house became the familiar resort of all the leading sympathisers - with the rebellion. The newspaper which he started, <i>The Index</i>, was - full, week after week, of false and malignant attacks on your Government. - The most bitter of them to us was the constant insistance, backed by - quotations from Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward, that the war had nothing to do - with slavery, that emancipation was far more likely to come from the - rebels than from you. - </p> - <p> - “The lie that is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies,” and we felt - the truth of that wonderful saying. This had been our great difficulty - from the first. Our generation had been reared on anti-slavery principles. - We remembered as children how the great battle was won in England, how - even in our nurseries we gave up sugar lest we might be tasting the - accursed thing, and subscribed our pennies that the chains might be struck - from all human limbs. Emancipation had been the crowning glory of England - in our eyes. But we found that this great force was not with us, was even - slipping away and drifting to the other side. It was not only Mr. Mason’s - paper, and the backing he got in our press, which was undermining it. The - vehement protests of those who had been for years looked on by us as the - foremost soldiers in the great cause on your side told in the same - direction. I well remember the consternation and almost despair with which - I read in Mr. Phillips’ speech in this hall on 20th June 1861, “The - Republicans, led by Seward, offer to surrender anything to save the Union. - Their gospel is the constitution, and the slave clause their sermon on the - mount. They think that at the judgment day the blacker the sins they have - committed to save the Union the clearer will be their title to heaven.” - </p> - <p> - Something must be done to counteract this, to put the case clearly before - our people. Mr. Mason and his friends were already establishing a - Confederate States Aid Association; it must be met by something similar on - the right side. So in 1862 the Emancipation and the Union and Emancipation - Societies were started in London and in Manchester, and in good time came - Mr. Lincoln’s proclamation of emancipation to strengthen our hands. The - original manifesto of the Emancipation Society said—“To make it - clear by the force of indisputable testimony that the South is fighting - for slavery, while the North is fully committed to the destruction of - slavery, is the principal object for which this society is organised. Its - promoters do not believe that English anti-slavery sentiment is dead or - enfeebled. They are confident that when the demands and designs of the - South are made clear, there will be no danger of England being enticed - into complicity with them.” We pledged ourselves to test the opinion of - the country everywhere by public meetings, and challenged the Confederate - States Aid Association to accept that test. They did so; but I never could - hear of any even quasi public meeting but one which they held in England. - That meeting was at Mr. Mason’s house, and was, I believe, attended by - some fifty persons. - </p> - <p> - The first step of our societies was to hold meetings for passing an - address of congratulation to your President on the publication of the - Emancipation proclamation. It was New Year’s Eve 1862. Our address said: - “We have watched with the warmest interest the steady advance of your - policy along the path of emancipation; and on this eve of the day on which - your proclamation takes effect we pray God to strengthen your hands, to - confirm your noble purpose, and to hasten the restoration of that lawful - authority which engages, in peace or war, by compensation or by force of - arms, to realise the glorious principle on which your constitution is - founded—the brotherhood, freedom, and equality of all men.” The - address was enthusiastically adopted by a large meeting, chiefly composed - of working men. It was clear at once that there was a grand force behind - us, for we became objects of furious attack. The <i>Times</i> called us - impostors, and said we got our funds for the agitation from American - sources—the fact being that we always refused contributions from - this side. The <i>Saturday Review</i> declared, in one of its bitterest - articles, that if anything could be calculated upon as likely to defer - indefinitely the gradual extinction of slavery, it would be Mr. Lincoln’s - fictitious abolition of it. We were meddlesome fanatics, insignificant - nobodies, mischievous agitators. This was satisfactory and encouraging. We - felt sure that we had taken the right course, and not a moment too soon. - Then came the test of public meetings, which you at least are surely bound - to accept as a fair gauge of what a people thinks and wills. - </p> - <p> - Our first was held on the 29th of January 1863. We took Exeter Hall, the - largest and most central hall in London. We did nothing but simply - advertise widely that such a meeting would be held, inviting all who cared - to come, foes as well as friends. Prudent and timid people shook their - heads and looked grave. The cotton famine was at its worst, and tens of - thousands of our workpeople were “clemming” as they call it, starving as - you might say. Your prospects looked as black as they had ever done; it - was almost the darkest moment of the whole war. Even friends warned us - that we should fail in our object, and only do harm by showing our - weakness; that the Confederate States Aid Association would spare no pains - or money to break up the meeting, and a hundred roughs sent there by them - might turn it into a triumph for the rebellion. However, on we went,—we - knew our own people too well to fear the result. The night came, and - familiar as I am with this kind of thing, I have never seen in my time - anything approaching this scene. Remember, there was nothing to attract - people; no well-known orators, for we always thought it best to keep our - Parliament men to their own ground; no great success to rejoice in, for - you were just reeling under the recoil of your gallant army from the - blood-stained heights of Fredericksburg; no attack on our own Government; - no appeal to political or social hates or prejudices; only doors thrown - wide open, with the invitation, “Now let Englishmen come forward and show - on which side their sympathies really are in this war.” Notwithstanding - all these disadvantages the great hall was densely crowded, so that there - was no standing room, and the Strand and the neighbouring streets blocked - with a crowd of thousands who could find no place, long before the doors - were open. We were obliged to organise a number of meetings on the spur of - the moment in the lower halls, and even in the open streets. In the great - hall—where two clergymen, the Hon. Baptist Noel and Mr. Newman Hall, - and I myself, were the chief speakers—as well as in every one of the - other meetings, we carried, not only without opposition, but, so far as I - remember, without a single hand being held up on the other side, - resolutions in favour of your Government, of the Union, and of - emancipation. The success was so complete that in London our work was - done. - </p> - <p> - Then followed similar meetings at Manchester, Sheffield, Bristol, Leeds, - in all the great centres of population, with precisely the same result. I - don’t remember that the enemy ever even attempted to divide a meeting. The - country was carried by acclamation. Our friends in Liverpool wrote with - some anxiety as to the state of feeling there, and asked me to go down and - deliver an address. I went, and the meeting carried the same resolutions - by a very large majority; and those who, it was supposed, came to disturb - the proceedings, thought better of it when they saw the temper of the - audience, and were quiet. Without troubling you with any further details - of our work, I may just add, as a proof of how those who profess to be the - most astute worshippers of public opinion changed their minds in - consequence of the answer of the country to our appeals, that in August - 1863 the <i>Times</i> supported our demand on the Government for the - stoppage of the steam-rams. - </p> - <p> - In addition to this political movement, we instituted also a number of - freedmen’s aid associations, in order that those abolitionists in England - who were still unable to put faith in your Government might have an - opportunity of helping in their own way. These associations entered into - correspondence with those on your side, and sent over a good many thousand - pounds’ worth of clothing and other supplies, besides money. I forget the - exact amount. It was a mere drop in the ocean of your magnificent war - charities, but it came from thousands who had little enough to spare in - those hard times, and I trust has had the effect of a peace-offering with - those of your people who are conversant with the facts, and are ready to - judge by their actual doings even those against whom they think they have - fair cause of complaint. - </p> - <p> - So much for what I may call the unofficial, or extraparliamentary, - struggle in England during your war. And now let me turn to the action of - our Government and of Parliament. I might fairly have rested my case - entirely upon this ground. In the case of nations blessed as America and - England are with perfect freedom of speech and action within the limits of - law—where men may say the thing they will freely, and without any - check but the civil courts—no one in my judgment has a right to make - the nation responsible for anything except what its Government says and - does. But I know how deeply the conduct and speech of English society has - outraged your people, and still rankles in their minds, and I wished by - some rough analysis, and by the statement of facts within my own - knowledge, and of doings in which I personally took an active part, to - show you that you have done us very scant justice. The dress suit, and the - stomach and digestive apparatus, of England were hostile to you, and you - have taken them for the nation: the brain and heart and muscle of England - were on your side, and these you have ignored and forgotten. - </p> - <p> - Now, for our Government and Parliament. I will admit at once, if you - please, that Lord Palmerston and the principal members of his Cabinet were - not friendly to you, and would have been glad to have seen your Republic - broken up. I am by no means sure that it was so; but let that pass. I was - not in their counsels, and have no more means of judging of them than are - open to all of you. Your first accusation against us is, that the Queen’s - proclamation of neutrality, which was signed and published on the 13th of - May 1861, was premature, and an act of discourtesy to your Government, - inasmuch as your new Minister, Mr. Adams, only arrived in England on that - very day. Well, looking back from this distance of time, I quite admit - that it would have been far better to have delayed the publication of the - proclamation till after he had arrived in London. But at the time the case - was very different. You must remember that news of the President’s - proclamation of the blockade reached London on 3rd May. Of course, from - that moment the danger of collision between our vessels and yours, and of - the fitting out of privateers in our harbours, arose at once. In fact, - your first capture of a British vessel, the <i>General Parkhill</i> of - Liverpool, was made on 12th May. But if the publication of the - proclamation of neutrality was a mistake, it was made by our Government at - the earnest solicitation of Mr. Forster and other warm friends of yours, - who pressed it forward entirely, as they supposed, in your interest. They - wanted to stop letters of marque and to legitimise the captures made by - your blockading squadron. The Government acted at their instance; so, - whether a blunder or not, the proclamation was not an unfriendly act. - Besides, remember what it amounted to. Simply and solely to a recognition - of the fact that you had a serious war on hand. Mr. Seward had already - admitted this in an official paper of the 4th of May, and your Supreme - Court decided, in the case of the <i>Amy Warwick</i>, that the - proclamation of blockade was in itself conclusive evidence that a state of - war existed at the time. If we had ever gone a step further—if we - had recognised the independence of the rebel States, as our Government was - strongly urged to do by their envoys, by members of our Parliament, and - lastly by the Emperor of the French—you would have had good ground - of offence. But this was precisely what we never would do; and when they - found this out, the Confederate Government cut off all intercourse with - England, and expelled our consuls from their towns. So one side blamed us - for doing too much, and the other for doing too little—the frequent - fate of neutrals, as you yourselves are finding at this moment in the case - of the war between Prussia and France. - </p> - <p> - Then came the first public effort of the sympathisers with the rebellion. - After several preliminary skirmishes, which were defeated by Mr. Forster - (who had what we lawyers should call the watching brief, with Cobden and - Bright behind him as leading counsel, and who used to go round the lobbies - in those anxious days with his pockets bulging out with documents to prove - how effective the blockade was, and how many ships of our merchants you - were capturing every day), Mr. Gregory put a motion on the paper. He was - well chosen for the purpose, as a member of great experience and ability, - sitting on our side of the House, so that weak-kneed Liberals would have - an excuse for following him, and though not himself in office, supposed to - be on intimate terms with the Premier and other members of the Cabinet. - His motion was simply “to call the attention of the House to the - expediency of prompt recognition of the Southern Confederacy.” - </p> - <p> - It was set down for 7th June 1861, and I tell you we were all pretty - nervous about the result. The <i>Spectator, Daily News, Star</i>, and - other staunch papers opened fire, and we all did what we could in the way - of canvassing; but until the Government had declared itself no Union man - could feel safe. Well, Lord John Russell, as the Foreign Minister, got up, - snubbed the motion altogether, said that the Government had no intention - whatever of agreeing to it, and recommended its withdrawal. So Mr. Gregory - and his friends took their motion off the paper without a debate, and did - not venture to try any other during the session of 1861. In the late - autumn came the unlucky <i>Trent</i> affair, to which I have already - sufficiently alluded. Belying on the feeling which had been roused by it, - and cheered on by the Mason club in Piccadilly and the <i>Index</i> - newspaper fulminations, and by the severe checks of the Union armies, they - took the field again in 1862. This time their tactics were bolder. They no - longer confined themselves to asking the opinion of the House - deferentially. Mr. Lindsay, the great shipowner, who it was said had a - small fleet of blockade-runners, was chosen as the spokesman. He gave - notice of motion, “That in the opinion of this House, the States which - have seceded from the Union have so long maintained themselves, and given - such proofs of determination and ability to support independence, that the - propriety of offering mediation with a view to terminating hostilities is - worthy of the serious and immediate attention of Her Majesty’s - Government.” Again we trembled for the result, and again the Government - came out with a square refusal on the 18th of July, and this motion shared - the fate of its predecessor, and was withdrawn by its own promoters. - </p> - <p> - Then came the escape of the <i>Alabama</i>. Upon this I have no word to - say. My private opinion has been expressed over and over again in - Parliament (where in my first year, 1866, I think I was the first man to - urge open arbitration on our Government) as well as on the platform and in - the press. But I stand here to-night as an Englishman, and say that at - this moment I have no cause to be ashamed of the attitude of my country. - Two Governments in succession, Tory and Liberal, through Lords Stanley and - Clarendon, have admitted (as Mr. Fish states himself in his last despatch - on the subject) the principle of comprehensive arbitration on all - questions between Governments. This is all that a nation can do. England - is ready to have the case in all its bearings referred to impartial - arbitration, and to pay whatever damages may be assessed against her - without a murmur. She has also agreed (and again I use the language of Mr. - Fish) “to discuss the important changes in the rules of public law, the - desirableness of which has been demonstrated by the incidents of the last - few years, and which, in view of the maritime prominence of Great Britain - and the United States, it would befit them to mature and propose to the - other states of Christendom.” She has, in fact, surrendered her old - position as untenable, and agreed to the terms proposed by your own - Government. What more can you ask of a nation of your own blood, as proud - and sensitive as yourselves on all points where national honour is in - question? - </p> - <p> - But here I must remind you of one fact which you seem never to have - realised. The <i>Alabama</i> was the only one of the rebel cruisers of - whose character our Government had any notice, which escaped from our - harbours. The <i>Shenandoah</i> was a merchant vessel, employed in the - Indian trade as the <i>Sea King</i>. Her conversion into a rebel cruiser - was never heard of till long after she had left England. The <i>Georgia</i> - was actually reported by the surveyor of the Board of Trade as a merchant - ship, and to be “rather crank.” She was fitted out on the French coast, - and left the port of Cherbourg for her first cruise. The <i>Florida</i> - was fitted out in Mobile. She was actually detained at Nassau on - suspicion, and only discharged by the Admiralty Court there on failure of - evidence. On the other hand, our Government stopped the <i>Rappahannock,</i> - the <i>Alexandra,</i> and the <i>Pampero</i>, and seized Mr. Laird’s - celebrated rams at Liverpool, and Captain Osborne’s Chinese flotilla, for - which last exercise of vigilance the nation had to pay £100,000. - </p> - <p> - Such is our case as to the cruisers which did you so much damage. I - believe it to be true. If we are mistaken, however, you will get such - damages for each and all of these vessels as the arbitrator may award. We - reserve nothing. I as an Englishman am deeply grieved that any of my - countrymen, for base love of gain or any other motive, should have dared - to defy the proclamation of my Sovereign, speaking in the nation’s name. I - earnestly long for the time when by wise consultation between our nations, - and the modification of the public law bearing on such cases, not only - such acts as these, but all war at sea, shall be rendered impossible. The - United States and England have only to agree in this matter, and there is - an end of naval war through the whole world. - </p> - <p> - In 1863 the horizon was still dark. Splendid as your efforts had been, and - magnificent as was the attitude of your nation, tried in the fire as few - nations have been in all history, those efforts had not yet been crowned - with any marked success. With us it was the darkest in the whole long - agony, for in it came the crisis of that attempt of the Emperor of the - French to inveigle us in a joint recognition of the Confederacy, on the - success of which his Mexican adventure was supposed to hang. The details - of those negotiations have never been made public. All we know is, that - Mr. Lindsay and Mr. Roebuck went to Paris and had long conferences with - Napoleon, the result of which was the effort of Mr. Roebuck (now in turn - the representative of the rebels in our Parliament) to force or persuade - our Government into this alliance. Then came the final crisis. On the 30th - of June 1863, a day memorable in our history as in yours, at the very time - that your army of the Potomac was hurrying through the streets of - Gettysburg to meet the swoop of those terrible Southern legions, John - Bright stood on the floor of our House of Commons, on fire with that - righteous wrath which has so often lifted him above the heads of other - English orators. - </p> - <p> - He dragged the whole plot to light, quoted the former attacks of Mr. - Roebuck on his Imperial host, and then turning to the Speaker, went on, - “And now, sir, the honourable and learned gentleman has been to Paris, - introduced there by the honourable member for Sunderland, and he has - sought to become, as it were, a co-conspirator with the French Emperor, to - drag this country into a policy which I maintain is as hostile to its - interests as it would be degrading to its honour.” From that moment the - cause of the rebellion was lost in England; for by the next mails came the - news of the three days’ fight, and the melting away of Longstreet’s corps - in the final and desperate efforts to break the Federal line on the slopes - of little Round Top. A few weeks more and we heard of the surrender of - Vicksburg, and no more was heard in our Parliament of recognition or - mediation. - </p> - <p> - I have now, my friends, stated the case between our countries from an - Englishman’s point of view, of course, but I hope fairly and temperately. - At any rate, I have only spoken of matters within my own personal - knowledge, and have only quoted from public records which are as open to - every one of you as they are to me. Search them, I beseech you, and see - whether I am right or not. If wrong, it is from no insular prejudices or - national conceit, and you will at any rate think kindly and bear with the - errors of one who has always loved your nation well, through good report - and evil report, and is now bound to it by a hundred new and precious - ties. If right, all I beg of you is, to use your influences that old - hatreds and prejudices may disappear, and America and England may march - together, as nations redeemed by a common Saviour, toward the goal which - is set for them in a brighter future. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Shall it be love, or hate, John? - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - It’s you thet’s to decide; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Ain’t your bonds held by Fate, John, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Like all the world’s beside? - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - So runs the end of the solemn appeal in “Jonathan to John,” the poem which - suggested the title of this lecture. It comes from one who never deals in - wild words. I am proud to be able to call him a very dear and old friend. - He is the American writer who did more than any other to teach such of us - in the old country as ever learned them at all, the rights and wrongs of - this great struggle of yours. Questions asked by such men can never be - safely left on one side. Well, then, I say we <i>have</i> answered them. - We know—no nation, I believe, knows better, or confesses daily with - more of awe—that our bonds are held by fate; that a strict account - of all the mighty talents which have been committed to us will be required - of us English, though we do live in a sea fortress, in which the gleam of - steel drawn in anger has not been seen for more than a century. We know - that we are very far from being what we ought to be; we know that we have - great social problems to work out, and, believe me, we have set manfully - to work to solve them,—problems which go right down amongst the - roots of things, and the wrong solution of which may shake the very - foundations of society. We have to face them manfully, after the manner of - our race, within the four corners of an island not bigger than one of your - large States; while you have the vast elbow-room of this wonderful - continent, with all its million outlets and opportunities for every human - being who is ready to work. Yes, our bonds are indeed held by fate, but we - are taking strict account of the number and amount of them, and mean, by - God’s help, to dishonour none of them when the time comes for taking them - up. We reckon, too, some of us, that as years roll on, and you get to - understand us better, we may yet hear the words “Well done, brother,” from - this side of the Atlantic; and if the strong old islander, who, after all, - is your father, should happen some day to want a name on the back of one - of his bills, I, for one, should not wonder to hear that at the time of - presentation the name Jonathan is found scrawled across there in very - decided characters. For we have answered that second question, too, so far - as it lies in our power. - </p> - <p> - It will be love and not hate between the two freest of the great nations - of the earth, if our decision can so settle it. There will never be - anything but love again, if England has the casting vote. For remember - that the force of the decision of your great struggle has not been spent - on this continent. Your victory has strengthened the hands and hearts of - those who are striving in the cause of government, for the people by the - people, in every corner of the Old World. In England the dam that had for - so many years held back the free waters burst in the same year that you - sheathed your sword, and now your friends there are triumphant and - honoured; and if those who were your foes ever return to power you will - find that the lesson of your war has not been lost on them. In another six - years you will have finished the first century of your national life. By - that time you will have grown to fifty millions, and will have subdued and - settled those vast western regions, which now in the richness of their - solitudes, broken only by the panting of the engine as it passes once a - day over some new prairie line, startles the traveller from the Old World. - I am only echoing the thoughts and prayers of my nation in wishing you - God-speed in your great mission. When that centenary comes round, I hope, - if I live, to see the great family of English-speaking nations girdling - the earth with a circle of free and happy communities, in which the - angels’ message of peace on earth and good-will amongst men may not be - still a mockery and delusion. It rests with you to determine whether this - shall be so or not. May the God of all the nations of the earth, who has - so marvellously prospered you hitherto, and brought you through so great - trials, guide you in your decision! - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vacation Rambles, by Thomas Hughes - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VACATION RAMBLES *** - -***** This file should be named 54502-h.htm or 54502-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/5/0/54502/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - - </body> -</html> diff --git a/old/54502-h/images/0001.jpg b/old/54502-h/images/0001.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 53bfc67..0000000 --- a/old/54502-h/images/0001.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54502-h/images/0009.jpg b/old/54502-h/images/0009.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f05aa41..0000000 --- a/old/54502-h/images/0009.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54502-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/54502-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 53bfc67..0000000 --- a/old/54502-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54502-h/images/enlarge.jpg b/old/54502-h/images/enlarge.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 5a9bcf3..0000000 --- a/old/54502-h/images/enlarge.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/old/54502-h.htm.2018-08-20 b/old/old/54502-h.htm.2018-08-20 deleted file mode 100644 index f6b04f6..0000000 --- a/old/old/54502-h.htm.2018-08-20 +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15586 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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- <head>
- <title>Vacation Rambles, by Thomas Hughes</title>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vacation Rambles, by Thomas Hughes
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-Title: Vacation Rambles
-
-Author: Thomas Hughes
-
-Release Date: April 7, 2017 [EBook #54502]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VACATION RAMBLES ***
-
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-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
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-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- VACATION RAMBLES
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Thomas Hughes, Q.C.
- </h2>
- <h3>
- Author Of ‘Tom Brown’s Schooldays’
- </h3>
- <h3>
- Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator.—Juvenal
- </h3>
- <h4>
- London: Macmillan And Co.
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1895
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0009.jpg" alt="0009 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0009.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> VACATION RAMBLES </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> EUROPE—1862 to 1866 </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> Foreign parts, 14th August 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> Bonn, 22nd August 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> Munich, 29th August 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> The Tyrol, 2nd September 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> Vienna, 10th September 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> The Danube, 13th September 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> Constantinople, 34th September 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> Constantinople, 30th September 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> Athens, 1st October 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> Athens, 4th October 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> The Run Home, October 1862. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> Dieppe, Sunday, 13th September 1863. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> Bathing at Dieppe, 17th September 1863. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> Normandy, 20th September 1863. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> Gleanings from Boulogne </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> Blankenberghe </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> Belgian Bathing </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> Belgian Boats </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> AMERICA </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> Peruvian, 6.45 p.m. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> 8.45 p.m. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> 8 a.m., Friday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> 9.30 a.m., Friday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> On board the Peruvian. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> 9.30 p.m., Saturday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> Monday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> Peruvian, 9th August 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> Wednesday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> Tuesday evening. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> Friday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> Mouth of the St. Lawrence. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> Sunday 14th. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> Wednesday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> Montreal, 19th August 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> Montreal, 20th August 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> Tuesday morning, 23rd August 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 25th August
- 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> Elmwood Avenue, Cambridge, 31s£ August 1870.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0042"> Cambridge, 2nd September 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0043"> New York. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0044"> Garrison’s Landing, opposite West Point, Friday,
- 9th September 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0045"> Clifton Hotel, opposite Niagara Falls, 11th
- September 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0046"> Storm Lake, 13th. September 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0047"> Fort Dodge, 13th September 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0048"> Chicago, September 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0049"> Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, 23rd September
- 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0050"> Washington, Friday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0051"> St. Mark’s School, Southborough, Mass., Tuesday,
- 9th October. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0052"> Ithaca, N.Y., 16th October 1870. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0053"> New York, Tuesday. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0054"> AMERICA—1880 to 1887 </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0055"> The Cumberland Mountains </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0056"> East Tennessee, 1st September 1880. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0057"> Rugby, Tennessee, 10th September 1880. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0058"> Rugby, Tennessee. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0059"> A Forest Ride, Rugby, Tennessee. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0060"> The Natives, Rugby, Tennessee. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0061"> Our Forester, Rugby, Tennessee. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0062"> The Negro “Natives”, Rugby, Tennessee, 30th
- October 1880. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0063"> The Opening Day, Rugby, Tennessee. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0064"> Life in an American Liner </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0065"> Life in Texas, Ranche on the Rio Grande, 16th
- September 1884. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0066"> Crossing the Atlantic, 4th September 1885. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_NOTE"> Notes from the West, Cincinnati, 24th September
- 1886. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0068"> Westward Ho! 2nd April 1887. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0069"> The Hermit, Rugby, Tennessee, 19th September
- 1887. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0070"> American Opinion on the Union, SS. Umbria, 5th
- October 1887. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0071"> EUROPE—1876 to 1895 </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0072"> A Winter Morning’s Ride </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0073"> Southport, 22nd March. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0074"> A Village Festival </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0075"> The “Victoria,” New Cut. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0076"> Whitby and the Herring Trade, 30th August 1888.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0077"> Whitby and the Herring Trade, 31st August 1888.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0078"> Sunday by the Sea, Whitby, 7th September 1888.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0079"> Singing-Matches in Wessex, 28th September 1888.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0080"> The Divining-Rod, 21st September 1889. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0081"> Sequah’s “Flower of the Prairie,” Chester, 26th
- March 1890. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0082"> French Popular Feeling, 15th August 1890. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0083"> Royat les Bains, 23rd August 1890. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0084"> Royat les Bains, 30th August 1890. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0085"> Auvergne en Fête, 6th September 1890. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0086"> Scoppio Del Carro, Florence, Easter Eve, 1891.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0087"> A Scamper at Easter, 8th April 1893. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0088"> Lourdes, 15th April 1893. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0089"> Fontarabia, 22nd April 1893. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0090"> Echoes from Auvergne, La Bourboule, 2nd July
- 1893. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0091"> La Bourboule, 10th July 1893. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0092"> Comité des Fêtes. 17th July 1893. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0093"> Dogs and Flowers, La Bourboule, 24th July. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0094"> Dutch Boys, The Hague, 1st May 1894. </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0095"> “Poor Paddy-Land!”—I—6th Oct. 1894.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0096"> “Poor Paddy-Land!”—II </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0097"> “Panem et Circenses”, Rome, 21 st April 1895.
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0098"> Rome—Easter Day </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0099"> JOHN TO JONATHAN </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- PREFACE
- </h2>
- <p>
- Dear C——- So you want me to hunt up and edit all the “Vacuus
- Viator” letters which my good old friends the editors of <i>The Spectator</i>
- have been kind enough to print during their long and beneficent ownership
- of that famous journal! But one who has passed the Psalmist’s “Age of
- Man,” and is by no means enamoured of his own early lucubrations (so far
- as he recollects them), must have more diligence and assurance than your
- father to undertake such a task. But this I can do with pleasure-give them
- to you to do whatever you like with them, so far as I have any property
- in, or control over them.
- </p>
- <p>
- How did they come to be written? Well, in those days we were young married
- folk with a growing family, and income enough to keep a modest house and
- pay our way, but none to spare for <i>menus plaisirs</i>, of which “globe
- trotting” (as it is now called) in our holidays was our favourite. So,
- casting about for the wherewithal to indulge our taste, the “happy
- thought” came to send letters by the way to my friends at 1 Wellington
- Street, if they could see their way to take them at the usual tariff for
- articles. They agreed, and so helped us to indulge in our favourite
- pastime, and the habit once contracted has lasted all these years.
- </p>
- <p>
- How about the name? Well, I took it from the well-known line of Juvenal,
- “Cantabit vacuus coram latrone viator,” which may be freely rendered, “The
- hard-up globe trotter will whistle at the highwayman”; and, I fancy,
- selected it to remind ourselves cheerfully upon what slender help from the
- Banking world we managed to trot cheerfully all across Europe.
- </p>
- <p>
- I will add a family story connected with the name which greatly delighted
- us at the time. One of the letters reached your grandmother when a small
- boy-cousin of yours (since developed into a distinguished “dark blue”
- athlete and M.A. Oxon.) was staying with her for his holidays. He had just
- begun Latin, and was rather proud of his new lore, so your grandmother
- asked him how he should construe “Vacuus Viator.” After serious thought
- for a minute, and not without a modest blush, he replied, “I think,
- granny, it means a wandering cow”! You must make my peace with the “M.A.
- Oxon.” if he should ever discover that I have betrayed this early essay of
- his in classical translation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Your loving Father,
- </p>
- <h3>
- THOS. HUGHES.
- </h3>
- <p>
- October 1895.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- VACATION RAMBLES
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- EUROPE—1862 to 1866
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Foreign parts, 14th August 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>ear Mr.
- Editor-There are few sweeter moments in the year than those in which one
- is engaged in choosing the vacation hat. No other garment implies so much.
- A vista of coming idleness floats through the brain as you stop before the
- hatter’s at different points in your daily walk, and consider the last new
- thing in wideawakes. Then there rises before the mind’s eye the imminent
- bliss of emancipation from the regulation chimney-pot of Cockney England.
- Two-thirds of all pleasure reside in anticipation and retrospect; and the
- anticipation of the yearly exodus in a soft felt is amongst the least
- alloyed of all lookings forward to the jaded man of business. By the way,
- did it ever occur to you, sir, that herein lies the true answer to that
- Sphinx riddle so often asked in vain, even of <i>Notes and Queries</i>:
- What is the origin of the proverb “As mad as a hatter”? The inventor of
- the present hat of civilisation was the typical hatter. There, I will not
- charge you anything for the solution; but we are not to be for ever
- oppressed by the results of this great insanity. Better times are in store
- for us, or I mistake the signs of the times in the streets and shop
- windows. Beards and chimney-pots cannot long co-exist.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was very nearly beguiled this year by a fancy article which I saw in
- several windows. The purchase would have been contrary to all my
- principles, for the hat in question is a stiff one, with a low, round
- crown. But its fascination consists in the system of ventilation—all
- round the inside runs a row of open cells, which, in fact, keep the hat
- away from the head, and let in so many currents of fresh air. You might
- fill half the cells with cigars, and so save carrying a case and add to
- the tastefulness of your hat at the same time, while you would get plenty
- of air to keep your head cool through the remaining cells.
- </p>
- <p>
- My principles, however, rallied in time, and I came away with a genuine
- soft felt after all, with nothing but a small hole on each side for
- ventilation. The soft felt is the only really catholic cover, equal to all
- occasions, in which you can do anything; for instance, lie flat on your
- back on sand or turf, and look straight up into the heavens—the
- first thing the released Cockney rushes to do. Only once a year may it be
- always all our lots to get a real taste of the true holiday feeling; to
- drop down into some handy place, where no letter can find us; to look up
- into the great sky, and over the laughing sea, and think about nothing; to
- unstring the bow, and fairly say: “There shall no fight be got out of us
- just now; so, old world, if you mean to go wrong, you may go and be
- hanged!” To feel all the time that blessed assurance which does come home
- to one at such times, and scarcely ever at any other, that our falling out
- of the fight is not of the least consequence; that, whatever we may do,
- the old world will not go wrong but right, and ever righter—not our
- way, nor any other man’s way, but God’s way. A good deal of sneering and
- snubbing has been wasted of late, sir (as you have had more occasion than
- one to remark), on us poor folks, who will insist on holding what we find
- in our Bibles; what has been so gloriously put in other language by the
- great poet of our time:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That nothing walks with aimless feet;
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- That not one life shall be destroy’d,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Or cast as rubbish to the void,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- When God hath made the pile complete.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I suppose people who feel put out because we won’t believe that the
- greatest part of creation is going to the bad can never in the nature of
- things get hold of the true holiday feeling, so one is wasting time in
- wishing it for them. However, I am getting into quite another line from
- the one I meant to travel in; so shall leave speculating and push across
- the Channel. There are several questions which might be suggested with
- advantage to the Civil Service Examiner, to be put to the next Belgium
- attachés who come before them. Why are Belgian hop-poles, on an average,
- five or six feet longer than English? How does this extra length affect
- the crops? The Belgians plant cabbages too, and other vegetables (even
- potatoes I saw) between the rows of hops. Does it answer? All the English
- hop-growers, I believe, scout the idea. I failed to discover what wood
- their hop-poles are? One of my fellow-travellers, by way of being up to
- everything, Informed me that they were grown in Belgium on purpose; a fact
- which did not help me much. He couldn’t say exactly what wood it was. Then
- a very large proportion of the female population of Belgium spends many
- hours of the day, at this time of year, on its knees in the fields; and
- this not only for weeding purposes, for I saw women and girls cutting the
- aftermath and other light crops in this position. Certainly, they are thus
- nearer their work, and save themselves stooping; but one has a sort of
- prejudice against women going about the country on all fours, like
- Nebuchadnezzar. Is it better for their health? Don’t they get housemaid’s
- knees? But, above all, is it we or the Belgians who don’t, know in this
- nineteenth century, how to make corn shocks? In every part of England I
- have ever been in in harvest time, we just make up the sheaves and then
- simply stand six or eight of them together, the ears upwards, and so make
- our shock. But the Belgian makes his shock of four sheaves, ears upwards,
- and then on the top of these places another sheaf upside down. This
- crowning sheaf, which is tied near the bottom, is spread out over the
- shock, to which it thus forms a sort of makeshift thatch. One of the two
- methods must be radically wrong. Does this really keep the rain out, and
- so prevent the ears from growing in damp weather? I should have thought it
- would only have helped to hold the wet and increase the heat. If so, don’t
- you think it is really almost a <i>casus belli?</i> Quin said to the
- elderly gentleman in the coffee-house (after he had handed him the mustard
- for the third time in vain), dashing his hand down on the table, “D———
- you, sir, you shall eat mustard with your ham!” and so we might say to the
- Belgians if they are wrong, “You shall make your shocks properly.” Fancy
- two highly civilised nations having gone on these thousand years side by
- side, growing corn and eating bread without finding out which is the right
- way to make corn shocks.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Bonn, 22nd August 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am sitting at a
- table some forty feet long, from which most of the guests have retired.
- The few left are smoking and talking gesticulatingly. I am drinking during
- the intervals of writing to you, sir, a beverage composed of a half flask
- of white wine, a bottle of seltzer water, and a lump of sugar (if you can
- get one of ice to add it will improve the mixture). I take it for granted
- that you despise the Rhine, like most Englishmen, but, sir, I submit that
- a land where one can get the above potation for a fraction over what one
- would pay for a pot of beer in England, and can, moreover, get the weather
- which makes such a drink deliciously refreshing, is not to be lightly
- thought of. But I am not going into a rhapsody on the Rhine, though I can
- strongly recommend my drink to all economically disposed travellers.
- </p>
- <p>
- All I hope to do, is, to gossip with you, as I move along; and as my road
- lay up the Rhine, you must take that with the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our first halt on the river was at Bonn. A university town is always
- interesting, and this one more than most other foreign ones, as the place
- where Prince Albert’s education was begun, and where Bunsen ended his
- life. I made an effort to get to his grave, which I was told was in a
- cemetery near the town, but could not find it. I hope it will long remain
- an object of interest to Englishmen after the generation who knew him has
- passed away. There is no one to whom we have done more scanty justice, and
- that unlucky and most unfair essay of W———‘s is the
- crowning injustice of all. I am not going into his merits as a statesman,
- theologian, or antiquary, which, indeed, I am wholly incompetent to
- criticise. The only book of his I ever seriously tried to master, his <i>Church
- of the Future</i>, entirely floored me. But the wonderful depth of his
- sympathy and insight!—how he would listen to and counsel any man,
- whether he were bent on discovering the exact shape of the buckle worn by
- some tribe which disappeared before the Deluge, or upon regenerating the
- world after the newest nineteenth century pattern, or anything between the
- two—we may wait a long time before we see anything like it again in
- a man of his position and learning. And what a place he filled in English
- society! I believe fine ladies grumbled about “the sort of people” they
- met at those great gatherings at Carlton Terrace, but they all went, and,
- what was more to the purpose, all the foremost men and women of the day
- went, and were seen and heard of hundreds of young men of all nations and
- callings; and their wives, if they had any, were asked by Bunsen on the
- most thoroughly catholic principles. And if any man or woman seemed ill at
- ease, they would find him by their side in a minute, leading them into the
- balcony, if the night were fine, and pointing out, as he specially loved
- to do, the contrast of the views up Waterloo Place on the one hand, and
- across the Green Park to the Abbey and the Houses, on the other, or in
- some other way setting them at their ease again with a tact as wise and
- subtle as his learning. But I am getting far from the Rhine, I see, and
- the University of Bonn. Of course I studied the titles of the books
- exposed for sale in the windows of the booksellers, and the result, as
- regards English literature, was far from satisfactory. We were represented
- in the shop of the Parker and Son of Bonn, by one vol. of Scott’s <i>Poems</i>;
- the puff card of the London Society, with a Millais drawing of a young man
- and woman thereupon, and nothing more; but, by way of compensation I
- suppose, a book with a gaudy cover was put in a prominent place, and
- titled <i>Tag und Nacht in London</i>, by Julius Rodenburg. There was a
- double picture on the cover: above, a street scene, comprising an
- elaborate equipage with two flunkeys behind, a hansom, figures of
- Highlanders, girls, blind beggars, etc., and men carrying advertisements
- of “Samuel Brothers,” and “Cremorne Gardens”; while in the lower
- compartment was an underground scene of a policeman flashing his bull’s
- eye on groups of crouching folks; altogether a loathsome kind of book for
- one to find doing duty as the representative book of one’s country with
- young Germany. I was a little consoled by seeing a randan named <i>The
- Lorelei</i> lying by the bank, which, though not an outrigger, would not
- have disgraced any building yard at Lambeth or at Oxford. Very likely it
- came out of one of them, by the way. But let us hope it is the first step
- towards the introduction of rowing at Bonn, and that in a few years Oxford
- and Cambridge may make up crews to go and beat Bonn, and all the other
- German Universities, and a New England crew from Cambridge, Massachusetts.
- What a course that reach of the Rhine at Bonn would make! No boat’s length
- to be gained by the toss for choice of sides, as at Henley or Putney; no
- Berkshire or Middlesex shore to be paid for. A good eight-oar race would
- teach young Germany more of young England than any amount of perusal of <i>Tag
- und Nacht</i>, I take it. I confess myself to a strong sentimental feeling
- about Rolandseck. The story of Roland the Brave is, after all, one of the
- most touching of all human stories, though tourists who drop their H’s may
- be hurrying under his tower every day in cheap steamers; and it is one of
- a group of the most characteristic stories of the age of chivalry, all
- having a connecting link at Roncesvalles. What other battle carries one
- into three such groups of romance as this of Roland, the grim tragedy of
- Bernard del Carpio and his dear father, and that of the peerless
- Durandarté? When I was a boy there were ballads on all these subjects
- which were very popular, but are nearly forgotten by this time. I used to
- have great trouble to preserve a serene front, I know, whenever I heard
- one of them well sung, especially that of “Durandarté” (by Monk Lewis), I
- believe. Ay, and after the lapse of many years I scarcely know where to go
- for the beau ideal of knighthood summed up in a few words better than to
- that same ballad:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Kind in manners, fair in favour,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Mild in temper, fierce in fight,—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Warrior purer, gentler, braver,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Never shall behold the light.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But much as I prize Rolandseck for its memories of chivalric constancy and
- tenderness, Mayence is my favourite place on the Rhine, as the birthplace
- of Gutenburg, the adopted home, and centre of the work of our great
- countryman, St. Boniface, and the most fully peopled and stirring town of
- modern Rhineland. We had only an hour to spend there, so I sallied at once
- into the town to search for Gutenburg’s house—the third time I have
- started on the same errand, and with the same result. I didn’t find it.
- But there it is; at least the guide-books say so. In vain did I
- beseechingly appeal to German after German, man, woman, and maid, “Wo ist
- das Haus von Gutenburg—das Haus wo Gutenburg wohnte?” I got either a
- blank stare, convincing me of the annoying fact that not a word I said was
- understood, or directions to the statue, which I knew as well as any of
- them. At last I fell upon a young priest, and, accosting him in French,
- got some light out of him. He offered to take me part of the way, and as
- we walked side by side, suddenly turned to me with an air of pleased
- astonishment, and said, “You admire Gutenburg, then?” To which I replied,
- “Father!” Why, sir, how in the world should you and I, and thousands more
- indifferent modern Englishmen, not to mention those of all other nations,
- get our bread but for him and his pupil Caxton? However, the young priest
- could only take me to within two streets, and then went on his way,
- leaving me with express directions, in trying to follow which I fell
- speedily upon a German fair. I am inclined to think that there are no boys
- in Germany, and that, if there were, there would be nothing for them to
- do; but for children there is no such place. This fair at Mayence was a
- perfect little paradise for children. Think of our wretched
- merry-go-rounds, sir, with nothing but some six or eight stupid
- hobby-horses revolving on bare poles, and then imagine such
- merry-go-rounds as those of Mayence fair. They look like large umbrella
- tents ornamented with gay flags and facetious paintings outside, and hung
- within, round the central post which supports the whole, with mirrors,
- flags, bells, pictures, and bright coloured drapery. Half concealed by the
- red or blue drapery, is the proprietor of the establishment, who grinds
- famous tunes on a first-rate barrel organ when the merry-go-round is set
- going, and keeps an eye on his juvenile fares. The whole is turned by a
- pony or by machinery. Then, for mounts, the children have choice of some
- thirty hobby-horses, or can ride on swans or dragons, richly caparisoned,
- or in easy <i>vis-à-vis</i> seats. When the complement of youthful riders
- is obtained, on a signal off goes the barrel organ and the pony and the
- whole concern—pictures, looking-glasses, bells, drapery, and all
- begin to revolve, with a fascinating jingling and emphasis! and at twice
- the pace of any British merry—go-round I ever saw. It is very
- comical to watch the gravity of the little <i>Deutsch</i> riders. They are
- of all classes, from the highly dressed little <i>madchen</i>, down to the
- ragged carter-boy, with a coil of rope over his shoulder, and no shoes,
- riding a gilded swan, but all impressed with the solemnity of the
- occasion. But here I am running on about fun of the fair, and missing
- Gutenburg’s house, as I did in reality, finding in the midst of my staring
- and grinning that I had only time to get to the boat; so with one look at
- Gutenburg’s statue I went off.
- </p>
- <p>
- The crops through all these glorious Rhine valleys right away up to
- Heidelberg look splendid, particularly the herb pantagruelion, which is
- more largely grown than when I was last here. Rope enough will be made
- this year from hemp grown between Darmstadt and Heidelberg to hang all the
- scoundrels in the world, and the honest men to boot; and the tobacco looks
- magnificent. They were gathering the leaves as we passed. A half-picked
- tobacco field, with the bare stumps at one end, and the rich-leaved plants
- at the other, has a comically forlorn look.
- </p>
- <p>
- Heidelberg I thought more beautiful than ever; and since I had been there
- a very fine hotel, one of the best I have ever been in, has been built
- close to the station, with a glass gallery 100 feet long, and more,
- adjoining the “Speisesaal,” in which you may gastronomise to your heart’s
- content, at the most moderate figure. Here we bid adieu to the Rhineland.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Munich, 29th August 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> bird’s-eye view
- of any country must always be unsatisfactory. Still it is better than
- nothing, and in the absence of a human view, one may be thankful for it.
- My view of Wurtemberg was of the most bird’s-eye kind. The first thing
- that strikes one is the absence of all fences except in the immediate
- neighbourhood of towns. Even the railway has no fence, except for a few
- yards where a road crosses the line, and here and there a hedge of acacia,
- or barberry bushes (the berries were hanging red ripe on the latter),
- which are very pretty, but would not in any place keep out a
- seriously-minded cow or pig.
- </p>
- <p>
- Wurtemberg is addicted to the cultivation of crops which minister to man’s
- luxuries rather than to his necessities. The proportion of land under
- fruit, poppies, tobacco, and hops, to that under corn, was very striking.
- There was a splendid hemp crop here also. They were gathering the
- poppy-heads, as we passed, into sacks. The women and girls both here and
- in Bavaria seem to do three-fourths of the agricultural work; the harder,
- such as reaping and mowing, as well as the lighter. The beds of peat are
- magnificent, and very neatly managed. At first I thought we had entered
- enormous black brick-fields, for the peat is cut into small brick-shaped
- pieces, and stacked in rows, just as one sees in the best managed of our
- brick-fields. As one nears Stuttgart the village churches begin to show
- signs of the difference in longitude. Gothic spires and arches give place
- to Eastern clock-towers, with tops like the cupolas of mosques, tinned
- over, and glittering in the hot sun. I hear that it was a fancy of the
- late Emperor Joseph to copy the old enemies of his country in
- architecture; but that would not account for the prevalence of the habit
- in his neighbour’s territory. I fancy one begins to feel the old
- neighbourhood of the Turks in these parts. The houses are all roomy, and
- there is no sign of poverty amongst the people. They have a fancy for
- wearing no shoes and scant petticoats in many districts; but it is
- evidently a matter of choice. Altogether, the whole fine, open,
- well-wooded country, from Bruchsal to Munich, gives one the feeling that
- an easy-going, well-to-do people inhabit and enjoy it.
- </p>
- <p>
- As for Munich itself, it is a city which surprised me more pleasantly than
- almost any one I ever remember to have entered. One had a sort of vague
- notion that the late king had a taste for the fine arts, and spent a good
- deal of his own and his subjects’ money in indulging the taste aforesaid
- in his capital. But one also knew that he had been tyrannised over by Lola
- Montes, and had made a countess of her—and had not succeeded in
- weathering 1848; so that, on the whole, one had no great belief in any
- good work from such a ruler.
- </p>
- <p>
- Munich gives one a higher notion of the ex-king; as long as the city
- stands, he will have left his mark on it. On every side there are
- magnificent new streets, and public buildings and statues; the railway
- terminus is the finest I have ever seen; every church, from the Cathedral
- downwards, is in beautiful order, and highly decorated; and it is not only
- in the public buildings that one meets with the evidences of care and
- taste. The hotel in which we stayed, for instance, is built of brick,
- covered with some sort of cement, which gives it the appearance of
- terra-cotta, and is for colour the most fascinating building material. The
- ceilings and cornices of the rooms are all carefully and tastefully
- painted, and all about the town one sees frescoes and ornamentation of all
- kinds, which show that the people delight in seeing their city look bright
- and gay; and every one admits that all this is due to the ex-king Lewis.
- But he has another claim on the gratitude of the good folk of Munich. The
- Bavarians were given to beer above all other people, and the people of
- Munich above all other Bavarians, long before he came to the throne; and
- former kings, availing themselves of the national taste, had established a
- “Hof-Breihaus,” where the monarch sold the national beverage to his
- people. King Lewis found the character of the royal beer not what it
- should be, and the rest of the metropolitan brewers were also falling away
- into evil ways of adulterating and drugging. He reformed the
- “Hof-Breihaus,” so that for many years nothing but the soundest possible
- beer was brewed there, which is sold to the buyers and yet cheaper than in
- any other house in Munich. The public taste has been thus so highly
- educated that there is no selling unwholesome beer now. A young artist
- took me to this celebrated tap. Unluckily it was a wet evening, so we had
- to sit at one of the tables, under a long line of sheds, instead of in an
- adjacent garden. There was a great crowd, some 300 or 400 imbibers jammed
- together, of all ranks. At our table the company were the artist and
- myself, a Middlesex magistrate, two privates, and a non-commissioned
- officer, and a man whom I set down as a small farmer. My back rubbed
- against a vociferous student, who was hobnobbing with all comers. There
- were Tyrolese and other costumes about, one or two officers, and a motley
- crowd of work people and other folk. The royal brew-house is in such good
- repute that no trouble whatever is taken about anything but having enough
- beer and a store of stone drinking-mugs, with tops to them forthcoming.
- Cask after cask is brought out and tapped in the vaulted entrance to the
- cellars, and a queue of expectant thirsty souls wait for their turn. I
- only know as I drank it how heartily I wished that my poor overworked
- brethren at home could see and taste the like. But it would not pay any of
- our great brewers to devote themselves to the task of selling really
- wholesome drink to the poor; and I fear the Prince of Wales is not likely
- to come to the rescue. He might find easier jobs no doubt, but none that
- would benefit the bodily health of his people more. The beer is so light
- that it is scarcely possible to get drunk on it. Many of the frequenters
- of the place sit there boosing for four or five hours daily, and the
- chance visitors certainly do not spare the liquor; but I saw no approach
- to drunkenness, except a good deal of loud talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The picture collections, which form, I believe, the great attraction of
- Munich, disappointed me, especially the modern ones in the new Pinacothek,
- collected by the ex-king, and to which he is constantly adding now that he
- is living at his ease as a private gentleman. I daresay that they may be
- very fine, but scarcely any of them bite; I like a picture with a tooth in
- it—something which goes into you, and which you can never forget,
- like the great picture of Nero walking over the burning ruins of Rome, or
- the execution picture in the Spanish department, or the Christian slave
- sleeping before the opening of the amphitheatre, or Judas coming on the
- men making the cross, in the International Exhibition. I have read no art
- criticism for years, so that I do not know whether I am not talking great
- heresy. But, heresy or not, I am for the right of every man to his own
- opinion in matters of art, and if an inferior painting gives me real
- pleasure on account of its subject, I mean to enjoy it and praise it, all
- the fine art critics in Christendom notwithstanding. The pictures of the
- most famous places in Greece, made since the election of the Bavarian
- Prince Otho to the throne of Greece, have a special interest of their own;
- but apart from these and some half dozen others, I would far sooner spend
- a day in our yearly exhibition than in the new Pinacothek. The colossal
- bronze statue of Bavaria is the finest thing of the kind I have ever seen;
- but the most interesting sight in Munich to an Englishman must be the
- Church of St. Boniface, not the exquisite colouring proportions, or the
- magnificent monolithic columns of gray marble, but the frescoes, which
- tell the story of the saint from the time when he knelt and prayed by his
- sick father’s bed to the bringing back of his martyred body to Mayence
- Cathedral. The departure of St. Boniface from Netley Abbey for Rome, to be
- consecrated Apostle to the Germans, struck me as the best of them; but,
- altogether, they tell very vividly the whole history of the Englishman who
- has trodden most nearly in St. Paul’s footsteps. We have reared plenty of
- great statesmen, poets, philosophers, soldiers, but only this one great
- missionary. Yet no nation in the world has more need of St. Bonifaces than
- we just now. The field is ever widening, in India, China, Africa. We can
- conquer and rule, and teach the heathen to make railways and trade, nut
- don’t seem to be able to get at their hearts and consciences. One fears
- almost that were a St. Boniface to come, we should only measure him by our
- common tests, and probably pronounce him worthless, or a dangerous
- enthusiast. But one day, when men’s work shall be tested by altogether
- different tests from ours of the enlightened nineteenth century kind, it
- will considerably surprise some of us to see how the order of merit will
- come out. We shall be likely to have to ask concerning St. Boniface—whose
- name is scarcely known to one Englishman in a hundred—and of others
- like him in spirit, of whom none of us have ever heard, Who are these
- countrymen of ours, and whence come they? And we shall hear the answer
- which St. John heard: “Isti sunt qui venerunt ex magna tribulatione et
- laverunt stolas suas in sanguine Agni.” I felt very grateful to Munich for
- having appreciated the great Apostle to the Germans.
- </p>
- <p>
- The one building in Munich which is quite unworthy of the use to which it
- is put, is the English Church. The service is performed in a sort of dry
- cellar, under the Odeon. We had a very small congregation, but it was very
- pleasant to hear how they all joined in the responses. What a pity it is
- that we are always ready to do it abroad, and shut up again as soon as we
- get home. Even the singing prospered greatly, though we had no organ. But,
- alas! sir, the Colonial Church Society have done their best to spoil this
- part of our service abroad. They seem to have accepted from the editor as
- a gift, the stereotyped plates of a hymn-book, copies of which were placed
- about in the Munich church, and, I daresay, may be found all over the
- Continent. The editor has thought it desirable to improve our classical
- hymns. Conceive the following substitution for Bishop Ken’s “Let all thy
- converse be sincere”—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- In conversation be sincere;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Make conscience as the noon-day clear:
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Think how th’ all-seeing God thy ways
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And all thy secret thoughts surveys.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This is only a fair specimen of the book. Surely the Colonial Church
- Society had better hastily return the stereotype plates with thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Tyrol, 2nd September 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ext to meeting an
- old friend by accident, there is nothing more pleasant than coming in long
- vacation on some flower or shrub which reminds one of former holiday
- ramblings. In the Tyrol the other day we came suddenly on a bank in the
- mountains gemmed over with the creamy white star of the daisy of
- Parnassus, and it accompanied us, to our great delight, for 200 miles or
- more, till we got fairly down into the plains again. The last time I had
- seen it was on Snowdon years ago. When we got a little higher I pounced on
- a beautiful little gentian, which I had never seen before except on the
- Alps above Lenk, in Switzerland (the Hauen Moos the pass was called, or
- some such name—how spelt, goodness knows), which I once crossed with
- two dear friends on the most beautiful day I ever remember.
- </p>
- <p>
- The flora of the Tyrol, at least that part of it which lies by the
- roadside, seems to be much the same as ours. With the above exceptions, I
- scarcely saw a flower which does not grow on half the hills in England;
- but their size and colouring was often curiously different. The Michaelmas
- daisy and ladies’ fingers, for instance, were much brighter and more
- beautiful; on the other hand, there was the most tender tiny heartsease in
- the world, and forget-me-nots, which were very plentiful here and there,
- were quite unlike ours—delicate little creatures, of the palest blue
- in the world, all the fleshiness and comfortable look, reminding one of
- marriage settlements and suitable establishments, gone clean out of them.
- In moving eastward with the happy earth you may easily get from Munich to
- Strasburg in one day; but, if you do, you will miss one of the greatest
- treats in the world, and that is a run through the Tyrol, which you may do
- from Munich with comfort in a week. There is a little rail which runs you
- down south or so to Homburg, on the edge of the mountain country, from
- whence you may choose your conveyance, from post carriage down to Shanks’
- nag. If you follow my advice, whatever else you do you will take care to
- see the Finstermunz Pass, than which nothing in the whole world can be
- more beautiful. I rather wonder myself that the Tyrol has not drawn more
- of our holiday folk, Alpine Club and all, from Switzerland. The Orteler
- Spitz and the glaciers of his range are as fine, and I should think as
- dangerous, as anything in the Swiss Alps—the lower Alps in the Tyrol
- are quite equal to their western sisters; and there is a soft Italian
- charm and richness about the look and climate of the southern valleys,
- that about Botzen especially, which Switzerland has nothing to match. The
- luxuriance of the maize crops (the common corn of the country) and of the
- vines trained over trellis work in the Italian fashion, and of the great
- gourds and vegetable marrows which roll their glorious leaves and flowers
- and heavy fruit over the spare corners and slips of the platforms on which
- the vineyards rest—the innumerable fruit-trees, pears, apples,
- plums, peaches, and pomegranates all set in a framework of beautiful
- wooded mountains, from which the course of the streams may be traced down
- through all the richness of the valley by their torrent beds of tumbled
- rock—. remind us vividly of the descriptions of the Promised Land in
- the Old Testament. Then the contrast of the people to the Bavarians is as
- great as that of the countries. The latter seem to live the easiest,
- laziest life of all nations, in their rich low flats, which the women are
- quite aide to cultivate, while the men drink beer and otherwise disport
- themselves. But in the part of the Tyrol next Bavaria it is all grim
- earnest: “Ernst is das Leben” must be their motto if they are to get in
- their crops at all, and keep their little patches of valley and hanging
- fields cultivated—and it does seem to be their motto. After passing
- through the country one can quite understand how the peasantry came to
- beat the regular troops of France and Bavaria time after time half a
- century ago, and the memoirs of that holy war hang almost about every
- rock. There is no mistake here about battle-fields, and no difficulty in
- realising the scene: the march of columns along the gorges, the piles of
- rock and tree above, with Tyrolean marksmen behind, the voices calling
- across over the heads of the invaders “Shall we begin?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “In the name of the Holy Trinity, cut all loose”; and then the crash and
- confusion, the panic and despair, and the swoop of the mountaineers on the
- remnant of their foes. A great part of the country must be exceedingly
- poor, and yet only in the neighbourhood of two or three villages were we
- asked for alms, and then only by small children, who had apparently been
- demoralised by the passage of carriages. Except from one of these
- children, a small boy who flirted his cap in my face, and made a
- villainous grimace, when he got tired of running, and from the dogs, we
- had no uncourteous look or word. The dogs, however, are abominable
- mongrels, and there was scarcely one in the country which did not run
- barking and snapping after us. The people seem to me very much pleasanter
- to travel amongst than the Swiss.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had expected to find them a people much given to the outward forms and
- ceremonies of religion at any rate—every guide-book tells one thus
- much; but I was not at all prepared for the extraordinary hold which their
- Christianity had laid upon the whole external life of the country. You
- can’t travel a mile in the Tyrol along any road without coming upon a
- shrine—in general by the wayside, often in the middle of the fields.
- I examined several hundreds of these; many of them little rough penthouses
- of plank, some well-built tiny chapels. I wish I had kept an exact account
- of the contents, but I am quite sure I am within the mark in saying that
- nine out of ten contain simply a crucifix; of the rest, the great majority
- contain figures or paintings of the Virgin or Child, and a few those of
- some patron saint. All bore marks of watchful care; in many, garlands of
- flowers or berries, or an ear or two of ripe maize, were hung round the
- Figure on the cross. Then in every village in which we slept, bells began
- ringing for matins at five or six, and in every ease the congregation
- seemed to be very large in proportion to the population. I was told, and
- believe, that in all the houses, even in the inns of most of these
- villages, there is family worship every evening at a specified hour,
- generally at seven. We met peasants walking along the road bare-headed,
- and chanting mass. I came suddenly upon parish priests and poor women
- praying before the crucifix by the wayside. The ostlers and stable-men
- have the same habit as our own, of pasting or nailing up rude prints on
- the stable-doors, and of all those which I examined while we were changing
- horses, or where we stopped for food or rest, there was only one which was
- not on a sacred subject. In short, to an Englishman accustomed to the
- reserve of his own country on such subjects, the contrast is very
- startling. If a Hindoo or any other intelligent heathen were dropped down
- in any English country, he might travel for days without knowing whether
- we have any religion at all; but, most assuredly, he could not do so in
- the Tyrol. Now which is the best state of things? I believe Her Majesty
- has no stauncher Protestant than I amongst her subjects, but I own that a
- week in the Tyrol has made me reconsider a thing or two. Outwardly, in
- short, the Tyroleans are the most religious people in Europe. Of course I
- am no judge after a week’s tour whether their faith has gone as deep as it
- has spread wide. You can only speak of the bridge as it carries you. Our
- bills were the most reasonable I have ever met with, and I could not
- detect a single attempt at imposition in the smallest particular. I went
- into the fruit market at Meran, and, after buying some grapes, went on to
- an old woman who was selling figs. She was wholly unable to understand my
- speech, so, being in a hurry, I put a note for the magnificent sum of ten
- kreutzer (or 3d. sterling) into her hand, making signs to her to put the
- equivalent in figs into a small basket I was carrying. This she proceeded
- to do, and when she had piled eight or ten figs on the grapes I turned to
- go, but by vehement signs she detained me, till she had given me the full
- tale, some three or four more. She was only a fair specimen of what I
- found on all sides. The poor old soul had not mastered our legal axiom of
- <i>caveat emptor</i>, but her trading morality had something attractive
- about it. They may be educated in time into buying cheap and selling dear,
- but as yet that great principle does not seem to have dawned on them.
- </p>
- <p>
- There may be some danger of superstition in this setting up of crucifixes
- and sacred prints by the wayside and on stable-doors, but, on the other
- hand, the Figure on the cross, meeting one at every corner, is not
- unlikely, I should think, to keep a poor man from the commonest vices to
- which he is tempted in his daily life, if it does no more. He would
- scarcely like to stagger by it drunk from the nearest pot-house. If
- stable-boys are to have rough woodcuts on their doors, one of the
- Crucifixion or of the <i>Mater Dolorosa</i> is likely to do them more good
- than the winner of the Derby or Tom Sayers.
- </p>
- <p>
- But my letter is getting too long for your columns, so I can only beg all
- your readers to seize the first chance of visiting the Tyrol. I shall be
- surprised if they do not come away with much the same impressions as I
- have. It is a glad land, above all that I have ever seen—a land in
- which a psalm of joy and thankfulness seems to be rising to heaven from
- every mountain top and valley, and, mingled with and beneath it, the
- solemn low note of a people “breathing thoughtful breath”—an
- accompaniment without which there is no true joy possible in our world,
- without which all attempt at it rings in the startled ear like the laugh
- of a madman. Those words of the old middle-age hymn seemed to be singing
- in my ears all through the Tyrol:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Fac me vere tecum flere,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Crucitixo condolere,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Donee ego vixcro.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I shall never find a country in which it will do one more good to travel.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Vienna, 10th September 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he stage
- Englishman in foreign countries must be always an object of interest to
- his countrymen. He is a decidedly popular institution in Germany, not the
- least like the Dundreary type, or the sort of top-booted half fool, half
- miscreant, one sees at a minor theatre in Paris. The latest Englishmen on
- the boards of the summer theatres here are a Lord Mixpickl, and his man
- Jack, but the most popular, and those which appear to be regarded in
- fatherland as the real thing, are the Englishmen in a piece called “The
- Four Sailors.” It opens with a yawning chorus. Four young Englishmen are
- discovered sitting at a German watering-place, reading copies of the <i>Times</i>
- and <i>Post</i>, and yawning fearfully. The chorus done, one says, “The
- funds are at 84.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I bet you they are at 86,” says another, and on this point they become
- lively. It appears by the talk which ensues, that they have come abroad
- resolved on finding some romantic adventure before marrying, which they
- are all desirous of doing. This they found impossible at home; hitherto
- have not succeeded here; have only succeeded in trampling on the police
- arrangements, and getting bored. They all imitate one another in speech
- and action, saying “Yaas” in succession very slowly, and always looking at
- one another deliberately before acting. Now the four sailors appear, who
- are three romantic young women and their maid, disguised as sailors, under
- the care of their aunt, a stout easy-going old lady, dressed as a
- boatswain, and of lax habits In the matters of tobacco and drink. After
- hornpipe dancing and other diversions, the young ladies settle to go and
- bathe, and cross the stage where the Englishmen are carrying their
- bathing-dresses. A cry is raised that their boat is upset; whereupon the
- Englishmen look at one another. At last one gets up, takes off his coat,
- folds it up, and puts it carefully on his chair, ditto with waistcoat and
- hat, the others doing the same. They walk off in Indian file, and return
- each with a half-drowned damsel across his shoulders. Having deposited
- their burthens, they return to the front of the stage to dress, when one
- suggests that they have never been introduced, upon which, after a pause,
- and looking solemnly at each other and the audience, they ejaculate all
- together, “Got dam!” They then take refuge in beer, silence, and pipes. At
- last one says, “This is curious!” Three yaas’, and a pause. Another, “This
- is an adventure!” Three yaas’, and a longer pause. At last, “Dat ist
- romantisch!” propounds another. Tumultuous yaas’ break forth at this
- discovery. The object of their journey is accomplished, they marry the
- four sailors, and return to love and Britain.
- </p>
- <p>
- The summer theatres are charming institutions, but somewhat casual. For
- instance, while we were at Ischl, there were no performances because the
- weather was too fine. Ischl itself is wonderfully attractive, and as he
- has not the chance of getting a seaside watering-place, the Kaiser Konig
- has shown much taste in the selection of Ischl. The Traun and Ischl, which
- meet here, are both celebrated for beauty and trout (a young Englishman
- was wading about and having capital sport while we were there). You get
- fine views of glaciers from the hills which rise on all sides close to the
- town, and the five valleys at the junction of which it lies are all finely
- wooded and well worth exploring. The town is furnished with a
- drinking-hall (but no gambling), baths, a casino, pretty promenades, and
- Herzogs and other grand folk, with Hussar and other officers in plenty to
- enliven them. You can dance every evening almost if you like, and gloves
- are fabulously good, and only a florin a pair for men, or with two
- buttons, for ladies, a florin and ten kreutzers; so, having regard to the
- number which are now found necessary in London, it would almost pay young
- persons to visit Ischl once a year to make their purchases. There is also
- a specialty in the way of pretty old fashioned looking jewellery made and
- sold here cheap, but the Passau pearls found in the great cockle-shells of
- these parts are dear, though certainly very handsome. I must not forget
- the rifle-range amongst the attractions of the place. I fell in with two
- members of the Inns of Court, and we heard the well-known crack, and soon
- hunted out the scene of operations. We found some Austrian gentlemen
- practising at 100 yards at a target with a small black centre, within
- which was a scarcely distinguishable bull’s-eye. When a centre is made the
- marker comes out, bows, waves his arms twice, and utters two howls called
- “yodels.” When the bull’s-eye is struck a shell explodes behind, the
- Austrian eagle springs up above the target, and a Tyrolean, the size of
- life, from each side—which performance so fascinated one of my
- companions that he made interest with the shooters, who allowed him to use
- one of their rifles. I rejoice to say that he did not disgrace the
- distinguished corps to which he belongs. At his first shot he obtained the
- bow and two howls from the marker, and at his fourth the explosion and
- appearances above described followed, whereupon he wisely retired on his
- laurels.
- </p>
- <p>
- You proceed eastwards from Ischl, down the beautiful valley of the Traun
- to Eben; see the great store-place for the salt and wood of the district.
- The logs accompany you, in the river, all the way down; and it is amusing
- to watch their different ways of floating. Such of them as are not stopped
- in transit by the hooks of the inhabitants are collected by a boom
- stretched across the head of the Gmünden Lake, on which you take boat at
- Eben See. The skipper of the steamer is an Englishman, who has been there
- for thirty years—a quiet matter-of-fact man, who collects his own
- tickets, wears no uniform, and has a profound disbelief in the accuracy of
- the information furnished to tourists in these parts by the natives. Long
- absence from home has somewhat depressed him, but he lights up for a few
- moments when he gets on his paddle-box and orders the steam to be put on
- to charge the boom. But travellers should consult him if they want correct
- information, and should not trust in “Bradshaw.” The lion of the
- neighbourhood is the Traun Falls; and a station has been opened on the
- railway to Lintz to facilitate the seeing of the falls, which station is
- not even mentioned in the “Bradshaw” for August 1862. This is too bad.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had considerable opportunities of seeing the state of the country in
- Austria. The people are prosperous and independent to a degree which much
- astonished me. They are almost all what we should call yeomanry, owning
- from twenty to two hundred acres of land. Even the labourers, who work for
- the great proprietors, own their own cottages and an acre or so of land
- round; in fact, the Teutonic passion for owning land is so strong that,
- unless a man can acquire some, he manages to emigrate. Since 1848 the
- communes have stepped into the position of lords of the manors, and own
- most of the woods and the game. The great proprietors pay them for the
- right of sporting over their own lands. In faet, whatever may be the case
- with the higher classes, the people here seem to have it much their own
- way since 1848. We spent a Sunday afternoon in the palace gardens at
- Schonbrunn, into which half the populace of Vienna, smoking vile-smelling
- cigars, seemed to have poured in omnibuses and cabs, which stood before
- the palace, and on foot. We (the people) occupied the whole of the
- gardens, and a splendid military band played for our behoof. You reach the
- gardens by passing under the palace, so that King People was everywhere,
- and the Kaiser Konig, if he wants retirement, must stay in his private
- rooms. A report spread that the Emperor and Empress were coming out,
- whereupon King People, and we amongst them, swept into the lower part of
- the palace, and right up to a private staircase, at the foot of which an
- open carriage was standing. A few burly and well-behaved guardsmen
- remonstrated good-humouredly, but with no effect. There we remained in
- block, men, women, and children, the pipes and cigars were not
- extinguished, and the smell was anything but imperial. Presently the
- Emperor and Empress came down, and the carriage passed at a foot’s pace
- through the saluting and pleased crowd. The Empress is the most
- charming-looking royal personage I have ever seen, and seemed to think it
- quite right that the people should occupy her house and grounds. Fancy
- omnibuses driving into the Court-yard of Buckingham Palace, and John Bull
- proceeding to occupy the private gardens! John himself would decidedly
- think that the end of the world was come. The Constitution, too, seems to
- work well from all I heard. The Court party has ceased almost to struggle
- for power. It revenges itself, however, in social life. Society (so
- called) is more exclusive in Vienna than anywhere else, and consists of
- some 400 or 500 persons all told. Even the most distinguished soldiers and
- statesmen have not the <i>entrée</i>. Benedek’s family is not in society,
- nor Schmerling’s, though I hear his daughter is one of the prettiest and
- most ladylike girls in Austria. All which is very silly, doubtless, but
- the chief sufferers are the 400 inhabitants who drive in the Prater, and
- go to the Leichtenstein and Schwartzenburg parties, and after all, if
- aristocracies in the foolish sense are inevitable, an aristocracy of birth
- is preferable to one of money, or, <i>me judice</i>, of intellect, seeing
- that the latter gives itself at least as absurd airs, and is likely to be
- much more mischievous. On the other hand, my Hungarian sympathies have
- been somewhat shaken since visiting the country. I suppose the national
- dress has something to say to it. An Englishman cannot swallow braided
- coats, and tight coloured pants, and boots all at once, and the carriage
- and airs of the men are offensive. I say this more on the judgment of
- several of my country-women on this point than on my own, but from my own
- observation I can say that Pesth, to a mere passer-by, has all the
- appearances of the most immoral capital in the world. In the best shops,
- in the best streets, there are photographs and engravings exhibited which,
- with us, would speedily call Lord Campbell’s Act into operation. And the
- Haymarket is in many respects moral in comparison with many parts of
- Pesth. It is the only place in Europe where I have seen men going about
- drunk before midday. In short, you will perceive that my inspection
- inclines me to suspect that there may he more than one has been wont to
- believe in the assertion, that the Constitution we hear so much of is
- aristocratic and one which will give back old feudal privileges to a
- conquering race and enable them to oppress Slaves, Croats, etc., as they
- did before 1848. There is, everybody admits, a large discontented class in
- Hungary, composed chiefly of the poor nobility (who have long ago spent
- their compensation money), and professional men, especially advocates, but
- it is strenuously maintained that the great mass of the people have been
- far better off in all ways and more contented since 1849. I don’t pretend
- to give you anything except the most apparently truthful evidence I can
- pick up by the wayside, and the observations of my own eyes, and certainly
- the latter have not been favourable to Hungary in any way, though they
- look certainly very like a fighting race, these Magyars. The railroad from
- Pesth to Basiash, where one embarks on the Danube, passes through enormous
- flats, heavy for miles and miles with maize and other crops, and very
- thinly peopled. It is a constant wonder where the people can come from to
- reap and garner it all. The great fault of the country is the dust, which
- is an abominable nuisance. Certainly the facilities for travelling are
- getting to be all that can be wished in our time. A little more than
- forty-eight hours will bring a man, who can stand night journeys, to
- Vienna; after resting a night, eighteen hours more will bring him to
- Basiash, where he will at once plunge into the old world of turbans and
- veiled women, minarets and mosques; man and beast and bird, houses and
- habits, all strange and new to him; and if the Danube fares were not
- atrociously high, there are few things I would more earnestly recommend to
- my holiday-making countrymen than a trip down that noblest, of European
- rivers. Considering the present state of political matters, too, in the
- world, he can hardly select a more interesting country. Certainly the
- Eastern question gains wonderfully in interest when one has seen ever so
- little of the lands and people about which the wisest heads of all the
- wisest statesmen of our day are speculating and scheming—not very
- wisely, I fear, at present.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Danube, 13th September 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Rhine may,
- perhaps, fairly be compared with the Upper Danube, between Lintz and
- Vienna, even between Vienna and Pesth. There is no great disparity so far,
- either in the size of themselves or of the hills and plains through which
- they run. The traveller’s tastes, artistic and historical, decide his
- preference. The constant succession of ruined holds of the old oppressors
- of the earth which he meets on the Rhine, are wanting on the Danube. It is
- certainly a satisfaction to see such places thoroughly ruined—to
- triumph over departed scoundrelism wherever one comes on its relics. As a
- compensation, however, he will find on the Danube a huge building or two,
- such as that of the Benedictine Monastery at Molk, or the Cathedral and
- Palace of the Primate of Hungary at Gran, of living interest, and with
- work still to do in the world. There is not much to choose between the
- banks of the two streams in the matter of general historical interest,
- though to me the long struggle between the Christian and the Moslem, the
- footprints of which meet one on all sides, gives the Danube slightly the
- advantage even in this respect. There are longer gaps of flat
- uninteresting country on the eastern stream, no doubt, which may be set
- off against the sameness and neatness of the perpetual vineyard on the
- western; and on the Danube you get, now and then, a piece of real forest,
- which you never see, so far as I remember, on the Rhine.
- </p>
- <p>
- Below Belgrade, however, all comparison ceases. The Rhine is half the size
- of its rival, and flows westward through the highest cultivation and
- civilisation to the German Ocean, while the huge Danube rushes through the
- Carpathians into a new world—an eastern people, living amidst
- strange beasts and birds, in a country which is pretty much as Trajan left
- it. You might as well compare Killiecrankie to the Brenner Pass, as any
- thing on the Rhine to the Kazan, the defile by which the Danube struggles
- through the western Carpathians. Here the river contracts in breadth from
- more than a mile to between 200 and 300 yards; the depth is 170 feet. The
- limestone rocks on both sides rise to near 2000 feet, coming sheer down to
- the water in many places, clothed with forest wherever there is hold for
- roots. Along the Servian side, on the face of the precipice, a few feet
- above the stream, run the long line of sockets in which the beams were
- fastened for the support of his covered road by Trajan’s legions. A tablet
- and an inscription 1740 years old still bear, I believe, the great Roman’s
- name, and a memorial of his Dacian campaign, though I cannot vouch for the
- fact, as we shot by it at twenty miles an hour; but I could distinctly see
- Roman letters. On the left bank the Austrians have carried a road by
- blasting and masonry; and a cavern which was held for weeks by 400 men
- against a Turkish army in 1692 commands the whole pass.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had scarcely entered the defile when some eight or ten eagles appeared
- sweeping slowly round over a spot in the hanging wood, where probably a
- deer or goat was dying. I counted upwards of thirty before we left the
- Kazan; several were so near the boat that you could plainly mark the
- glossy barred plumage, and every turn of the body and tail as they steered
- about upon those marvellous, motionless wings. One swooped to the water
- almost within shot, but missed the fish, or whatever his intended prey
- might be. A water ouzel or two were the only other living creatures which
- appeared to draw our attention for a moment from the sway of the mighty
- stream and the succession of the dizzy heights. Below the pass the stream
- widens again. You lose something of the feeling of power in the mass of
- water below you, though the superficial excitement of whirl, and rush, and
- eddy, is much increased. Here, at Orsova, a small military town on the
- frontier line between Hungary and Wallachia, we turned out into a
- flat-bottomed steamer, with four tiny paddle-wheels, drawing only some
- three feet of water, which was to carry us over the Iron Gates, as the
- rapids are called; and beautifully the little duck fulfilled her task. The
- English on board, three ladies and five men, had already fraternised; we
- occupied the places in the bows. The deck was scarcely a yard above water,
- and there were no bulwarks, only a strong rail to lean against. The rush
- of the stream here beat any mill-race I have ever seen, and the little
- steamer bounded along over the leaping, boiling water at the rate of a
- fast train. Twice only she plunged a little, shipping just enough water to
- cause some discomposure amongst the ladies’ dresses, and to wet our feet.
- We shot past the wreck of a Turkish iron Steamer in the wildest part,
- which had grounded on its way up to Belgrade with munitions of war. The
- Servians had boarded and burnt her, and there she lay, and will lie, till
- the race washes her to pieces, for there is nothing to be got out of her
- now except the iron of her hull. Below the Iron Gate, a fine Austrian
- steamer received us, and we moved statelily out into the stream on our
- remaining thirty hours’ voyage. We had left the mountains, but were still
- amongst respectable hills covered with forest, full of game, an engineer
- officer who was on board told us, and plenty of wolves to be had in the
- winter—too many, indeed, occasionally. A friend of his had knocked
- up a little wooden shooting-box in these Wallachian forests—a rough
- affair, with a living-room below, a bedroom above. He had found the wolves
- so shy that he scarcely believed in them; however, to give the matter a
- fair trial, he asked three or four friends to his box, bought a dead
- horse, and roasted him outside. The speedy consequence was such a crowd of
- wolves that he and his friends had to take refuge in the bedroom and fight
- for their lives; as it was, the wolves were very near starving them out.
- And now the river had widened again, and water-fowl could rest and feed on
- the surface.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hot evening, for hot enough it was, though cool in comparison of the
- day, brought them out in flocks round the islands and over the shallows. I
- was just feasting my eyes with the sight of wild swans, quite at their
- ease in our neighbourhood, when three huge white birds came sailing past
- with a flight almost as steady as the eagles we had seen in the Kazan.
- “What are they?” I said eagerly to my companion, the engineer. “Pelicans,”
- he answered, as coolly as if they had been water-hens. In another moment
- they lighted on the water, and I saw their long bills and pouches. Fancy
- the new sensation, sir! But on this part of the Danube there is no want of
- new sensations. Our first stop at a Bulgarian village—or town,
- perhaps, I should call it, for it boasted a tumble-down fort, with some
- rude earthworks, and half a dozen minarets shot up from amongst its houses
- and vineyards—may be reckoned amongst the chief of these. What can
- be more utterly new to an Englishman than to come upon a crowd of poor
- men, who have their daily bread to earn, half of whom are quietly asleep,
- and the rest squatting or standing about, without offering, or thinking of
- offering, to help when there is work to be done under their noses? One was
- painfully reminded of the eager, timid anxiety to be allowed to carry
- luggage for a penny or two which one meets with at home. Here one had
- clearly got into the blissful realms where time is absolutely of no
- account, and if you want a thing done, you can do it yourself. Our arrival
- was evidently an event looked forward to in some sort, for there were
- goods on the wharf waiting for us, and several of the natives had managed
- to bring down great baskets full of grapes, by which they had seated
- themselves. We were all consumed with desire for grapes, and headed by the
- steward of the vessel, who supplies his table here, rushed ashore and fell
- upon the baskets. It seemed to be a matter of perfect indifference to the
- owners whether we took them or let them alone, or how many we took, or
- whether we paid or not. The only distinct idea they had, was that they
- would not take Austrian money. Our English emissary returned with six or
- seven huge bunches for which he had given promise to pay two piastres to
- somebody. The piastre was then (ten days ago) worth one penny, it is now
- worth twopence—a strange country is Turkey. There were some
- buffaloes lying in the water, with their great ears flopping, to move the
- air a little, and keep off flies. A half-grown Turkish lad was squatted
- near the head of one of them, over which he was scooping up the water with
- his hands, the only human being in voluntary activity. His work was
- thoroughly appreciated; I never saw a more perfect picture of enjoyment
- than the buffalo who was getting this shower-bath. The costumes, of
- course, are curious and striking to a stranger, but turbans and fezzes,
- camel’s hair jackets, and loose cotton drawers,—even the absence of
- these in many instances, and the substitute of copper-coloured flesh as a
- common garb of the country—are after all only superficial
- differences. It is the quiet immobility of the men which makes one feel at
- once that they are a different race, and the complete absence of women in
- the crowds. The cottages, in general, look like great mole-hills. They
- look miserable enough, but I believe are well suited to the climate, being
- sunk three or four feet in the ground, which keeps them cool in summer and
- warm in winter. Our Crimean experience bears this out. The mud huts sunk
- in the ground and thatched roughly were far more comfortable all weathers
- than those sent out from England. The campaign between the Russians and
- Turks at the beginning of the late war became much clearer to me as we
- passed down the river. It must be a very difficult operation to invade
- Bulgaria from the Principalities, for the southern bank commands the dead
- flat of the Wallachian banks almost all the way down. The serious check
- which the Russians got at Oltenitza was a great puzzle in England. We
- could not make out how it happened. Omar Pasha seemed to have made a
- monstrous blunder in throwing a single division across the river, and we
- wondered at his luck in getting so well out of it. The fact is that it was
- a real stroke of generalship. The Russian corps were about to cross at
- points above and below. Omar’s cannon posted on the Bulgarian heights
- completely commanded the opposite plain, where a considerable stream runs
- into the Danube. This stream protected the left flank of the division
- which crossed, and they threw up earth-works along their front and right.
- The Russians recalled the corps which were about to cross, thinking to
- annihilate them, and attacked under a plunging fire from the Turkish
- artillery on the opposite bank, which, combined with that from the
- earth-works, was unendurable, and they were repulsed with enormous loss.
- It is by no means so easy, however, to understand why they did not take
- Silistria. Here they had crossed, were in great force, and had no strong
- position to attack. The famous work of Arab Tabia, the key of the position
- which was so gallantly held by Butler and Nasmyth with a few hundred
- Turkish soldiers under them, is nothing but a low mound, which you can
- scarcely make out from the steamer. Why they should not have marched right
- over it and into the town is a mystery.
- </p>
- <p>
- The village of Tchernavoda where the steamer lands passengers for
- Constantinople, consists of a very poor inn, some great warehouses for
- corn, and some half-dozen Turkish cottages. An English company has made
- the railroad across to Kustandjie, on the Black Sea, so that you escape
- the long round by the mouths of the Danube. I fear it must be a very poor
- speculation, but it is very convenient. The line runs through a chain of
- lakes, by which it is often flooded. Once last winter the water came
- nearly into the carriages. The train was, of course, stopped, and had to
- remain in the water, which froze hard in the night. I believe the
- passengers had to proceed over the ice. If any young Englishman who
- combines the tastes of a sportsman and naturalist wants a field for his
- energies, I can’t fancy a better one than these lakes. The birds swarm;
- every sort of duck and sea-bird one had ever heard of, besides pelicans,
- wild swans, bitterns, (the first I ever saw out of a museum) and herons,
- and I know not what other fowl were there, especially a beautiful white
- bird exactly like our heron, but snowy white. I saw two of these. I don’t
- believe they were storks, at least not the common kind which I have seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had been journeying past the scene of the late conferences, and of the
- excitement which was so nearly breaking out into war a month or two back,
- and had plenty of Servians and other interested persons on board; but, so
- far as I could learn, everything is quieting down into its ordinary state—an
- unsatisfactory one, no doubt, but not unlikely to drag on for some time
- yet. Should the Servians and other discontented nationalities, however,
- break out and come to be in need of a king, or other person of that kind,
- just now, they may have the chance of getting two countrymen of ours to
- fill such posts. We left them preparing to invade Servia on a shooting and
- exploring expedition, armed with admirable guns, revolvers, and a powder
- for the annihilation of insects. They were quite aware of the present
- unsettled state of affairs, and prepared to avail themselves of anything
- good which might turn up on their travels.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Constantinople, 34th September 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Eastern
- question! It is very easy indeed to have distinct notions on the Eastern
- question. I had once, not very long ago neither. Of course, like every
- Englishman, I was for fighting, sooner than the Russians, or any other
- European Power, should come to the Bosphorus without the leave of England,
- and that as often as might be necessary, and quite apart from any
- consideration as to the internal state of the country. But as for the
- Turks, I as much thought that their time was about over in Europe as the
- Czar Nicholas when he talked of the sick man to Sir Hamilton Seymour. They
- were a worn-out horde, the degenerate remnant of a conquering race, who
- were keeping down with the help of some of the Christian Powers, ourselves
- notably amongst the number, Christian subjects—Bulgarians, Servians,
- Greeks, and others—more numerous and better men than themselves. I
- could never see why these same Christian subjects should not be allowed to
- kick the Turks out of Europe if they could, or why we should take any
- trouble to bolster them up. Perhaps I do not see yet why they should not
- be allowed, if they can do it by themselves; but I am free to acknowledge
- that the Eastern question, the nearer you get to it, and the more you look
- into it, like many other political questions, gets more and more puzzling
- and complicated and turns up quite a new side to you. A week or two on the
- Bosphorus spent in looking about one, and sucking the brains of men of all
- nations who have had any experience of this remarkable country, make one
- see that there is a good deal to be said for wishing well to the Turks,
- notwithstanding their false creed and bad practices. I hear here the most
- wonderfully contradictory evidence about these Turks. They have one
- quality of a ruling nation assuredly in perfection—the power of
- getting themselves heartily hated. But so far as I could test them, the
- common statements as to their dishonesty and corruption are vague and
- general if you try to sift them, and I find that even those who abuse them
- are apt in practice to prefer them to Creeks, Armenians, or any other of
- the subject people in these parts. On the other hand, you certainly do
- hear much of the honesty of the lower classes of the Turks. For instance,
- it seems that contracts are scarcely ever made here in writing, and in
- actions of debt if a Turk will appear and swear that he was never
- indebted, the case is at an end, and he walks out of court a free man.
- Admiral Slade, amongst his other functions, is judge of a court which is a
- sort of mixture of an Admiralty and County Court, in which he tries very
- many actions of debt in the year. After an experience of nearly three
- years he told my informant that he had had only two cases in which a
- defendant had adopted this summary method of getting out of his
- difficulties. Again in the huge maze of bazaars in Stamboul there is a
- quarter, some sixty yards square, at least, I should say, which is <i>par
- excellence</i> the Turkish bazaar. The Jews, Armenians, and Greeks, who
- far out-number the Turks in the other quarters of the bazaars, have no
- place here; or if an Armenian or two creep in, it is only on sufferance.
- The Turks are a very early nation, and not given to overwork themselves,
- and this bazaar of theirs is shut at twelve o’clock every day, or soon
- afterwards, and left in charge of one man. I passed through it one day
- when many of the shops were closing. The process consisted of just
- sweeping the smaller articles into a sort of closet which each merchant
- has at the back of the divan on which he sits, and leaving the heavier
- articles (such as old inlaid firelocks, swords, large china vases, and the
- like) where they were, hanging or standing outside. Most of the
- merchandise, I quite admit, is old rubbish; still there are many articles
- of considerable value and very portable, and certainly every possible
- temptation to robbery is given both to those who shut up latest and to the
- man who is left in charge of all this property, and yet a theft of the
- smallest article is unheard of. In this very bazaar I saw an instance of
- honesty which struck me much. The custom of trade here is, as every one
- knows, that the vendor asks twice or three times as much as he will take,
- and you have to beat him down to a fair price. I accompanied a lady who
- had to make some purchases. After a hard struggle, she succeeded in
- getting what she wanted at her own price; but her adversary evidently felt
- aggrieved, and declared that he should be a loser by the transaction. She
- cast up the total in her head, paid the money; her <i>cavass</i> (as they
- call the substitutes for footmen here, who accompany ladies about the
- streets with scimitars by their sides, and sticks in their hands, to
- belabour the Jews and Greeks with who get in the way) had taken up the
- things, and we had left the shop, when the aggrieved merchant came out,
- called us back, explained to her that she had made a wrong calculation by
- ten francs or so, and refunded the difference. I was much surprised. The
- whole process was so like an attempt to cheat that it seemed very odd that
- the man who habitually practised it should yet scruple to take advantage
- of such a slip as this. But my companion, who knows the bazaars well,
- assured me that it was always the case. A Turk does not care what he asks
- you, often loses impatient customers by asking fabulously absurd prices,
- but the moment he has made his bargain is scrupulously exact in keeping to
- it, and will not take advantage of a farthing in changing your foreign
- money, or of your ignorance of the value of his currency. This was her
- experience. I might multiply instances of Turkish honesty if it were of
- any use, but have been unable to collect a single instance of the like
- virtue on the part of Greeks or Armenians. Every man’s word seems against
- them, though their sharpness in trade and cleverness and activity in other
- ways are admitted on all hands. I found that every one whose judgment I
- could at all depend on, however much he might dislike the Turks, preferred
- them to any other of the people of the country whenever there was any
- question of trust. So, on the whole, notwithstanding their idleness, their
- hatred of novelties and love of backsheesh, their false worship and
- bigotry, and the evils which this false worship brings in its train, I
- must say that the immense preponderance of oral evidence is in their
- favour, as decidedly the most upright and respectable of the races who
- inhabit Turkey in Europe. One does not put much faith in one’s own eyes in
- a question of this kind, but, taking them for what they are worth, mine
- certainly led me to the same conclusion. The Turkish boatmen, porters,
- shopmen, contrast very favourably with their Greek and other rivals.
- </p>
- <p>
- In short, they look particularly like honest self-respecting men, which
- the others emphatically do not.
- </p>
- <p>
- If this be true, and so long as it continues to be true, I for one am for
- keeping the Turks where they are. And this does not involve any
- intervention on our parts. They are quite able to hold their own if no
- foreign power interferes with them, and all we have to do is to see that
- they are fairly let alone, which is not the case at present. For the
- present Government of Fuad Pasha is the best and strongest Turkey has seen
- for many a year. Fuad’s doings in Syria led one to expect considerable
- things of him, for few living statesmen have successfully solved such a
- problem as putting down the disturbances there, avenging the Damascus
- massacre, quieting the religious excitement, and getting the French out of
- the country. All this, however, he managed with great firmness and skill,
- and since he has been Prime Minister he has given proofs of ability in
- another direction equally important for the future of his country. Turkish
- finance was in a deplorable state when he came into power. I don’t suppose
- that it is in a very sound condition now, but at any rate the first, and a
- very important, step has been successfully made. Until within the last few
- months the paper currency here, called <i>caimé</i>, has been the curse of
- the country. There were somewhere about five million sterling’s worth of
- small notes, for sums from ten piastres (2s.) to fifty piastres in
- circulation. The value of these notes was constantly fluctuating, often
- varying thirty or forty per cent in a few days. The whole of these notes
- have been called in by the present Government and exchanged for small
- silver coin within the last two months, so that now the value of the
- piastre in Turkey is fixed. A greater blessing to the country can scarcely
- be conceived, and the manner in which the conversion has been effected has
- been most masterly. The English loan, no doubt, has enabled Fuad to do
- this, and he has had Lord Hobart at his elbow to advise and assist him in
- the operation. But, making all proper drawbacks, a very large balance of
- credit is due to the Turkish Government, as will appear when the English
- Commissioner’s Report appears in due course, the contents of which I have
- neither the knowledge nor the wish to anticipate. The settlement, for the
- present, at least, of the Servian and Montenegrin difficulties are further
- proofs, it seems to me, of the vigour and ability of the present
- Government. But still, giving the Turkish statesmen now in power full
- credit for all they have done, one cannot help feeling that this Eastern
- question is full of the most enormous difficulties, is, in short, about
- the most complicated of all the restless, importunate, ill-mannered
- questions that are crying out “Come, solve me,” in this troublesome old
- continent of ours.
- </p>
- <p>
- For it hardly needs a voyage to the East to convince any man who cares
- about such matters that this Turkish Empire is in a state of solution. If
- one did want convincing on the point, a few days here would be enough to
- do it. Let him spend a few hours as I did last week at the Sweet Waters of
- Asia on a Turkish Sunday (Friday), and he will scarcely want further
- proof. The Sweet Waters of Asia are those of a muddy little rivulet, which
- flow into the sparkling Bosphorus some four miles above Constantinople.
- Along the side of this stream, at its junction with the Bosphorus, is a
- small level plain, which has been for I know not how long the resort of
- the Turkish women. Here they come once a week on their Sundays, to look at
- the hills and the Bosphorus without the interference of blinds and
- jalousies, and at some other human beings besides the slaves and other
- inmates of their own harems. You arrive there in a caique, and find
- yourself at a jump plump in the middle of the Arabian Nights’
- Entertainments. The Sultan has built a superb kiosk (summer-house) here,
- with a façade and balustrade of beautiful white marble, one hundred yards
- long, fronting the Bosphorus. (They tell me, by the way, that the whole
- kiosk is of the same white marble, and so it may be, but, at any rate, if
- it be, it is most superfluously covered with yellow stucco.) Outside the
- enclosure of his kiosk, at the Bosphorus end of the little plain, and some
- fifty yards from the shore, is a fine square marble fountain, with texts
- from the Koran in green and gold upon it, and steps all round. A few
- plane-trees give a little shade round it. On all the steps of the
- fountain, along the kiosk garden wall, under the plane-trees, and out on
- the turf of the valley, are seated Turkish women of every rank, from the
- Grand Vizier’s wife and family, on superbly embroidered cushions and
- carpets, and cloaked in the most fascinating purple and pink silks, down
- to poor men’s wives, in faded stuffs, on old scraps of drugget which a
- rag-collector would scarcely pick out of the gutter. Others of the veiled
- women are driving slowly round the little plain in the strangest
- carriages, just like Cinderella’s coach in the children’s books, or in
- arabas drawn by two oxen, and ornamented with silk or cotton hangings.
- Here the poor women sit, or drive, or walk for an hour or two, and smoke
- cigarettes, and eat fruit and sweetmeats, and drink coffee, which viands
- are brought with them or supplied by itinerant dealers on the ground. So
- far, the scene is just what it might have been in the days of Haroun
- Alraschid, and the black eunuchs standing about or walking by the
- carriages seem to warn off all contact with the outer world. But what is
- the fact? There were English and French ladies sitting on the carpets of
- the Grand Vizier’s wife and talking with her. There were men and women of
- all nations walking about or sitting close by the veiled groups, and
- plenty of Turkish men looking on, or themselves talking to unbelievers,
- and seeming to think that it was all quite natural. It is impossible in a
- few words to convey the impression of utter incongruity which this and
- other scenes of the same kind give one. Islamism and Frankism—Western
- civilisation, or whatever you like to call it,—I dare not call it
- Christianity,—are no longer at arm’s length. They are fairly being
- stirred up together. What will come of it? At a splendid garden <i>fête</i>,
- given by a great Pasha in the spring, amongst other novelties dancing was
- perpetrated. The Pasha is a Turk of advanced ideas. His wife (he has only
- one) and the other women of his household were allowed to look on from the
- harem windows. “In two years they will be down here, in five they will be
- dancing, and in ten they will wear crinolines,” said an Englishman to one
- of the French Embassy with whom he was walking. “Et alors l’empire serait
- sauvé,” replied the Frenchman. Not exactly so, perhaps, but still the
- speakers were touching the heart of the Eastern question. The harem or the
- Turks will have to go down in Europe in the next few years. But as this
- letter is already too long, I hope you will let me say what I have to say
- on the subject in my next.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Constantinople, 30th September 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>mongst the many
- awkward facts which the Turks in Europe have to look in the face and deal
- with speedily, there is one which seems specially threatening. They have
- no class of educated men. “Some remedy <i>must</i> be found for this,” say
- their friends; “things cannot go on as they are. The body of your people
- may be, we believe they are, sound and honest as times go, superior indeed
- in all essentials to the other races who are mixed up with them, but this
- will not avail you much longer.” Steamboats, telegraphs, railways, have
- invaded Turkey already. The great tide of modern material civilisation is
- flooding in upon the East, with its restless, unmanageable eddies and
- waves, which have sapped, and are sapping, the foundations, and
- overwhelming the roof trees, of stronger political edifices than that of
- the Sublime Porte. If you Turks cannot control and manage the tide, it
- will very soon drown you. Now where are your men to do this? You have just
- now Fuad Pasha, and three or four other able men, and reasonably honest,
- who understand their time, and are guiding your affairs well. Besides them
- you have a few dozen men—we can count them on our fingers—who
- have educated themselves decently, and who may possibly prove fit for the
- highest places. But that is doubtful, and for all minor offices,
- executive, administrative, judicial, you have no competent men at all. The
- places are abominably filled, and for one Turk who is able to fill them
- even thus badly you have to employ ten foreigners, generally renegades.
- This is what Turkish patriots have to look to. You <i>must</i> find a
- class of men capable of dealing with this modern deluge, or you will have
- to move out of Europe, all we can say or do to the contrary
- notwithstanding.
- </p>
- <p>
- All very true, say the enemies of the Turks. The facts are patent enough,
- but the remedy! That is all moonshine. You <i>cannot</i> have an educated
- class of Turks, and you cannot stop the deluge; so you had better stand
- back and let it sweep over them as soon as may be, and look out for
- something to follow.
- </p>
- <p>
- I believe that this dispute does touch the very heart of the Eastern
- question, for it goes to the root of their social life; and the answer to
- it must depend, in great part, upon the future of their “peculiar
- institution”—the harem. For, alas the day! the harem is the place of
- education for Turkish boys of the upper classes. And how can it be helped?
- The boys must be with the women for the first years of their lives, and
- the women must be in the harems. We need not believe all the stories which
- are current about the abominations of these places. It is quite likely
- that the number of child-murders and other atrocities, which one hears of
- on all sides, may be exaggerated. But where there is a part of every rich
- man’s house into which the police cannot enter, which is to all intents
- beyond the reach of the law—in which the inmates, all of one sex,
- are confined, with no connection with the outer world, and no occupations
- or interests whatever except food and dress (they are not even allowed to
- attend mosque)—one can hardly be startled by anything which one may
- be told of what is done in them; and it is impossible to conceive a more
- utterly enervating and demoralising place for a boy to be brought up in.
- There is nothing in Turkey answering to the great schools, colleges, and
- universities of Western Europe. There is no healthy home life to
- substitute for them. The harem is the place of education, and, with very
- rare exception, the boys come out of its atmosphere utterly unfitted for
- any useful active life.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is the great difficulty of the Turks in Europe. If they could break
- the neck of it the others need not frighten them; and so the best of them
- feel, and are doing something towards meeting the difficulty. Many Turks
- are setting the example of taking only one wife, and of living with her in
- their own houses as the men of Christian nations do. A few have done away
- with the separate system, so far as they themselves are concerned, and
- their harems are so only in name. They encourage foreign ladies to call on
- their wives, and would gladly go further. Some of them have even tried
- taking their wives with them into public; but this has been premature. The
- nation will not stand it yet. The women themselves object. The few who
- feel the degradation of their present lives, and are anxious to help their
- husbands in getting rid of it, are looked upon with so much suspicion that
- they dare not move on so fast. Honest female conservatism has taken
- fright, and combines with vice, sloth, and jealousy, to keep things as
- they are. However, the women will come round fast enough if the men are
- only in earnest. They get all their outer-world notions from the men, and
- as soon as the men will say, “We wish you to live with us as the Giaours’
- wives live with them,” the thing will be done.
- </p>
- <p>
- I may say, then, from what I have myself seen and heard, that a serious
- attempt is being made by the Turks—few in number, certainly, at
- present, but strong in position and character—to break the chain of
- their old customs, especially this of the harem, and to conform outwardly
- to Western habits and manners. This is being done mainly for political
- reasons, and if nothing more enters into the movement will probably fail;
- for, in spite of the great changes which have taken place in Turkey in
- Europe of late years, there is a tremendous power of passive resistance
- and hatred of all change amongst the people, which no motives of
- expediency will be able to break through. It will take something deeper
- than political expediency to do that. Is there the sign of any such power
- above the horizon?
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, sir, of course my opinion is worth very little. A fortnight’s
- residence in a country, whatever opportunities one may have had, and
- however one may have tried and desired to use them, cannot be of much use
- in judging questions of this kind. Take my impressions, then, for what
- they are worth, at any rate they are honest, and the result of the best
- observation of a deeply interested spectator. Islamism as a religious
- faith is all but gone in Turkey in Europe. Up to 1856 the Turks were still
- a dominant and persecuting race, and Islamism a persecuting creed. Since
- the Hatti humayoun, which was, perhaps, the most important result of the
- Crimean war, there has been nominally absolute religious toleration—actually
- something very nearly approaching to it—in Turkey in Europe.
- Islamism was spread by the sword, and the consequence of this method of
- propagation was that large layers of the population were only nominally
- converted. These have never since been either Moslem or Christians but a
- bad mixture of the two. Since 1856 this has become more and more apparent.
- I will only mention one fact bearing on the point, though I heard many. An
- American missionary traveller in a part of Roumelia not very far from
- Constantinople found the people, though nominally Turks, yet with many
- Christian practices and traditions, to which they were much attached, but
- which they had till lately kept secret. They did not seem inclined to make
- any further profession of Christianity, or to give up their Moslem
- profession, but were anxious that he should read the Bible to them. They
- had not heard it for generations, but had preserved the tradition of it.
- He did so; and afterwards parties of them would come to the Bosphorus to
- his house to hear him read, and, I believe, do so still. It is a curious
- story to hear of bodies of men sitting to hear the old Book read, and
- weeping and going away. It takes one back to the finding of the Book of
- the Law in Josiah’s day. Amongst the Turks proper there is only one
- article of Islamism which is held with any strength, and that is the
- hatred of any approach to image worship. In this they are fanatics still.
- Thirty years ago the then Sultan nearly caused a revolution by having his
- likeness put on coin. The issue was called in, and to this day there is
- nothing but a cipher on the piastres and other Turkish coin. The rest of
- their faith sits very lightly on them, and is much more of a political
- than a religious garment. There is a strong feeling of patriotism amongst
- the people (though it, and all else that is noble, seems to have died out
- amongst the insignificant upper class, if one may speak of such a thing
- here)—a patriotism of race more than of country; and it is this, and
- not their faith, which is holding the present state of things together.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, I am not going to tell you, sir, that the Turks in Europe are about
- to be converted to Christianity. I only say that Islamism is all but dead
- on our continent; that the most able and far-seeing of the Turks see and
- feel this more and more every day themselves; that they are themselves
- adopting, and are trying to introduce, practices and habits which are
- utterly inconsistent with their old creed; that they have, in fact,
- already virtually abandoned it. “We must have a civilisation,” the best
- men amongst them say; “but what we want is a Turkish civilisation, and not
- a French, or Russian, or English civilisation.” Yes; but on what terms is
- such a civilisation possible for you? Well, sir, I am old-fashioned enough
- to believe myself that the Christian faith is the only possible civiliser
- of mankind. The only civilisation which has reached the East—the
- outside civilisation of steam, gas, and the like—will do nothing but
- destroy, unless you have something stronger to graft it upon. What is the
- good of sending messages half round the world in a few seconds, if the
- messages are lies; of carrying cowards and scoundrels about at the rate of
- fifty-miles an hour; of forging instruments of fearful power for the hands
- of the oppressors of the earth? Not much will come of this kind of
- civilisation alone for any nation; and, as for these poor Turks, it is
- powerful enough to blow them up altogether, and that is all it will do for
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- When one stands in Great Sophia, and sees the defaced crosses, and the
- names of Mahomet and his successors, on huge ugly green sign-boards,
- hanging in the most prominent places of the noblest church of the East, it
- is difficult not to feel something of the Crusading spirit. But, if the
- Turks were swept out of Europe to-morrow, I doubt whether it would not be
- a misfortune for the world. We should not only be expelling the best race
- of the country, but they would retire into Asia sullen and resentful,
- hating the West and its faith more than ever. Islamism would gain new life
- from the reaction which would take place; for the Turks will not go
- without making a strong fight, and Turkey in Europe would be left to a
- riff-raff of nominal Christians, with more than all the vices and none of
- the redeeming virtues of their late masters. It would be a far higher and
- nobler triumph for Christendom to see the Turks restoring the crosses and
- taking down the sign-boards. That sooner or later they will become
- Christians I have no sort of doubt whatever, after seeing them; for they
- are too strong a race to disappear. No nation can go on long without a
- faith, and there is none other for them to turn to. Modern Greeks may
- regret their old Paganism—here they say seriously that many of them
- openly avow it; but for a Turk who finds Islamism crumble away beneath
- him, it must be Christianity or nothing. The greatest obstacle to the
- conversion of Turkey will be the degradation of the subject Christian
- races. It is, no doubt, a tremendous obstacle, but there have been
- tremendous obstacles before now which have been cleared by weaker people.
- </p>
- <p>
- I daresay I shall seem lunatic to you, sir, though I know it will not be
- because you think the Christian faith is itself pretty well used up, and
- ought to be thinking of getting itself carried out and buried decently,
- instead of making new conquests. But if you had been living for a
- fortnight on the Bosphorus, you could not help wishing well to the old
- Turks any more than I, and I don’t believe you, any more than I, could by
- any ingenuity find out what good to wish them, except speedy conversion.
- With that all reforms will follow rapidly enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- If you are not thoroughly outraged by these later productions of mine I
- will promise to avoid the Eastern question proper, and will try to give
- you something more amusing next week. Meanwhile, believe me ever
- faithfully yours.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Athens, 1st October 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am afraid, to
- judge by my own café, it is quite impossible to give anything like a true
- idea of Constantinople to those who have never been there; at any rate it
- would require a volume and not two columns to do it, but I can’t help
- trying to impart some of my own impressions to your readers. Miles away in
- the Sea of Marmora you first catch sight of the domes and minarets (like
- huge wax candles with graceful black extinguishers on them) of the capital
- of the East. As you near the mouth of the Bosphorus, on the European side
- lies the Seraglio Point with its palaces, Sublime Porte, and public
- offices and gardens full of noble cypresses. On the Asiatic side lies
- Scutari, the great hospital, with the English cemetery and Marochetti’s
- monument in front of it, occupying the highest and most conspicuous point.
- Midway between the two shores is a rock called Leander’s rock, on which is
- a picturesque little lighthouse. Passing this you turn short to the left
- round Seraglio Point, and open at once the view of the whole city. The
- Golden Horn runs right away in front of you, and on the promontory between
- it and the Sea of Marmora lies the old town of Stamboul, crowned with the
- mosques of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmet. A curious old wooden bridge, some
- five hundred yards in length, crosses the Golden Horn and connects it with
- Galata, a mass of custom-houses, barracks and offices, broken by a
- handsome open square, at one end of which is the Sultan’s mosque. Behind
- these the houses are piled up the steep hill side, and at the top stands
- the striking old tower of Galata, from which you get the finest view of
- Constantinople. Beyond comes Pera, the European quarter, where are the
- Embassies and Missouri’s Hotel. Of course a vast city lining such a
- harbour and strait as the Golden Horn and the Bosphorus must be beautiful,
- but there is something very peculiar in the beauty of Constantinople,
- which the splendid site alone will not account for. I tried hard to
- satisfy myself what it was, and believe that it lies in the wonderful
- colouring of the place. The mosques are splendid, but not so fine as many
- Gothic churches, and the houses in general are far inferior to those of
- most other capitals; and yet, seen in the mass, they are strikingly
- beautiful, for those which are not of wood are almost all covered with
- boarding, which is stained or painted in many different colours. Many of
- them are a deep russet brown, others slate gray, or blue, or deep yellow,
- some pale green with the windows picked out in red. The colours are not
- fresh, but toned down. Then very many of the houses have court-yards, or
- small gardens, and you get the fresh foliage of orange-trees, and figs,
- and cypresses, as a further contrast, and for flooring and ceiling the
- blue of the Bosphorus water and of the cloudless Eastern sky. The moment
- you get into the wretched, narrow, unpaved streets, the charm goes; but
- while you keep to the great high street of the Bosphorus, I don’t believe
- there is any such treat in the world for the lover of colour. And the
- shape of the houses, too, is picturesque: as a rule they have flat roofs
- and deep overhanging eaves, and rows of many windows with open Venetian
- shutters. As we have no time to spare, we will not attempt the town, but
- stick to the high street.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are three accepted ways of passing up and down the Bosphorus. There
- is the common market-boat of the country—a huge, lumbering,
- fiat-bottomed affair, about the size of a Thames lighter, but with high
- bows and stern. It is propelled by six or eight boatmen, each pulling a
- huge oar some eighteen feet long. They pull a long, steady stroke, each
- man stepping up on to the thwart in front of him at the beginning of his
- stroke, and throwing himself back till his weight has dragged his oar
- through, and he finds himself back on his own seat, from which he at once
- springs up and steps forward again for a fresh stroke. It must be splendid
- training exercise, and they make a steady four miles an hour against the
- stream;—no bad pace, for the boats are loaded with fruit-baskets and
- packages and passengers—the veiled women sitting in a group apart in
- the stern. Then there are the steamers, which ply every hour up and down,
- the express boats touching at one or two principal piers, and doing the
- twelve miles from the bridge at Stamboul to Bajukdere in an hour and a
- quarter, the others stopping at every pier, and taking two hours or more.
- They are Government boats, for passengers only, and the fares are somewhat
- higher than those of our Thames steamers. They have a long glazed cabin on
- the after-deck for the first-class male passengers, and a small portion
- screened off further aft, where the veiled women are crowded together.
- Until lately, all women were accustomed to travel behind this screen, but
- the unveiled are beginning to break the rule, and to intrude into the
- cabin of the lords of creation. You see the Turks lift their eyebrows
- slightly as women in crinoline squeeze by them and take their seats, but
- it is too late for any further demonstration. An awning is spread over the
- whole deck, cabin and all, and under it the passengers, who are too late
- to get seats in the cabin, sit about on small low stools. Such a <i>colluvies
- gentium</i> and Babel of tongues no man can see or hear anywhere else I
- should think. By your side, perhaps, sits a scrupulously clean old Turk,
- with his legs tucked up under him and his slippers on the floor beneath.
- He has the vacant hopeless look of an opium-eater, and you see him take
- out his little box from his belt, and feel with nervous fingers how large
- a pellet he may venture on in consideration of the bad company he is in.
- On the other side an English sailor boy, delighted to be able to talk
- broad Durham to somebody, is telling you how he has been down to the
- bazaars and has bought a “hooble booble,” and a bottle of attar of roses
- for the folk at home, and speculating how they would give £5, he knows, at
- Sunderland, to see one of those women who look as if they were done up in
- grave-clothes. Opposite you have a couple of silky-haired Persians, with
- their long soft eyes and clear olive skins, high head-dresses and sombre
- robes, and all about a motley crowd of Turks, Circassians, and Greeks,
- Europeans with muslin round their wideawakes, Maltese, English, and French
- skippers, soldiers in coarse zouave and other uniforms, most of them
- smoking, and the waiters (Italians generally), edging about amongst them
- all with little brazen coffee-trays. An artist wishing to draw the heads
- of all nations could find no richer field, and in the pursuit of his art
- would not of course object to the crush and heat and odour; but as we are
- more bent on comfort, we will go up the Bosphorus in the third conveyance
- indicated above, a caique—and a more fascinating one can scarcely be
- conceived. You may have your caique of any size, from one pair of sculls
- up to the splendid twelve-oared state affairs of ambassadors and pashas;
- but that with three caiquejees or rowers seems to be the most in use
- amongst the rich folk, so we can scarcely do wrong in selecting it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our three-manned caique shall belong to an English merchant, the happy
- owner of a summer villa at Therapia or Bajukdere. He shall be waiting for
- us, and shall board the steamer as it drops anchor opposite Seraglio
- Point. While our portmanteau is being fished up from the hold, we have
- time to examine critically his turn-out. The caique is about the size of
- an old-fashioned four-oar, but more strongly built, with a high sharp bow
- and a capital flat floor, and lies on the water as lightly as a wild duck.
- The caiquejees’ seats are well forward. The stern is decked for some eight
- feet, and in this deck is a hole, so that you can stow your luggage away
- underneath. When the ladies use the caique, their <i>cavass</i>, with his
- red fez, blue braided coat and scimitar, sits grimly with his legs in the
- hole and gives their orders to the caiquejees. Comfortable cushions lying
- on a small Turkey carpet, between the little deck and the stretcher of the
- stroke oar, in the roomiest part of the boat, await you. You will lounge
- on them with your shoulders against the deck, a white umbrella over your
- head, and a cigarette in your mouth. In the climate of the Bosphorus,
- cigarettes of Turkish tobacco supersede all other forms of the weed. The
- caiquejees are wiry, bronzed Turks; their costume, the red fez, a loose
- coloured jacket, generally blue, which they strip off for work, and appear
- in Broussa shirts of camels’ hair fitting to the body, with loose sleeves
- reaching only to the elbow, and baggy white cotton drawers tied at the
- knee. The stroke wears stockings, which the others dispense with; each of
- them keeps his slippers under his own seat. They each pull a pair of
- straight sculls fastened to a single thole pin by a greased thong. You
- follow your friend and portmanteau down the gangway and start, and are at
- once delighted at the skill with which your crew steer through the crowds
- of Maltese boats and caiques, and under great steamers and merchant ships,
- and fall into their regular stroke, twenty-eight to the minute, which they
- never vary for the whole twelve miles. Their form, too, is all that can be
- desired, and would not discredit a London waterman. Turning up the
- Bosphorus you soon lose sight of the Golden Horn, and the old rickety
- bridge which spans it from Stamboul to Galata. You pull away at first
- under the European shore, past the magnificent palace of the present
- Sultan, gleaming white in the sun; and then come other huge piles, some
- tumbling to pieces, some used as barracks, and private houses of all sizes
- and colours, in their little gardens, and warehouses, coffee-shops,
- cemeteries, fruit-markets and mosques. Not a yard of the bank but is
- occupied with buildings, and the houses are piled far up the hillside
- behind. It is the same on the Asiatic side, except that there the houses
- next to the water are chiefly those of the rich Turks, as you may guess
- from the carefully barred and jalousied windows of the harems, and that
- the line of houses is not so deep. And so on for five miles you glide up
- the strait, half a mile or more wide, alive with small boats moving about,
- and men-of-war steamers riding at anchor, through one continuous street.
- Then comes the narrowest part, where the current runs like a mill-tail
- against you. On the European side stand the three towers, connected with
- battlemented walls, built by Mahomed’s orders in the winter before the
- taking of Stamboul and the extinction of the Western Empire. Roumelie
- Hissa the point is called now, and behind it rises the highest hill on the
- Bosphorus. If it is not too hot, your friend will land and walk up with
- you, and when you have reached the top you will see Olympus and the
- distant Nicomedian mountains over the Sea of Marmora to the south, and the
- whole line of the Bosphorus below you, and the Giants’ Mountain and the
- Black Sea away to the north. Behind you lie wild moorlands, covered with
- heather and gum cistus, and arbutus bushes, and a small oak shrub. Here
- and there in the hollows are small patches of vines and other culture,
- with occasional clumps of stone pine and Scotch fir, and chestnut and
- beech, amongst which scanty herds of buffaloes and goats wander, watched
- by melancholy, truculent-looking herdsmen, in great yellow capotes and
- belts, from which a brace of long, old-fashioned pistols and the hilt of a
- long straight dagger stick out. But, desolate as the European side is, it
- is a garden compared to the Asiatic. You look across there, and behind the
- little bright belt of life along the Bosphorus, there is nothing between
- you and the horizon but desert heathery hills, running away as far as the
- eye can reach, without a house, a tree, a beast, or the slightest sign of
- life upon them. I scarcely ever saw so lovely a view, and it is thrown out
- into the most vivid contrast by the life at your feet. You descend to your
- caique again, and now are aware of a towing-path which runs at intervals
- along in front of the houses. A lot of somewhat wretched-looking Turks
- here wait with ropes to tow the caiques and other boats up the rapids.
- Your stroke catches the end of the rope, and fastens it, exclaiming, “<i>Haidee
- babai</i>” (so it sounds), “Push on, my fathers; push on, my lambs”; and
- two little Turks, passing the rope over their shoulders, toil away for
- some hundred yards, when they are dismissed with a minute backsheesh. And
- now the Bosphorus widens out: on the Asiatic side comes the valley of the
- Sweet Waters of Asia, and the new kiosk of the Sultan, which I spoke of
- before, and afterwards only occasional villages and the palaces of one or
- two great pashas. On the European side the houses are still in continuous
- line, but begin to get more elbow-room, and only in the little creeks,
- where the villages lie, are the hillsides much built on. Now you begin to
- see the summer villas of the Europeans, and accordingly an esplanade faced
- with stone, and broad enough for carriages to pass, begins. This upper
- part of the Bosphorus has its own charm. The water is rougher, as there is
- generally a breeze from the Black Sea; and porpoises roll about, and
- flocks of sea-swallows (âmes damnées) flit for ever over the little
- restless waves. The banks between the houses and the wild common land of
- the hill tops are now often taken into the gardens and cultivated in
- terraces; and where this is not so they are clothed with fine Scotch fir
- and stone pine, and avenues of cypress of the height of forest trees, with
- magnificent old gray trunks, marking where paths run up the hillside or
- standing up alone like sombre sentinels. It is not until you get almost to
- Therapia that there is any break in the row of houses. Therapia, where
- Medea is said to have prepared her potions, is a Greek village, built
- round a little bay, the busiest and almost the prettiest place on the
- Bosphorus. There are always half a dozen merchantmen lying there, and a
- sprinkling of European sailors appear amongst the fezzes frequenting the
- quays formed by the esplanade, and there is a café restaurant, and a grog
- shop, where the British sailor can be refreshed with the strong liquors of
- his country. Behind the village is the little cemetery of the Naval
- Brigade, sadly neglected and overshadowed with beech and chestnut trees,
- where Captain Lyons and many another fine fellow lie, to whom their
- countrywomen have raised a large, simple white marble cross, which stands
- up mournfully amongst the tangled grass which creeps over the rows of
- nameless graves. One grieves that it is shoved away out of sight of the
- Bosphorus, up which the brave fellows all went with such stout hearts.
- </p>
- <p>
- You pass more handsome villas and the summer residences of the English and
- French ambassadors just above Therapia, and then comes the Bay of
- Bajukdere, the broadest part of the Bosphorus, with the village of the
- same name on its north shore, the last and handsomest of the suburbs of
- Constantinople, where are the other embassies and the palaces of the
- richest merchants. It was the place where Godfrey of Bouillon encamped
- with his Crusaders. Beyond, the strait narrows again, and runs between
- steep cliffs with a sharp turn into the Black Sea, and close to the mouth
- are the storm-lashed Symplegades.
- </p>
- <p>
- You must fill up the picture with ships of all sorts under the flags of
- all the nations of the earth passing up and down, and people the banks
- with figures in all the quaint and picturesque costumes of the East; but
- no effort of imagination, I fear, can realise the frame in which the whole
- is set, the water of the Bosphorus, and the unfathomable Eastern sky. I
- never had an idea of real depth before. I doubt if it be possible to
- imagine it. I am sure it is impossible to forget it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Athens, 4th October 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e left
- Constantinople for the Piraeus in a French packet. The sun set behind Pera
- just before we started, and at the same moment a priest came out into the
- little balcony which runs round each dizzy minaret some three parts of the
- way up, and called the faithful to prayer. The poor faithful! summoned
- there still at sunrise and sunset to turn towards Mecca, and fall down
- before Him who gave that great city, and the fair European countries
- behind it, to their fathers:—they must pray and work hard too if
- they mean to stay there much longer. We steamed slowly out from the Golden
- Horn, round Seraglio Point, and into night on the Sea of Marmora. I was up
- early the next morning, and saw the sun rise over the islands just as we
- were entering the Dardanelles. We stopped between Lesbos and Abydos to
- take in cargo, time enough to charter one of the fruit boats and pull off
- for a good swim in that romantic water. By ten o’clock we were opening the
- Ægean Sea, with the road close under our larboard bow and Tenedos in front
- of us. We saw the mounds on the shore, known as the tombs of Achilles and
- Ajax, and so passed on wondering. There were half a dozen young Englishmen
- on board, carrying amongst them a Homer, a <i>Childe Harold</i>, and other
- classics. We had much debate as we passed point after point as to the
- possible localities, but I am not sure that we came to any conclusions
- which are worth repeating. About noon, after we had become familiar with
- island after island, well remembered as names from school and college
- days, but now living realities, a faint peak was discovered in the far
- north-west. What could it be? We applied to an officer, and found it was
- Athos. You may fancy what the atmosphere was, sir, for Athos must have
- been at least sixty miles from us at the time.
- </p>
- <p>
- Night came on before any of us were tired of the Ægean. Next morning at
- daybreak we were off the southern point of Euboea, with the coast of
- Attica in sight over the bows. By breakfast-time we were rounding Sunium,
- with the fair columns of a temple crowning the height, the bay of Salamis
- before us, and “Morea’s Hills” for a background; and presently the cliffs
- on the Attic coast gave way to low ground, and one of our company, who had
- been in these parts before, startled us with “There is the Acropolis!”
- “Where?” Operaglasses were handed about, and eager looks cast over the
- plain, till we were aware of a little rocky hill rising up some three
- miles from the shore, and a town lying round the foot of it. The buildings
- of the town gleamed white enough in the sun, but the ruins on the
- Acropolis we could scarcely make out. They were of a deep yellow, not
- easily distinguishable on this side, and at this distance from the rock
- below. The first sensation was one of disappointment—we were all
- candid enough to admit it. We had seen barren coasts enough, but none so
- bare as this of Attica. Hymettus lay on the right, and Pentelicus further
- away on the north, behind Athens and the Acropolis; and from their feet
- right down to the Piraeus, no tree or shrub or sign of cultivation was
- visible, except a strip of sombre green, a mile or so broad, which ran
- along the middle of the plain marking the course of the Ilyssus. In the
- early spring and summer they do get crops off portions of the plain, but
- by the end of September it is as dry, dusty, and bare as the road to Epsom
- Downs on a Derby Day.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little arid amphitheatre, not larger than a moderatesized English
- county, with its capital and Acropolis, looked so insignificant, and but
- for the bright sunshine would have been so dreary, that to keep from
- turning away and not taking a second look at it, one was obliged to keep
- mentally repeating, “It is Attica, after all!” Matters improved a little
- as we got nearer, and before the Acropolis was hidden from our view by the
- steep little hill crowned with windmills which rises up between the
- Piraeus and Munychia, we could clearly make out the shape of the
- Parthenon, and confessed that the rock on which it stood was for its size
- a remarkable one, and in a commanding position.
- </p>
- <p>
- You see nothing of the Piraeus till you round this hill and open the mouth
- of the harbour, narrowed to this day by the old Athenian moles, so that
- there is scarcely room for two large vessels to pass in it. It is a lively
- little harbour enough. Three men-of-war, English, French, and Greek, were
- lying there when we entered, and an Austrian Lloyd steamer and a dozen or
- two merchantmen. We were surrounded by dozens of boats, the boatmen
- dressed in the white cotton petticoats and long red fezzes, not mere
- scull-caps like those of the Turks—a picturesque dress enough, but
- not to be named for convenience or beauty with that of the Bosphorus
- boatmen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Most of our party started at once for Athens, but I and a companion,
- resolved on enjoying the Mediterranean as long as we could, crossed the
- hill, and descended to the Munychia for a bath, which we achieved in the
- saltest and most buoyant water I have ever been in. The rocks (volcanic,
- apparently), on which we dressed and were nearly grilled, were all covered
- with incrustations of salt, looking as if there had been a tremendous
- frost the night before. After our bath we strolled through the little port
- town, hugely amused with the Greek inscriptions over the shop-doors, and
- with the lively, somewhat rowdy look and ways of the place; and, resisting
- the solicitations of many of the dustiest kind of cab-drivers, who were
- hanging about with their vehicles on the look-out for a fare to Athens,
- struck across the low marsh land, where the Ilissus must run when he can
- find any water to bring down from the hills, and were soon in amongst the
- olive groves. Here we were delivered from the dust at any rate, and in a
- few minutes met a Greek with a basket of grapes on his head, from whom,
- for half a franc, we purchased six or seven magnificent bunches, and went
- on our way mightily refreshed. We had made up our minds to be disappointed
- with the place, and so were not sorry to be out of sight of it, and the
- olive groves were quite new to us. Some of the old trees were very
- striking. They were quite hollow, but bearing crops of fruit still quite
- merrily, as if it were all right, and what was left of the trunk was all
- divided into grisly old fretwork, as if each root had just run up
- independently into a branch, and had never really formed part of the tree.
- They looked as if they might be any age—could Plato have sat or
- walked under some of them?
- </p>
- <p>
- Vines grow under the olives, just as currant and gooseberry bushes under
- the fruit-trees in our market gardens. They were loaded with fine grapes,
- and the vintage was going lazily on here and there. There were
- pomegranates too scattered about, the fruit splitting with ripeness. It
- was tremendously hot, but the air so light and fresh that walking was very
- pleasant. Presently we came to an open space, and caught a glimpse of the
- Acropolis; and now that we were getting round to the front of it, and
- could catch the outline of the Parthenon against the sky, it began to
- occur to us that we had been somewhat too hasty.
- </p>
- <p>
- In among the olive groves again, and then out on another and another
- opening, till at last, when we came upon the <i>Via sacra</i>, we could
- stand it no longer. The ruins had become so beautiful, and had such an
- attraction, that giving up the grove of the Academy and Colonus, which
- were not half a mile ahead of us, and which we had meant to visit, we
- turned short to the right, and walked straight for the town at a pace
- which excited the laughter of merry groups dawdling round the little sheds
- where the winepresses were working. The town through which we had to pass
- is ugly, dusty, and glaring. There are one or two broad streets, with
- locust-trees planted along the sides of them, but not old enough yet to
- give shade; and in the place before the palace, on which our hotel looked,
- there are a few shrubs and plenty of prickly pears, which seem to be
- popular with the Athenians, and are the most misshapen hot-looking affairs
- which I have yet met with in the vegetable world. But shade, shade—one
- longs for it, and there is none; and the glare and heat are almost too
- much, even at the beginning of October—in summer it must be
- unendurable. If the Athenians would only take one leaf out of the book of
- their old enemies, and stain and paint their houses as the Turks of the
- Bosphorus do! But though the houses are as ugly as those of a London
- suburb, and there are no tolerable public buildings except one church, the
- modern town is a very remarkable one, when one comes to remember that
- thirty years ago there were only ten or twelve hovels here. But you may
- suppose that one scarcely looks at or thinks of the modern town; but
- pushing straight through it, makes for the Acropolis. A fine broad
- carriage-road runs round the back of the hill, and so up with a long sweep
- to the bottom of the western face, the one which we had seen from the
- olive groves. You can manage to pass the stadium and the columns of
- Jupiter on your left, as you ascend, without diverging, but even to reach
- the Parthenon you cannot go by the theatre of Dionysus, lying on your
- right against the northern face of the Acropolis, without stopping. They
- are excavating and clearing away the rubbish every day from new lines of
- seats; you can trace tier above tier now, right up the face of the hill,
- till you get to precipitous cliff; and down below, in the dress circle,
- the * marble seats are almost as fresh as the day they were made; and most
- comfortable stalls they are, though uncushioned, with the rank of their
- old occupants still fresh on them. You could take your choice and sit in
- the stall of a [Greek phrase] as you fancied. Below was the actual stage
- on which the tragedies of Sophocles and Æschylus were played to audiences
- who understood even the toughest chorus; and, for a background, Hymettus
- across the plain, and the sea and islands! We passed yet another theatre
- as we went up the hill, but nothing now could turn us from the Parthenon,
- and certainly it very far exceeded anything I had ever dreamt of. Every
- one is familiar with the shape and position and colour of the ruins from
- photographs and paintings. We look at them and admire, and suppose they
- grew there, or at any rate scarcely give a thought to how they did get
- there.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I’ll defy any man to walk up the Propylæa and about the Parthenon
- without being struck with wonder at the simple question, how it all got
- there. Can the stories we have all been taught be true? Leaving beauty
- altogether out of the question, here you are in the midst of the wreck of
- one of the largest buildings you ever were in. You see that it was built
- of blocks of white marble; that the columns are formed of these blocks,
- each some four feet high, and so beautifully fitted together that at the
- distance of two thousand years you very often cannot find the joints,
- except where the marble is chipped. You see that the whole of this
- building was originally surrounded by most elaborate sculpture; you see
- that the whole side of the hill up which you approach the great temple was
- converted into a magnificent broad staircase of white marble—in
- short, you see probably the greatest architectural feat that has ever been
- done in the world, and are told that it was done by a small tribe—not
- more numerous than the population of a big English town—who lived in
- that little barren corner of earth which you can overlook from end to end
- from your standing-place, in the lifetime of one generation; that Pericles
- thought the idea out, and the Athenians quarried the marble, carried it up
- there, carved it, and built it up, in his lifetime. Well, it <i>is</i>
- hard to believe; but when one has sat down on one of the great blocks, and
- looked over Salamis and Ægina, and the Isthmus of Corinth, and then down
- at the groves of the Academy and the Pynx and the Areopagus, and
- remembered that at this very time the thoughts, and methods of thought, of
- that same small tribe are still living, and moulding the minds of all the
- most civilised and powerful nations of the earth, the physical wonder, as
- usual, dwarfs and gives way before the spiritual. We saw the sunset, of
- course, from the front of the Parthenon, and then descended to the
- Areopagus, and stood on, or at any rate within a few feet of, the place
- where the glorious old Hebrew of the Hebrews stood, and looking up at
- those marvellous temples made by man, spoke a strange story in the ears of
- the crowd, whose only pleasure was to hear or tell some new thing. It is
- the only place where I have ever come in my journeyings right across the
- Scripture narrative, and certainly the story shines out with new light
- after one has stood on the very rock, and felt how the scene before Paul’s
- eyes must have moved him.
- </p>
- <p>
- We got to our inn after dark, and after dining went to a Greek play.
- Theatre and acting both decidedly second-rate, the audience consisting
- chiefly of officers—smart-looking young fellows enough. There were
- two murders in the first act, but I regret to say that we could none of us
- make out the story of the play. There were half a dozen young men, all
- with good brains, none of whom had left our Universities more than two
- years, at which the Greek language is all but the most prominent study,
- and yet they might as well have been hearing Arabic. As for myself—unluckily
- my ear is so bad that I can never catch words which are not familiar to me—on
- this occasion, indeed, I could almost have sworn the actors were using
- French words. But it really is a pity that we can’t take to the modern
- Greek pronunciation in England. One goes into Athens, and can read all the
- notices and signs, and even spell through a column of newspaper with a
- little trouble, and yet, though one would give one’s ears to be able to
- talk, cannot understand a word, or make oneself understood. We managed,
- however, to get a clear enough notion that something serious was going to
- happen; and from several persons, French, Italian, and Greek, learned
- positively that Prince Alfred was to be King of Greece shortly, which
- remarkable proposition has since spread widely over the world. We sailed
- from Athens, after a two days’ stay, in an Austrian Lloyd boat. The
- sailors were all Italians, and there were certainly not much more than
- half the number which we found on the French boat from Constantinople. And
- yet the Austrian Lloyd Company has not lost a boat since it was a company,
- and the Messageries Impériales have done nothing but lose theirs. Happily,
- the French are not natural sailors, or there would be no peace on sea or
- land.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Run Home, October 1862.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e ran from Athens
- to Syra through the islands, in a bright moonlight, and half a gale of
- wind, the most enjoyable combination of circumstances in the world for
- those who are not given to sea-sickness. The island is a rock almost as
- bare as Hymettus, and that is the most barren simile I can think of—any
- hill in the Highlands would look like a garden beside it. But it has a
- first-rate small harbour, which has become the central packet-station of
- the Levant; and the town which has sprung up round the harbour is the most
- stirring place in the East, and the commercial capital of Greece. A very
- quaint place to look at, too, is Syra, for at the back of the lower town,
- which lies round the harbour, rises a conical hill, very steep, right up
- to the top of which a second town is piled, with the Bishop’s palace on
- the highest point. This second, or pyramidal, town is built on terraces,
- and is only accessible to foot passengers, who ascend by a broad stone
- staircase, running from the lower town up to the Bishop’s palace, and so
- bisecting the pyramid. As restless a place as ever I was in, in which
- nothing seems to be produced, but everything in the world exchanged—a
- very temple of the Trade Goddess, of whom I should say there are few more
- devout or successful worshippers than the Greeks. Here we waited through a
- long broiling day for the steamer, which was to take us westward—homewards.
- </p>
- <p>
- In travelling there is only one pleasure which can be named with the start—that
- luxurious moment when one unstrings the bow, and leaving one’s common
- pursuits and everyday life, plunges into new scenes—and that is, the
- turning home. I had never been so far or so long away from England before,
- so that the sensation was proportionately keen as we settled into our
- places in the <i>Pluto</i>, one of the finest of the Austrian Lloyd boats,
- which was to take us to Trieste. And a glorious run we made of it. In the
- morning we were off the Lacedaemonian coast. Almost as bare, this home of
- the Spartans, as that of their old rivals in Attica; in fact, all the
- south of the Peloponnesus is barren rock. We might almost have thrown a
- stone on to Cape Matapan as we passed. Above, the western coast soon
- begins to change its character, and scanty pine forests on the mountains,
- and not unfrequent villages, with more or less of cultivated land round
- them, are visible. Towards evening we steam past the entrance of Navarino
- Bay, scarcely wider than that of Dartmouth harbour, but with room inside
- for four modern fleets to ride and fight; as likely a place for a corsair
- to haunt and swoop out of, in old days, as you could wish to see. Night
- fell, and we missed the entrance to the Gulf of Corinth; and Ithaca, alas!
- was also out of sight astern before we were on deck again. But we could
- not complain; the Albanian coast, under which we were running, was too
- beautiful to allow us a moment for regret—mountains as wild and
- barren, and twice as high, as those of Southern Greece, streaked with rich
- valleys, and well-clothed lower hills. By midday we were ashore at Corfu,
- driving through the old Venetian streets, and on, over English macadamised
- roads, through olive groves finer than those of Attica, up to the one-gun
- battery—the finest view in the fairest island of the world. Bathing,
- and lunching, and all but letting the steamer go on without us! Steaming
- away northward again, leaving the shade of the union-jack under which we
- had revelled for a few hours, and the delightful sound of the vernacular
- in the mouth of the British soldiers, for a twenty-four hours’ run up the
- Adriatic, and into Trieste harbour, just in time to baulk a fierce little
- storm which came tearing down from the Alps to meet us.
- </p>
- <p>
- Trieste is the best paved town I was ever in, and otherwise internally
- attractive, while in the immediate neighbourhood, on the spurs of the
- great mountains and along the Adriatic shore, are matchless sites for
- country houses, and many most fascinating houses on them. For choice, the
- situation, to my mind, even beats the celebrated hills round Turin, for
- the view of the Adriatic turns the scale in favour of the former. But
- neither city nor neighbourhood held us, and we hurried on to Venice by
- rail, with the sea on our left, and the great Alpine range on our right—now
- close over us, now retiring—the giant peaks looking dreamily down on
- us through a hot shadowy haze all the day long. Poor Venice! we lingered
- there a few days amidst pictures and frescoes and marbles; at night
- drinking our coffee in the Place of St. Mark, on the Italian side,
- watching the white and blue uniforms on the other, and hearing the
- Austrian military band play, or gliding in a gondola along the moonlit
- grand canal. English speculators are getting a finger in house property at
- Venice. There were placards up in English on a dozen of the palaces, “To
- be let or sold,” with the direction of the vendors below. What does this
- portend? Let us hope not restoration on Camberwell or Pentonville
- principles of art.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then we sped westward again, getting an hour in the Giotto chapel at
- Padua, a long day at Verona, amongst Roman ruins and Austrian
- fortifications, and the grand churches, houses, and tombs of the
- Scaligers. Over the frontier, then, into Italy. ‘While the Austrian
- officials diligently searched baggage and spelt out passports, I consoled
- myself with getting to a point close to the station, pointed out by a
- railway guard, and taking a long look at the heights of Solferino and the
- high tower—the watch-tower of Italy, a mile or two away to the
- south. To Milan, through mulberries and vines—rich beyond all fancy;
- the country looked as we passed as if peace and plenty had set up their
- tent there. But little enough of either was there in the people’s homes.
- The news of Garibaldi’s capture and wound was stirring men’s minds
- fearfully; and all the cotton mills, too, of which there are a good number
- scattered about, were just closing; wages, already fearfully low, were
- falling in other trades. I came across a Lancashire foreman, who had
- escaped the day before from the mill in which he had been employed for
- five years, and only just escaped with his life. Sixteen men had been
- stabbed and carried to the hospitals in the closing row. He was making the
- best of his way back. “What was the state of things in Lancashire to what
- he had just got out of,” he answered, when I spoke of our distress. “He
- had been standing for three hours and more in a dark corner, with two men
- within a few feet of him waiting to stab him.” I rejoice to say that in
- the streets of Milan we saw everywhere unmistakable signs that Italy is
- beginning to appreciate her faithful ally. Some of the best political
- caricatures were as good as could be—as Doyle’s or Leech’s—and
- bitter as distilled gall. At Turin we had time to see the monuments of the
- two Queens, the mother and wife of Victor Emmanuel, in a little
- out-of-the-way Church of Our Lady of Consolation, where they used
- constantly to worship in life; their statues are kneeling side by side in
- white marble—as touching a monument as I have ever seen. Murray does
- not mention it (his last edition was out before it was put up), so some
- stray reader of yours may perhaps thank me for the hint. Over the Mount
- Cenis, and down into Savoy, past the mouth of the tunnel which, in six
- years or so, is to take us under the Alps to the lovely little town of St.
- Michael, where the rail begins, we went, pitying the stout king from whom
- so beautiful a birthplace had been filched by the arch robber; and so day
- and night to Paris; and, after a day’s breathing, a drive along the trim
- new promenades of the Bois de Boulogne, and a look round the
- ever-multiplying new streets of the capital of cookery and gilded mirrors,
- in ten hours to London.
- </p>
- <p>
- Poor dear old London! groaning under the last days of the Great
- Exhibition. After those bright, brave, foreign towns, how dingy, how
- unkempt and uncared for thou didst look! From London Bridge station we
- passed through a mile and a half of the most hideous part of Southwark to
- the west. Even in the west, London was out at elbows, the roads used up,
- the horses used up; the omnibus coachmen and cads,—the cabbies, the
- police, the public, all in an unmistakable state of chronic seediness and
- general debility. In spic-and-span Paris yesterday, and here to-day! Well,
- one could take thee a thought cleaner and more cheerful, and be thankful,
- Old London; but after all, as we plunge into thy fog and reek and roar,
- and settle into our working clothes again, we are surer than ever of one
- thing, which must reconcile any man worth his salt to making thee his
- home,—thou art unmistakably the very heart of the old world.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Dieppe, Sunday, 13th September 1863.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have just come
- away from hearing a very remarkable sermon at the Protestant church here,
- of which I should like to give you some idea before it goes out of my
- head. The preacher was a M. Bevel, a native of Dieppe, now a minister at
- Amsterdam, where he has a high reputation. He is here visiting his mother,
- which visit I should say is likely to be cut short if he goes on preaching
- such sermons as he gave us to-day, or else a liberty is allowed in the
- pulpit in France which is not to be had elsewhere. The service began with
- a hymn. Then a layman read out the Commandments at a desk. Then we sang
- part of Psalm xxv.; one of the verses ran:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Qui craint Dieu, qui veut bien,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Jamais ne s’égarera,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Car au chemin qu’il doit suivre
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Dieu même le conduira—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- À son aise et sans ennui
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Il verra le plus long âge,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Et ses enfans après lui
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Auront la terre en partage.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Good healthy doctrine this, and an apt introduction to the sermon. While
- we were singing, M. Revel mounted the pulpit. He is a man of thirty-five
- or thereabouts; middlesized, bald, dark; with a broad brow, large gray
- eyes, and sharp, well-cut features. After two short extempore prayers—almost
- the only ones I have ever heard in which there was nothing offensive—he
- began his sermon on a text in Ecclesiastes. As it had little bearing on
- the argument, and was never alluded to again, I do not repeat it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is much talk,” M. Revel began, “in our day about an order of
- nature. All acknowledge it; as science advances it is found more and more
- to be unchangeable. We ought to rejoice in this unchangeableness of the
- order of nature, for it is a proof of the existence of a God of order. Had
- we found the earth all in confusion it would have been a proof that there
- could be no such God. But this God has established a moral order for man
- as unchangeable as the order of nature. It was recognised by the heathen
- who worshipped Nemesis. The whole of history is one long witness to this
- moral order, but we need not go back far for examples. Look at Poland,
- partitioned by three great monarchs, and at what is happening and will
- happen there. Look at America, the land of equality, of freedom, of
- boundless plenty, and what has come on her for the one great sin of
- slavery. Look at home, at the story of the great man who ruled France at
- the beginning of our new era, the man of success—‘<i>qui éblouissait
- lui-même en éblouissant les autres</i>,’ who answered by victory upon
- victory those who maintained that principle had still something to say to
- the government of the world, and remember his end on the rock in
- mid-ocean.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be sure, then, that there is an unchangeable moral order, and this is the
- first law of it, ‘<i>Qui fait du mal fait du malheur</i>.’ The most
- noticeable fact in connection with this moral order which our time is
- bringing out is the <i>solidarité</i> of the human race. The <i>solidarité</i>
- of the family and the nation was recognised in old times. Now, commerce
- and intercourse are breaking down the barriers of nations. A rebellion in
- China, a war in America, is felt at once in France, and the full truth is
- dawning upon us that nothing but a universal brotherhood will satisfy men.
- But you may say that punishment follows misdoing so slowly that the moral
- order is virtually set aside. Do not believe it. ‘<i>Qui fait du mal fait
- du malheur</i>.’ The law is certain; but if punishment followed at once,
- and fully, on misdoing, mankind would be degraded. On the other hand, ‘<i>Qui
- fait du bon fait du bonheur</i>,’ and this law is equally fixed and
- unchangeable in the moral order of the world.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may wonder that I have scarcely used the name of Christ to you
- to-day; but what need? I have spoken of humanity; He is the Son of Man, of
- a universal brotherhood which has no existence without Him, of which He is
- the founder and the head.”
- </p>
- <p>
- As we came out of church it was amusing to hear the comments of the
- audience, at least of the English portion. Some called it rank Socialism,
- others paganism, others good sound Christian teaching; but all seemed to
- agree that it was very stirring stuff, and that this would be the last
- time that M. Bevel would be allowed to address his old fellow-townsmen
- from the pulpit. Indeed, his sketch of Napoleon I. was much too true to be
- acceptable to Napoleon III., and though his doctrine of universal
- brotherhood may be overlooked, I should scarcely think that his historical
- views can be. I was utterly astonished myself to hear such a sermon in a
- French pulpit. I had never heard M. Bevel before; but his reputation,
- which seems to be very great, is thoroughly deserved. The sermon of which
- I have tried to give you a skeleton lasted for fifty minutes, and never
- flagged for a moment. Sometimes he was familiar and colloquial, sometimes
- impassioned, sometimes argumentative, but always eloquent. He spoke with
- his whole body as well as with his voice, which last organ was managed
- with rare skill; and, indeed, every faculty of the man was thoroughly
- trained for his work, and so well trained, that notwithstanding my English
- dislike to action or oratory in a pulpit, I never felt that it was
- overdone or in bad taste. In short, I never heard such scientific
- preaching, and came away disabused of the notion that extempore sermons
- must be either flat, or vulgar, or insincere. I only wish our young
- parsons would take the same pains in cultivating their natural gifts as M.
- Revel has done, and hope that any of them who may chance to read this will
- take an opportunity the next time they are at Amsterdam of going to hear
- M. Revel, and taking a lesson. I have been trying to satisfy myself for
- the last three days what it is which makes this town so wonderfully
- different from any English provincial town of the same size. I do not mean
- the watering-place end of it next the sea, which is composed of the
- crystal palace known as the <i>établissement des bains</i>, great hotels,
- and expensive lodging-houses,—this quarter is inhabited by strangers
- of all nations, and should be compared to Brighton or Scarborough,—but
- the quiet old town behind, which has nothing in common with the
- watering-place, and is as hum-drum a place as Peterborough. As far as I
- can make out, the difference lies in the enjoyment which these Dieppois
- seem to take in their daily business. We are called a nation of
- shopkeepers now by all the world, so I suppose there must be some truth in
- the nickname. But certainly the Englishman does his shopkeeping with a
- very bad grace, and not the least as if he liked it. He sits or stands at
- his counter with grim, anxious face, and it requires an effort, after one
- has entered his trap and asked a question as to any article, to retire
- without buying. The moment his closing time comes, up go the shutters, and
- he clears out of the shop, and takes himself off out of sight and hearing
- of it as fast as he can. But here in Dieppe (and the rule holds good, I
- think, in all French towns) the people seem really to delight in their
- shops, and by preference to live in them, and in the slice of street in
- front of them, rather than in any other place. In fact, the shops seem to
- be convenient places opened to enable their owners to <i>causer</i> with
- the greatest possible number of their neighbours and other people, rather
- than places for the receipt of custom and serious making of money. I doubt
- if any man is a worse hand at shopping than I, and yet I can go boldly
- into any shop here, and turn over the articles, and chaffer over them, and
- then go out without buying, and yet feel that I have conferred a benefit
- rather than otherwise on the proprietor of the establishment. And as to
- closing time, there is no such thing. The only difference seems to be that
- after a certain hour, if you choose to walk into a shop, you will probably
- find yourself in a family party. No one turns off the gas until he goes to
- bed, so as you loiter along you have the advantage of seeing everything
- that is going on, and the inhabitants have what they clearly hold to be an
- equivalent, the opportunity of looking at and talking about you. The
- master of the shop sits at his ease, sometimes reading his journal,
- sometimes still working at his trade in an easygoing way, as if it were a
- pleasure to him, and chatting away as he works. His wife is either working
- with her needle or casting up the accounts of the day, but in either case
- is ready in a moment to look up and join in any talk that may be going on.
- The younger branches of the family disport themselves on the floor, or
- play dominoes on the counter, or flirt with some neighbour of the opposite
- sex who has dropped in, in the further corners. The pastrycooks’ seem
- favourite social haunts, and often you will find two or three of the
- nearest shops deserted, and the inmates gathered in a knot round the
- sleek, neatly-shaved citizens who preside in spotless white caps, jackets,
- and aprons, over these temples of good things. In short, the life of the
- Dieppe burgher is not cut into sharp lengths as it would be with us, one
- of which is religiously set apart for trade and nothing else. Business and
- pleasure seem with him to be run together, and he surrounds the whole with
- a halo of small-talk which seems to make life run off wonderfully easily
- and happily to him. Whether his method of carrying on trade results in as
- good articles as with us I cannot say, for the Dieppois is by no means
- guileless enough to part with his wares cheap, so that I have had very
- little experience of them. But certainly the general aspect of his daily
- life, so much more easy, so much more social than that of his compeer in
- England, has a good deal of fascination about it. On better acquaintance
- very possibly the charm might disappear, but at first one is inclined
- strongly to wish that we could take a leaf out of his book, and learn to
- take things more easily. The wisdom which has learnt that there are vastly
- few things in this world worth worrying about will, I fear, be a long time
- in leavening the British nation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The people of Dieppe are a remarkably well-conducted and discreet folk in
- every way—wonderfully so when one considers their close
- neighbourhood to the richest and most fashionable crowd which frequents
- any French watering-place. Of these, and their amusements, and habits, and
- wonderful costumes in and out of the sea, I have no room to speak in this
- letter. They are now gone, or fast going, and this is the time for people
- of moderate means and quiet tastes, who wish to enjoy the deliciously
- exciting air and pretty scenery of this very charming old sea town, which
- furnished most of the ships for the invasion of England eight hundred
- years ago, and will well repay the costs of a counter invasion. Only let
- the English invader take care when he sets his foot on the Norman shore,
- unless he thinks it worth while to be fleeced for the honour and glory of
- being under the same roof with French dukes, Russian princes, and English
- milords, to give a wide berth to the Hotel Royal. I am happy to say I do
- not speak from personal experience, but only give voice to the universal
- outcry against the extortion of this huge hotel, the most fashionable in
- Dieppe. The last story is that an English nobleman travelling with a
- courier, who arrived late one evening, did not dine, and left early the
- next morning, had to pay a bill of 75 francs for his entertainment. The
- bill must have been a work of-high art.
- </p>
- <p>
- I hope in another letter to give you some notions of the watering-place
- life, which is very quaint and amusing, and as unlike our seaside doings
- as the old town is unlike our ordinary towns.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Bathing at Dieppe, 17th September 1863.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat great work,
- the <i>Sartor Resartus</i>, should have contained a chapter on
- bathing-dresses, and I have no doubt would have done so had the author
- been a frequenter of French watering-places. Each of these—even such
- a little place as Treport—has its <i>établissement des bains</i>,
- its etiquettes and rules as to the dress and comportment of its bathing
- populations; and Dieppe is the largest, and not the least quaint, of them
- all. The <i>établissement</i> here is a long glass and iron building like
- the Crystal Palace, with a dome in the middle, under which there are daily
- concerts and nightly balls; and a transept at each end, one of which is a
- very good reading-room, while in the other a mild kind of gambling goes
- on, under the form of a lottery, for smelling bottles, clocks, and such
- like ware. I am told that the play here is by no means so innocent as it
- looks, and that persons in search of investments for spare cash can be
- accommodated to any amount, but to a stranger nothing of this discloses
- itself. Between this building and the sea there runs a handsome esplanade,
- the favourite promenade, and immediately underneath are the rows of little
- portable canvas huts which serve as bathing machines. The ladies bathe
- under one end of the esplanade, and the gentlemen under the other, while
- the fashionable crowd leans over, or sits by the low esplanade wall,
- inspecting the proceedings. This contiguity is, no doubt, the cause of the
- wonderful toilets, <i>spécialités des bains</i>, which fill the shops
- here, and are used by all the ladies and many of the men. They consist of
- large loose trousers and a jacket with skirts, made of fine flannel or
- serge, of all shades of colour according to taste, and of waterproof
- bathing caps, all of which garments are trimmed with blue, or pink, or red
- bows and streamers. Over all the <i>baigneurs comme il faut</i> throw a
- large cloak, also tastefully trimmed. Thus habited the lady walks out of
- her hut attended by a maid, to whom when she reaches the water’s edge she
- hands her cloak, and, taking the hand of one of the male <i>baigneurs</i>,
- proceeds with such plunges and dancings as she has a fancy for, and then
- returns to the shore, is enveloped in her cloak by her maid, and re-enters
- her hut. These male <i>baigneurs</i> are a necessary accompaniment of the
- performance. I have only heard of one case of resistance to the custom,
- which ended comically enough. A young Englishman, well known in foreign
- society, was here with his wife, who insisted on bathing, but vowed she
- would go into the water with no man but her husband. He consented, and in
- due course appeared on the ladies’ side with his pretty wife, in most
- discreet apparel, went through the office of <i>baigneur</i>, and returned
- to his own side. This raised a storm among the lady bathers, and the
- authorities interfered. The next day the lady went to the gentlemen’s
- side; but this was even more scandalous, and was also forbidden. The
- persecuted couple then took; to bathing at six in the morning; but, alas!
- on the second morning the esplanade was lined even at that untimely hour
- by young Frenchmen, who, though by no means early risers, had made a point
- of being out to assist at the bath of their eccentric friends, and as
- these last did not appreciate the <i>éclat</i> of performing alone for the
- amusement of their friends, the lawless efforts of <i>ces Anglais</i> came
- to an end. In England, where dress for the water is not properly attended
- to by either sex, one quite understands the rule of absolute separation;
- but here, where every lady is accompanied by a man in any case, where she
- is more covered than she is in a ballroom, and where all her acquaintance
- are looking on, it does not occur to one why she should not be accompanied
- by her husband. For, as on the land, here people are much better known by
- their dress in the water than by anything else. A young gentleman asked
- one of his partners whether she had seen him doing some particular feat of
- swimming that morning; she answered that she had not recognised him, to
- which he replied, “Oh! you may always know me by my straw hat and red
- ribbon.” The separation here is certainly a farce, for at sixty yards, as
- we know from our musketry instructors, you recognise the features of the
- party; and the distance between the men and women bathers is not so much.
- The rule is enforced, however, at any depth. A brother and sister, both
- good swimmers, used to swim out and meet one another at the boat which
- lies in the offing in case of accidents. But this was stopped, as they
- talked together in English, which excited doubts as to their relationship.
- I suppose it would be more improper for girls and boys of marriageable age
- to swim together than to walk; but I vow at this moment I cannot see why.
- </p>
- <p>
- You may fancy, sir, that in such a state of things as I have described,
- good stories on the great bathing subject are rife. The last relates to a
- beauty of European celebrity, who is known to be here and to be bathing,
- but keeps herself in such strict privacy that scarcely a soul has been
- able to get a look at her, even behind two thick veils. Had she really
- wished to be unnoticed she could not have managed worse. The mystery set
- all the female world which frequents the <i>établissement</i> in a tremor.
- They were like a knot of sportsmen when a stag of ten tines has been seen
- in the next glen, or when a 30 lb. salmon has broken the tackle of some
- cunning fisherman, and is known to lie below a certain stone. Of course,
- they were sure that something dreadful must have happened to her looks,
- which she who should be happy enough to catch her bathing would detect. In
- spite of all, the beauty eluded them for some time, but at last she has
- been stalked, and I am proud to say, sir, by a sportswoman of our own
- country. By chance this lady was walking at eight in the morning, when the
- tide was so low that no one was bathing. She saw a figure dressed <i>en
- bourgeoise</i> approaching the bathing-place, apparently alone, but two
- women suspiciously like maids followed at a respectful distance. It
- flashed across our countrywoman that this must be the incognita; she
- followed. To her delight, the three turned to the bathing-ground, and
- disappeared in two huts which had been placed together apparently by
- accident. She took up a position a few yards from the huts. After an
- agonising pause the door opened, and a head appeared, which was instantly
- withdrawn, but now too late. The mystery was solved. It was too late-to
- send maids to the <i>directeur</i> of the baths to warn off the spectator,
- and, moreover, useless, for she politely declined to move, though there
- was nothing more to discover. The whole establishment is ringing with the
- news that the beauty is <i>pale comme une morte</i>, and the inference, of
- course, follows that paint has been forbidden. You will also, sir, no
- doubt, be interested to know that she wears a red rose on the top of her
- bathing-cap, which, having regard to her present complexion, does not say
- much for her taste in the choice of colours.
- </p>
- <p>
- But if the water toilets here are fabulous, what shall I say of those on
- the land? The colours, the textures, the infinite variety, and general
- loudness of these bewilder the sight and baffle the pen of ordinary
- mortals. The keenest rivalry is kept up amongst the fair frequenters of
- the establishment. They sit by hundreds there working and casing of
- afternoons, while the band plays from three to six, or sweeping about on
- the esplanade; and in the evening are there again in ever new and brighter
- colours. The <i>Dieppe Journal</i> comments on the most striking toilets.
- It noticed with commendation the purple velvet petticoats of the ladies of
- a millionaire house; it glowed in describing the “<i>toilette Écossaise</i>”
- of another rich Frenchwoman. An officer on reading the announcement laid
- down the paper, and addressed a lady, his neighbour, “Mais, madame,
- comment est que ça se fait?” He, worthy man, had but one idea of the
- toilet in question, which he had gained from the Highland regiments in the
- Crimea. I am happy to say, both for their own sakes and their husbands and
- fathers, that the Englishwomen are by far the most simply dressed. The men
- generally speaking are clad like rational beings, but with many
- exceptions. I hear of a celebrity in gray velvet knickerbockers and pink
- silk stockings, but have not seen him. A man in a black velvet suit, and a
- red beard reaching his waist, has just walked past, without apparently
- exciting wonder in any breast but that of your contributor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dieppe must be a paradise to the rising generation. The children share all
- the amusements of their elders, and have also special entertainments of
- their own, amongst which one notes specially two balls a week at the
- establishment. The whole building is brilliantly lighted every evening,
- and on these nights the space under the central dome is cleared of chairs,
- and makes a splendid ballroom. Here the little folk assemble, and go
- through the whole performance solemnly, just like their elders. The raised
- permanent seats are occupied by mammas, nurses, governesses, and the
- public. The girls sit round on the lowest seats, and the boys gather in
- groups talking to them, or walking about in the centre. They are of all
- nations, in all costumes—one boy in a red Garibaldian blouse and
- belt I noted as the most dangerous flirt. There were common English
- jackets and trousers, knickerbockers of many colours, and many little blue
- French uniforms. There was no dancer older than fifteen, and some
- certainly as young as seven. When the music began, the floor was at once
- covered with couples, who danced quadrilles, waltzes, and a pretty dance
- like the Schottische, to the tune of “When the green leaves come again.”
- At the end of each dance the girls were handed to their chairs with bows
- worthy of Beau Brummel. There were at least 200 grown folk looking on, and
- a prettier sight I have seldom seen, for the children danced beautifully
- for the most part. Should I like my children to be amongst them? That is
- quite another affair. On the whole, I incline to agree with the ladies
- with whom I went, that it would, perhaps, do boys good, but must be
- utterly bad for the girls. I certainly never saw before so self-possessed
- a set of young gentlemen as those in question, and doubt if any one of
- them will ever feel shy in after-life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Last Sunday afternoon: again, we had a <i>fete des vacances</i> for the
- children. The <i>Gazette des Bains</i> announced, “À deux heures,
- ascensions grotesques, l’enlèvement du phoque; à deux heures et demie,
- distribution de jouets et bonbons; à trois heures, course à ânes, montés
- par des jockeys grosse-tête,”—a most piquant programme. Not to
- mention the other attractions, what could the <i>enlèvement du phoque</i>
- be? In good time I went into the <i>établissement</i> grounds at the cost
- of a franc, and was at once guided by the crowd to the brink of a small
- pond, where sure enough a veritable live seal was swimming about, asking
- us all as plainly as mild brown eyes could speak what all the rout meant,
- and then diving smoothly under, to appear again on the other side of the
- pond. Were the cruel Frenchmen actually going to send the gentle beast up
- into the air? My speculations were cut short by the first comic ascent and
- the shouts of the juveniles. A figure very like Richard Doyle’s Saracens
- in the illustrations to Rebecca and Rowena, with large head, bottle nose,
- and little straight arms and legs, mounted suddenly into the air, and went
- away, wobbling and bobbing, before the wind. Another and another followed,
- as fast as they could be filled with gas. The wind blew towards the town,
- and there was great excitement as to their destiny, for they rose only to
- about the height of the houses. I own I was surprised to find myself so
- deeply interested whether the absurd little Punchinellos would clear the
- chimneys. One only failed, a fellow in a three-cornered hat like a
- beadle’s, and, refusing to mount, was soon torn in pieces by the boys. The
- last was a balloon of the figure of a seal, and I was much relieved when
- we all trooped away to the distribution of <i>bonbons</i>, leaving the
- real phoca still gliding about in his pond with wondering eyes. The <i>bonbons</i>
- were distributed in the most polite manner, the handfuls which were thrown
- amongst the crowd only calling forth a “Pardon Monsieur,” “Pardon
- Mademoiselle,” as they were picked up, instead of the hurly-burly and
- scramble we should have had at home. The donkey races might better be
- called processions, which went three times round the <i>établissement</i>.
- The winner was ridden by a jockey whose <i>grosse tête</i> was that of a
- cock, in compliment, I suppose, to the national bird; the lion jockey was
- nowhere, but he beat the cook’s boy, who came in last. The figures were
- well got up, and some of the heads really funny. At night we had
- fireworks, and a grand pyrotechnic drama of the taking of the old castle,
- which stands on the chalk cliff right over the <i>établissement</i> and
- commanding the town. The garrison joined in the fun, and assaulted the
- walls twice amidst discharges of rockets and great guns. The third assault
- was successful, and the red-legged soldiers swarmed on the walls in a
- blaze of light and planted the tricolour. A brilliant scroll of “<i>Vive
- l’Empéreur</i>” came out on the dark castle walls above their heads, and
- so the show ended. The castle, by the way, is a most picturesque building.
- One of the towers has been favourably noticed by Mr. Ruskin. It is also to
- be reverenced as the stronghold of Henry IV. and the Protestants. It was
- here, just before the battle of Arques, that he made the celebrated answer
- to a faint-hearted ally, who spoke doubtfully as to the disparity of
- numbers, “You forget to count God and the good cause, who are on our
- side.” It will never be of any use in modern warfare, but makes a good
- barrack and a most magnificent place for a pyrotechnic display for the
- delectation of young folk, in which definition for these purposes may be
- included the whole of the population of France.
- </p>
- <p>
- As I am writing, a troop of acrobats pass along the green between this
- hotel and the sea, followed by a crowd of boys. There is the strong man in
- black velvet carrying the long balancing triangle, on which he is about to
- support the light fellow in yellow who walks by his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is an athletic fellow in crimson breeches, carrying a table on his
- head, and a clown with two chairs accompanying. There they have pitched on
- the green, and are going to begin, and the English boys are leaving their
- cricket, and the French boys their kites and indiarubber handballs, and a
- goodly ring is forming, out of which, if they are decent tumblers, I hope
- they may turn an honest franc or two.
- </p>
- <p>
- They are not only decent but capital tumblers, the best I have seen for
- many a day, especially the man in crimson. He has balanced three glasses
- full of water on his forehead, and then lain down on his back, and passed
- himself, tumblers and all, through two small hoops. He has placed one
- chair upon the table, and then has tilted the second chair on two legs
- upon the seat of the first, and on this fearfully precarious foundation
- has been balancing himself with his legs straight up in the air while I
- could count thirty! The strong man has just run up behind the man in
- yellow, who was standing with his legs apart, and, stooping, has put his
- head between the yellow man’s legs and thrown him a backward somersault! I
- must positively go down and give them half a franc. It is a swindle to
- look on at such good tumbling for nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- P.S.—Imagine my delight, sir, when I got down on the green to find
- they were the tumblers of my native land. They joined a French circus for
- a tour some weeks back, but could get no money, and so broke off and are
- working their way home. They can speak no French, and find it very
- difficult to get leave to perform, as they have to do in all French towns.
- The crowd of English boys seemed to be doing their duty by them, so I hope
- they will speedily be able to raise their passage-money and return to the
- land of double stout and liberty.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Normandy, 20th September 1863.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o an Englishman
- with little available spare cash and time, and in want of a thorough
- change of scene and air, which category I take to include a very handsome
- percentage of our fellow-countrymen, I can recommend a run in Normandy
- without the slightest hesitation. I am come to the age when one learns to
- be what the boys call <i>cocksure</i> of nothing in this world, but am,
- nevertheless, prepared to take my stand on the above recommendation
- without fear or reservation. For in Normandy he will get an exquisitely
- light and bracing air, a sky at least twice as far off as our English one
- (which alone will raise his spirits to at least twice their usual
- altitude), a pleasant, lively, and well-to-do people, a picturesque
- country, delicious pears, and, to an Englishman, some of the most
- interesting old towns in the world out of his own island. All this he may
- well enjoy for ten days for a five-pound note, or thereabouts, in addition
- to his return fare to Dieppe or Havre. So let us throw up our insular
- vacation wide-awakes, and bless the men who invented steam, and pears, and
- Norman architecture, “and everything in the world beside,” as the good old
- song of “the leathern bottèl” has it, and start for the fair land from
- which our last conquerors came before the days get shorter than the
- nights. Alas! how little of that blissful time now remains to us of the
- year of grace 1863.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is some few years, I forget how many, since I was last in a Norman
- town, and must confess that in some respects they have changed for the
- better, externally at least, now that the Second Empire has had time to
- make itself felt in them. All manner of police arrangements, the sweeping,
- lighting, and paving, are marvellously improved, and there is an air of
- prosperity about them which does one good. Even in Rouen, the centre of
- their cotton district, there are scarcely any outward signs of distress,
- although, so far as I could see, not more than one in three of the mills
- is at work. I was told that there are still nearly 30,000 operatives out
- of work in the town and neighbourhood, who have no means of subsistence
- except any odd job they can pick up to earn a few sous about the quays and
- markets, but if it be so they kept out of sight during my wanderings about
- the town. But there is one characteristic sign of the empire to be noted
- in all these same Norman towns, for which strangers will not feel
- thankful, though the inhabitants may. The building and improving fever is
- on them all. In Rouen, amongst other improvements, a broad new street is
- being made right through some of the oldest parts of the town, from the
- quays straight up to the boulevards, which it joins close by the
- railway-station. This Grand Rue de l’Empereur will be a splendid street
- when finished, to judge by the few houses which are already built at the
- lower end. Meantime, the queer gables of the houses whose neighbours have
- been destroyed, and a chapel or two, and an old tower, standing out all by
- itself, which would make the architectural fortune of any other city, and
- which find themselves with breathing room now, for the first time, I
- should think, in the last five hundred years, look down ruefully on the
- cleared space, in anticipation of the hour rapidly approaching, when they
- will be again shut out from human ken by four-storied stone palaces, and
- this time, undoubtedly, for good and all. They can never hold up until
- another improving dynasty arrives.
- </p>
- <p>
- At Havre the same process is going on. New houses are springing up all
- along the new boulevards. Between the town and Frescati’s great hotel and
- bathing establishment, which faces the sea, there used to stand a curious
- old round tower of great size, which commanded the mouth of the harbour,
- and some elaborate fortifications of more modern date. All these have been
- levelled, old and new together, and the ground is now clear for building,
- and will, no doubt, be covered long before I shall see it again. Large
- seaports are always interesting towns, and Havre, besides the usual
- attractions of such places, has a sort of shop in greater perfection than
- any other port known to me. In these you can buy or inspect curiosities,
- alive and dead, from all parts of the world. Parrots of all colours of the
- rainbow scream at the door, long cages full of love-birds, and all manner
- of other delicate little feathered creatures one has never seen elsewhere,
- hang on the walls, or stand about amongst china monsters, and cases of
- amber, and inlaid stools from Stamboul, and marmoset monkeys, and goodness
- knows what other temptations to solvent persons with a taste for
- collections or pets. To neither of these weaknesses can I plead guilty, so
- after a short inspection I stroll to the harbour’s mouth, and do wonder to
- think over the astounding audacity of our late countryman, Sir Sidney
- Smith, who ran his ship close in here, and proceeded in his boats to cut
- out a French frigate under the guns of the old fortifications. His ship
- got aground, and was taken; he also. But, after all, it was less of a
- forlorn hope than throwing himself with his handful of men into Acre, and
- facing Bonaparte there, which last moderately lunatic act made him a name
- in history. <i>Audace! et encore d’audace! et toujours d’audace!</i> was
- the rule which brought our sailors triumphantly through the great war. And
- there is another picture in that drama which Havre harbour calls up in the
- English mind, to put in the scale against Sir Sidney’s failure—I
- mean Citizen Muskein and his gunboats skedaddling from Lieutenant Price in
- the <i>Badger</i>. Do you remember, sir, Citizen Muskein’s—or rather
- Canning’s—inimitable address to his gunboats in the <i>Anti-Jacobin?</i>—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Gunboats, unless you mean hereafter
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To furnish food for British laughter,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Sweet gunboats, and your gallant crew,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Tempt not the rocks of St. Marcou,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Beware the <i>Badger’s</i> bloody pennant
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And that d——d invalid Lieutenant!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Enough of war memories, and for the future the very last thing one wishes
- to have to do with this simple, cheery, and, for all I can see, honest
- people, is to fight them.
- </p>
- <p>
- There are packets twice a day from Havre across the mouth of the Seine, a
- seven miles’ run, to Honfleur, described in guide-books as a dirty little
- town, utterly without interest. I can only say I have seldom been in a
- place of its size, not the site of any great historic event, which is
- better worth spending an afternoon in, and I should strongly advise my
- typical Englishman to follow this route. In the first place, the situation
- is beautiful. From the steep wooded heights above the town, where are a
- chapel, much frequented by sailors, and some villas, there are glorious
- views up the Seine, across to Havre, and out over the sea. Then, in the
- town, there is the long street, which runs down to the lighthouse, and
- which, I suppose, the guide-book people never visit, as it is out of the
- way. It is certainly as picturesque a street as can be found in Rouen, or
- any other French town I have ever seen—except Troyes, by the way.
- The houses are not large, but there is scarcely one of them which Prout
- would not be proud to ask to sit to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there is the church in the centre of the town by the market-place,
- with the most eccentric of little spires. It seems, at an early period of
- the Middle Ages, to have taken it into its clock—or whatever answers
- to a spire’s head—that it would seer more of the world, and to have
- succeeded in getting about thirty yards away from its nave. Here, probably
- finding locomotion a tougher business than it reckoned on, it has fallen
- asleep, and, while it slept, several small houses crept up against its
- base and fell asleep also. And there it remains to this day, looking down
- over the houses in which people live, and many apples and pears are being
- sold, and crying, like the starling, “I can’t get out.” There is a
- splendid straight avenue, stretching a mile and a half up the Caen road,
- and a good little harbour full of English vessels, which ply the egg and
- fruit trade, and over every third door in the sailors’ quarter you see
- “Cook-house” written up in large letters, for the benefit of the British
- sailor.
- </p>
- <p>
- The railway to Lisieux passes through a richly wooded, hilly country, and
- then runs out into the great plain in which Caen lies. The city of William
- the Conqueror is quite worthy of him, which is saying a good deal. For,
- though one may not quite share Mr Carlyle’s enthusiasm for “Wilhelmus
- Conquestor,” it must be confessed that he is, at least, one of the three
- strongest men who have ruled in England, and that in the long run he has
- done a stroke of good work for our nation. The church of the Abbey <i>des
- Hommes</i>, which he began in 1066, and of which Lanfranc was the first
- abbot, stands just as he left it, except the tops of two towers at the
- west end, which were finished two centuries later. It is a pure Norman
- church, 320 feet long, and 98 feet high in the nave and transepts, and the
- simplest and grandest specimen of that noble style I have ever seen.
- William’s grave is before the high altar, the spot marked by a dark stone,
- and no king ever lay in more appropriate sepulchre. The Huguenots rifled
- the grave and scattered his bones, but his strong stern spirit seems to
- rest over the place. There is an old building near the Abbey surmounted by
- a single solid pinnacle, under which is a room which tradition says he
- occupied. It is now filled with the wares of a joiner who lives below.
- Caen is increasing in a solid manner in its outskirts, but seems less
- disturbed and altered by the building mania than any of her sisters. There
- was an English population of 4000 and upwards living here before 1848, but
- the English Consul fairly frightened them away by assurances of his
- inability to protect them (against what does not seem to have been
- settled) in that wild time, and now there are not as many hundreds. One of
- the survivors is the Commissionaire of the Hôtel d’Angleterre, West by
- name, a really intelligent and serviceable man, well up to his work. It is
- scarcely ever worth while to spend a franc on a commissionaire, but West
- is an exception to the rule. His father was in the lace trade, which is
- active in Caen, but his premises were burnt down some years since, and an
- end put to his manufacture. West is now trying to revive the family
- business, and one of his first steps was to get over a new lace machine,
- and a man to work it, from England. It has not proved a good speculation
- as yet, for no one else can manage the machine, and the Englishman insists
- on being drunk half his time.
- </p>
- <p>
- We left by one of the steamers which ply daily from Caen to Havre. The run
- down the river is chiefly interesting from the quarries on its banks. They
- are not the principal quarries, but are of very considerable extent; and
- from the quantities of tip, heaped into moderate-sized grass-covered hills
- by the river side, it is plain that they must have been in work here for
- centuries. You see the stone in many places lying like rich Cheddar
- cheese, and cut as regularly in flakes as a grocer would cut his favourite
- cheeses. The stone is very soft when it comes first from the quarries, but
- gains its great hardness and sharpness after a short exposure. After
- passing the quarries we got between salt marshes haunted by abundance of
- jack snipe, and so we passed out to sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Gleanings from Boulogne
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here is one large
- portion of the French people which has improved marvellously in appearance
- in the last few years, and that is the army. The setting up of the French
- soldier of the line used to be much neglected, but now you never see a
- man, however small and slight, who does not carry himself and move as if
- every muscle in his body had been thoroughly and scientifically trained.
- And this is the actual fact. They have the finest system of military
- gymnastics which has ever been seen. In every garrison town there is a
- gymnasium, in which the men have to drill as regularly as on the
- parade-ground. The one close to the gate of the old town of Boulogne is an
- admirable specimen, and well worth a visit. Our authorities are, I
- believe, slowly following in the steps of the French, but little has as
- yet been done. There is no branch of army reform which may more safely be
- pressed on. We have undoubtedly the finer material. The English soldier is
- a bigger and more muscular man than the French soldier, but is far behind
- him in his physical education, and must remain so until we provide a
- proper system of gymnastic training, which, by the bye, will benefit the
- general health of the men, and develop their intelligence as well as their
- muscles.
- </p>
- <p>
- During our stay at Boulogne there was some very heavy weather. A strong
- sou’-wester came on one night, and by two o’clock next day, when I went
- down, was hurling the angry green waves against the great beams of the
- southern pier in fearful fashion. The entrance to the harbour, as most of
- your readers will remember, is quite narrow, not one hundred yards across
- between the two pier heads. The ebb-tide was sweeping down from the north,
- and, meeting the gale right off the harbour’s mouth, made a battling and
- raging sea which brought one’s heart into one’s mouth to look at. The
- weather was quite bright, and though the wind was so strong that I held my
- hat on with difficulty, the northern pier was crowded, as the whole force
- of the sea was spent against the southern pier, over which it was leaping
- every moment. We were in comparative shelter, and could watch, Without
- being drenched with spray, the approach of one of the fishing smacks of
- the port, which was coming home. I shall not easily forget the sight. We
- stood there, jammed together, rough sailors, fishwomen, Cockneys,
- weatherbound soldiers, well-dressed ladies, a crowd of all ranks, the wind
- singing through us so that we could scarcely make our nearest neighbours
- hear. Not that we wanted to talk. The sight of the small black hull and
- ruddy brown sail of the smack, now rising on the crest of a great wave,
- and the next moment all but disappearing behind it, took away the desire,
- almost the power, of speech. Two boats, manned with fishermen, pulled to
- the harbour’s mouth, and lay rolling in the comparatively still water just
- within the shelter of the southern pier head. It was comforting to see
- them there, though if any catastrophe had happened they could never have
- lived in that sea. But the gallant little smack needed no help. She was
- magnificently steered, and came dancing through the wildest part of the
- race without shipping a single sea, seeming to catch each leaping wave
- just in the spot where it was easiest to ride over. As she slid out of the
- seething cauldron into the smooth water past the waiting boats the crowd
- drew a long breath, and many of us hurried back to get a close view of her
- as she ran into her place amongst the other fishing boats alongside the
- quay. I envied the grizzly old hero at the helm, as he left his place,
- threw off his dreadnought coat, and went to help the two men and two boys
- who were taking in the sail and coiling away the ropes. There was much
- shouting and congratulation from above; but they made little answer, and
- no fuss. Their faces struck me very much, especially the boys’, which were
- full of that quiet self-contained look one sees in Hook’s pictures. There
- was no other boat in the offing then, so I went home; but within a few
- hours heard that a smack had capsized in the harbour’s mouth, with the
- loss of one man. I only marvel how the rest could have been saved.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the 1st of October in every year there is a solemn festival of the
- seafaring people of Boulogne, and the sea is blessed by their pastors. I
- was anxious to wait for the ceremony, but was unable to do so. There seems
- to be a strange mixture of trust in God and superstition in all people who
- “occupy their business on the great waters.” There is a little chapel
- looking down on Boulogne port full of thank-offerings of the sailors’
- wives, where the fishwomen go up to plead with God, and pour out the agony
- of their souls in rough weather. There are propitiatory gifts, too, by the
- side of the thank-offerings, and the shadow of a tyrannous power in
- nature, to be bought off with gifts, darkens the presence of the true
- Refuge from the storm. There are traces, too, of a more direct idolatry in
- the town. In the year 643 of our era the Madonna came to Boulogne in an
- open boat, so runs the story, and left an image with the faithful, which
- soon became the great religious lion of the neighbourhood, drawing
- largely, and performing a series of miracles all through the Middle Ages.
- When Henry VIII. took the town the English carried off the image, but it
- was restored in good condition when peace came, and as powerful as ever
- for wonder-working. The Huguenots got hold of it half a century later, and
- were supposed to have destroyed it; but an image, which at any rate did
- duty for it, was ultimately fished up out of a well. Doubts as to
- identity, however, having arisen, the matter was referred to the Sorbonne,
- and a jury of doctors declared in favour of the genuineness of the article
- which was forthcoming. And so it continued to practise with varying
- success until the Revolution, when the Jacobins laid hands on it, broke it
- up, and burnt it, thinking to make once for all an end of this and other
- idol-worships. But a citizen not so enlightened as his neighbours stayed
- by the fire, and succeeded at last in rescuing what he declared to be an
- arm of the original image, which remains an object of veneration still,
- and is said not to have lost all healing power. But it is far inferior in
- this respect to some drops of the holy blood, for the reception of which a
- countrywoman of ours has built a little chapel in the suburbs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Boulogne has all the marks of rapidly increasing material prosperity which
- may be seen now in every French town, one of the many fruits of which is a
- wonderful improvement in the condition of the streets and thoroughfares.
- The fine new buildings, the look of the shops and of the people, all tell
- the same tale. In fact, one comes away from France now with a feeling
- that, so far as surface polish and civilisation are concerned, this is the
- country which is going to the front. Whether it goes any deeper is a
- matter upon which a traveller flitting about for a few weeks cannot
- venture an opinion.
- </p>
- <p>
- I came back in one of the daily packets to London Bridge, which, besides
- carrying seventy passengers, was piled fore and aft with cargo. There were
- 400 cases of wine on deck, besides other packages, which sorely curtailed
- our walking privileges. But the boats are good boats, and the voyage past
- Dover, through the Downs, round the North Foreland, and up the Thames, is
- so full of life and interest that it is well worth making a long day of
- it, if one is a moderately good sailor. The advertisements call it eight
- and a half hours, which means eleven; but it is not a moment too long.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Blankenberghe
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>esterday (14th
- August) we were warned by meagre fare at the <i>table d’hôte</i> of our
- hotel that it was the vigil of some saint’s day. Our gastronomic knowledge
- was enlarged by the opportunity of partaking of boiled mussels. A small
- and delicate species of this little fish—despised of Englishmen—is
- found in extraordinary quantities on this coast. The sand is dotted with
- the shells after every ebb. The wattles of the jetties are full of them.
- After the first shock of having a salad bowl full of small black shells
- presented to one, following immediately on a delicate <i>potage à
- l’oseille</i>, the British citizen may pursue his education in this
- direction fearlessly, with the certainty of becoming acquainted with a
- delicate and appetising morsel; and he will return to his native country
- with at least a toleration for “winks” and “pickled whelks,” when he sees
- them vended at corner stalls in Clare Market or in the Old Kent Road, for
- the benefit of the dangerous classes of his fellow-citizens who take their
- meals in the street. In these Flemish parts they are eaten with bread and
- butter, and even as whitebait, and by all classes.
- </p>
- <p>
- After the meal I consulted the calendar in my pocket-book as to the
- approaching festival, not wishing to thrust my heretical ignorance
- unnecessarily on the notice of the simple folk who inhabit the <i>Lion
- d’Or</i>. That obstinately Protestant document, however, informed me
- simply that the Rev. E. Irving was born on this day in 1792, probably not
- the saint I was in quest of. A <i>Churchman’s Almanac</i>, with which the
- only English lady in the place was provided, was altogether silent as to
- the day. In the end, therefore, I was obliged to fall back upon the
- bright-eyed little <i>demoiselle de la maison</i>, who informed me that it
- was the vigil of the Assumption of the Virgin, and that the <i>fête</i>
- was one greatly honoured by the community of Blankenberghe.
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus prepared, I was not surprised at being roused at five in the morning
- by the clumping of sabots and clinking of hammers in the street below—my
- room is a corner one, looking from two windows on the Rue d’Eglise, the
- principal street of the place, and from the other two on the Rue des
- Pecheurs, or “Visschurs’ Straet,” which runs across the northern end of
- the Rue d’Eglise. A flight of broad steps here runs up on to the Digue, or
- broad terrace fronting the sea, and at the foot of these steps they were
- erecting a temporary altar, and over it a large picture of fishermen
- hauling in nets full of monsters of the deep. They had brought it from the
- parish church, and, as such pictures go, it was by no means a bad one.
- Presently tricoloured flags began to appear from the windows of most of
- the houses in both streets, and here and there garlands of bright-coloured
- paper were hung across from one side to the other. As the morning advanced
- the bells from the church and convent called the simple folk to mass at
- short intervals, six, half-past seven, nine, and grand mass at ten. The
- call seemed to be answered by more people than we had fancied the town
- could have held. At eleven there was to be a procession, and now miniature
- altars with lighted candles appeared in many of the ground-floor windows,
- both of shops and private houses; and the streets were strewed with rushes
- and diamond-shaped pieces of coloured paper. Punctual to its time the head
- of the procession came round the corner of “Visschurs’ Straet,” half a
- dozen small boys ringing bells leading the way. Then came the beadledom of
- Blankenberghe, in the shape of several imposing persons in municipal
- uniform, then three little girls dressed in white, with bouquets, more
- boys, including a diligent but not very skilful drummer, six or seven
- other maidens in white, somewhat older than their predecessors, of whom
- the centre one carried some ornament of tinsel and flowers. Then came the
- heavy silk canopy, supported by four light poles carried by acolytes, and
- surrounded by choristers, of whom the leader bore a large silver censer,
- and under the canopy marched a shaven monk in cream-coloured brocade
- satin, carrying the pyx, and a less gorgeously attired brother with an
- open missal. Around the whole of the procession, to protect it from the
- accompanying crowd, were a belt of bronzed fishermen in their best
- clothes, some carrying staves, some hymn-books, and almost all joining in
- the chant which was rolled out by the priest, in a powerful bass with a
- kind of metallic ring in it, as they neared the altar at the foot of the
- steps. Here the whole procession paused, and the greater part knelt, while
- the priest put incense in the censer, and made his obeisances and prayed
- in an unknown tongue, and the censer boy swung his sweet-smelling smoke
- about, and the fishermen and their wives and children prayed too, in their
- own tongue, I suppose, and their own way, probably for fair weather and
- plenty of fish, and let us hope for brave and gentle hearts to meet
- whatever rough weather and short commons may be in store for them by land
- or water, Then the procession rose, and passed down the Rue d’Eglise,
- pausing at the corner of the little market-place opposite a rude figure of
- the Madonna in a niche over some pious doorway, [Greek phrase] and so out
- of sight. And the <i>bourgeois</i> blew out the candles and took away the
- chairs on which, while the halt lasted, they had been kneeling from their
- shop windows, putting back the bathing dresses, and the shell boxes, and
- other sea-side merchandise, while the whole non-shopkeeping population,
- and the neighbours from Bruges, and the strangers who fill the hotels and
- lodging-houses turned out upon the splendid sands and on the Digue to
- enjoy their <i>fête</i>-day. In the afternoon the <i>corps de musique</i>
- of the communal schools of Bruges gave a gratuitous concert to us all by
- the permission of the communal administration of that town, as we bathed,
- or promenaded, or sipped coffee or liqueurs in the broad verandahs of the
- <i>cafés</i> which line the Digue. Gaily dressed middle-class women (of
- upper classes, as we understand them, I see none), in many-coloured
- garments and immense structures of false back hair, such as these eyes
- have never before seen; a sprinkling of Belgian officers in uniform,
- Russians, Frenchmen, Germans a few, and two Anglo-Saxons, Englishmen I
- cannot say, for one is an American citizen and the other your contributor,
- who compose the only English-speaking males, so far as I can judge; groups
- of Flemish women of the people in long black cloth cloaks, with large
- hoods lined with black satin, more expensive probably, but not nearly so
- picturesque as the old red cloak which thirty years ago was the almost
- universal Sunday dress of women in Wiltshire, Berkshire, and other Western
- counties; little old-fashioned girls in nice mob caps, and the fishermen
- in excellent blue broad-cloth jackets and trousers, and well-blacked shoes
- or boots, instead of the huge sabots of their daily life; in short, every
- soul, I suppose, in Blankenberghe, from the Bourgmestre who sits on his
- throne, to the donkey-boy who drives along his Neddy under a freight of
- children, at half a franc an hour, whenever he can entice the small fry
- from the superior attraction of engineering with the splendid sand, spends
- his or her three or four hours on the Digue, enjoying whatever of the
- music, gossip, coffee, beer, or other pastimes they are inclined to or can
- afford; and in that whole crowd of pleasant holiday-making folk there is
- not one single trace of poverty, not a starved face, not a naked foot, not
- a ragged garment. It is the same on the week-days. The people, notably the
- fishermen and <i>baigneurs</i>, dress roughly, but they have all
- comfortable thick worsted stockings in their sabots, and their jerseys and
- overalls are ample and satisfactory. Why is it that in nine places out of
- ten on the Continent this is so, and that in England you shall never be
- able to find a watering-place which is not deformed more or less by
- poverty and thriftlessness? Right across the sea, there, on the Norfolk
- coast, lie Cromer and Sherringham. More daring sailors never manned
- lifeboat, more patient fishermen never dragged net, than the seafaring
- folk of those charming villages. They are courteous, simple, outspoken
- folk, too, singularly attractive in their looks and ways. But, alas! for
- the rags, and the grinding poverty, declaring itself in a dozen ways, in
- the cottages, in the children’s looks, in the women’s premature old age.
- When will England wake up, and get rid of the curse of her wealth and the
- curse of her poverty? When will an Englishman be able again to look on at
- a fête-day in Belgium, or Switzerland, or Germany, or France, without a
- troubled conscience and a pain in his heart, as he thinks of the contrast
- at home, and the bitter satire in the old, worn-out name of “Merry
- England?” It is high time that we all were heartsick over it, for the
- canker grows on us. Those who know London best will tell you so; those who
- know the great provincial towns and country villages will tell you so,
- except perhaps that the latter are now getting depopulated, and so contain
- less altogether of joy or sorrow. However, sir, there are other than these
- holiday times in which to dwell on this dark subject. I ought to apologise
- for having fallen into it unawares, when I sat down merely to put on
- paper, if I could in a few lines, and impart to your readers the exceeding
- freshness of the feeling which the feast-day at this little Belgian
- watering-place leaves on one. But who knows when he sits down, at any rate
- in the holidays, what he is going to write? However good your intentions,
- at times you can’t “get the hang of it,” can’t say the thing you meant to
- say.
- </p>
- <p>
- You may wonder, too, at this sudden plunge into the <i>fête</i> of the
- Assumption at Blankenberghe, when I have never warned you even that I had
- flitted from my round on the great crank which grinds for us all so
- ruthlessly in the parts about the Strand and the Inns of Court. Well, sir,
- I plead in my defence the test that a very able friend of mine applies to
- novels. He opens the second volume and reads a chapter; if that tempts
- him, on he goes to the end of the book; if it is very good indeed, he then
- goes back, and fairly begins at the beginning. So I hope your readers will
- be inclined to peruse in future weeks some further gossip respecting this
- place, which should perhaps have preceded the <i>fête</i>-day. If they
- should get to take the least interest in Blankenberghians and their works
- and ways, it is more than these latter can be said to do about them, for
- in the two or three cheap sheets which I find on the table here, and which
- constitute the press of this corner of Belgium, there is seldom more than
- a couple of lines devoted to the whole British Empire. The fact that there
- is not another Englishman in the place, and that the American above
- mentioned, the only other representative of our English-speaking stock
- here, went once to see the Derby, and got so bored by two o’clock that he
- left the Downs and walked back to Epsom station, enduring the whole chaff
- of the road, and finding the doors locked and the clerks and porters all
- gone up to the race, ought to be enough to make them curious—curious
- enough at any rate for long-vacation purposes. There are plenty of odds
- and ends of life a little out of our ordinary track lying about here to
- make a small “harvest for a quiet eye,” which I am inclined to try and
- garner for you, if you think well. And are not the new King and Queen
- coming next week to delight their subjects, and witness many kinds of
- fireworks, and a “<i>concours des joueurs de boule, dits pas baenbolders</i>,”
- whatever these may be?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Belgian Bathing
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> should like to
- know how many grown Englishmen or Englishwomen, apart from those
- unfortunates who are preparing for competitive examinations, are aware of
- the existence of this place? No Englishman is bound to know of it by any
- law of polite education acknowledged amongst us, for is it not altogether
- ignored in Murray?
- </p>
- <p>
- Even Bradshaw’s <i>Continental Guide</i> is silent as to its whereabouts.
- This is somewhat hard upon Blankenberghe, sturdy and rapidly growing
- little watering-place that she is, already exciting the jealousy of her
- fashionable neighbour, Ostend. It must be owned, however, that she returns
- the compliment by taking the slightest possible interest in the
- contemporary history of the British Empire. Nevertheless, the place has
- certain recommendations to persons in search of a watering-place out of
- England. If you are content with an hotel of the country, of which there
- is a large choice, you may have three good meals a day and a bedroom for
- six and a half francs, with a considerable reduction for families. Even at
- the fashionable hotels on the Digue the price is only eight or nine
- francs; and when you have paid your hotel bill you are out of all danger
- of extravagance, for there is literally nothing to spend money upon. Your
- bathing machine costs you sixpence. There are no pleasure boats and no
- wheeled vehicles for hire in the place, and no excursions if there were;
- shops there are none; and the market is of the smallest and meagerest
- kind. There are no beggars and no amusements, except bathing and the
- Kursaal. These, however, suffice to keep the inhabitants and visitors in a
- state of much contentment.
- </p>
- <p>
- But now for the geography. From Ostend harbour to the mouth of the Scheldt
- is a dead flat, highly cultivated, and dotted all over with villages and
- farmhouses, but somewhat lower than high-water mark. The sea is kept out
- by an ancient and dilapidated-looking dyke, some fifty feet high, on the
- slopes of which flourishes a strong, reedy sort of grass, planted in tufts
- at regular intervals, to hold the loose soil together. The fine sand
- drifts up the dyke and blows over it, lying just like snow, so that if you
- half-close your eyes and look at it from fifty yards’ distance, you may
- fancy yourself on a glacier in the Oberland. Blankenberghe is an ancient
- fishing village, lying just under the dyke, between eight and nine miles
- from Ostend. When it came into the minds of the inhabitants to convert it
- into a watering-place they levelled the top of their dyke for some 600
- yards until it is only about twenty-five feet above high-water mark. They
- paved the sea face with good stone, and the fine flat walk on the top,
- thirty yards broad, with brick, and called it the Digue, in imitation of
- Ostend. They built a Kursaal, three or four great hotels, and half a dozen
- first-class lodging-houses, opening on to the Digue, with deep verandahs
- in front, and they brought a single line branch of the Flanders railway
- from Bruges, and the deed was accomplished. There is no such a sea-walk
- anywhere that I can remember as Blankenberghe Digue, from which you look
- straight away with nothing but sea between you and the North Pole. From
- the Digue you descend by a flight of twenty-four steps on one side to the
- sands, on the other into the town, the chief of these latter flights being
- at the head of the Rue d’Eglise, the backbone, as it were, of the place,
- which runs from the railway station to the Digue. There may be 1500
- inhabitants out of the season, when all the Digue hotels and
- lodging-houses are shut up; at present, perhaps, another 1000, coming and
- going, and attracted by the bathing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of this institution an Englishman is scarcely a fair judge, as it is
- conducted on a method so utterly unlike anything we have at home at
- present. My American friend assures me that we are 100 years behind all
- other nations in this matter, that the Belgians conduct it exactly as they
- do in the States, and that theirs is the only decent mode of bathing. It
- may be so. One sees such rapid changes in these days, and advanced
- opinions of all kinds are being caught up so quickly by even such
- Philistines as the English middle classes, that he is a bold man who will
- assert that we shall not see the notions of Brighton and Dover yield to
- the new ideas of Newport and Blankenberghe before long. In one respect,
- indeed, it is well that they should, for the machines here are convenient
- little rooms on wheels, with plenty of pegs, two chairs, a small tub, a
- looking-glass, and everything handsome about them. But the wheels are
- broad, and very-low; consequently you are only rolled down to the
- neighbourhood of the water, thinking yourself lucky if you get within five
- or six yards of it. Now, as the occupants of the machine on your left and
- right are probably sprightly and somewhat facetious young Belgian or
- French women, and as the beach shelves so gently that you have at least a
- run of fifty yards before you can get into deep enough water to swim with
- comfort, the root difference between Blankenberghian and English habits
- discloses itself to you from the first. Of course, as men, women, and
- children all bathe together, costumes are necessary, but those in which
- the men have to array themselves only make bathing a discomfort, without
- giving one the consciousness of being decently clad. You have handed to
- you with your towels a simple jersey, with arms and legs six or eight
- inches in length, reaching perhaps to the middle of the biceps and femoral
- muscles. Into this apology for a dress you insert and button yourself up
- (it is well for you, by the way, if one or two buttons be not missing),
- and then are expected to walk calmly out into the water through groups of
- laughing girls in jackets and loose trousers. Having threaded your way
- through these, and avoided a quadrille party on the one hand, and an
- excellent fat couple, reminding you of the picture of Mr. and Mrs. Bubb in
- the one-horse “chay,” who are bathing their family on the other, you
- address yourself to swimming. As you descended from the Digue you read,
- “Bathers are expressly recommended to hold themselves at least fifteen
- yards from the breakers by buoys designed.” You do not see any breakers,
- but there is a line of buoys about eighty yards out to which you
- contemptuously paddle, and after all find that you are scarcely out of
- your depth. When you have had enough you return, poor, dripping, forked
- mortal, to a last and severest trial. For the universal custom is to sit
- about on chairs amongst the machines; and on one side of your door are
- perhaps a couple of nursemaids chatting while their children build sand
- castles, on the other a matron or two working and gossiping. Now, sir, a
- man who has been taking the rough and the smooth of life for a good many
- years within half a mile of Temple Bar is not likely to be oversensitive,
- but I would appeal to any contributor on your staff, sir, or to yourself,
- whether you would be prepared to go through such an ordeal without
- wincing? On my return from my first swim I recognised my American cousin
- in his element. He was clad in a blue striped jersey,—would that I
- could have sprinkled it with a few stars,—and was sauntering about
- with the greatest coolness from group to group, enjoying the whole
- business, and no doubt looking forward complacently to the time when
- differences of sex shall be altogether ignored in the academies of the
- future. He threw a pitying glance at me as I skedaddled to my machine,
- secretly vowing to abstain from all such adventures hereafter. Since that
- time I have taken my dip too early for the Belgian public to be present at
- the ceremony, but, like the rest of the world, I daily look on, and,
- unlike them, wonder. As to the morality of it, I can’t say that I think
- the custom of promiscuous bathing as practised here seems to me either
- moral or immoral. Occasionally when the waves are a little rough you see
- couples clinging together for mutual support more than the circumstances
- perhaps strictly require; but there is very little of this. The whole
- business seemed to me not immoral, but in our conventional sense vulgar,
- much like “kissing in the ring,” which I have seen played by most
- exemplary sets of young men and women on excursions in Greenwich or
- Richmond Park, but which would not do in Hamilton Gardens or a May Fair
- drawing-room. Meanwhile, I hope that as long at least as I can enjoy the
- water we shall remain benighted bathers in the eyes of our American
- cousins and of the brave Belgians. To a man the first requisite of a
- really enjoyable bath is surely deep water, and the second, no clothes,
- for the loss of either of which no amount of damp flirtation can
- compensate, in the opinion at least of your contributor, who, nevertheless
- in these Belgian parts, while obliged to record his opinion, has perhaps a
- great consciousness that he may be something of an old fogey.
- </p>
- <p>
- I suppose that a man or nation is to be congratulated about whom their
- neighbours have nothing to say. If so, the position of England at this
- time is peculiarly enviable out here. I read the <i>Indépendance Belge</i>
- diligently, but under the head “Nouvelles d’Angleterre,” for which that
- journal retains, as it would seem, a special correspondent, I never learn
- anything whatever except the price of funds. We occupy an average of
- perhaps twelve lines in its columns, and none at all in those of the <i>La
- Vigie de la Côte</i>, the special production of Blankenberghe, or of the
- Bruges and Ostend journals.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Oh! wad some power the giftie gie us,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To see oursels as ithers see us!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Certainly a short residence at Blankenberghe should be taken in
- conjunction with the volume of essays on international policy by Mr.
- Congreve and his fellow Comtists, which I happen to have brought with me
- for deliberate perusal, if one wants to feel the shine taken out of one’s
- native land. I don’t.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Belgian Boats
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>lankenberghe has
- one branch of native industry, and one only. From time immemorial it has
- been a fishing station. The local paper declares that there has been no
- change in the boats, the costumes, or the implements of this industry
- since the sixteenth century, with the exception noticed below. One can
- quite believe it, as far as the boats are concerned. They are very
- strongly built tubs, ranging from twenty to thirty tons, flat-bottomed,
- the same breadth of beam fore and aft, built I should think on the model
- of the first duck which was seen off this coast, and a most sensible model
- too. They have no bowsprit, but a short foremast in the bows, carrying one
- small sail, and a strong mainmast amidships, carrying one big sail. Each
- of these sails is run up by a single rope, rigged through a pulley in the
- top of the masts, and of other rigging there is none. The boats are all of
- a uniform russet-brown colour, the tint of old age, looking as if they had
- been once varnished, in the time, let us say, of William the Silent, and
- had never been touched since. There is not a scrap of paint on the whole
- fleet. In short, I am convinced that the local paper by no means
- exaggerates their antiquity. Instead of finding it hard to believe that
- sixteenth-century men went to sea in them, I should not be startled to
- hear that our first parents were the original proprietors, or at any rate
- that the present fleet was laid down by Japhet, when the Ark was broken
- up. The habits of the fleet are as quaint as their looks. There is no
- scrap of anchorage or shelter of any kind here, the sands lie perfectly
- open to the north and west, and the surf seems about as rough as it is
- elsewhere. But the Blankenberghe fishermen are perfectly indifferent,
- convinced no doubt that neither sea nor sand will do anything to hurt them
- or their boats, for old acquaintance’ sake. To me, accustomed to the
- scrambling, and shouting, and hauling up above high-water mark, the
- running of naked-legged boys into the water, and the energetic doings of
- the crew when a fishing boat comes to land at home, there is something of
- the comically sublime in the contrast presented by these good Flemings. As
- one of the old brown tubs rolls towards the shore, looking as if she
- scarcely had made up her mind which end to send in first, you see a man
- quietly pitch a small anchor over the bows, and then down come the two
- sails. Sometimes the anchor begins to hold before the boat grounds, but
- just as often she touches before the anchor bites, but nobody cares. The
- only notice taken is to unship the rudder and haul it aboard; then comes a
- wave which swings her round, and leaves her broadside to the surf. Nobody
- moves. Bang comes the next breaker, lifting her for a moment, and bumping
- her down again on the sand, her bows perhaps a trifle more to sea, but the
- crew only smoke and hold on. And so it goes on, bang, bump, thump, till
- sooner or later she swings right round and settles into her place on the
- sand. When she has adjusted this to her own satisfaction one of the crew
- just drops over the stern with another anchor on his shoulder, which he
- fixes in the sand, and then he and the rest leave her and walk up to the
- Digue, and generally on to vespers at the church, which is often three
- parts filled with these jolly fellows. Getting off again is much the same
- happy-go-lucky business. The men shoulder the anchor which is out at the
- stern, or, as often as not, leave it on shore with their cable coiled,
- ready for their return. Then they clamber into their tub, which is bumping
- away, held only by the anchor out at the bows. They wait for the first
- wave that floats them, then up go the sails, on goes the rudder, they get
- a haul on the anchor, and after heading one or two different ways get
- fairly off.
- </p>
- <p>
- Their costume is picturesque,—thick red flannel shirts, the collars
- of which fold over their tightly buttoned blue jackets, and give a tidy,
- uniform appearance to a group of them. The old stagers still wear huge
- loose red knickerbockers and pilot boots, but the younger generation are
- degenerating into the common blue trousers and sabots, the latter almost
- big enough to come ashore on in case of wreck. Altogether they are the
- most well-to-do set of fishermen to look at that I have ever seen, though
- where their money comes from I cannot guess, as they seem to take little
- but small flounders and skate. There used to be good cod-fishing in the
- winter, they say, but of late years it has fallen off. The elder fishermen
- attribute this to the disgust of the cod at an innovation in the good old
- ways of fishing. Formerly two boats worked together, dragging a net with
- large meshes between them, but this has been of late superseded by the
- English bag-net system, which brings up everything small and great, and
- disturbs the <i>pâture accoutumée</i> of the cod, whereupon he has
- emigrated.
- </p>
- <p>
- Disastrous islanders that we are, who never touch anything, from Japan to
- Blankenberghe, without setting honest folk by the ears and bringing
- trouble! The “Corporation of Fishers,” a close and privileged body, who
- hold their heads very high here, are looking into the matter, and it seems
- likely that this destructive <i>chalut, d’origine Anglaise</i>, may yet be
- superseded. It remains to be seen whether the cod will come back.
- </p>
- <p>
- We have had abominable weather here, but nothing in the shape of a storm.
- I confess to have been looking out for a good north-wester with much
- interest. Assuming that the effect as to breakers and surf would be much
- the same as elsewhere, one is curious to ascertain whether these fishing
- boats are left to bump it out on the sands. If so, and no harm comes to
- them, the sooner our fishermen adopt the Blankenberghe model of boat the
- better. I fear, however, that with all their good looks and old
- traditions, the seafaring folk on this coast are wanting in the splendid
- daring of our own ’long-shore people. On Monday night the mail
- packet from Ostend to Dover went out in a stiffish breeze, but nothing
- which ‘we should call a gale, at eight o’clock. By some curious
- mismanagement both her engines got out of order and came to a dead stop
- almost immediately. Strange to say, her anchors were down in the hold
- under the luggage (the boats are Belgian, not English manned), and she had
- a very narrow escape of drifting right on shore. Luckily the crew, managed
- to get up an anchor in time to prevent this catastrophe, and there she lay
- right off the harbour, perfectly helpless, throwing up rockets and burning
- blue lights for hours. Neither tug, nor lifeboat, nor pilot boat stirred,
- and she rode at anchor till morning, when the wind went down. I venture to
- think that such a case is unheard of on our coasts. It occurs to one to
- ask whether there is such an official as a harbourmaster at the port of
- Ostend, and if so, what his duties are. There were sailors enough in
- harbour to have manned fifty lifeboats, for the Ostend fishing fleet of
- 200 boats had come back from their three months’ cruise on that very
- afternoon. The contingency of riding out a stormy night in a mail packet
- within a few hundred yards of a lee shore, in front of a great port full
- of seamen, is scarcely one of those on which we holiday folk reckon when
- we book ourselves for the Continent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Coming out on the Digue one night, soon after my arrival, I was brought to
- a stand-still by the appearance of the sea. It was low water, so that I
- was about 200 yards off, and at first I could scarcely believe my eyes,
- which seemed to tell me that every breaker was a flood of pale fire. I
- went down close to the water to confirm or disenchant myself, and found it
- more beautiful the nearer I got. Of course one has seen the ordinary
- phosphorescence of the sea in a hundred places, but this was quite a
- different affair. The sand under one’s feet even was molten silver. The
- scientific doctor says it is simply the effect of the constant presence on
- this coast of great numbers of an animalcule which can only be seen
- through a microscope, called the <i>Noctiluca miliaris</i>. It looked on
- that evening as if huge fiery serpents were constantly rising and dashing
- along. People here say that they have it always, but this is certainly not
- so. On several other evenings the breaking waves were slightly luminous,
- but scarcely enough to attract attention. If you could only make sure of
- seeing sea and shore ablaze as it was on that particular night, you ought
- at once, sir, to pack traps and off, notwithstanding these abominably high
- winds. I cannot help thinking that, besides a monster gathering—probably
- a Reform League meeting—of the Noctiluca miliaris, there must have
- been something very unusual in the atmosphere on that particular night. It
- was a kind of “eldritch” night, in which you felt as if you had got into
- the atmosphere of Tennyson’s <i>Morte d’Arthur</i>, and a great hand might
- come up out of the water without giving you a start. There was light right
- up in the sky above one’s head, a succession of half luminous rain clouds
- were drifting rapidly across at a very low elevation from the northwest,
- not fifty yards high, as it seemed, while the smoke of my cigar floated
- away slowly almost in the opposite direction. Luckily, sir, my American
- friend was with me on the night in question, to whom I can appeal as to
- the truth of my facts, and we had had nothing but one bottle of very
- moderately strong <i>vin ordinaire</i> at the <i>table d’hote</i>. If your
- scientific readers say that the thing is impossible, I can only answer
- that so it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- Parson Wilbur, when he is considering the question whether the ability to
- express ourselves in articulate language has been productive of more good
- than evil, esteems his own ignorance of all tongues except Yankee and the
- dead languages as “a kind of martello tower, in which I am safe from the
- furious bombardments of foreign garrulity.” There is something comforting
- and fascinating in this doctrine, but still on the whole it is decidedly
- disagreeable to be reduced to signs for purposes of intercourse, as is
- generally the case here. Not one soul in a hundred can speak French. Their
- talk sounds like a sewing machine, with an occasional word of English
- interspersed in the clicking. I am told that if you will only talk broad
- Durham or Yorkshire they will understand you, but I do not believe it, as
- the sounds are quite unlike. The names of these people are wonderful. For
- instance, those on the bathing machines just opposite my hotel are, Yan
- Yooren, Yan Yulpen, Siska Deneve, Sandelays, and Colette Claes,
- abbreviated into Clotty by two English schoolboys who have lately
- appeared, and are the worst dressed and the best bathers of all the young
- folk here. They are fast friends, I see, with a young Russian, whose
- father, an old officer, sits near me at the <i>table d’hôte</i>. Poor old
- boy! I never saw a man so bored, in fact he has disclosed to me that he
- can stand it no longer. Blankenberghe has been quite too much for him.
- Lest it should also prove so to your readers, I will end with his last
- words (though I by no means endorse his judgment of the little Flemish
- watering-place), “<i>Maintenant je n’y puis plus!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- AMERICA
- </h2>
- <p>
- <i>My father in 1870 went to America for the first time. His time was so
- much occupied there that he could write only home letters. My mother has
- allowed me to make extracts from these, thinking that they serve to
- introduce his later letters from America, which were addressed to the </i>Spectator<i>.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>It was owing to the fact of my father’s having publicly taken the side
- of the North in the Civil War that his reception in the United States in
- 1870 was so particularly warm and hearty.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Peruvian, 6.45 p.m.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere I am, in my
- officer’s cabin, a small separate hole in our little world on the water,
- all to myself. At this moment I look out of my porthole and see the Welsh
- mountains coming out against a bed of daffodil sky, for though it has been
- misty all day it is now a lovely clear evening. The sea is quite calm, and
- there is scarcely any motion in the ship. The tea-bell is ringing, so I
- must stop for a little, but I shall have plenty of time to tell you all
- that has happened as yet, as we shall be lying off Londonderry nearly all
- day to-morrow. The mail does not come off to us till about 5 P.M., and we
- shall be there about nine in the morning or thereabouts. I may perhaps run
- up to Derry to see the old town and the gate and walls, etc., sacred to
- the glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good king
- William.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- 8.45 p.m.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>ea was excellent,
- and afterwards R——— and I went on deck, and saw the sun
- go down gloriously in the line of our ship’s course; we were steaming
- right up a great road of fire. The sea gets calmer and calmer, and, in
- fact, there couldn’t be less movement if we were in Greenwich reach. So
- now for the narrative of all my adventures since I left you at the window.
- The moment we got on board, there was the rush and scramble for places at
- the saloon table, which Harry I——— warned me about. We
- were on board amongst the first, but agreed not to join the scramble,
- taking any places that might happen to be going. There is something so
- ludicrously contemptible to me in seeing people eagerly and seriously
- struggling about such matters that I am quite unable to join in the worry.
- I doubt if I could even if the ship were going down, and we were all
- taking to the boats. It isn’t the least from any virtuous or heroic
- feeling, but simply from the long dwelling in the frame of mind described
- in a chapter in <i>Past and Present</i>. When every one had taken the
- seats they liked, we settled down very comfortably into two which were
- vacant, and which, for all I can see, are as good as any of the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- 8 a.m., Friday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ff the north coast
- of Ireland, and a splendid coast it is. A stout party, on whom I do not
- the least rely, told me an hour or so ago, when I first went on deck, that
- we were passing the Giant’s Causeway. The morning is deliciously fresh,
- and there is just a little roll in the vessel which is slightly
- discomforting some of the passengers, I see. I slept like a top without
- turning, for which, indeed, I haven’t room in my tray on the top of the
- drawers. My only mishap has been that when they were sluicing the decks
- this morning, the water running down the ship’s side naturally turned into
- my wide-open porthole to see if I was getting up. The device was quite
- successful, as I shot out of bed at once to close it up and save my things
- lying on the sofa below. No damage done fortunately.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- 9.30 a.m., Friday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere we are lying
- quietly at anchor in Lough Foyle after an excellent breakfast. We wait
- here for the mails, but as it is nineteen miles I find by road up to
- Derry, I shall not make the attempt. The plot thickens on board, and I am
- already deeply interested. There are 150 emigrants from the East End, who
- are being taken over by their parson and a philanthropist whose name I
- haven’t caught yet. I have been forward amongst these poor folk, and have
- won several hearts or at least opened many mouths by distributing some few
- spare stamps I luckily had in my pocket. Lovely as the morning is, and
- delicious as the contrast between the exquisite air on deck, where they
- are all sitting, when contrasted with Whitechapel air, I can’t help
- looking at them with very mingled feelings. They are a fine steady
- respectable class of poor. The women nursing and caring for their children
- with grave, serious, sweet faces, and the men really attentive. All of
- them anxious to send off scraps of letters to their friends in Great
- Babylon. There is one slip of the foredeck roped off entirely for nursing
- mothers and small children, and there are a lot of quaint little plumps
- rolling and tumbling about there, with some of whom I hope to make
- friends. A bird-fancier from the East End has several cages full of larks
- and sparrows, and a magpie and jay in state cabins by themselves, all of
- which he hopes to make great merchandise of in Canada, where English birds
- are longed for, but are very hard to keep. He had lost his hempseed in
- Liverpool, but luckily a boat has gone ashore, and I think there is good
- hope of getting him a fresh supply. There is a little gathering of the
- emigrants for service at eight in the evening forward. I didn’t know of it
- last night, but shall attend henceforth. No thought of such a thing in the
- state saloon! “How hardly shall they that have riches”!
- </p>
- <p>
- Here, as elsewhere, the truest and deepest life, because the simplest,
- lies amongst those who have little of the things of this world lying
- between them and their Father and this invisible world, with its
- realities.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- On board the Peruvian.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e are well out on
- the broad Atlantic, which at present we are inclined to think a little of
- an imposture. There is certainly a swell of some kind, for the ship
- pitches more or less, but to the unpractised eye looking out on the waste
- of waters it is quite impossible to account for the swell, for, except for
- the better colour, the sea looks very much as it does off the Isle of
- Wight; great waves like the slope of a chalk down, following one another
- in solemn procession, up which the long ship climbs like a white road.
- However, it is early days to grumble about the want of swell, and when it
- comes I may not like it any more than another. After finishing my letter
- to you this morning, I went ashore to post it, and found that after all it
- wouldn’t reach London till to-morrow night. So I sent you a telegram,
- which I hope you got before bed-time at any rate, and redirected my letter
- to Cromer. To pass the time I took a jaunting car with two other
- passengers, and we drove to an old castle looking over Lough Foyle,
- formerly a stronghold of the O’Doherty’s till it was sacked and knocked
- about their ears by an expedition of Scotch Campbells, who did a good work
- for the district by destroying it. We found lots of shamrock in the ruins,
- and enjoyed the drive and still more a bathe afterwards. The country seems
- very prosperous. The people, strapping, light-haired, blue-eyed Celts,
- handsome and well-to-do; in fact, evidently much better fed and better
- educated than almost any English country district I know. The mails came
- down from Derry in a tender, which brought us the news of the first battle
- and the Prussian victory, which I for one always looked for, and we got
- away by seven, two hours later than we expected. However, the wind is fair
- and we are making famous way, and by the time I get up in the morning I
- expect we shall be 200 miles from the Irish coast.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- 9.30 p.m., Saturday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> long calm day and
- we have made a splendid run—shall be in Quebec in good time
- to-morrow week if this weather holds; but knowing persons say it won’t,
- and that we have seen the last of fine weather, and must look out for
- squalls—for why? the wind has gone round against the sun, and it has
- settled to rain hard with a barometer steadily going down. The Roman
- Catholic bishop (who is not very expert in weather that I know of, but is
- a very, jovial party, who enjoys his cigar and gossip, and was one of the
- first to go in for a game of shovel-board on deck this morning) declares
- that we shall have it fine all the way, as he has made the passage six
- times and has never had bad weather yet. In any case I hope it won’t be
- rough to-morrow, for we are to have a real treat in the way of spiritual
- dissipation. First, the bishop is to have some kind of mass and preach a
- short sermon at nine (N.B. a time-table conscience clause is to run all
- day, so that only latitudinarians like me will go in for it all). Then the
- captain who is a rare good fellow, with a spice of sentiment about him,
- which sits so well on such a bulletheaded, broad-shouldered, resolute
- Jack-Tar, has his own service at eleven, in which he will do the priest
- himself, an excellent example, with a sermon by the emigrant parson, whose
- name is H———, afterwards. These in the saloon; then at
- 2.30 a service in the steerage by H———, or G———,
- the other parson, and a final wind up, also in the steerage at 7.30. G———is
- the clergyman of Shaftesbury, George Glyn’s borough; was formerly in the
- Navy, and was in the Ragged School movement of ’48, ’49,
- when I used to go off twice a week in the evening to Ormond Yard, when
- poor old M——— had the gas turned out, and his hat
- knocked over his eyes by his boys. He knew Ludlow and Furnival, but I
- don’t remember him. However, he is a right good fellow, and gave us a
- really good <i>extempore</i> prayer last night at the midships’ service.
- The steerage is certainly most interesting. There are now nearly 500
- emigrants on board there, and the captain says they are about the best lot
- he has ever had. Going round this morning I was struck by a dear little
- light-haired girl, who was standing with her arm round the neck of a poor
- woman very sick and ill, and such tenderness and love in her poor little
- face as she turned it up to us as almost brought tears into one’s eyes. Of
- course I thought the woman was her mother. No such thing; she was no
- relation at all. The little dear had never seen her till she met her on
- board, but was attracted by her misery, and had never left her side since
- she had been so ill. The poor woman had two strapping daughters on board
- who had never been near her. How strangely folk are fixed up in this queer
- world.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Monday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e know what a good
- swell in mid-Atlantic means at last. We were pitching when I went to bed,
- finding it hard to get on with my penmanship. Off I went as fast as usual,
- and never woke except for one moment to grunt and turn round, or rather,
- try to turn round, in my tray on top of the drawers at something which
- sounded like a crash. In the morning we were swinging and bowing and
- jerking, so that I had to wait for a favourable moment to bolt out of bed
- for fear of coming a cropper if I didn’t mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- As soon as I was out I saw what the crash had been in the night. My big
- portmanteau, which had been set on its end the night before, had had a
- jumping match with my water-jug in the night. Both of them had thrown a
- somersault across the cabin against the door, but the jug being brittle
- (jugs shouldn’t jump against portmanteaus), and coming down undermost, had
- gone all into little bits, and the water, all that wasn’t in my shoes at
- least, had soaked my carpet at the door end. But it was a glorious bright
- morning and the dancing hills of water and the bounding ship sent me up
- dancing on the deck. My high spirits were a little subdued after
- breakfast, for I had scarcely got on deck when parson H———
- came to me to say the emigrants wanted me to give them an address. Well, I
- couldn’t refuse, as my heart is full of them, poor dear folk, so down I
- went to get my ideas straight, and put down the heads on paper. I thought
- I wouldn’t miss the air, though, so set open my porthole window, which as
- I told you is about a foot across, and set to work—as I write, this
- blessed porthole is about a yard away from my right ear, and perhaps two
- feet above my head. Well, I was just getting into swing with my work, when
- suddenly a great pitch, and kerswash! in comes all of a wave that could
- squeeze through my porthole, right on to my ear and shoulder, over my
- desk, drenching all my papers, lucifer-match boxes, hair-brushes,
- wideawake, tobacco-pouch and other chattels, and flooding all of my floor
- which my water-jug had left dry. I bolted to the porthole and closed him
- up before another curious wave could come prying in, and soon rubbed
- everything dry again with the help of the Captain’s cabin-boy, and no harm
- is done except that I have to sit with my feet up on my portmanteau while
- I write. This sheet was dowsed in my shower-bath this morning, but I laid
- it on my bed, and it seems all right now and doesn’t even blot; I shall
- however envelope it now with another sheet for safety, as I’m not going to
- keep my porthole shut notwithstanding the warning, and I don’t want my
- letters to you floated again.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Peruvian, 9th August 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ince I put my last
- sheet into No. 1 envelope, everything in the good ship <i>Peruvian</i> has
- been dancing. The long tables in the saloon, at which we are always eating
- and drinking, have been covered with a small framework, over which the
- cloth is laid, and which has the effect of dividing them into three
- compartments; a sort of trough down each side in which are the dishes.
- Notwithstanding these precautions there are constant catastrophes in the
- shape of spoons, forks, tumblers, and sometimes plates, jumping the
- partitions suddenly as the ship heels over. The story of the Yankee
- skipper saying to the lady on his left, “I’ll trouble you, marm, for that
- ’ere turkey—” the bird in question having fled from the table
- into her lap as he was beginning to serve it—becomes quite
- commonplace. How the steward’s men get about with plates and dishes,
- goodness knows; but though there is a constant clatter and smash going on
- all over the ship I haven’t seen them drop anything. I am almost the only
- passenger who hasn’t even had a twinge of squeamishness, but we muster
- pretty well considering all things. The Captain is one of the cheeriest
- fellows alive, and keeps up the spirits of all the women. If he sees any
- one of them who is still about looking peeky, he whisks her off under his
- arm and walks her up and down the deck, where they stagger along together,
- and the fresh breeze soon revives the damsel. He is a sort of temporary
- father to all the girls, and constantly has, it seems, three or four
- entrusted to him to take over or bring back.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course there is a great deal of discomfort on board, but I have visited
- the steerage and am delighted with the arrangements for feeding,
- ventilation, etc. To poor seasick people, however, it must be very trying.
- This morning I carried off to my cabin a poor forlorn young married
- couple, whom I had noticed on shore at Moville, and afterwards on board. I
- am sure they hadn’t been married a week, and they were evidently ready to
- eat one another. When I saw them settling down on a large bench in a
- covered place amidships where were twenty or thirty folk, mostly ill, and
- several men smoking, she with her poor head tied up tidily in a red
- handkerchief nestling on to his shoulder, I couldn’t stand it, and took
- them off to my cabin, where they could nurse one another for a few hours’
- in peace. We have had a birth too on board, and mother and child, I am
- glad to say, are doing well. She is a very nice woman, I am told by one of
- the ladies who visits her, the wife of a school teacher. The baby is to
- have Peruvian for one of its names. I have really enjoyed the rough
- weather much; it has never been more than half a gale, I believe, though
- several men have been thrown from the sofas to the cabin floor, and more
- or less bruised. The cheery Captain has comforted us all by announcing
- that we shall be through the storm before midnight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Up the St. Lawrence they say we shall want light summer clothing. If the
- weather settles down we are to have an amateur concert on board, which
- will be, I take it, very lame on the musical side, but amusing in other
- ways.
- </p>
- <p>
- R——— was entrusted by the Captain with the task of
- getting it up, and before we got into rough weather had booked some six or
- seven volunteers. I daresay he will be well enough to-morrow morning to go
- on with it. My address is of course postponed for the present.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Wednesday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Captain was
- quite right—we sailed clear out of the storm before midnight
- yesterday, and though to-day some swell is left, it is so calm that the
- saloon tables have quite filled up again at meal-times. I was of course
- nailed by the parson for my address in the afternoon, and placed on one of
- the flat skylights amidships, as no other equally convenient and fixed
- stump could be found. As I know you would sooner get rubbish of mine than
- poetry of any one else, I give the outline. “I was there,” I said, “at
- their parson’s request, to talk, but it seemed to me that in the grand
- scene we were in, the great waves, the bright sky, the free breezes, could
- talk to them more eloquently than human lips. We were wont to use proverbs
- all our lives without realising their meaning. ‘We’re all in the same
- boat’ had never impressed me till now. Our week’s experience showed us
- before all things that the first duty of those in the same boat was to
- help, comfort, and amuse the rest. If I could do either I should be glad.
- What were we to talk about? (Shouts of ‘Canada.’) Well we would come to
- Canada, but first a word or two of the old country they were leaving. Love
- of our birthplace, otherwise called patriotism, is one of the strongest
- and noblest passions God has planted in man’s heart. You have a great
- birthright as Englishmen, are members, however humble, of the nation which
- has spread free speech and free thought round the world, which was the
- first to declare that her flag never should fly over a slave.
- Fellow-countrymen of Wycliffe, Shakespeare, Milton. Wherever you go
- cherish these memories, be loyal to the old country, keep a soft place in
- your heart for the land of your birth. You are now making the passage from
- the old world to the new, enjoying one of those rare resting-places which
- God gives us in our lives. It is time for bracing up the whole man for new
- effort, for casting off old, bad habits. One strong resolution made at
- such times often is the turning-point in men’s lives. As to the land you
- are going to, Remember you are getting a fresh start in life and all will
- depend on yourselves. In the old land there is often not enough work for
- strong and willing hands; in the new there are a hundred openings, and in
- all more work than hands. One thing wanted is honest, hard work. Whatever
- your hands find to do, do it with all your might, and you are sure of
- comfort and independence. Your new home is England’s eldest child and has
- a great destiny to work out. Be loyal therefore and true to your
- birthplace, keeping old memories alive and giving her a share of your
- love; be loyal to your new home, giving her your best work; above all, be
- loyal and true to yourselves and you shall not be false to any man or any
- land.” This, spread over half an hour, was my talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I had finished I called on the Captain, who warned them against drink
- in a straightforward sailor’s speech. Then a grizzled old boy, who had
- been calling out “That’s true” whenever I spoke of hard work, scrambled up
- on the skylight and told them that he had come out thirty years ago from
- England with nine shillings in his pocket and seven children. He had given
- each of his daughters fifteen hundred dollars on their marriage, and
- helped each of his sons into a farm, and had a farm of his own, which he
- was going back to after visiting his old home in Cornwall. All this he had
- done by hard work. He was a blacksmith, but would turn his hand to
- anything. Times were just as good now as then, and every one of them might
- do the same. This was a splendid clencher to the nail I had tried to drive
- in. The parson wound up with more advice as to liquor, and an account of
- how well the sixteen hundred he had already sent out had done. The whole
- was a great success, and we all went off to dinner in the cabin in high
- spirits. If the fair weather lasts we shall see land to-morrow afternoon.
- To-morrow night we are to have our concert. My young couple have turned up
- trumps: he plays the old piano in the saloon famously, being an excellent
- musician, and she sings, they say, nicely when not sea-sick. The Canadians
- on board assure him he will be caught up as an organist directly to help
- out his other means of livelihood. Then for Friday we are to have “Box and
- Cox” in the cabin, played by the Captain and R———, who
- knows the part of
- </p>
- <p>
- Cox perfectly already, having played it at Cambridge. Mrs. Bouncer has not
- yet been fixed on, but a nice little Canadian girl will, I think, play it.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Tuesday evening.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e had a fog this
- morning which lost us a couple of hours, seeing however, as compensation,
- a fog rainbow—a colourless arch, which as you looked over the side
- seemed to spring from the two ends of the ship. As the fog cleared away
- and we went ahead we saw an iceberg to the north, which soon looked like a
- great white lion lying on the horizon. During the day, which has been
- wonderfully bright and cold, we have seen several more icebergs and a lot
- of whales, one of which came quite close to the ship. We sighted land
- about seven, and in six miles more we should have passed into the Bay of
- St. Lawrence, when a rascally fog came on and forced us to lay-to. The
- Captain can’t leave the deck, so we didn’t have our concert, and we are
- all going to bed anxious to hear the screw at work again.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Friday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e lay-to all last
- night, the jolly Captain up on the bridge, to watch for any lifting of the
- fog, so that he might go ahead at once; but the fog wouldn’t lift, and so
- we lay until eight this morning. Just before breakfast it cleared, and
- away we went, and soon entered the strait between Newfoundland and
- Labrador. By the time we had done breakfast we were running close by a
- huge iceberg, like a great irregular wedding cake, except near the water,
- where the colour changed from sugary white into the most delicious green.
- There were nine other icebergs in sight to the north, and a number of
- others round us, just showing above the water, one like a great
- ichthyosaurus creeping along the waves, or a white bear with a very long
- neck. Had we gone on last night it would have been a perilous adventure.
- Soon afterwards we sighted the <i>North American</i>, a companion ship
- belonging to the same Company, running some miles in front of us to the
- north. We had a most exciting race, coming abreast of her about twelve,
- and communicating by signals. Then we drew ahead, and shall be in Quebec
- nearly a day before her. Then we played shovel-board on deck, the air
- getting more balmy every minute as we drew out of the ice region. We had a
- grand gathering of emigrants amidships, and sung hymns, “Jesus, lover of
- my soul,” and others, with a few words from G———, the
- busy parson, who has recovered from his long sea-sickness at last, and is
- a famous fellow. The concert of the Peruvians came off with a great <i>eclat</i>
- after dinner. They put me in the chair, and I introduced the performers
- with a slight discourse about the Smith family (the Captain’s name is
- Smith), and at the end they voted thanks to me, imparting the great
- success of the voyage to my remarkable talent for making folk agree and
- pull together—very flattering, but scarcely accurate. Then somebody
- discovered that it was a glorious moonlight, so up we all went, and very
- soon there was a fiddler and a dance on deck, which is only just over. We
- are well in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and all going as well as possible.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Mouth of the St. Lawrence.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am much pleased
- with the specimens of Canadians whom we have on board. There are some
- twenty of them, with their wives, daughters, and small boys. They are a
- quiet, well-informed, pleasant set of men, and ready and pleased to talk
- of their country and her prospects. My conversation runs to a great
- extent, as you may suppose, on the chances of farming in Canada West,
- which is the part of the colony with the greatest future, and I am much
- pleased with what I hear. Any man with a capital of from £2000 to £3000
- may do very well, and make money quite as fast as is good for him, if he
- will only keep steady and work; and the life is exceedingly fascinating
- for youngsters.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a very nice fellow on board, a gentleman in the conventional
- sense, who is returning from a run to Gloucestershire to see his friends.
- He has been out for seven years only, two of which he spent as an
- apprentice with a farmer, learning his trade. He is quite independent now,
- and I would not wish to meet a better specimen of a man.
- </p>
- <p>
- I doubt whether you, being so orderly a party, would quite appreciate what
- appears to be the favourite form of pleasuring amongst the up-country
- farmers, but I own that it would have suited my natural man down to the
- ground. Half a dozen of them, in the bright, still wintertime, will agree
- that they haven’t seen Jones for some weeks, so will give him “a
- surprise.” Accordingly they all start from their own houses so as to meet
- at his farm about 9.30 or 10 o’clock—the time he would be going to
- bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- They drive over in sledges, each taking his wife, sister, or sweetheart, a
- good hamper of provisions and plenty of buffalo robes. Jones finds his
- yard full of neighing horses and sledges as he is going to bed. If he has
- already gone they knock him up. They then take possession of his house and
- premises. The men litter down their horses, the women light his fire and
- lay the supper, the only absolute rule being, that Jones and his family
- and servants do nothing at all.
- </p>
- <p>
- They all sit down to supper and then dance till they are tired, and then
- the women go to bed; and the men, if there are no beds for them, as
- generally happens, roll themselves in their buffalo robes and go to sleep.
- In the morning they breakfast, and then start away home again over the
- snow in their sledges, after the men have cut up firewood enough to keep
- Jones warm for a week.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is magnificent trout and salmon fishing, and deer, wolf, and bear
- shooting, for those who like to seek it in the backwoods, and plenty of
- time for sport when the farm work is over, or in the winter. At the big
- towns, such as Montreal and Toronto, there is plenty of society, and
- evidently cultivated society, though young Guardsmen may speak
- shudderingly of colonists.
- </p>
- <p>
- Box and Cox, by the way, went off very well considering that the Captain,
- who played Box, had been up on the bridge almost the whole of the two
- previous nights, and consequently did not quite know his part.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Sunday 14th.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>ast night we
- danced on deck till nearly eleven under the most lovely soft moon I have
- ever seen. This morning we are running up the St. Lawrence along the
- southern bank, the northern being dim in the extreme distance. There is a
- long continuous range of hills covered entirely with forest, except just
- along the water’s edge, where it has been cleared by the French-Canadian
- settlers. They live along the shore, too close, I should say, to the water
- line for comfort; but as their chief occupation is fishing, I have no
- doubt they have good reasons for their selection. There is scarcely a
- quarter of a mile for the last twenty or thirty miles, I should say, in
- which there is not a cottage, but the villages are far between. The people
- are a simple, quiet folk, living just as their fathers lived, happy,
- clean, contented, and stationary. This last quality provokes the English
- of Upper Canada dreadfully, who complain that the French make everything
- they require at home, and buy nothing whatever which contributes to the
- revenue of the Dominion except a little cheap tea. However, there is much
- to be said for the Frenchmen, and I am very glad that our English people
- have constantly before them the example of such a self-sufficing and
- unambitious life. In two or three hours, probably before our morning
- service is over, the pilot will be on board with papers, and we shall know
- what has been doing in the great outside world. I was thinking of
- telegraphing to you, but as the Company telegraph, and publish our arrival
- “all well” in the English papers, it seems scarcely worth while.
- </p>
- <p>
- The pilot has just come on board and brought us Canadian papers with
- copies of telegrams, and general vague rumours of terrible reverses for
- France. I always looked for them, as you know. This frightful reign of
- eighteen years, begun in perjury and bloodshed, and continued by constant
- pandering to the worst tendencies of France, must have taken the power and
- heart out of any nation. I pity the poor Canadians who still hold
- themselves more French than anything else, as indeed they are. They gather
- on deck and tell one another that the news is German, that it is all mere
- rumour. They will find it too true in another day or two. I am very glad
- to hear that the Orleans princes are now to go back. They are a family of
- very gallant and able gentlemen, and ought to be with France at this
- moment. Wrong as I think her, I hope she may soon be able to rally, shake
- off the charlatans whom she has allowed to misrule her, and conclude an
- honourable peace. The pilot-boat went back at once, and when she lands our
- safe arrival will be telegraphed at once, so that I hope you may see it
- before to-morrow evening—if you only know where to look in the
- newspaper. I often think how very different those short announcements at
- the head of the Shipping news will seem to me in the future.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Allan Line. The <i>Peruvian</i> arrived off Father Point yesterday. All
- well.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Wednesday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>vents have been
- crowding us during the last thirty-six hours—bless me, I mean the
- last sixty hours—I had positively written Tuesday instead of
- Wednesday at the top of this. I let my watch run down on the <i>Peruvian</i>,
- as it was too provoking to have to put it back thirty-five minutes every
- morning. Since then time has gone all whiz! however, I shall pick up the
- time now and get to my bearings, at least I shall try. Well, all Sunday
- afternoon we ran up the glorious St. Lawrence, past the mouths of what we
- should call big rivers, past the Canadian watering-places, past one long
- straggling village except where the hills are too steep or the soil
- absolutely barren. The view is not unlike many Scotch ones, substituting
- scrub or stunted forest for heather. This of course is a great
- disadvantage in a picturesque point of view, but it is more than
- compensated by the great river. I am very glad I came to the new world up
- the St. Lawrence. Nothing could have brought the startling contrast of the
- old and new world so vividly home to me as this steaming literally day
- after day up the stream, and finding it still at 700 miles from the mouth
- two miles broad, with anchorage for the largest ships that float. We went
- the round of the ship with the Captain after dinner, to see the wonderful
- detail of the storerooms, and the huge fire-system which goes glowing on
- through all the voyage. The sight of the twenty-five great furnaces
- glowing, and consuming fifty-two tons of coal a day, quite scared several
- of the ladies, who seemed to think that the Peruvian was flying, I should
- say sailing, presumptuously in the face of Providence not to have caught
- fire during the voyage. Luckily we were within a few hours of port, so
- their anxiety was not of long duration. I went to bed for the last time in
- my crib on the top of the drawers, leaving word for the quartermaster to
- call me when we were getting near Quebec. Accordingly I was roused at
- about three from one of the sleeps without a turn even (by reason that
- there is no room to turn) which one gets on board ship, and scuffled up on
- deck in my trousers and fur coat to find myself in the most perfect
- moonlight rounding the last point below Quebec. Then up went three
- rockets, and as we slacked our speed at the side of the wharf right
- opposite the citadel, two guns were fired and the voyage of the Peruvian
- was over. My packing was all done, so while the vessel was being unladen I
- went quietly to bed again and slept for another two or three hours amid
- all the din. Between six and seven I turned out again and had a good
- breakfast on board, after which came leave-takings, and then those of us
- who were not going on by train and were ready to start, went on board a
- little tug ferry-boat and were paddled across to Quebec. I have sent a
- small map to show you how the land lies. Our ferry-boat took us over from
- Port Levi to the quay just under the Citadel along the line I have dotted,
- and we at once chartered two carriages to visit the falls of Montmorency,
- to which you will see a line drawn on the map and which is about six miles
- from Quebec. Oh, the air! You know what it is when we land at Dieppe, or
- at Brussels, or Aix. Well, all that air is fog, depressing wet blanket
- compared to this Canadian nectar. I really doubt whether it would not be
- almost worth while to emigrate merely for the exquisite pleasure of the
- act of living in this country.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Montreal, 19th August 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> must get on with
- my journal or shall fall altogether astern—you have no idea how hard
- it is even to find time to write a few lines home; however if I can only
- make up the time to-day I hope to keep down the arrears more regularly
- hereafter. We had a long day of sightseeing in and about Quebec. First we
- drove down to the Montmorency Falls, 220 feet high and very beautiful,
- then back to the Citadel, which rises some 600 or 700 feet right above the
- river—a regular little Gibraltar; then we went off to the Heights of
- Abraham, at the back of the Citadel, where Wolfe fought his battle and was
- killed after scaling the cliffs in the early morning. Then we drove down
- into the town, and had lunch at a restaurant, and walked about to see the
- place. Well worth seeing it is; a quaint, old, thoroughly French town of
- the last century dropped down into the middle of the new world. In the
- evening we went on board the great river steamer, and came away all night
- up the St. Lawrence to Montreal. There were 1000 passengers on board,
- every one of whom had an excellent berth—mine was broader and
- lighter than that on the <i>Peruvian.</i> We were not the least crowded in
- the splendid saloon (some 150 feet long), and the open galleries running
- all round the ship in two tiers. I preferred the latter, though there was
- music, Yankee and Canadian, in the saloon, and spent my evening till
- bedtime out in the stern gallery looking at the most superb moonlight on
- the smooth water you can conceive. We had a small English party there, and
- there were half a dozen constantly changing groups round us. The girls
- have evidently much more freedom than at home, at least more than they had
- in our day—two or three would come out with as many young men, and
- sit round in a ring. The men lighted cigars, and then they would all set
- to work singing glees, songs, or what not, and chaffing and laughing away
- for half an hour perhaps, after which they would disappear into the
- saloon. There was a regular bar on board at which all manner of cool
- drinks were sold. We tried several, which I thought, I must say, very
- nasty, especially brandy-smash. After a most comfortable night I awoke
- between five and six as we were nearing Montreal. The city is very fine,
- the river still two miles broad, and ocean steamer drawing twenty feet and
- more of water able to lie right up against the quay. S———,
- a friend of Sir J. Rose’s, a great manufacturer here, whom I had taken to
- the “Cosmopolitan,” was in waiting on the landing-place, and took us at
- once up to his charming house on the hill (the mountain they call it) at
- the back of the city. He is a man of forty-three or forty-four; his wife,
- a very pleasant woman a little younger, and adopted daughter, Alice (a
- very sweet girl of nineteen, just home from an English school), form the
- whole family. I can’t tell you how kind they are and how perfectly at home
- they have made us. After breakfast we went down to see the city, got
- photographed with the rest of the above-named Peruvians, had a delicious
- lunch of fried oysters at a luncheon shop kept by a Yankee, washed it down
- with a drink called John Collins, a pleasant, cold, weak, scented kind of
- gin and water. Sir Geo. Carter and Sir Fras. Hinks, two of the present
- Government, both of whom I had met in England, came to dinner, also Holton
- the leading senator of the Opposition, and the two young Roses, one
- bringing his pretty young wife, and we had a long and very interesting
- political talk afterwards. Nothing could have suited me better, as there
- are many points of Canadian politics I am very anxious to get views on. We
- didn’t get to bed till 12.30, so I had no time to write. On Wednesday we
- saw more of the city which I shan’t attempt to describe till I can sit by
- you with photographs and explain, lunched at the Club, of which we have
- been made honorary members, with a large party of merchants and other big
- folk, and then at three were picked up by Mrs. S.—-, who drove us up
- the river to a place called Lachine, past the rapids (see Canadian
- boat-song), “The rapids are near and the daylight’s past.” Lachine gets
- its queer name from the first French Missionaries who started up the St.
- Lawrence to get to China, and for some unaccountable reason thought they
- had reached the flowery land when they got to this place, so settled down
- and called it China. The air was still charming, but the sky was beginning
- to get less bright, and Mrs. S—— and A———agreed
- that there must be a forest burning somewhere. And so it proved, for in a
- few hours the whole sky was covered with a smoke-cloud, light but not
- depressing, like our fogs, but still so dense that we could scarcely see
- across the river. We got back in time for dinner, to which came Colonel
- Buller, now commanding the Rifles here; Hugh Allan, the head of the great
- firm of ship-owners to whom the <i>Peruvian</i> and all the rest of the
- Allan line packets belong; and several young Canadians. It was very
- pleasant again, and again I got a heap of information on Canadian subjects
- from Allan, who is a longheaded able old Scotchman, the founder of the
- immense prosperity of himself and all his family. He has his private steam
- yacht and a great place on a lake near here, wherein is a private
- telegraph, so that he can wire all over the world from his own hall.
- Prince Arthur went to stay with him when he was out here in the late
- autumn and spring, and the Queen wired him every day while he was there.
- Early next morning S———,
- </p>
- <p>
- Miss A———, I, and R——— were off by
- rail to a station ten or twelve miles up the river, where we waited till
- the Montreal market-boat came down and picked us up to shoot the rapids.
- We had a very pleasant run to Quebec, and the shooting the rapids is very
- interesting, but neither dangerous nor even exciting. The river widens out
- perhaps to two and a half miles in width, and for some mile or mile and a
- half breaks into these rapids, which boil and rush along at a great pace,
- and in quite a little boat would no doubt keep the steerer and oarsmen on
- the stretch. The approach to Montreal under the great Victoria Bridge, two
- miles long, is very noble. We got back to breakfast at ten, and afterwards
- went up the mountain at the back of the town, but the haze from the
- burning forest quite spoiled the view. The carriage is announced, so I
- must close.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Montreal, 20th August 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> hurried up my
- letters yesterday, so as to bring my journal down to the day I was writing
- on, fearing lest otherwise I should never catch the thread again. I doubt
- whether I told you anything about this very fine city, in the suburbs of
- which we are stopping, and which we leave to-day. Well, I scarcely know
- how to begin to give you an idea of it. It isn’t the least like an English
- or indeed any European town, the reason being, I take it, that it has been
- built with the necessity of meeting extremes of heat and cold, which we
- never get. Except in the heart of the city, where the great business
- streets are, there are trees along the sides of all the thoroughfares—maples,
- which give real shade, and are in many places indeed too thick, and too
- near the houses for comfort I should say—as near as the plane-tree
- was to our drawing-room window at 33. This arrangement makes walking about
- very pleasant to me, even when the thermometer stands at 90° in the shade
- as it did yesterday. Then instead of a stone foot-pavement you have almost
- everywhere boards, timber being the most plentiful production of the
- country. Walking along the boards in the morning you see at every door a
- great lump of ice, twenty pounds weight or so, lying there for the maid to
- take in when she comes out to clean. This is supplied by the ice merchants
- for a few shillings a year. The houses are square, built generally of a
- fine limestone found all over the island (Montreal is an island thirty-six
- miles long by nine wide), and have all green open shutter-blinds, which
- they keep constantly shut all day, as in Greece, to keep out the heat, and
- double windows to keep out the cold. The roofs are generally covered with
- tin instead of tiles or slates, and all the church steeples, of which
- there are a very large number, are tinned, as you remember we saw them in
- parts of Austria and Hungary. There are magnificent stores of dry goods,
- groceries, etc., but scarcely any shops in our sense. No butcher, milkman,
- greengrocer, etc., calls at the door, and the ladies have all to go down
- to the market or send there. Nothing can be better than the living, but
- Mrs. S——— complains that it is very hard work for <i>hausfraus</i>,
- and I have heard Lady K——— say the same thing. This
- house is in one of the shaded avenues on the slopes of the mountain, two
- miles I should say from the market. Mrs. S———- drives
- down every marketday and buys provisions, market-days being twice a week,
- but the stalls are open on other days also, so that if a flood of company
- comes in on the intermediate days, the anxious housewife need not be
- absolutely done for. The living is as good as can be, not aspiring to
- first-rate French cookery, but equal to anything you find in good English
- houses. Prices are very reasonable except for fancy articles of clothing,
- etc. Furs, which you would expect to find cheap, are at least as high as
- in London, and R———made an investment in gloves for
- which he paid six shillings a pair. The city is the quietest and
- best-behaved I ever was in. We dined at the mess of the 60th Rifles last
- night, and walked home through the heart of the city at 10.30. Every one
- had gone to bed, apparently, for there wasn’t a light in fifty houses and
- we literally met no one—not half a dozen people certainly in the
- whole distance. Altogether I am very much impressed with the healthiness
- of the life, morally and physically, and can scarcely imagine any country
- I would sooner start in were I beginning life again.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Tuesday morning, 23rd August 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, to continue,
- on Saturday we broke up from Montreal, having I think seen very thoroughly
- all the persons and things best worth seeing in the place. Our host had
- arranged that we should go and spend Sunday with Mr. Hugh Allan, the head
- of the family which has established the line of mail steamers to Liverpool
- and Glasgow. He has been forty years out here, and when he came Montreal
- had only 17,000 inhabitants, now it has 150,000; there was scarcely water
- for a 200 ton ship to lie at the wharf, now you can see steamers of 2000
- tons and upwards always there. Hugh Allan is evidently a very rich man
- now. He has a big house on the mountain behind Montreal, and this place
- where I am now writing from, on Memphremagog Lake, which if you have a
- good map, you will find half in Canada and half in the New England state
- of Vermont. It is a lovely inland sea, about thirty-five miles long and
- varying from one to three miles broad. Mr. Allan’s house, where he
- entertained Prince Arthur in the spring, stands on the top of a high
- well-wooded promontory, about half-way up. It is a good, commodious,
- gentleman’s house, with deep verandahs, thoroughly comfortable, but
- without pretence or show of any kind. There is a large wooden out-building
- called the Hermitage, about one hundred yards off, divided entirely into
- bedrooms, so that there is room for lots of guests besides the family,
- seven or eight of whom are here. In another building there is an American
- bowling-alley, and an excellent croquet ground before the house. Mr. Allan
- keeps a nice steam yacht, which runs about the lake daily with any one who
- likes to go, and there are half a dozen rowing boats, so time need not
- hang heavily on the most restless hands. I accepted the invitation, as a
- few days at Memphremagog is evidently considered the thing to do by all
- Canadians, and the last twenty miles or so of the railway to Newport
- (Vermont), the place at the foot of the lake at which you embark, has only
- just been finished, right through the forest, so that it was a good chance
- of seeing the beginnings of colonial life in the bush. And I am very glad
- that I did come, for certainly if the journey (120 miles altogether) had
- been planned for the purpose, it couldn’t have been more interesting.
- After leaving Montreal we travelled I should say for from thirty to forty
- miles through reclaimed country, dotted with French villages and the
- homesteads of well-to-do farmers. Then we gradually slipped into
- half-cleared woods, and then into virgin forest. Presently we came across
- a great block of the forest on fire, but in broad daylight the sight is
- not the least grand, though unpleasant from the smoke, and melancholy from
- the waste and mischief which the fires do. I think I told you in my last
- that the forests about Ottawa, the capital of the Dominion, were on fire
- last week. The fire became so serious that great fears were entertained
- for the town, the militia and volunteers were called out, and a special
- train with fire-engines was sent up from Montreal. Scores of poor settlers
- were in the streets, having with difficulty escaped with their lives, and
- last of all several wretched bears trotted out of the burning woods into
- the town. The fire we passed through was not at all on this scale, and
- didn’t seem likely to get ahead. There were the marks of fires of former
- years on all sides in these forests. Tall stems by hundreds, standing up
- charred and gaunt out of the middle of the bright green maple underwood,
- which is fast growing up round them, and in a very short time makes the
- tangle as thick as ever. Before long we came to small clearings of from
- three to four acres, on each of which was a rough wooden shanty, with half
- a dozen wild, brown, healthy-looking children rolling and scrambling about
- it, and standing up in their single garments to cheer the train. On these
- plots the trees had all been felled about two feet from the ground, and
- the brushwood cleared away, and there were crops of Indian corn, oats, or
- buckwheat growing all round the stumps. Then we came to plots which had
- been occupied longer, where the shanty had grown into a nice-sized
- cottage, with a good-sized outhouse near. Here all the stumps had been
- cleared, and the plot divided by fences, and three or four cows would be
- poking about. Then we came to a fine river and ran along the bank, passing
- here and there sawmills of huge size, and stopping at one or two large
- primitive villages, gathered round a manufactory. In short, in the day’s
- run we saw Canadian life in all its phases, ending with a delicious twelve
- miles’ run up the lake in Mr. Allan’s steam yacht, with the whole sky
- flickering with Northern lights, which shot and played about for our
- special delight. Our railway party were Mr.
- </p>
- <p>
- Allan; Mr. and Mrs. S———, and Miss B———,
- their adopted daughter; General Lindsay, whom I knew well in England and
- like very much; Colonel Eyre, his military secretary, and ourselves. Then
- there are eight children here. “We had a most luxurious car, with a little
- sitting-room in which we each had an easy chair, and there were two most
- enticing-looking little bedrooms, everything as clean and neat as you
- could have it, and we could walk out on to a platform at either end to
- look at the view. There was a boy also in attendance in a little sort of
- spare room where the luggage went, who ministered any amount of iced water
- to any one who called. This is decidedly the most luxurious travelling I
- ever had, but then the car was the private one of the manager of the Grand
- Trunk Railway; and the democratic cars in which every one else went, and
- in which indeed we had to travel for the last few miles, were very
- different affairs. Fancy my intense delight on Sunday morning, as I walked
- from the Hermitage up to the house to breakfast through some flower-beds,
- to see two humming-birds, poising themselves before flower after flower
- while probing and trying the blooms with their long bills, and then
- springing back with a stroke of their lovely little tails, and whisking
- off to the next bloom. They were green and brown, not so lovely in colour
- as many you have seen in collections, but exquisite as eye need ask to
- look at. The humming-birds have been certainly my greatest natural history
- treat as yet, not excepting the whales. I had seen a whale before, a small
- one, in the Hebrides, and I had never seen a hummingbird except stuffed;
- moreover I expected to see whales, but not humming-birds. We saw a fine
- great bald-headed eagle to-day, too, sailing over the lake, but his flight
- was not anything like so fine as those we saw soaring over the Iron Gates
- as we went spinning down the Danube nine years ago. We have a very
- charming visit here steaming about the lake, driving along the banks,
- playing croquet and bowls and billiards, and laughing, chaffing, and
- loafing to any extent. The family are very nice, and I hope he will soon
- be made a baronet and one of the first grandees of the Dominion. To-morrow
- morning at five we start for Boston in the steam yacht, which takes us
- down to Newport at the end of the lake. So by the evening I shall perhaps
- get a letter from you. How I do thirst for home news after three weeks’
- absence.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Elmwood, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 25th August 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> forget just where
- I left off, whether I had brought my journal up to our leaving
- Memphremagog or not. The last day there was as pleasant as the rest. The
- young folks played croquet and American bowls all the morning, while I lay
- on the grass watching for humming-birds and talking occasional politics to
- any one who would join me. At about twelve a retired judge, Day by name,
- who lives four or five miles off, drove over with a member of the
- Government (I forget his name) who was to start from the pier below the
- house in the lake steamer. Mr. Allan owns this steamer, which stops at his
- pier whenever he runs up a flag; so you see the privileged classes are not
- extinct by any means in the British dominion in the new world. Now the
- Judge, having a seat in his light sort of phaeton, proposed to drive me
- over to the post-office, about four miles off, where he was going, and to
- bring me back to luncheon. So I embarked behind his two strong little
- trotting nags and had a most interesting drive. The roads were not worse
- than many Devonshire lanes, and where the pitches were steepest, the stout
- little nags made nothing of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- The views of the lake were exquisite, and the Judge one of the pleasantest
- of men. He had been employed in 1865 on a mission to Washington, and gave
- me very graphic accounts of his interviews with Lincoln and the other
- leading men there, and confirmed many of my own views as to the
- comparative chances of the two great sections of our race in the new world
- in the future. He is less apprehensive of Canada joining the United States
- than most men of his standing, and I think has good reason for his
- confidence. Material interest will perhaps for a time (or rather, after a
- time, for at present it is very doubtful on which side they weigh) sway in
- the direction of annexation to the United States, but the ablest and most
- energetic of the younger men of the cultivated classes are so strongly
- bent on developing a distinct national life, that I expect to see them
- carry their country for independence rather than annexation, when the time
- comes, if it ever should, of a final cutting of the ropes which bind them
- to us. After luncheon we went off in the steam yacht to a bay in the lake,
- and then in row boats four or five miles up the bay into the heart of the
- hills, where we saw bald-headed eagles, and black and white king-fishers
- five times the size of ours, and after a very interesting and pleasant
- excursion got back to dinner, finishing the evening with dancing. At five
- next morning we heard the steamer’s whistle calling us. The young ladies
- were up to give us a cup of coffee and parting good words, and then
- we-steamed down for Newport, where we were to take the rail through the
- Connecticut valley to Boston. On the Newport wharf which joins the station
- we said good-bye to Allan and Stephen, and shall carry away most charming
- memories of our stay in Canada. General Lindsay and Eyre went with us, and
- their companionship made the journey very agreeable, though it was as hot
- as the Lower Danube, and the dust more uncomfortable and dirtying than any
- we have at home. Most part of the way the soil is as light and sandy as
- that about Dorking, and the trains seem to raise greater clouds of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The greater part of the journey was along the banks of the Merrimac, a
- fine river with as much water as the Thames at Richmond, I should say, but
- spread over a bed generally twice as broad. We saw the White Mountains at
- a distance on our left, and passed through a number of flourishing towns.
- The thing that struck me most was the apparent fusion into one class of
- the whole community. As you know, every one goes into the same long
- carriages, holding from sixty to eighty people. Of these there were four
- or often five on our train, and I often passed through them (as you may
- do, up the middle, without disturbing the passengers, who sit in pairs
- with their faces to the engine on each side of the passage), as there was
- a great deal of local traffic, seventy people often getting out at a
- station, I thus saw really a very considerable number of people on this
- first day in the States, and certainly should have been exceedingly
- puzzled to sort them in the broadest way, either into rich and poor,
- gentlemen or ladies (in the conventional sense) and common people, or any
- other radical division. I certainly saw at some stations children running
- about without shoes, and workmen in as dirty blouses as those of Europe;
- but in the trains they were all well dressed, quiet, self-respecting
- people, without any pretence to polish, or any approach to vulgarity. The
- bad taste in women’s dress, which I am told to expect elsewhere, does not
- certainly prevail in New England. All the women wore neat short dresses,
- with moderate trimmings according to taste; but I did not see an
- extravagant garment or, I am bound to add, a really pretty one along the
- whole line. On the whole I thought the women as good looking as any I have
- ever travelled amongst, but paler and sadder, or at any rate quieter, than
- a like number of Englishwomen. Once or twice men in stove-pipe hats (the
- ordinary tile of so-called civilisation), and wearing perhaps better cloth
- and whiter linen than the average, got in, but not one whom you would have
- picked out as a person bred and brought up in a different way, and
- occupying a station above or apart from the rest, as you see in every
- train in England. It may have been chance, but certainly it was startling.
- Then another surprise. They are certainly the least demonstrative people
- so far as strangers are concerned that I have ever been amongst. I had the
- prevailing idea that a Yankee was a note of interrogation walking about
- the world, and besides craving for all sorts of information about you, was
- always ready to impart to you the particulars of his own birth, parentage,
- and education, and his opinion on everything, “from Adam’s fall to Huldy’s
- bonnet.” Well, I left our party purposely several times on the journey to
- try the experiment of sitting on one of the small seats carrying two only
- with a Yankee. In not one single case did either of those I sat by say a
- single word to me, and when I commenced they just answered my question
- very civilly and relapsed into total silence. I may add that this first
- experience has been confirmed since, both in street and railway cars.
- </p>
- <p>
- We got to Boston at about seven, and then had our first experience of the
- price of things here. It is only four miles out to Lowell’s, who lives on
- the other side of Cambridge, but we were obliged to pay five dollars for a
- carriage to get out there. We could get nothing but a great handsome
- family coach with two horses, and in that, accordingly, out we lumbered.
- Cambridge is a very pretty suburb of Boston, the centre point of it being
- Harvard College, consisting of four or five large blocks of red brick
- building and a stone chapel, standing in the midst of some fine trees.
- Elmwood Avenue in which Lowell lives is about half a mile beyond the
- College—a broad road shaded on both sides by tows of trees planted
- as in the Boulevards, as indeed is done along all the roads. The
- Professor’s house is a good, roomy, wooden one standing in the midst of
- some thirty acres of his own land, on which stand many good trees, and
- especially some pre-revolutionary English elms of which he is very proud.
- He was sitting on the piazza of the house with his wife and Holmes’
- brother, taking a pipe and not the least expecting us. The Irish maid told
- us to “<i>sit right down</i>” while she went to fetch him. In a minute he
- and his wife came and put us at our ease, explaining that no letter had
- ever come since we had landed. Mabel was away at the sea for a few days.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Elmwood Avenue, Cambridge, 31s£ August 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> managed with some
- difficulty and scramble to get off a letter to you by yesterday’s post,
- which <i>ought</i> to go by steamer from New York to-day, bringing my
- narrative up to our arrival here. We found Lowell on his verandah with his
- wife and friend, and sat there talking till ten. I am not the least
- disappointed with him, Henry Cowper notwithstanding. I have never met a
- more agreeable talker, and his kindness to me is quite unbounded. Then he
- has not a grain of vanity in his composition, but is as simple and
- truthful as the best kind of boy. The house is a wooden one, as
- four-fifths of the houses in New England are. It is roomy, airy, and
- furnished with quaint old heavy pieces, bureaus like ours, and solid heavy
- little mahogany tables, all dating from the last century. The plate in the
- same way is all of the Queen Anne shape, like your little tea-service and
- my grandmother’s milk jugs and tea-pots which George has. The plainness
- and simplicity of the living, too, is most attractive. We breakfast at
- 8.30, beginning with porridge, and following up with eggs, some hot dish,
- corn cakes, toast and fruit. Then there is no regular meal till six—a
- terribly late and fashionable dinner hour here, as the prevalent hour is
- two or three—and afterwards we have a cup of coffee and crackers
- (good plain biscuits) and a glass of toddy at ten. Miss Mabel and others
- have given us a desperate idea of the difficulties as to service, but they
- certainly do not exist in this establishment just now. The principal
- servant that we see is an Irish girl, Rose by name, who reminds me of one
- of Mrs. Cameron’s servants except that she is far more diligent. The
- ingenious way in which she hid away all my wardrobe in the ample cupboards
- and recesses of the bureau in my room was a perfect caution, and she
- whisks away my things and gets them beautifully washed, wholly refusing to
- allow me to pay for them. The parlour-maid is a little, slight, ladylike
- girl, who certainly is not a first-rate waiter, but then there is no need
- of one. The dinner is confined to one thing at a time—soup,
- sometimes fish, a joint, or chickens, and a sweet. The Professor opens his
- own wine at the table and passes it round, and very good it is, but one
- scarcely needs it in this climate. A cook whose acquaintance I have also
- made, and an Irishman who has been thirty years on the place in a roomy
- cottage, and attends to the cows, garden, and farm of thirty acres,
- complete the establishment. Mrs. Lowell, who is a very nice, quiet, and
- clever woman, is very fond of flowers, and manages to keep a few beds
- going about the house, and there are a number of very fine trees, so that
- though there is no pretence to the neatness and finish of English grounds
- and garden, the place has a thoroughly homely, cultivated atmosphere and
- look which is very attractive, and the whole town of Cambridge seems to be
- made up of just such houses. We have lost no time in lionising men and
- places. On Thursday we took the car into Boston and ascended the monument
- on Bunker’s Hill, 290 steps up a dark spiral staircase. Lowell had never
- been up it before, nor indeed has any native as far as I can find out. The
- view at the top repays you thoroughly for the grind with the thermometer
- at eighty in the shade. Boston Harbour, where the tea was thrown out of
- the English ships in 1775, and> the whole town and suburbs lie below you
- like a map, and are very striking. After descending we hunted up a number
- of people, including young Holmes, our Colonel, who was as charming as
- ever, absorbed in his law at which he is doing famously, and resolved in
- his first holiday to revisit England. He came out to dine, and fraternised
- immensely with R——, and with him a young Howells, the editor
- of the Atlantic Monthly, whom Conway had brought to our house years ago,
- and I had entirely forgotten. However he is a very nice fellow, and I
- don’t think I betrayed my obliviousness. Next day, Friday, we had a long
- country drive in the morning through broad avenues lined with three
- fascinating wooden houses, each standing with plenty of elbow-room in its
- own grounds, up to a wooded hill from which we got a splendid view of the
- city. Then I went into Boston and called on the Autocrat of the Breakfast
- Table, who is one of the best talkers I ever met, and quite worthy to be
- the Colonel’s father. He is one of Motley’s oldest friends, and deeply
- grieved, as all good men here, at his recall. His chief talk was of his
- memories of his English visits, and the folk he met, and so I find it with
- all the best men and women here. Notwithstanding the bitterness which our
- press created during the war, I am convinced that with a very little tact
- and judicious handling on our side the international relations may be
- easily made all we can wish as far as New England is concerned. Afterwards
- I sauntered about the town, looking at some good statues in their park
- (Boston Common), and letting the place sink into me. The Common is about
- the size, I should say, of Green Park, but of a regular shape. It lies on
- the side of a hill at the top of which are the State House and other
- public buildings and private houses. It is well wooded with fine American
- and English elms (pre-revolutionary, they say, but I don’t believe it.
- They are not used to our elms, and I doubt whether any of these are 100
- years old) on the upper part and along the sides; the middle is a great
- playground for the boys, who are diligent there all day at base-ball, our
- rounders, which I should think must spoil the enjoyment of the place for
- ladies and children. However they can always take to the pretty gardens at
- the lower end, in which is a very fine equestrian statue of Washington,
- and one of Everett by Story, by no means fine in my opinion. How should it
- be, when he insisted on being taken with his arm right up in the air, his
- favourite attitude in speaking, and stands up in that attitude in ordinary
- buttoned frock coat and trousers? Everett has not been a trustworthy
- public man to my mind, and is simply nothing unless it is an orator, and I
- can’t say I think it wise to put him up there on the palpable stump. But
- we have made so many mistakes in our public statues that I suppose it must
- run in the blood. The best houses in the town, really charming residences,
- line the two sides and top of the Common, and fine stores the bottom. I
- have never seen a place I would so soon live in out of England as in one
- of these houses looking on to Boston Common. The old business town is
- being rebuilt just as London—red brick two or three story houses
- giving way everywhere to five or six stories of granite or stone. The town
- has as old and settled a look and feeling about it as any I know; but they
- have few old buildings, and I am afraid are going to pull down the most
- characteristic, the old State House, because it has ceased to be used for
- public purposes, and its removal will make a fine broad place and relieve
- the traffic of several narrow streets in the heart of the town. It will be
- a sad pity, and so unnecessary here, for they might carry it off bodily to
- any other site. You know how we have often heard, and wondered, scarce
- believing, of the raising bodily of the great hotels, etc., at Chicago.
- Well, suddenly, in Boston I came across a great market, three stories high
- (the upper part being occupied as houses) and 150 or 200 feet long, as
- big, say, as three houses in Grosvenor Square, which they were moving
- bodily back on rollers so as to widen the street. There were the wooden
- ways and the rollers, and the great block with all its marketing and
- living inhabitants lying on them, and already some twelve feet on its
- journey. It did not look any the worse for its journey unless it were in
- the foundations, where there were a few places which had been filled up, I
- saw, with new brickwork. The long pit twelve feet deep which has been left
- between the market and the street will now be turned into cellars, over
- which the new pavement will pass. On the Saturday we dined with the
- Saturday Club at 2.30 P.M., where were all the New England notables now in
- town. I sat on the right of Sumner, the State Senator, who was in the
- chair, with Boutwell, the Secretary of the Treasury, on my right, and
- Emerson on the other side of Sumner. So you may fancy how I enjoyed the
- sitting. Emerson is perfectly delightful: simple, wise, and full of humour
- and sunshine. The number of good Yankee stories I shall bring back unless
- they burst me will be a caution. Forbes, a great Boston merchant who owns
- an island seventy-two miles long off the coast close to Nantucket and Cape
- Cod, which you will find in the map, came up and claimed to have seen me
- for five minutes when I had the small-pox in 1863.
- </p>
- <p>
- He knows J——— well, and insisted on carrying us off to
- his island that night, that we might attend a huge campmeeting on a
- neighbouring island on Sunday. So he drove up here with us and we packed—the
- dear Professor agreeing that we ought to do it—went down sixty miles
- by rail, slept on his yacht, and found ourselves in the morning at his
- wharf on the island. Your second letter came to hand from Cromer when we
- returned here, and has as usual lighted up my life.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0042" id="link2H_4_0042"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Cambridge, 2nd September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e are off this
- afternoon for Newport on our way to New York, and so south and west. The
- express man will be here directly for my luggage, which will be a little
- curtailed, as these dear kind people insist on our returning, and leaving
- all we don’t want in our rooms. So I shall drop my beaver, leaving it with
- the most serious admonitions in the charge of Rose, the Irish girl, who is
- a character. I will now take up the thread of my story, merely remarking
- that what you seem to think a dull catalogue of small doings at a small
- watering-place is quite unspeakably delightful to me away here. On the
- wharf at Nashont Island we found the two young F———s,
- the elder a colonel in the war, and five months a prisoner in the South,
- the younger, Malcolm, just left college. I never saw two finer young men,
- both of them models of strength. They had come down to meet us and bathe,
- so we stopped and had a splendid header off the wharf and a swim in the
- bay, after careful inquiries by R——— as to sharks, to
- which young F——— replied with a twinkle in his eye, that
- they didn’t lose <i>many</i> friends that way. We walked up to the house
- after our dip, a large wooden building, with deep verandahs and
- sun-blinds, furnished quite plainly, even roughly, but capable of holding
- nearly any number of people. We were about eighteen at breakfast: Mrs. F———
- a handsome, clever, elderly lady, born a Quaker, and with their charm of
- manner, who made tea for the party, and on whose right I sat. Opposite her
- was her husband with Mrs. L———, the young widow of
- Lowell’s nephew Charles, the famous soldier, on his left, and therefore
- opposite me. On my right, a young woman, a cousin of the F———s,
- a Mrs. P———, whose husband sat down towards the end of
- the table, the manager of a Western railway, who has given us free passes
- over his line. Colonel F———, the eldest son, was
- Lowell’s major, and served with distinction in the war, in which he was
- taken prisoner, and spent five months in Southern prisons; his wife, a
- buxom young woman with very good eyes, is Emerson’s daughter, and her
- brother, a bright boy of twenty-two or twenty-three, was near me. There
- were two daughters of the family, and two other girls and several boys,
- all pleasant and easy in hand; but the gem of the party was the young
- widow. She is not actually pretty, but with a face full of the nobleness
- of sorrow, which has done its work. I have seldom been more touched than
- in watching her gentle, cheerful ways, and her sympathy with all the
- bright life around her. Since the war, in which her husband and only
- brother R. S———(who commanded the first coloured
- regiment from Massachusetts, and was buried under his negroes at Fort
- Wagner) were killed, she has devoted herself to the Freedmen, and is
- Honorary Secretary to the Society for educating them. After breakfast we
- started in the yacht for the neighbouring island, on which the great
- Methodist camp-meeting was going on. This Sunday was the great day. They
- have occupied this island for some years, and have built there a whole
- town of pretty little wooden houses like big Chinese toys, dotted about
- amongst the trees. Most of them consist of only one long room, divided by
- curtains in the middle. The front half opens to the street, but raised one
- step above it is the sitting-room, and the inmates sleep in the back,
- behind the curtains. A few houses have a story above; but F———
- bought a lot of photographs for us, which will show you the style of house
- better than a page of description. There were literally thousands of
- people on the island, upwards of two thousand collected in a huge circular
- tent in the middle of the houses, where a preacher was shouting to them.
- We sat on the skirts of the congregation and listened for some time, but
- as he was only talking wildly about Nebuddah, Positivism, Theodore Parker,
- and other heresies and heretics, I was not edified, and got no worship
- till he had done, when we all stood up and sang the doxology, which was
- very impressive. I was much disappointed at the gathering in a religious
- point of view. It was a rare chance for a man with a living word in him,
- those thousands of decent, sober, attentive New England men and women.
- They told me that in the evening it would be much more interesting, when
- there would be great singing of hymns, and many persons would tell how
- they came to experience religion as they call it; but we could not stay
- for this. The meeting lasts for weeks, and is in fact an excuse for the
- gathering at a pretty sea-place in the early autumn of a number of good
- folk who would think the ordinary watering-places ungodly, but have a
- longing for a break in their ordinary colourless lives. We sailed back in
- time for early dinner, meeting on the way huge steamers packed with
- passengers for the campmeeting, till they were top heavy. Next day we
- spent in, fishing off the rocks for blue-fish, and in a beautiful little
- lake of three-quarters of a mile long (one of several in the island) for
- bass. I caught a blue fish of nine lbs., the biggest and strongest I have
- ever caught, also the only bass which was taken; so I naturally crowed
- loudly. The island hours are: breakfast, eight o’clock or half past eight;
- dinner, two or three; tea, with cold meat, half-past six or seven. After
- tea on both evenings we got into full swing on the war. I found Mr. F———
- and his wife deeply grieved and prejudiced as to our conduct, our feeling
- to them as a nation, etc., and set myself to work hard to remove all this
- as far as I could. As he is a very energetic and influential man it is
- worth taking any amount of trouble about, and I think I succeeded. In the
- evenings the young folk sang a number of the war songs, several composed
- by or for the negro soldiers, going to famous airs, and full of humour and
- pathos. The March through Georgia is very spirited, and a version of the
- “John Brown” March, which seems to have superseded “We’ll hang Jef
- Davies,” etc., exceedingly touching—at least I know it was so to me,
- as all the young folk sang—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- He is sifting out the souls of men before His judgment seat:
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Be swift, my soul, to welcome Him! be jubilant, my feet.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me.
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- As he died to make men holy, let us die to make them free.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Our God is marching on.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- To think of what that sweet young woman had gone through (the news of her
- husband’s death at the head of his brigade, was read by her in a
- newspaper), and to see her sitting there calmly and trying to join in the
- chorus, was quite too much for me. However, nobody noticed my emotion. Our
- last morning, Tuesday, was spent in a famous wild ride over the island.
- After breakfast we found seven very excellent riding horses (three with
- sidesaddles) at the door. At home there would have been three grooms, here
- each horse has a leathern strap fixed to the bit, which you just buckle
- round his neck till you want to stop, and then fasten it to the nearest
- tree or lamp-post. The whole turn-out is of course rough, but I don’t wish
- to see nicer ladies’ hacks than the three which the two Miss F———s
- and Mrs. P——— rode. We sailed back in the yacht to
- another little port, a few miles north of New Bedford, F———
- having provided us as a parting present with free passes over almost all
- the Western railways, which will save me at least £20 I should think. He
- is Chairman of several, and so can do it without any trouble. We found the
- dear Lowells expecting us, and my second letter also waiting, so you may
- think that I had a joyful evening. Next day, Wednesday, we drove to
- Concord to dine with Judge Hoar, the late Attorney-General of the United
- States, a very able, fine fellow. We passed over classic ground, the very
- road along which the English troops marched in April 1776 to destroy the
- stores, when the first collision of the War of Independence took place at
- Concord Bridge and in the village of Lexington. You may perhaps remember
- in the second series of the <i>Biglow Papers</i> “Sumthin’ in the Pastoral
- Line,” in which old Concord Bridge and the monument which has been put up
- to commemorate the fight, talk together over the <i>Trent</i> affair. The
- Judge’s two sons, very nice young fellows, pulled us up Concord River,
- which runs at the bottom of their garden, to the spot, and on the way
- (which is very pretty) we saw lots of tortoises sitting and basking on the
- stones, and popping in when we approached, and heard a lot of capital
- Yankee stories from the Judge. Dinner at three; Emerson came, and there
- were two Miss H———s, and a Miss S———,
- a handsome girl, sister of the best oar in the Harvard boat of last year.
- I enjoyed the dinner and smoke afterwards immensely, and am at last quite
- sure that I am doing some good with some of these men, all of whom are
- influential, and most of them sadly prejudiced against us still as a
- nation. For myself it is quite impossible to express their kindness. They
- seem as if they can never do enough for me. When we got back to Cambridge,
- we found Miss M——— and Dr. Lowell, brother to James, an
- English clergyman, and quite charming too in his way.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0043" id="link2H_4_0043"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- New York.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> think I have told
- you already the sort of royal progress I am making. Some principal citizen
- always comes to the station to meet us in his carriage, books our luggage
- by the express (an admirable institution which saves you all the trouble
- with luggage), drives us up to his house, lodges us in the best rooms, has
- all the best folks in the neighbourhood to meet us at breakfast, dinner,
- tea, takes us to the sights of the neighbourhood, keeps all his servants
- out of sight when we are going, so that we can’t give any one a penny or
- even pay our washing bills, and finally sends us and our luggage down to
- the next boat or steamer, when we are booked already probably by a new
- friend. Certainly I never saw, heard of, or could imagine anything like
- the hospitality. It is no doubt in some degree, and in individual cases,
- owing to the part I took during the war in England, but Democrats as well
- as Republicans have been amongst our warmest hosts; in fact, I am fairly
- puzzled, and allow the tide at last to carry me along, floating down it
- and enjoying everything as well as I can. I think in my last I got to our
- start from Boston. No! was it? At any rate, I wrote about our day at
- Concord, I know, as to which I shall have to tell you more when we meet.
- After we got home Miss Mabel rushed upstairs, got into her photographing
- dress, the quaintest turn-out you can conceive, and commenced a series of
- groups, etc., which you shall have specimens of when I get back. She is
- endless fun; has the most arch way of talking to her father as “sir” every
- now and then; is charming with her stepmother; and altogether as bright a
- bit of life about a house as you would meet on a summer’s day. I parted
- from Lowell and his home feeling that the meeting had been more than
- successful. For these eighteen or nineteen years I have revelled in his
- books—indeed, have got so much from them and learned to love the
- parent of them so well, as I imagined him, that I almost feared the
- meeting, lest pleasant illusions should be broken. I found him much better
- than his books. We had a pleasant three hours’ rail to Newport, finding
- Mr. Field, a Philadelphian banker, at the station with his carriage. We
- were friends at once, for he is a famous, frank, goodlooking, John Bullish
- man of the world, who has travelled all over Europe and retained his new
- world simplicity and heartiness. He drove us all round the fashionable
- watering-place, the description of which I must postpone or I never shall
- get through (as we say here). His cottage, as he calls it, in accordance
- with the fashion here, is a charming villa, on the most southern point of
- Newport, close to the rocks on which the grand Atlantic roll was beating
- magnificently as we drove up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Saturday morning a lot of men came to breakfast, including Colonel H———,
- the officer who had been the first to volunteer to take command of negroes
- in Virginia, before the New England States even began mustering them. I
- was delighted to make his acquaintance, as I knew his name in my
- anti-slavery standard as a real, advanced Radical, and I was anxious to
- realise that type of Yankee of which I had only seen Lloyd Garrison in
- England. He was very fascinating to my mind, and the most refined man in
- manners and look I have yet met, but I should say decidedly a cracked
- fellow in the good sense. We adjourned to the spouting rock, just at the
- point where the surf was beating gloriously, and as I continued talking
- with H———, of course I got a ducking by getting too near
- this rock, which is hollow underneath, so that it sends a spout of water
- up like a huge whale some second or two after the breaker hits it. The
- sight was superb, and well worth the payment of an unstarched waistcoat
- and shirt. We got home, and I changed at 11.30 or thereabouts, and when I
- came in to dress for dinner there was my waistcoat, washed and starched,
- on the bed. Mrs. Field had heard me say in joke that I should be out of
- white waistcoats. We went to the Episcopal Church on Sunday morning and
- had a good sermon of a quarter of an hour, sitting in the pew of an
- acquaintance of the previous day, a Mrs. H——— of New
- York, who drove us about in her handsome carriage, and insisted on giving
- me two books—one being extracts from Lincoln’s <i>Speeches and
- Letters</i>, which I am very glad to have. In the evening we were sent
- down to the pier, where we were picked up by the most magnificent steamer
- ever seen in the world, I should think, and by six next morning were
- running along the north river, one of the many entrances by sea to New
- York harbour. The approaches to the city are superb, but the first view of
- it disappointed me, the buildings along the water-side being for the most
- part poor and almost mean. We found Hewitt’s carriage waiting, he being
- out of town for his Sunday, and drove up through Broadway and Fourth
- Avenue to his house, which is a splendid roomy one, belonging to his
- father-inlaw, Mr. Cooper. The dear old gentleman, a hearty veteran of
- seventy-nine, is the founder of the Cooper’s Institute, a working-man’s
- college on a large scale. He has spent nearly a million dollars upon it,
- and it is certainly the best institution of the kind I have ever seen. He
- is one of the most guileless and sweetest of old men, and I shall have
- much to tell you of him. Mr. Hewitt, my friend, who is in partnership with
- him, and his wife and family live with the old gentleman. Here I found
- free admission to the four best clubs in New York—the Union League,
- the Century, and even the Manhattan, a democrat club of which Hewitt is a
- distinguished member. The nice brisk woman in the house gave us an
- excellent breakfast, and we started for the town about eleven. One of the
- first places I went to was Roebuck’s store, where I found him very
- flourishing. But I can’t go on to catalogue our doings or shan’t get this
- off. As very few folk are in New York, we are off to-day to West Point up
- the Hudson, where we stay for a military ball to-morrow night; on Friday
- we get to Niagara, and then away west, certainly as far as Omaha, to see
- prairies, etc., and possibly to San Francisco. We must be back here or in
- New England on the 1st of October, on the 6th is the Harvard Memorial
- ceremony, laying the first stone of their memorial building, on the 11th I
- am in for an address, and after that shall set my face homewards. I have
- looked at myself in the glass at your request and believe I look fabulous.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0044" id="link2H_4_0044"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Garrison’s Landing, opposite West Point, Friday, 9th September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> already look
- wistfully along the pages of my pocket-book which intervene between this
- and the beginning of November, and feel very like bolting home instead of
- going west. The only moments I have for writing are early (it is now 6.30)
- or after I come up to bed, as the dear, good folk provide occupation for
- all the rest of the time. Well, we got to New York on Monday mornings by
- the East River, and left it on Wednesday afternoon by the Hudson, having,
- I think, seen it superficially, so that I should retain a clear idea of it
- if I never saw it again. We dined on Monday at the Union League Club,
- Tuesday at the Manhattan, going in afterwards to the Century—all
- three clubs as complete, I think, as ours and open to strangers in every
- corner. We left New York on Wednesday afternoon with Mr. O———,
- Chairman of the Illinois Central Railway, who has this delicious place on
- the slope of the mountain opposite West Point. As usual there were
- carriages at the pier, and all trouble, expense, etc., has been taken off
- our hands. Mrs. O——— is the nicest Yankee lady we have
- seen (except Mabel), like Mrs. Goschen in face and charmingly
- appreciative. Her husband, staunch American, about fifty. The more fanatic
- Americans they are the more they seem to like to do for me, and as I spend
- the greater part of my time in showing them how mistaken they must be in
- their views as to England, else how is it that we didn’t interfere and get
- to war, I feel I am doing good work. They take to me, I can see, apart
- from my proclivities.
- </p>
- <p>
- I am obliged to give up poor old Pam, the mercantile community of England,
- and the majority of the aristocracy; but when I have made a Jonah of
- these, I always succeed in bringing these good, simple, candid, impulsive
- fellows to admit that we did them no bad turn in their troubles. We leave
- to-day for Niagara, and during the next fortnight I hardly know how or
- when I can write.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0045" id="link2H_4_0045"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Clifton Hotel, opposite Niagara Falls, 11th September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am glad to find
- that I shall be able to get off this one more letter to you by regular
- post before we plunge away west for nearly a fortnight. I do so long for
- you every now and then when there is something to see which you would
- specially appreciate, not only then as you well know, but then specially,
- in the glorious reaches of the Hudson near West Point, for instance, where
- you have all the beauty of the Scotch Highlands, with a hundred well-kept
- rich men’s houses, and a monster hotel or two crowning some high point,—an
- excellent substitute, in my view, for the ruined keeps of robber barons on
- the Rhine,—and endless steamers and sloops, with their white sails
- and great tows, as they call them, of a dozen large flats lashed together
- and bringing down lumber and corn from the west, passing up and down; but,
- above all, last night, when we went under the light of a glorious full
- moon and saw these mighty falls from above, and then went down some 200
- steps, and along under the overhanging cliffs, till we actually got under
- the end of the horse-shoe fall on the Canadian side, and looked up and saw
- the moon through the falling water. Just as we descended, an American
- gentleman and his daughter and an English girl with them came up, to whom
- we gave our seats, and when we came back they were still there, so we told
- them what we had seen and offered to escort them down. They were
- delighted, and “papa” did not object, so down we all went, and so we had a
- second treat behind the cataract, and being with these ladies made me
- horribly wishful to get you there. The girl (Philadelphian) was very
- pretty and simple, so I handed her over to R———, and
- gave my arm to the English one. To-day we went across the ferry amid a
- great turbulence of waters, and looked up at the descending rivers, to the
- English Church on the opposite side. An American bishop preached, and
- afterwards we walked on Goat Island, above and between the two falls, and
- saw such effects of rainbows, and lilac and green and purple and pure
- white surges, as it is utterly impossible to describe, but I shall try to
- do it by the help of photographs when I get back. Then we had a bath in
- the rush just above the Falls; you have a little room through which a
- slice some four feet wide of the water is allowed to rush; you get in at
- the side, in the back water, and then take hold of a short rope fixed
- close above the rush, and let the waters seize and tear at you, which it
- does with a vengeance, tugging as if it would carry off your legs and pull
- you in two in the middle. You can get out of it in a moment by just
- slewing yourself round, and the sensation is marvellously delicious. I
- forget whether you had one of the baths at Geneva, where the blue Rhone
- rushes through at about a third of the pace. That is the only bath I ever
- remember the least to be compared to this above Niagara. But let me see, I
- hadn’t got farther with you than our chateau on the Hudson. Well, we left
- it on Friday after breakfast at about nine o’clock, and travelled away
- steadily with only twenty minutes’ stop at Albany, where we dined, and a
- quarter of an hour at Rochester. The greater part of the road was
- decidedly pretty, especially the earlier part which ran along the banks of
- the Hudson. We stopped at Rome, Syracuse, and Utica amongst other places,
- all busy, stirring places apparently, with their streets all converging on
- and open to the line of rail. Every one has to look out for themselves,
- and you get in and out of the trains at your own peril. I have heard of
- very few accidents, and I don’t believe there are as many as with us; but
- I should think a good many people must often be left behind, as the train
- starts without any signal, leaving you to climb in as you can, an easy
- enough feat for an active man, but scarcely for any one else. This journey
- was our first really long one; we did not get to Suspension Bridge, where
- we slept, till past midnight, but I didn’t find it very tiring. There was
- a drawing-room car on, but I would not go in it. The other cars are quite
- comfortable enough, and I like seeing and being with the people, though
- they continue to be the most silent and reserved of any race I have ever
- been amongst. Next day (Saturday) just glanced at the Falls; we ran round
- the west of Lake Ontario, by Hamilton, to Toronto, the capital of the
- province, and were exceedingly struck and pleased with the signs of vigour
- and prosperity both in the country and cities. The farming is certainly
- cleaner and better than on the American side of the lake, and the towns
- don’t lose by comparison with those of the same size over the border. At
- Toronto I found Dymond, one of my best Lambeth supporters, in the Globe
- Office, and we called on one of our <i>Peruvian</i> acquaintances, who
- regaled us with champagne in his huge store; we went over the law courts
- and other public buildings, dined, and then on to the boat to cross back
- to Niagara. It is about two hours’ sail and very pleasant. There were
- quite a number of young and pretty girls on board going across for the
- trip, as you might drive out in a carriage to any suburb. It seems the
- regular afternoon amusement and lounge, and the heads of families take
- season tickets which pass all their belongings. There were three Canadian
- M.P.‘s also on board, with whom I got a good deal of useful and pleasant
- chat; one of them (M.P. for Niagara) induced me to “drink” twice in
- ginger-ale and brandy, and again in champagne, which was the first
- instance of that pressingly convivial habit supposed to be universal on
- this side that I have seen. I am uncommonly glad it doesn’t really
- prevail, as nothing I detest more than this irregular kind of drinking.
- The pick-me-up is decidedly one of the most loathsome inventions of a
- decrepit civilisation. We got to our hotel here, right opposite the Falls,
- by about six, saw them first before tea and afterwards by moonlight, as I
- have already narrated. In an hour’s time we start for Chicago. Our late
- host, Mr. O———, the President of the Illinois Central
- Kail, one of the greatest of the Western’s system of railways, has
- followed us here, and is going round a tour of inspection of his line, and
- to open 150 miles of new way for traffic. So we shall go round in an
- express train with him, seeing everything in the most luxurious and
- easiest manner—a wonderful piece of luck. It was his nice wife who
- persuaded him to come off and do it now at once while he could have us
- with him. I am sitting at my open window, outside of which is a broad
- verandah with a magnificent view of the Falls. I am getting what I take to
- be my last look at them, and for the last time the sound of many waters,
- the finest to be heard in the world, I suppose, is in my ears. The
- mid-Atlantic when the waves were highest struck me more, but nothing else
- I have ever seen in Switzerland or elsewhere comes near this. It is the
- first great hotel we have been in, and not a bad specimen I imagine. We
- get heaps of meals, and though the cooking is not all one could wish,
- there is nothing to hinder your living very well. We are waited on by some
- fifteen or twenty real darkies—good, grinning, curly-pated Sambos
- and Pompeys—so, of course, I am happy so far as service goes.
- Seriously, though, they are much more obliging and quite as intelligent as
- their white compeers here and in the States.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0046" id="link2H_4_0046"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Storm Lake, 13th. September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ne line from this
- odd little station, right in the middle of the Iowa prairies, which slope
- away right out of sight in every direction. It is the highest point
- between Fort Dodge and Sioux City. Fifteen months ago there were not three
- settlers’ cabins on the whole 140 miles; now they are dotted along every
- mile or so, sometimes turf huts, sometimes wooden, with generally a group
- of barefooted, healthy children tumbling about the doors. We are sitting
- in the little wooden post-office here, on the walls of which hang maps of
- the splendid town which is to be run up in the next three or four years,
- and notices of a meeting of the citizens of Storm Lake to hear the
- addresses of Captain Jackson Orr, the Republican candidate for Congress of
- the district, and of Governor G———, who comes to support
- him. The whole place at present consists of some ten or twelve wooden
- huts, with two more ambitious buildings running up, one an hotel and the
- other a big store. The settlers are a fine rough set of fellows, but full
- of intelligence, and determined to make their place the most important
- city in the State. It is a most exquisite climate, with a lake four miles
- by two, in which there are plenty of pickerel, and as we came along in our
- express train we have put up lots of coveys of prairie hens, like big tame
- grouse, most delicious eating too. <i>Express train</i>, you will look at
- with wondering eyes. Well, or rather wâàl, as they pronounce it here, that
- is the explanation of the whole <i>city</i>, and accounts for all that is
- going to happen on this glorious prairie. A line of rail has been <i>built</i>
- right across it by some enterprising folk in New York, who want now to
- lease it to the Illinois Central Railway, with which it makes connections
- at Fort Dodge. We left Chicago yesterday morning, got to Dubuque on the
- Mississippi by night, travelled all through the night to Fort Dodge, and
- are on here now fifty-three miles farther inspecting. It is regal
- travelling. We have two carriages,—one a charming sleeping-car, in
- which I have a beautiful little state-room, another carriage for dining,
- etc., equally commodious, all our stores on board, so that we live
- splendidly, two negro boys to wait on us. O———, the
- present president, and the vice-president of the line, are our only
- fellow-passengers, each of whom is as well lodged as I am. We go along as
- we please, sometimes at forty, sometimes at ten miles an hour, talking to
- the people at each little log-house station, and enjoying the confines of
- civilisation in the most perfect luxury. While they are talking about the
- price of land round here I have just this ten minutes, and find I can fire
- off this note with some chance that it may get off by the New York boat of
- Saturday, so that I shan’t lose a post or you a letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0047" id="link2H_4_0047"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Fort Dodge, 13th September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p>
- Here we are! September 15, 2 p.m. You will see, if you have got my last
- from Sioux City, that the above heading is somewhat wild. The fact is,
- that just as I had written the three first words (in fact, while I was
- writing them, which accounts for their jerky look), our little train moved
- on from Fort Dodge and I couldn’t write, even on our superb springs. Now
- we are at Council Bluffs, opposite Omaha. Why, hang it! here we go again
- moving on, and I must stop again.
- </p>
- <p>
- 3 p.m.—We only ran three miles and then stopped to lunch and let a
- Union-Pacific train pass. Now after a famous lunch in our second or
- commissariat car, I am getting a smoke and a few more lines to you before
- we are off eastward again. Thank Heaven! after all the wonderful new
- sights and sensations of the last three and a half days since we left
- Niagara, I confess to the utmost delight at feeling that we have made our
- farthest point, and that I am already some three miles plus the breadth of
- the Missouri River and Omaha City on my way back to you. It is still more
- than a month before we embark for home (if I can hold out as long); still,
- we are on our way! However, you must not think that I am not enjoying
- myself wonderfully. I am, and am also, I hope, good company, for when one
- is treated like the Grand Turk or the Emperor of Russia, the least one can
- do is to be pleasant. But if I go on with my sensations, I shall never
- pick up my narrative; as it is, I shall be obliged to leave thousands of
- things till we meet, when I do hope I shan’t have forgotten anything.
- Well, didn’t I leave off at Niagara? We left the hotel in front of the
- Falls there on Monday morning after breakfast with O——, who
- had no power except for himself till we got to Chicago; we had been
- furnished with free passes, and rode in the ordinary cars through Ontario
- province to Windsor, opposite Detroit. In Canada, again, the difference
- was at once visible between the two peoples; but I am not at all prepared
- to admit that the Canadians have the worst of it, certainly not in the
- roadside cookery, for we had the best joint of beef we have seen since we
- left home at dinner, and the best bread and butter at tea. At Windsor the
- train ran quietly on to the huge ferry-boat-steamer, and we had a
- moonlight passage to the railway station at Detroit. Here we secured
- berths in the Pullman sleeping car, for which you pay rather more than you
- would for a bed at a first-class hotel. However, they are an admirable
- institution, and enable one to get through really wonderful travelling
- feats. We were at Chicago early next morning, and transferred ourselves
- directly into our small express train, getting glimpses of the city of
- forty years, which within living men’s memory was a small Indian station.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is enormous, spreading over certainly three times the space which an
- English city of 250,000 inhabitants would occupy. We shall see the town on
- our return; meantime, as we ran out of the suburbs, we saw a house of
- considerable size waiting at the crossing for our train to pass before it
- went over, as coolly as a farmer’s waggon of hay would wait in England. O———told
- us that all the old houses in Chicago are moved in this way. As building
- is very expensive, when one of the big folk wants to put up some splendid
- new structure—bank, store, or the like—there are always men
- ready to buy the old house as it stands. They then just cut away its
- foundation, put it on rollers, and tote it away to the site they have
- bought in the suburbs. We fell upon breakfast in a half-famished state as
- we steamed away westward, and through the whole day were kept on the
- stretch. Not that there was any great beauty in the scenery, but the
- interest of getting actually into half-settled country was exceedingly
- absorbing. The most notable town we passed was Galena, in Northern
- Illinois, from which Grant went to the war, leaving his leather yard for
- that purpose. The citizens of Galena have bought and presented him a good
- square house of red brick on the top of the hill there. Then we ran along
- a tributary of the Mississippi, and about 4.30 came out on the father of
- waters; where we struck the mighty stream it was not impressive. We came
- upon a mighty swamp, not a river, miles and miles of trees, some of them
- fine large ones, standing in the water and covered with creepers. The
- river was luckily high, so that we had this effect of a forest rising out
- of water to perfection. Then there were miles of swamp, half water, half
- land, dreary and horrible to look at, sometimes sound enough for cattle to
- pick about, and then only fit for alligators and wild-fowl; of the latter
- we saw a number, including a white heron. At last we came upon the river,
- some three-quarters of a mile wide-up there, 1600 miles from the sea, and
- crossed by a gossamer bridge, a real work of high art. On the opposite
- side we stopped for tea-dinner at Dubuque, one of the largest towns in
- Iowa, and the first border city we had seen,—very quaint to behold,
- with streets laid out as broad as Regent Street, here and there a huge
- block of stores full of dry goods or groceries, and then a lot of wooden
- hovels, a vacant plot perhaps, and then a big hotel, or another great
- store,—the streets all as soft as Rotten Row, and much deeper in
- dirt, side pavements of wood, every house placarded in huge letters with
- the name and business of the owner. Here, for the first time, we saw
- emigrants’ waggons packed with their household goods and lumber (sawed
- planks) for their houses, bound for the prairies beyond, on which they
- settle under the homestead acts. In short, the pushing slipshod character
- of the great West was thoroughly mirrored in the place, and above all the
- other buildings was a fine common school open to every child in the place.
- This is the one universal characteristic of these towns and villages;
- almost the first thing they do is to build a famous big school. The member
- of Congress for the place and one or two other notables came down to see
- us after tea, and smoked a cigar with us in our saloon car before we
- started. The talk was, of course, on the wonders of the West, and the
- chances of Dubuque to be a big city in a year or two. Then we turned in
- and ran all night to Fort Dodge, from which the first line of this letter
- was written, a village with the same characteristics as the towns, except
- that the only building not of wood was the station, which, strange to say,
- was built of gypsum, found in great quantities here, and the only sort of
- stone they have. The president of the line—a shrewd, honest, Western
- man named Douglas, one of our party—guessed that in another five
- years they would have to pull the station down and manure the land with
- it. From this place we ran right up into the wild prairies, and at the
- highest point between the Mississippi and Missouri, at Storm Lake, I wrote
- you the hasty note which, I hope, you have received from those unknown
- parts. It is about the largest settlement in the 180 miles, consisting of
- perhaps twelve or fourteen wooden houses, one of which was a billiard
- saloon kept by an old Cornish man. He said that quite a number of Cornish
- miners are over in this district, some at lead and coal mines of a very
- primitive kind, others farming. On the whole, the people seemed a good,
- steady, independent lot, and the children looked wonderfully healthy,
- running about barefooted on the shore of the little lake or amongst the
- prairie grass. We made acquaintance with prairie chicken and the little
- earth squirrel, a jolly little dog, with a prettily marked back, who
- frisks into his hole instead of up a tree like ours. Then we dropped down,
- still through wild prairie, over which the single line of rail runs with
- no protection at all, till we came to Sioux City on the Missouri, and the
- biggest town on the river for 2000 miles from its source. There are 12,000
- inhabitants, and precisely the same features as at Dubuque, except that it
- is a far more rowdy place, being still almost under the dominion of Judge
- Lynch. Only the day before we arrived, a border ruffian had been
- swaggering about the town, pistol in hand, and defying arrest. However,
- they did take him at last, and he was safe in prison. A fortnight earlier
- a rascal, who confessed to nine murders, had been taken and hung on the
- other side of the river. There are sixty-three saloons, at most of which
- gambling goes on regularly every night. The editor of the <i>Sioux Tribune</i>,
- an Irish Yankee of queer morals and extraordinary “go,” took us into one,
- stood drinks round, and expounded the ingenious games by which the
- settlers and officers of the Indian fort up the stream are cleared of
- their money. A rowdy, loafing, vagabond city, but there they have three or
- four fine schools (one had just cost 45,000 dollars), for which they tax
- the saloons mercilessly. I have no doubt the place will be quite
- respectable in another five years. We slept quietly and dropped down south
- along the Missouri to Council Bluffs, from which the earlier part of this
- was written. The Missouri is a doleful stream, shallow, with huge
- sandbanks in the middle, and great swamps at the side, but striking green
- bluffs rising above on the east bank under which we went; and behind them
- I saw the sun rise in great beauty. We just crossed the river to Omaha to
- say we had been in Missouri and seen the terminus of the Union-Pacific
- Railway, and a fine go-ahead place it is, like Dubuque, only twice as big
- and finely situate on hills above the Missouri River. We are now back at
- Chicago, having seen more frontier towns and prairies on our way here, and
- in five days, by the good fortune of this private train, have done more
- than we could have managed otherwise in nine.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0048" id="link2H_4_0048"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Chicago, September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am so afraid that
- I shan’t get off a letter regularly twice a week from this run in the
- West, that I begin this in a spare three minutes between packing and a
- testimonial which is to be given me here by a lot of young graduates of
- the American Universities at the Club at four o’clock. This place is the
- wonder of the wonderful West, as you know already. A gentleman I met
- to-day tells me he came up to this place in 1830, when it consisted of a
- fort with two companies, a dozen little wooden huts, and an encampment of
- 3000 or 4000 Indians who had come in to get their allowances under treaty
- with the United States. Now it is one of the handsomest cities I ever saw,
- with 300,000 inhabitants, and progressing at the rate of 1500 a week or
- thereabouts. We have had our first experience of a first-rate American
- hotel, the Fremont House here. It is decidedly not cheap. At present rates
- about fifteen shillings or four dollars a day; but you can eat and drink
- anything but wine and spirits all day, with the exception of one hour in
- the afternoon between lunch and dinner. I ordered a peach just now for
- lunch, and they brought me a whole plateful, not so good as our hot-house
- ones, but very fine fruit. Yesterday I went twice to hear Robert Collyer,
- a famous Unitarian minister here. He was born in Yorkshire, where he
- worked as a blacksmith, preaching as a Methodist, and finally, twenty
- years ago, came out to the West and established himself here. He has great
- and deserved influence, and is altogether the finest man of the kind I
- have ever met. His text was out of Job: “Dost thou know the springs of the
- deep?” I forget the exact words, but you will find them in the splendid
- 38th chapter, where God is showing Job who is master (as the cabman put
- it). He had been for his holiday at the sea, and was full of thoughts
- which, as he said, he wanted to get off to his people. He began by a
- quotation from Ruskin as to the fantastic power and beauty of the sea,
- said that no trace of love for the sea could be found in the Bible, only
- fear of it. In the New Jerusalem, St. John dreamed “there shall be no more
- sea.” Same with all great poets, even English, illustrated by Burns and
- Shakespere, and Dr. Johnson’s saying, “That a ship was a prison with a
- chance of being drowned.” Even sailors don’t really look on sea as home,
- and fear it, and weave mystical notions of all kinds round it. Yet the sea
- has its sweet and gentle side too; it nourishes every plant and flower
- that grows by its exhalations, and keeps the rivers sweet and running; and
- look at one of the exquisite little shells which you may find after the
- fiercest storm, or the bit of sea-weed lying on the shore, or the limpet
- on the rock. The lashing of the storm has done them no harm, and there
- they lie as perfect as if it had never been raging. about them. So the
- great stormy sea of life has its gentle and loving side for every one of
- us so long as we trust in God and just obey His laws and do His will. I
- have given you the very barest outline of a very striking sermon. In the
- evening I went to tea with him, and there was a large bunch of grapes on
- my plate with the enclosed little paper, “To Mr. Hughes from the
- children,” which touched me much. The children are very nice. Robert
- Lincoln, Abe’s son, and a lot of his friends are our entertainers to-day,
- and in the evening we go by the night train to St. Louis. I laid aside the
- other sheet to go off to this club dinner with the young Chicago men, and
- I have never had a more hearty greeting or kinder words and looks than
- amongst these youngsters, all graduates of some university, most of them
- officers in the late war, who are settled down in the great money-making
- town, and are living brave and sterling and earnest lives there. I really
- can’t tell you the sort of things they said (they drank your health, and
- the proposer made one of the prettiest little speeches in proposing it I
- ever heard); in short, I was positively ashamed, and scarcely knew how to
- meet it all or what to say to them; but it was less embarrassing than it
- would have been with any other young men, for this kind of young American
- (like Holmes) is so transparently sincere that you can come out quite
- square with him before you have known him an hour. Our good friends of the
- Illinois Central gave us free passage to St. Louis, to which we travelled
- all night. It is the biggest town in Missouri, was a great slave-holding
- place in 1860, and very “secesh” during the war. A fine city it is too,
- with its grand quay lined with huge steamers, and its miles of fine
- streets. Rowdy though, still, full of low saloons and gambling-houses. The
- most drunken town in the United States, the gentleman who met us, and
- drove us about and got us free papers here to Cincinnati, told us. The
- most characteristic thing that happened to me was that I was shaved by a
- negro (and better shaved than I ever was in my life before). He had been
- body servant to his master, a rich Southern planter, through the first
- three years of the war. His master was at last shot and he managed to get
- taken, and so “I’se no slave now,” as he said, with all his ivories
- shining. His education has not been much improved, however, for he thought
- England was at war, as being somehow part either of France or Germany, he
- couldn’t just say which, and would scarcely believe me when I declared
- that we were separated by the sea from both. Then we travelled all night
- again (I sleep splendidly in these palace cars, so don’t be alarmed), and
- got here to the queen city of Ohio this morning, after the most glorious
- sunrise I ever saw. This also is a very fine city on the Ohio, with fine
- hills all round and a magnificent suspension bridge. The most
- characteristic sight I have seen here, however, was two small boys
- trotting along together barefooted, with a piece of sugar-cane between
- them, each sucking one end. I had a note to Force, one of Sherman’s
- generals, now a judge here, who kindly sent us round in a carriage, but
- was too busy to come with us. To-night we make another long run to
- Philadelphia. We should have gone to Washington and so worked north, but
- Philadelphia is the next place where I shall get letters, and I can’t do
- any longer without hearing from you, so that’s all about it. I have lots
- of friends in Philadelphia, so shall probably make two days’ stay there.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0049" id="link2H_4_0049"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, 23rd September 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>here was I in my
- narrative? I guess (I am getting a thorough Yankee in my vernacular) I
- gave you a short account of the queen city, as they call Cincinnati. We
- left Cincinnati at ten o’clock on Wednesday night and came right away for
- 600 miles to Philadelphia.
- </p>
- <p>
- The most interesting part of the road was the crossing the Alleghanies, up
- which we wound through vast forest tracks for some thirty miles, and down
- the eastern slopes in the sunset, getting daylight for all the most
- beautiful parts. As we were rushing up one of the finest gorges, some 200
- yards wide, we were suddenly aware of a huge eagle (bigger than those we
- saw on the Danube as we steamed through the Iron Cates) sailing up on the
- opposite side, perhaps 100 yards from the train. We were going eighty
- miles an hour at the least, and the grand old fellow swept along without
- the least apparent effort, keeping abreast of our car for I should think a
- couple of miles, when he suddenly turned and settled on a fine pine-tree.
- </p>
- <p>
- After breakfast we had a real field-day in this splendid city, which
- rivals Boston in interest and character. Outside it is built of red brick
- and white marble, the contrast of which materials is to me singularly
- taking, though I daresay it is very bad art.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the chief streets run away long and straight, and as you look down
- them all seem to dive into groups of trees. Walnut Street, Chestnut
- Street, and Spruce Street are the names of the oldest and handsomest
- avenues. Our friend Field, the banker, was all ready for us, and a dozen
- new friends, including General Meade, the first Federal general who won
- the battle in the East, and a charming, tall, handsome, grizzled,
- gentlemanly soldier. We went over the old State House, a pre-revolutionary
- building, from the top of which there is a splendid view of the town, with
- the two rivers, the Delaware and Schuylkill, on which it stands. There is
- the hall in which the Declaration of Independence was signed, and the
- chair in which Hancock sat, and the table on which it lay for signature.
- The square is charming, with its old trees and turf, just as it has always
- stood, and I am happy to say the Pennsylvanians are very proud «of the old
- place, won’t allow it to be touched, and are likely to keep it there till
- it burns, as I suppose the State House, with all the old-fashioned timbers
- in wall and roof, will some day. Then we went to the great Normal School
- for girls here, five hundred strong, the daughters of all sorts of folk,
- from physicians and lawyers to labourers. I was exceedingly interested and
- instructed in many classes, especially in the history class. The handsome,
- self-possessed young woman who was teaching was just beginning the
- Revolutionary War as we came in, and “felt like” changing the subject as
- she said, but I begged her to go on, and heard the old story from
- Lexington down to Cornwallis’s surrender without turning a hair. After
- classes, at two, the whole school was gathered for Scripture reading and
- singing a hymn. After the hymn, in compliment to us, they began “God save
- the Queen”; Rawlins and I got up by a sort of instinct, and to my immense
- amusement up got the whole company. Then I was asked to say a few words;
- and talked about the grand education they were getting, referred to the
- history class and told them no Englishman worth the name now regretted the
- end of the struggle one hundred years old, but only that any of the
- bitterness should still be left; spoke of the grand country which has been
- entrusted to them to be filled with the poor of the whole world, told them
- that we had a woman’s rights movement at home as well as they, which I
- hoped would not fall into any great absurdities, but there were two rights
- they would always insist on—the right of every girl in the States to
- such an education as they were getting, and their own right (they are all
- being educated as teachers) to go and give this education to those who
- want it most in West and South. Then the girls all filed out to march
- music, played by a senior girl, winding in and out of the rows of benches
- on which they had sat, and so away downstairs and to all parts of the
- town, the prettiest sight you can imagine. The girls are at the most
- awkward age, and, of course, many of them plain, but altogether as comely
- as the same sort would be with us, and not a sign of poverty amongst them,
- though many were quite plainly dressed. My democratic soul rejoiced at the
- sight as you may fancy. What a chance for straining the nonsense out of a
- girl if she has any! We adjourned from the great training-school for girls
- to the Girard College for orphan boys, founded by a queer old French
- Voltairian citizen of Philadelphia, who died some forty years ago and left
- property worth half a million of our money to found this college, with the
- express <i>proviso</i> that no parson of any denomination was ever to be
- admitted within the walls. I am happy to say, however, that,
- notwithstanding this provision, which is observed to the letter, the Bible
- is read and every day’s instruction is begun and ended by a religious
- service. This, by the way, is the case almost everywhere in the States.
- Notwithstanding all the assertions to the contrary, I have found only one
- place in which the education is purely secular. This was Cincinnati, where
- the result is obtained by a combination of the Roman Catholics with the
- German town population. Well, this college, as it is called, is simply a
- vast boys’ home, just like our own, except that the boys live in a most
- superb white marble building, copied from the Parthenon. The classes were
- being taught, and kept in right good order by women, who indeed almost
- monopolise teaching in this State, and they are in the proportion of more
- than ten to one. The fault of Girard College is that it is not wanted; the
- public school system which has grown up since its foundation being open to
- every one, and offering at least as good an education. If its funds could
- have been used to support the boys while at the public schools it would
- have been better. The whole arrangements are decidedly more luxurious than
- those at Rugby in my time, and they have not yet established workshops.
- After our round of institutions we were entertained at the Union League
- Club. The dinner was good and the company better, Mr. MacMichael, the
- mayor, who had been the chief mover in establishing the club in the dark
- days of 1861, presided, with General Meade, who commanded at Gettysburg on
- his left and me on his right. Dear old Field, the most furious and
- impulsive of Republicans, and the most ardent lover and abuser of England
- and Englishmen, vice-president, and the rest of the company,
- staff-officers in the war or marked men in some other way. The club had
- sent eleven regiments to the war at its own expense, and had exercised
- immense influence on the Union at the most critical time. At last I was
- fairly cornered; I had often before had to defend our position in sharp
- skirmishes, but now, for the first time, was in for a general engagement.
- Well, I just threw away all defensive arms, and attacked them at once.
- “You say we were led by our aristocracy, who were savagely hostile to you;
- I admit they were hostile, though with many notable exceptions, such as
- the Duke of Argyll, Lord Carlisle, Howards and Cavendishes; but what did
- you expect? I have taken in three or four American papers for years, and
- in your debates in Congress, in your newspapers, in every utterance of
- your public men, I have never heard or read anything but savage abuse of
- our aristocracy. They don’t reply to your insults, but they don’t forget
- them, so when you got into such hard lines they went in heartily for your
- enemies. Well, you say the South were England’s real enemies for the last
- forty years. True, but aristocracy did not care for that, democracy was
- represented by you, and that was what they went against.” There was an
- outcry: “Why, here’s a pretty business, we thought you were a Democrat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So I am, in our English sense, but I am before all things an Englishman.
- I have nothing to do with our aristocracy (except knowing a few of them),
- and I fought as hard against them in England through the war as you did
- against the rebels; but I am not going to allow you to separate them from
- the nation, or to suppose that they can be punished except through the
- nation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, but what do you say for all your great commercial world—bankers,
- merchants, manufacturers, our correspondents, look how they turned on us!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s no part of my business to defend them; they were mean, I allow, but
- their business was, as they supposed, and as all of you agree, to make
- money; besides, after all, who fought your battle better than Cobden,
- Bright, Forster, and such men as Kirkman-Hodson, and Tom Baring?” Then
- they fell back on the general position that our Government was hostile to
- them, and I went through what had really happened in Parliament, and made
- them admit that if we had listened to Louis Napoleon, and the blockade had
- been broken, it would have been a narrow squeak for the Union. On the
- whole, I think, I made a good deal of impression on most of them. General
- Meade and the soldiers were on my side throughout, and admitted at once
- that, after all the abuse their press heaped on our governing classes, it
- was childish to cry out when they proved that they knew of the abuse and
- didn’t love the abusers. We all parted the warmest friends, and I went off
- to tea at Mrs. W———s’, where we met Dr. Mitchell, a
- scientific man, and his sister, and other very pleasant folk, and heard
- many interesting stories of the war. The next morning we started for
- Gettysburg. I had always made a point with myself of seeing this one at
- any rate of the great battlefields. It was the real turning-point of the
- war, fought on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of July 1863, after the series of
- defeats and failures under M’Clellan, Pope Hooker, Burnside. I well
- remember what a long breath we (the Abolitionists) drew in England when
- the news came of Lee’s defeat at the farthest point he had ever made to
- the North, and felt sure, for the first time, that the war would be put
- through, and slavery be abolished right down to the Gulf of Mexico. We had
- the best escort possible in the person of Rosengarten, who was aide-decamp
- to General Reynolds, commander of the corps which came up first and
- sustained the whole weight of battle on the first day. Field also “came
- along,” and we had a first-rate time on our journey over the Susquehanna
- bridge, which the Northern militia burnt behind them as they escaped from
- Lee’s advance. Then we stopped for an hour or two, waiting for a train at
- York, a nice shady quiet country town of 11,000 inhabitants. The rebels
- had occupied the place for three days and levied a matter of 80,000
- dollars on the people; in all other respects they seem to have behaved
- excellently and to have been well under command. The old Episcopalian
- clergyman, a warm friend of England, who had been Rosengarten’s tutor, and
- to whom we paid a visit, gave us a capital description of the three days’
- occupation, and of the relief the York folk experienced when the poor
- ragged rebels marched off for Gettysburg, and left the town very little
- poorer than they had found it. We didn’t get to our inn, a huge wooden
- building on the first day’s battlefield, till after sunset. Tea over, we
- came out on the wooden platform which runs all round the house, and saw
- the most glorious sight I have ever seen, I think, in the skies. Steaming
- up Memphremagog we saw the aurora borealis splendidly, but that was
- nothing to this. In Canada there was no colour in the pure flashes of
- light which lit and pulsed over the whole sky, but on Saturday the changes
- of colour were splendid, and I should say for half an hour the heavens
- were throbbing with the most lovely rose-coloured streamers and sheets and
- flashes. With my view of the importance to the poor old world of the
- struggle which was descending there, you can fancy that such an
- introduction to it was welcome and impressive. Next day we devoted to the
- battlefield: began at the beginning where, on Thursday the 1st July 1863,
- Rosengarten himself, as Reynolds’s aide-decamp, had ridden forward and
- placed the first Federal regiments which came on the ground in position
- between the town of Gettysburg, which contains about 3000 inhabitants and
- lies in a hollow, and the advancing rebels. Gettysburg is at the junction
- of three roads and was a point which both armies were bent on seizing. The
- fight on this the north-east side of the town began early on Thursday.
- Rosengarten, after carrying out his orders, rode back, and was just in
- time to see his General fall from his horse, shot through the neck by a
- sharpshooter, and helped to carry him off the field. After many hours’
- hard fighting the Federals were driven back through the town with heavy
- loss. Our friend, General Barlow, who commanded a brigade, was also badly
- wounded. Luckily, during the day two more corps of the army of the Potomac
- had come up and been placed in position on a hill just to the south of the
- town, on part of which the cemetery now stands, which was made immortal by
- Lincoln’s glorious speech at the inauguration. Behind these fresh troops
- the broken 1st and 11th corps rallied and prepared for the next day.
- Reinforcements came up to Lee also, and in the town the shopkeepers and
- other inhabitants heard them making certain of an easy victory in the
- morning. Meade is evidently a man who gains and holds the confidence of
- his troops; but as he was slightly outnumbered, and the rebels had the
- prestige of the first day’s victory, I take it he must have been beaten
- but for the splendid position he had selected. His troops lay along two
- lines of hills, covered in many places with wood which sloped away from
- the point overlooking the town, leaving a space between them secure from
- fire, in which he could move his troops without being seen, while every
- move of Lee’s was open to him. The Confederates began attacks early and
- kept them up throughout the day, but could not force the position except
- at one point, where, after dark, they succeeded in making a lodgment and
- spent the night within Meade’s lines. In the morning they were driven out
- after a desperate struggle, and later in the day Lee made a determined
- attempt with Longstreet’s corps to break the line again. He lost three
- generals and about 4000 men in the great effort, and when it failed, and
- he had to fall back to his own lines, the back of the Rebellion was broken
- and the doom of slavery sealed for ever in North America. At night he went
- away south, leaving most of his wounded, but Meade was too much exhausted
- to do more than follow slowly. I am writing in hot haste to catch the
- post, so can give you no clear idea, I fear, of the great day. The hotel
- was a nice, clean, reasonable place, with a landlord and servants really
- civil, and we enjoyed our excursion more than I can tell you.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next day we came on to Baltimore, drove as usual in the beautiful park and
- about the town in a carriage sent for us by some patriotic citizen, dined
- at the Union Club, to which they gave us the <i>entrée</i>, and came on to
- Washington.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0050" id="link2H_4_0050"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Washington, Friday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">Y</span>ou ask whether I
- read our papers and the news from Europe. No, except just so far as to
- keep abreast of the bare facts. You know how I hate details of
- battlefields, and that I have never got over my intense dislike to the
- glowing and semi-scientific descriptions of “our own correspondents,”
- sitting down in the midst of dying and agonised men to do their penny or
- guinea a line. The dry report of a general or staff officer, whose sad
- duty it is to be there, I follow with the deepest interest, and recognise
- a battlefield as one of the very noblest places from which a true man may
- make a “bee-line track” to heaven. The noblest death in our times was
- Robert Shaw’s at the attack on Fort Wagner, at the head of his niggers,
- under whom he was buried; but, for all that, war and its details are a
- ghastly and horrible evil, which the faith of our Master is going yet to
- root out of this silly old world, and which none of His servants should
- touch unless it is the clear path of supreme duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- I pity the poor French, utterly unmanned as they seem to be by this
- nineteen years of the rule of Mammon, and heartily wish they could find
- their manhood again, though I see no glimmer of it yet. Trochu seems a
- fine fellow, and I can’t help believing that many of my acquaintance and
- the members of the Paris associations, will be found ready to die like men
- on the walls of the city if they get a chance. By the way, where is N———?
- I wonder if he has gone back? If so, there is another brave and true man
- in Paris, and perhaps ten may save it. But I must be getting back to my
- journal or I shall be dropping stitches. If I don’t forget, my last
- brought you with us to Willard’s Hotel, Washington, a great
- three-hundred-roomed hotel, mixed, if not of Southern proclivities during
- the war, before the door of which more than one duel was fought in those
- searching times. At breakfast we found ourselves next the Wards, father
- and son, G. B———‘s friends, to whom I had given some
- letters. I found they had been even farther west than we; in fact, up to
- Denver City, in the bosom of the Rocky Mountains, and had also managed to
- get into four or five Southern states; but they had done it at the
- sacrifice not only of comfort but of the chance of seeing the home-life of
- the Americans, and I value the latter infinitely higher than mere
- sight-seeing, so do not regret the least that we didn’t get through the
- extra 1500 miles, which at the cost of five days’ more travel would have
- let us see the Rocky Mountains and shoot at buffaloes.
- </p>
- <p>
- We went after breakfast to leave some of my letters, and over the White
- House, a fine residence of white marble splendidly situated some one and a
- half miles from the Capitol, with which it is connected by Pennsylvania
- avenue, wider than Portland Place. I shall keep the details till we meet;
- the house is as big as the Mansion House I should say, and not very unlike
- it. Luckily, soon after we got outside we were recognised (at least I was)
- in the street by Blackie, who was over in England with the Harvard crew.
- He is in the attorney-general’s office, and consequently has the run of
- all the public apartments, and he took us in hand and lionised us
- splendidly. The Capitol Patent Office and Treasury I shall bring you
- photographs of, and describe at leisure in our winter evenings. The view
- from the top, over the city and Maryland to the north, and across the
- Potomac over Virginia to the south, is as fine as any I ever saw, General
- Lee’s house at Arlington Heights, now a national cemetery, being the most
- conspicuous point in the southern view. The thing that struck one most was
- the staff of women, mostly young and many pretty, serving in the Treasury.
- They say there are upwards of two thousand, and that for counting,
- sorting, and repairing the paper currency, they are far superior to men.
- They earn one thousand dollars (or £200) a year on an average. Fancy the
- boon to the orphan girls of soldiers and sailors. One of the first we saw
- was the daughter of a very distinguished Colonel of Marines, who had left
- her quite destitute, as ladylike, pretty-looking a girl as you ever saw,
- and she was running over bundles of dollar notes with her fingers as fast
- as if she were playing the overture to <i>Semiramide</i> with you on the
- piano. It nearly took my breath away, and yet I was assured she never made
- an error in counting. I wish we could get off a lot of our poor girls in
- some such way in Somerset House, and send a lot of our Government clerks
- to till the ground or hammer or do some hard, productive work.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps, however, the pleasantest part of the day was the end, when he
- took us off on the street-cars down to the Potomac, where we found a
- boating club, with their boat-house, etc., just like an Oxford or
- Cambridge College. There were eight or ten of them down there who received
- us with open arms, and in a few minutes manned a heavy eight-oared boat
- with room enough for me and R——— to sit in the stern,
- and away we went up under the long bridge, over which the armies used to
- cross in the war time, and saw a glorious sunset on the river, with the
- stars and stripes floating proudly over our stern. I enjoyed the row
- vastly and liked the men, who are just training for a race with the
- Potomac club. Boating flourishes all over the states I have been in, and
- they have learnt a lesson from their defeat two years ago and pull now in
- just as good style as our boys. Oxford and Cambridge must mind their hits,
- for they will have a tough job of it the next time they have to meet a
- crew from this side.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next morning I called on our minister after breakfast, having heard by
- chance that he was in town. I am very glad I did, as I had the pleasure of
- hearing him praise C———, his ability, willingness, and
- capacity for work, in a strain which would have rejoiced the heart of
- poor, dear R. F——— and of the F———
- family. He seems to think C——— will come back here, and
- desires it most earnestly. I got from him Lord Clarendon’s last despatch
- on the Alabama claims, which will be most useful to me in my stump in the
- Boston Music Hall on the 11th. It is the room and the course in which
- Wendell Phillips, Emerson, and all the orators and philosophers figure. I
- have taken for my subject, “John to Jonathan,” suggested by Lowell’s
- famous “Jonathan to John.” They won’t get any eloquence or oratory out of
- me, as you know; but I am sure I can say some things in a plain,
- straightforward way which will do good and help to heal wounded pride and
- other sorely irritating places in the over-sensitive, but simple and
- gallant Yankee mind. They have treated me so like a spoilt child from
- Boston to Omaha and back, that I know they will let me say anything and
- will listen to it affectionately. I really love them too well to say
- anything that will really hurt them, and when they see that this kind of
- feeling and appreciation is genuine, the more thorough John Bull you are
- the better they like it; that is, all the best of them, who rule the
- nation in the long run though not directly. When I got back from our
- embassy, it was just time to be starting for the train to Philadelphia,
- and lo! there were a dozen folk, from secretaries of state downwards,
- waiting to offer lodgings, dinners, excursions, lecturings, every sort of
- kindness in creation. It was hard work to get off, but I managed somehow
- to make tracks, suppressing, I fear, the fact that I was not likely to get
- to Washington again. The journey to Philadelphia is very interesting along
- the coast, though seldom within sight of the sea, but crossing huge inlets
- and rivers (the abode of canvas-backs) on spider bridges. We didn’t change
- cars at Baltimore, but were dropped by our engine in the outskirts of the
- town. Six fine horses in a string were then hitched on to each long car,
- and away we went through the crowded streets along the tramway rails, our
- driver, or rather, conductor, for he had no reins, blowing his horn loudly
- to warn all good people, and shouting to the train of horses who trotted
- along by instinct between the rails. How we missed fifty collisions I
- can’t conceive; at last we had one—crash into a confusion of carts
- and drays, driven by shouting negroes who had got them all into a hopeless
- jam as we bore down on them. Bang we went into the nearest; I saw the
- comical, scared look of the grisly old Sambo who was driving, as he was
- shot from his seat, but no harm was done except knocking off our own step,
- and as we shot past I saw his face light up into a broad grin as he sat on
- the bottom of his cart. We had cleared him right away from his dead-lock
- with two other vehicles, and he went on his way delighted. At Philadelphia
- we found our kindest of hosts, Field, waiting supper for us in his
- delightful house, where he is living for a few days’ business as a
- bachelor. Quiet evening, with talk till eleven o’clock on all manner of
- places, people, and things, mostly English. Lippincott, the great American
- publisher, and Rosengarten to breakfast, then a visit from Morrison’s
- friend Welsh, reproachful that we had not occupied his house, and full of
- interesting stories of the Indian commission, of which he is the moving
- spirit. Then more schools, workmen’s houses, etc., with Rosengarten, and a
- drive in the park, five miles long on both sides of the river Schuylkill
- (as broad as the Thames at Putney), and with views combining Richmond Hill
- and Oxford. The Central Park is nothing to it, or any other I ever saw on
- heard of. The Quaker city of white marble and red brick fascinated me more
- and more. A most interesting dinner at Dr. Mitchell’s, a scientific man—talk
- of the war, prairie stories, Yankee stories, wonderful old Madeira and
- excellent cigars. This morning, after seeing Lippincott’s store, and a
- most interesting talk with Sheridan’s adjutant-general on the last
- campaigns (he came to breakfast), we literally tore ourselves away from
- Philadelphia and came on here to this splendid, great, empty house, to be
- received most hospitably by Maria, the big, handsome, good-natured
- Irishwoman in charge.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything is getting so crowded with me that I have hardly time to turn
- round. All sorts of kind friends urging me to stop just for one day here
- or there, a few hundred miles making no difference with them, hundreds
- (almost) of applications for lectures or addresses, and the engagements
- already made driving me nearly wild to know how I am to get through with
- them. I shall never get my journal straight. Where was I? With dear old
- Peter Cooper, the simplest, most utterly guileless of old men who ever
- made a big fortune in this world or any other, I should think. That I
- remember, but can’t the least get further. Nothing, however, very
- particular happened, except that I was again caught and had to speak a few
- words to the Normal Training School of New York, consisting of nine
- hundred girls. I managed to get out of going with the beautiful Miss P———
- to her school, but thought I should be safe in going with the dear old
- gentleman to the Normal School to be present at the morning service. We
- were of course on the dais, and Mr. Cooper, after the singing of a hymn,
- read a chapter of the Bible, then another hymn, and then, instead of the
- adjournment to their classes at once, as I had expected, I was called
- upon. You must imagine what I said, for I really don’t remember. Then I
- was photographed alone, and with Mr. Cooper. I enclose a proof of the
- latter which, I hope, will not quite fade on the way. They tell me the
- prints will be very good, and I hope to have several to bring home. We
- left on Wednesday by the afternoon boat to Fall River, the finest boat in
- the States, the great cabin of which I shall bring you a photograph, all
- the family grouped round the door breaking one down with their kindness. I
- slept as usual famously on board the <i>Bristol,</i> and waked at Fall
- River about three, and so on by rail to Boston, and by car up here, where
- I feel quite at home. Miss Mabel appeared at breakfast, and produced her
- photographs made at the time of our last visit with great triumph. They
- are excellent, and I shall bring you lots of them. At eleven was the
- Harvard memorial ceremony on the laying of the corner-stone of the hall
- they are building in honour of the members who died in the war. I walked
- in with Mr A——— and heard a good account of his wife and
- family. They want me to go out there for a quiet day or two, but, I fear,
- it is quite impossible. Two of his sons, the Colonel, and our friend
- Henry, who is just named as one of the lecturers, were there also, and
- Emerson, Dana, and a number of old and new friends. The ceremony was very
- simple, Luther’s hymn, a short <i>extempore</i> prayer, a report, and two
- addresses, and the benediction, and then we just broke up and left the
- great tent as we pleased. The point of greatest interest was, of course,
- the gathering of some seventy or eighty of those who had been in the army,
- almost all in their old uniforms, and many of them carrying the marks of
- war about them too plainly. Colonel Holmes amongst them as nice as ever,
- and young F——— and General M———, with
- half a dozen other generals.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lunch afterwards at a very quaint and attractive little club founded in
- 1792, and recruited by a few of the best fellows in each year, like the
- Apostles at our Cambridge. Longfellow and our friend Field came to dine
- here, and the poet was fascinating, full of his English doings, and genial
- and modest as a big man should be. To-day I have been preparing for my
- lecture, “John to Jonathan,” which comes off next Tuesday, as to which I
- am considerably anxious, as it is exceedingly difficult to get a line
- which will have the healing effect I intend. Let us hope for the best. I
- go for Sunday to Lowell’s brother’s school, twenty miles away. On Monday
- evening I meet the Harvard undergraduates, and on Wednesday spend the day
- with Emerson at Concord. On Thursday I hope to get away, but where? All
- our plans are changing. We now propose, if it can be so arranged, to go
- first to Montreal for two or three days to pick up our things, returning
- to Ithaca to Goldwin Smith for a long day about the 18th, and so to New
- York, from which we should sail about the 22nd. You will, I daresay, be
- glad that we don’t go from Quebec; but I don’t believe there is the least
- more danger at this time of year by this route than any other. All I have
- resolved on is, that nothing shall keep me beyond my time.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0051" id="link2H_4_0051"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- St. Mark’s School, Southborough, Mass., Tuesday, 9th October.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have had a very
- charming visit to this little village, twenty miles from Boston, in which
- is established a Church of England boarding-school, modelled as nearly as
- possible on our public school system, and intended to do for American boys
- precisely what Eton, Rugby, etc., do for ours. I am not sure that such
- schools are wanted here.
- </p>
- <p>
- Were I living here I should certainly try the public schools first for my
- boys. But they say that the teaching there is too forcing in the earlier
- stages, and afterwards not liberal enough in the direction of “<i>the
- humanities</i>,” so that the boys get trained more into competitive
- money-making machines than into thinking cultivated men. There is a very
- considerable demand at any rate for this kind of school, as this is only
- one of several in New England. There is an objection too amongst New
- England mothers. I find that the high schools (as I ought to call them,
- and not public schools) being open to every one, a large class of Irish
- and other recent arrivals go there whose manners and language make them
- dangerous class-mates for their own children. At any rate, St. Mark’s
- school is a successful fact, and seeing how fast they go ahead here I
- shouldn’t be astonished to hear that in a few years it is as big as Rugby.
- Dr. Lowell is the principal, and a first-rate one, a High Church of
- England clergyman, not a ritualist. The school is founded as a
- denominational one, with a little chancel, which opens from the end of the
- big schoolroom, and in which the doctor, in his robes, reads our prayers
- morning and evening to the boys. He and his family live entirely with the
- boys, taking all their meals in the hall, and there is no fagging, the
- monitors having no power or responsibility, except just to keep order in
- the schoolroom at certain hours. They have a monthly reception of the
- friends from the neighbourhood, which took place on Saturday evening. All
- the boys were there, and handed round ices, cakes, and tea to some thirty
- ladies and gentlemen who came in, including several of the trustees, a
- judge whom I had met in England, a neighbouring squire (Boston merchant by
- profession), who is farming largely down there, reclaiming the stony lands
- and getting up a most beautiful herd of cattle. Of course I had to
- “address a few words” to them, all which they took most kindly. On Sunday
- we had two Church of England services in the pretty parish church, a copy
- of one in England, the plans of which the Squire, Bartlett, had brought
- over. We dined in the middle of the day at his house, which would be a
- good squire’s house at home. The family were very nice—a sweet,
- pretty wife, a strapping great eldest son now at Harvard, and good in all
- ways. He is bent on going out West as soon as he is through college, and,
- as a preparation, hired himself out to a farmer this summer vacation,
- earned ten dollars a week for some two months at hoeing and other hard
- work, and then had a sporting run to Canada. Two more big sons and any
- number of younger children. The house was tastefully furnished with some
- really good pictures, and altogether it was as nice a home as I have seen
- here. On Monday we got back to dear Elmwood, and I went hard at work on my
- lecture. Newspaper men came buzzing about all day and seizing my MS. as I
- got through with it. Also came up Julian H———, one of
- the Chartist prisoners of 1848. I had known him in the socialist times,
- and I had always a respect and liking for him, but he had quite slipped
- out of sight for some eighteen years. His errand touched me. He reminded
- me (which I had entirely forgotten) that he had applied to Lord R———
- in 1851 for a loan of £20 which had been advanced to him through me. He
- told the long story of his life since, full of interest; I must keep it
- till we meet. At last he landed in the Massachussets state house, where he
- is a Government clerk, on a small salary for this country, but out of it
- he has saved a few hundred dollars, and the object of his visit was to say
- that he was now anxious to pay his old debt with many hearty thanks to
- Lord R———. Would I settle whether he should pay for
- interest, and he would go and draw it out and send it by me? I said I
- couldn’t say whether our friend would take interest, or at what rate, but
- promised to let him know when I got back, so that he can remit the exact
- amount to London. Even he has never taken up his citizenship here, but
- remains an Englishman, and means at any rate to come back and die in the
- old country. In the evening we went down to a gathering of all the Harvard
- students who had petitioned me to come and talk to them. They were
- gathered some five hundred strong in the Massachusetts Hall, and a finer
- and manlier set of boys I have never seen. I talked to them on Muscular
- Christianity and its proper limits, as they are likely to run into
- professional athletics like our boys at home. Told them they lived in a
- land which had “struck ile” and was so overflowing with wealth that every
- one was hasting to get rich too quick. Exhorted to patience and
- thoroughness; read to them Lowell’s “Hebe” (you remember the little gem of
- a poem); told them they ought to take more part in public affairs than
- their class usually do. All which they swallowed devoutly, and cheered
- vehemently, like good boys, and then sang a lot of their college songs:
- “Marching through Georgia” splendid, the rest much like our own. The war
- has given a magnificent lift to all the young men and boys of this
- country, and I think the rising generation will put America in a very
- different place from that which she holds now. Last night I gave my
- lecture in the Music Hall, which was crammed, and the whole affair a
- brilliant success. “John to Jonathan” is printed verbatim in the morning
- newspapers, so you will probably see it before I get back, and I think
- like it. No more time for the moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0052" id="link2H_4_0052"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Ithaca, N.Y., 16th October 1870.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> missed the last
- mail through stress of work, chiefly on my lecture, which I mentioned in
- my last. The applications for lectures were so numerous and urgent that I
- really felt that I ought not to leave the country without giving one at
- any rate, and all my friends said that the Music Hall at Boston was the
- place if I only spoke once. It is the largest room in New England, holds
- nearly three thousand people, is easy to speak in, though it has great
- deep galleries running round three sides, and in it all the big folk talk
- and lecture, Wendell Phillips and Sumner follow me, so you see the class
- of thing at once. Well, as I was in for it much against my will, I was
- determined to talk out with the whole Yankee nation the controversy which.
- I had been carrying on already with many of them in private. I was anxious
- not to leave them with any false impressions, and to let them see clearly
- that in our national differences I think that we have a very good case,
- and that even if I didn’t think so, I am too good a John Bull not to stand
- by my own country. Lowell agreed as to the title and object, but I think
- had serious misgivings as to how the affair might turn out. Mundella
- thought it very risky and so did most other folk. However, as you know, I
- don’t care a straw for applause, and do care about speaking my own mind,
- so whether it made me unpopular or not I determined to have my say. In
- order that I might say nothing on the spur of the moment, I wrote out the
- whole address carefully, and I am very glad I did, as the reporters all
- copied from my MS., and consequently I was thoroughly well reported. The
- <i>Tribune and Boston Advertiser</i> printed it in full, and I will bring
- you home copies. I was a little nervous myself when I got to the hall. Two
- ex-Governors and the present Governor of the State were on the platform,
- the two Senators (Sumner and Wilson), Longfellow, Judge Hoare, Dana,
- Wendell Holmes, Wendell Phillips, Lowell, and, in short, pretty nearly all
- the Boston big wigs. The great organ played “God save the Queen” as I came
- in, and the audience, generally, I am told, a very undemonstrative one,
- cheered heartily. My nervousness, however, wore off at once, when I got on
- my legs. I found that my voice filled the hall easily, and so was at my
- ease and got through just within the hour, without once losing the
- attention of the audience for a minute. They were indeed wonderfully
- sympathetic and hearty, and gave me three rounds of cheers at the end, far
- more warmly than at the beginning. Every one came and said that it was a
- great success; that they had never heard our side fairly stated before;
- that this and that fact were quite new to them, etc. In fact, if I didn’t
- know how soon the reaction comes in such cases, I should think I had done
- some good work towards a better understanding between the nations, and, as
- it is, I am sure I have done no harm, and have at any rate made my own
- position perfectly clear, and shown them that in the event of a quarrel,
- they can’t reckon upon me for any kind of sympathy or aid. After the
- lecture whom should I meet as I went out but Craft, the negro who had been
- the cause of one of the most exciting meetings ever held in that hall some
- twenty years before, when the attempt was made to seize him and his wife
- in Boston. I was delighted to see him and to hear a capital account of his
- experiment at association in Georgia. Then I went to Field’s, the
- publisher, to supper, where were Longfellow, Holmes, Dana, and others, and
- so home by the last car, thankful that it was all well over. Next morning
- I got a cheque for 250 dollars (£50). I had, of course, never said a word
- about any payment, so it was an agreeable surprise. The post brought me I
- know not how many letters, begging me to lecture in a dozen states on my
- own terms, so when all trades fail, I can come over here and earn a good
- living easily enough, which is a consolation. Wednesday, our last whole
- day with the dear Lowells, I spent peaceably. Went to his lecture in the
- University on Arthurian legends; Miss Mabel photographed the house and us
- in groups, and we talked and loafed. In the evening a supper at the house
- of one of the professors, to meet the whole staff, and a pleasanter or
- abler set of men I have never come across. Thursday, lunch with Longfellow
- after packing, then a run down on the car to Boston, to change my cheque,
- to take a berth on a packet, so as to be armed against any appeals for
- another day or two in New York, and to get a last look at the favourite
- points in the old Puritan capital, the place where I should certainly
- settle if I ever had to leave England. We drove a rather sad party to Mrs.
- Lowell’s sister, and the mother of the beautiful boy whose photograph we
- have, and who was killed early in the war, to tea, and from her house went
- to the station and took sleeping-car for Syracuse. I cannot tell you how I
- like Lowell and all his belongings. It is a dangerous thing to make
- acquaintance in the flesh with one with whose writings one is so familiar,
- but he has quite come up to my idea of him, and his wife and Miss Mabel
- are both very charming in their own ways. I slept well, woke at Albany,
- breakfasted, and then on to Syracuse, where Mr. Wansey, Mrs. Hamilton’s
- uncle, lives. We got there at two, and I was immediately seized at the
- station by Wilkinson, the local banker, whom I had just met at Ned’s this
- summer. He drove us all through and round the most characteristic town in
- America. Great broad streets lined with lovely maple trees, all turned now
- to clouds of scarlet and gold; down the principal one the railway runs
- without any fence. Old Mr. Wansey and others came to dine, he a dear old
- man of eighty, but hale and handsome, rather like my dear old
- grandfather’s picture, the rest pleasant country folk. We played
- billiards, and told stories after dinner, and had a decidedly good time
- till nearly midnight. The next morning we breakfasted with Mr. White, the
- President of this new University, and came on here with him. He is a young
- man of about thirty-five, and one of the finest scholars America has to
- boast of at present. By the way, he was a classmate of Smalley at Yale. He
- is a rich man, and he has nothing whatever to gain by undertaking this
- work. In short, he is quite worthy of having Goldwin Smith as a
- fellow-worker, and between them, with the excellent staff of professors
- and teachers they have got round them, I expect they will make this place
- in a wondrous short time a great working-men’s college. Everything is of
- course rough at present, as the buildings are still in progress, but two
- blocks are completed, and there are about seven hundred pupils living in
- them and in the town at the bottom of the hill on which Cornell stands. It
- is a most magnificent situation, looking over a large lake, forty miles
- long, and two splendid valleys, which are now ablaze with the crimson and
- purple colours of the maples, shumachs, American walnuts, and other trees,
- which make the hillsides here glow all the later autumn through. We found
- Goldwin Smith waiting for us at the wharf and looking much stronger than
- he used to do in England, and quite warm in his welcome. All the
- professors, with their wives and families, if married, live for the
- present in a huge square block of buildings originally intended for a
- hydropathic establishment, in which they have a private sitting-room and
- bedrooms and dine and take all meals in the hall. You may fancy how much I
- am interested in this great practical step towards association.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0053" id="link2H_4_0053"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- New York, Tuesday.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere I am in the
- great city again, to spend the last few days before my start for home. The
- reception in the great hall, speech, visit to lecture rooms, etc.,
- enthusiasm of boys, baseball games, and football given in my honour, must
- all keep till we meet. For, alas! I have no time to spend here for
- writing, as I have another address to give before I start, on Friday
- evening, and I must write it carefully, as it is to be on the labour
- question, which is mightily exercising our cousins here. They are getting
- into the controversy which we are nearly through at home, and if I can
- give them a little good advice before I come away, I shall be very glad.
- As I am engaged every evening, it will not be easy to find time to do it
- as I should like, but I can give the morning, I think, and can at any rate
- make sure of not talking nonsense.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0054" id="link2H_4_0054"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- AMERICA—1880 to 1887
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0055" id="link2H_4_0055"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Cumberland Mountains
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0056" id="link2H_4_0056"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- East Tennessee, 1st September 1880.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>ere I am at my
- goal, and so full of new impressions that I must put some of them down at
- once, lest they should slip away like the new kind of recruits, and I
- should not be able to lay my hand on them again when I want them. The
- above address is vague, as this range of highlands extends for some 200
- miles through this State and Kentucky; but, though fixed as fate myself, I
- can for the moment put no more definite heading to my letters. The name of
- the town that is to be, and which is already laid out and in course of
- building here, is a matter of profound interest to many persons, and not
- to be decided hastily. The only point which seems clear is that it will be
- some name round which cluster tender memories in the old Motherland. We
- are some 1800 feet above the sea, and after the great heat of New York,
- Newport, and Cincinnati, the freshness and delight of this brisk, mountain
- air are quite past describing. For mere physical enjoyment, I have
- certainly never felt its equal, and can imagine nothing finer.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now for our journey down. We left Cincinnati early in the morning by
- the Cincinnati Southern Railway, a line built entirely by the city, and
- the cost of which will probably make the municipality poor for some years
- to come. But it seems to me a splendid and sagacious act of foresight in a
- great community, to have boldly taken hold of and opened up at once what
- must be one, if not the main, artery of communication between North and
- South in the future. I believe the impelling motive was the tendency of
- the carrying trade of late years to settle along other routes, leaving the
- metropolis of the south-west out in the cold. If this be so, the result
- justifies the prompt courage of the citizens of Cincinnati, for the tide
- has obviously set in again with a vengeance. The passenger-cars are filled
- to the utmost of their capacity, and freight, as we know here too well, is
- often delayed for days, in spite of all the efforts of the excellent staff
- of the road. Besides its through traffic, the line has opened up an
- entirely new country, of which these highlands seem likely to prove a
- profitable, as they certainly are the most interesting, tract. This
- section has not been open for six months, and already it is waking up life
- all over these sparsely-settled regions. Down below on the way to
- Chatanooga I hear that the effect is the same, and that in that great
- mineral region blast-furnaces are already at work, and coal-mines opening
- all along the line. At Chatanooga there are connections with all the great
- Southern lines, so that we on this aerial height are, in these six months,
- in direct communication with every important seaport from Boston to New
- Orleans, and almost every great centre of inland population; and the
- settlers here, looking forward with that sturdy faith which seems to
- inspire all who have breathed the air for a week or two, are already
- considering upon which favoured mart they shall pour out their abundance
- of fruits and tobacco, from the trees yet to be planted and seed yet to be
- sown. All which seems to prove that Cincinnati, at any rate, has done well
- to adopt the motto, “L’audace, toujours l’audace,” which is, indeed,
- characteristic of this country and this time.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the big work has not only been done, but done well and permanently.
- The engineering difficulties must have been very great; the cuttings and
- tunnels had to be made through hard rock, and the bridges over streams
- which have cut for themselves channels hundreds of feet deep. We crossed
- the Kentucky river, on (I believe) the highest railway bridge in the
- world, 283 feet above the water; and rushed from a tunnel in the limestone
- rock right on to the bridge which spans the north fork of the Cumberland
- river, 170 feet below. The lightness of the ironwork on which these
- bridges rest startles one at first, but experience has shown them to be
- safe, and the tests to which they have been put on this line would have
- tried most seriously the strength of far more massive structures. But it
- is only in its bridges that the Cincinnati Southern Railway has a light
- appearance. The building of the line has a solid and permanent look,
- justifying, I should think, the very considerable sum per mile which has
- been spent on it above the ordinary cost in this country. And by the only
- test which an amateur is as well able to apply as an expert, that of
- writing on a journey, I can testify that it is as smoothly laid as the
- average of our leading English lines. For the last fifty miles we ran
- almost entirely through forests, which are, however, falling rapidly all
- along the side of the line, and yielding place to corn-fields in the rich
- bottoms, wherever any reasonably level ground bordered the water-courses,
- up which we could glance as we hurried past. I was surprised, and, I need
- not say, greatly pleased, to see the apparently excellent terms on which
- the white and coloured people were, even in the Kuklux regions through
- which we came. A Northern express man, our companion at this point,
- denounced it as the most lawless in the United States. About one hundred
- homicides, he declared, had taken place in the last year, and no
- conviction had been obtained, the juries looking on such things as
- regrettable accidents. This may be so, but I can, at any rate, testify,
- from careful observation of the mixed gangs of workmen on the road, and
- the groups gathered at the numerous stations, to the familiar and
- apparently friendly footing on which the races met. As for the decrease of
- the blacks, it must be in other regions than those traversed by the
- Cincinnati Southern Railway, for the cabins we passed in the clearings and
- round the stations swarmed with small urchins, clad in single garments,
- the most comic little figures of fun, generally, that one had ever seen,
- as they stood staring and signalling to the train. There is something to
- me so provocative of mirth in the race, and I have found them generally
- such kindly folk, that I regret their absence from this same Alpine
- settlement,—a regret not shared, doubtless, by the few householders,
- to whom their constant small peculations must be very trying.
- </p>
- <p>
- About five we stopped at the station from which this place is reached, and
- turning out on the platform were greeted by four or five young Englishmen,
- who had preceded us, on one errand or another, every one of whom was well
- known to me in ordinary life, but whom for the first moment I did not
- recognise. I had seen them last clothed in the frock-coat and stove-pipe
- hat of our much-vaunted civilisation, and behold, here was a group which I
- can compare to nothing likely to be familiar to your readers, unless it be
- the company of the <i>Danites</i>, as they have been playing in London.
- Broad-brimmed straw or felt hats, the latter very battered and worse for
- wear; dark-blue jerseys, or flannel shirts of varying hue; breeches and
- gaiters, or long boots, were the prevailing, I think I may say the
- universal costume, varied according to the taste of the wearer with bits
- of bright colour laid on in handkerchief at neck or waist. And tastes
- varied deliciously, two of the party showing really a fine feeling for the
- part, and one, our geologist, 6 ft. 2 in. in his stockings, and a mighty
- Etonian and Cantab, in brains as well as bulk, turning out, with an heroic
- scorn of all adornment, in woefully battered nether-garment and gaiters,
- and a felt which a tramp would have looked at several times before picking
- it out of the gutter. There was a light buggy for passengers and a mule
- waggon for luggage by the platform; but how were nine men, not to mention
- the manager and driver, both standing over 6 feet, and the latter as big
- at least as our geologist, to get through the intervening miles of forest
- tracks in time for tea up here? Fancy our delight when a chorus of “Will
- you ride or drive?” arose, and out of the neighbouring bushes the Danites
- led forth nine saddle-horses, bearing the comfortable half-Mexican saddles
- with wooden stirrups in use here. Our choice was quickly made, and
- throwing coats and waistcoats into the waggon, which the manager
- good-naturedly got into himself, surrendering his horse for the time, we
- joined the cavalcade in our shirts.
- </p>
- <p>
- A lighter-hearted party has seldom scrambled through the Tennessee
- mountain roads on to this plateau. We were led by a second Etonian, also 6
- ft. 2 in. in his stockings, whose Panama straw hat and white corduroys
- gleamed like a beacon through the deep shadows cast by the tall pine trees
- and white oaks. The geologist brought up the rear, and between rode the
- rest of us—all public schoolmen, I think, another Etonian, two from
- Rugby, one Harrow, one Wellington—through deep gullies, through four
- streams, in one of which I nearly came to grief, from not following my
- leader; but my gallant little nag picked himself up like a goat from his
- floundering amongst the boulders, and so up through more open ground till
- we reached this city of the future, and in the dusk saw the bright gleam
- of light under the verandahs of two sightly wooden houses. In one of
- these, the temporary restaurant, we were seated in a few minutes at an
- excellent tea (cold beef and mutton, tomatoes, rice, cold apple-tart,
- maple syrup, etc.); and during the meal the news passed round that the
- hotel being as yet unfurnished and every other place filled with
- workpeople, we must all (except the geologist and the Wellingtonian, who
- had a room over the office) pack away in the next cottage, which had been
- with difficulty reserved for us. If it had been a question of men only, no
- one would have given it a thought; but our party had now been swollen by
- two young ladies, who had hurried down by an earlier train to see their
- brother and brother-in-law, settlers on the plateau, and by another young
- Englishman who had accompanied them. A puzzle, you will allow, when you
- hear a description of our tenement. It is a four-roomed timber house, of
- moderate size, three rooms on the ground floor, and one long loft
- upstairs. You enter through the verandah on a common room, 20 ft. long by
- 14 ft. broad, opening out of which are two chambers, 14 ft. by 10 ft. One
- of these was, of course, at once appropriated to the ladies. The second,
- in spite of my remonstrances, was devoted to me, as the Nestor of the
- party, and on entering it I found an excellent bed (which had been made by
- two of the Etonians), and a great basin full of wild-flowers on the table.
- There were four small beds in the loft, for which the seven drew lots, and
- two of the losers spread rugs on the floor of the common room, and the
- third swung a hammock in the verandah. Up drove the mule waggon with
- luggage, and the way in which big and little boxes were dealt with and
- distributed filled me with respect and admiration for the rising
- generation. The house is ringing behind me with silvery and bass laughter,
- and jokes as to the shortness of accommodation in the matter of washing
- appliances, while I sit here writing in the verandah, the light from my
- lamp throwing out into strong relief the stems of the nearest trees.
- Above, the vault is blue beyond all description, and studded with stars as
- bright as though they were all Venuses. The katydids are making delightful
- music in the trees, and the summer lightning is playing over the Western
- heaven; while a gentle breeze, cool and refreshing as if it came straight
- off a Western sea, is just lifting, every now and then, the corner of my
- paper. Were I young again,—but as I am not likely to be that, I
- refrain from bootless castle-building, and shall turn in, leaving windows
- wide open for the katydid’s chirp and the divine breeze to enter freely,
- and wishing as good rest as they have all so well earned to my crowded
- neighbours in this enchanted solitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0057" id="link2H_4_0057"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Rugby, Tennessee, 10th September 1880.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> take it I must
- have “written you frequent” (as they say here), at this time of year, in
- the last quarter-century on this theme, but, if you let me, should like to
- go back once more on the old lines. “Loafing as she should be taken” is
- likely, I fear, to become a lost art, though to my generation it is the
- one luxury. A country without good loafing-places is no longer a country
- for a self-respecting man in his second half-century. The rapid
- deterioration of our poor dear old England in this respect fills me with
- forebodings far more than the Irish Question, which we shall worry through
- on the lines so staunchly advocated by you. No fear of that, to my
- thinking; but, alas! great fear of our losing the power and the means of
- loafing. Time was when John Bull, in his own isle, was the best loafer in
- Christendom—(I may say in the world, the Turk and Otaheitan loafer
- doing nothing else, and he who does nothing but loaf loses the whole
- flavour of it)—and I can remember the time when at the seaside—for
- instance, Cromer, and inland, Betwys-y-Coed, Penygurd, and the like—the
- true loafer might be happy, gleaning “the harvest of a quiet eye,” and far
- from any one who wanted to go anywhere or do anything in particular. The
- railway has come to Cromer, and I hear that the guardian phalanx of
- Buxtons, Hoares, Gurneys, and Barclays, all good loafers in the last
- generation, have thrown up the sponge and gone with the stream. I was at
- Betwys and Penygurd last year, and at the former there were three or four
- long pleasure-vans meeting every train; at the latter, three parties came
- in, in a few hours, to do Snowdon and get back to dinner at Capel Curig or
- Bethgellert. Indeed, I was sore to mark that even Henry Owen, landlord and
- guide, once a good loafer, has succumbed., Over here it is still worse in
- the Atlantic States; but this is a big country, in which oases <i>must</i>
- be left yet for many a long year for the loafer, of which this is one. It
- lies on a mountain plateau, seven miles from the station, to which a hack
- goes twice daily to meet the morning and evening mails (once too often,
- perhaps, for the highest enjoyment of the loafer); but otherwise the outer
- world, its fidgets and its businesses, no more concern us than they did
- Cooper’s jackdaw. I am conscious that regular work here must be done by
- some one, as daily meals at 7 A.M., and 12.30 and 6 P.M., never fail, with
- abundance of grapes and melons—the peaches, alas! were cut off by
- frosts when the trees were in blossom. But beyond this, and the presence
- of a young Englishman in the house, who, in blue shirt and trousers, tends
- and milks the cows, and puts in six or eight hours’ work a day at one
- thing or another in the neighbouring fields, there is nothing to remind
- one that this world doesn’t go on by itself, at any rate in these autumn
- days. Almost every cottage, or shanty, as they call these attractive
- wooden houses, has a deep verandah (from which you get a view, over the
- forest, of the southern range of mountains, with Pilot Knob for highest
- point), and, in the verandah, rocking-chairs and hammocks, in one or other
- of which a chatty host or hostess is almost sure to be found, enjoying
- air, view, rocking, and the indescribable depth of blue atmosphere which
- laps us all round. There is surely something very uplifting in finding the
- sky twice as far off as you know it at home. I felt this first on the
- Lower Danube and in Greece; but I doubt if Bulgarian or Greek heavens are
- as high as these. Every now and again, a merry group of young folk go by
- in waggon or on horseback; but even they are loafers, as they have no
- object in view beyond enjoying one another’s company, and possibly lunch
- or tea at the junction of the two mountain-streams, the only lion we have
- within a day’s journey. Their parents may be found for the most part in
- and round the hotel, for they are wise enough to let the young ones knock
- about very much as they please, while they take their own ease in the
- verandahs or shady grounds of “The Tabard.” That hostelry of historic name
- stands on an eminence next to this shanty, and my “loaf-brothers,” when I
- get any, are generally saunterers from amongst its guests, and the one who
- comes oftenest is perhaps the best loafer I have ever come across. He is a
- rancheman on the Rio Grande, and has been out here ever since he left
- Marlborough, some fourteen years ago. Since then I should think he has
- done as hard work as any man, in the long drives of 2000 miles which he
- used to make from Southern Texas up to Colorado or Kansas, before the
- railway came. Even now, I take it that for ten months in the year he
- covers more ground and exhausts more tissue than most men, which makes him
- such a model loafer when he gets away. Yesterday, for instance, he started
- after lunch from “The Tabard,” 300 yards off, under a sort of engagement,
- as definite as we make them, to spend the afternoon here. On the way he
- came across a hammock swinging unoccupied in the hotel grounds, and a
- volume of Pendennis, and only arrived here after supper, in the superb
- starlight (the moon is objectionably late in rising just now), to smoke a
- pipe before bed-time. His experience of Western life is as racy as a
- volume of Bret Harte. Take the following, for instance:—At a
- prairie-town not far from his ranche, as distances go in the West, there
- is a State Court of First Instance, presided over by one Roy Bean, J.P.,
- who is also the owner of the principal grocery. Some cowboys had been
- drinking at the grocery one night, with the result that one of them
- remained on the floor, but with sense enough left to lie on the side of
- the pocket where he kept his dollars. In the morning, it appeared that he
- had been “rolled”—<i>Anglicè</i>, turned over and his pocket picked—whereupon
- a court was called to try a man on whom suspicion rested. Roy Bean sat on
- a barrel, swore in a jury, and then addressed the prisoner thus: “Now, you
- give that man his money back.” The culprit, who had sent for the lawyer of
- the place to defend him, hesitated for a moment, and then pulled out the
- money. “You treat this crowd,” were Roy’s next words; and while “drinks
- round” were handed to the delighted cowboys at the prisoner’s expense, Roy
- pulled out his watch and went on: “You’ve got just five minutes to clear
- out of this town, and if ever you come in again, we’ll hang you.” The
- culprit made off just as his lawyer came up, who remonstrated with Roy,
- explaining that the proper course would have been to have heard the
- charge, committed the prisoner, and sent him to the county town for trial.
- “And go off sixty miles, and hang round with the boys [witnesses] for you
- to pull the skunk through and touch the dollars!” said Roy scornfully;
- whereupon the lawyer disappeared in pursuit of his client and unpaid fee.
- </p>
- <p>
- It occurs to one to ask how much of the litigation of England might be
- saved if Judges of First Instance might open with Roy’s formula: “Now, you
- give that man his money back.” I am bound to add that his practice is not
- without its seamy side. When the railway was making, two men came in from
- one of the gangs for a warrant. A brutal murder had been committed. Roy
- told his clerk (the boy in the grocery, he being no penman himself) to
- make out the paper, asking: “Wot’s the corpse’s name?” “Li Hung,” was the
- reply. “Hold on!” shouted Roy to his clerk; and then to the pursuers: “Ef
- you ken find anything in them books,” pointing to the two or three
- supplied by the State, “about killin’ a Chinaman, it ken go,” and the
- pursuers had to travel on to the next fount of justice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here is one more: my “loaf-brother” heard it himself as he was leaving
- Texas, and laughed at it nearly all the way up. A group of cowboys at the
- station were discussing the problem of how long the world would last if
- this drought went on, the prevailing sentiment being that they would
- rather it worruted through somehow. A cowboy down on his luck here struck
- in: “Wall, if the angel stood right thar,” pointing across the room,
- “ready to sound, and looked across at me, I’d jest say, ‘Gabe! toot your
- old horn!’”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0058" id="link2H_4_0058"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Rugby, Tennessee.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> was roused at
- five or thereabouts on the morning after our arrival here by a visit from
- a big dog belonging to a native, not quite a mastiff, but more like that
- than anything else, who, seeing my window wide open, jumped in from the
- verandah, and came to the bed to give me goodmorning with tail and muzzle.
- I was glad to see him, having made friends the previous evening, when the
- decision of his dealings with the stray hogs who came to call on us from
- the neighbouring forest had won my heart; but as his size and attentions
- somewhat impeded my necessarily scanty ablutions, I had to motion him
- apologetically to the window when I turned out. He obeyed at once, jumped
- out, laid his muzzle on the sill, and solemnly, and, I thought, somewhat
- pityingly, watched my proceedings. Meantime, I heard sounds which
- announced the uprising of “the boys,” and in a few minutes several
- appeared in flannel shirts and trousers, bound for one of the two rivers
- which run close by, in gullies 200 feet below us. They had heard of a pool
- ten feet deep, and found it too; and a most delicious place it is,
- surrounded by great rocks, lying in a copse of rhododendrons, azaleas, and
- magnolias, which literally form the underwood of the pines and white oak
- along these gullies. The water is of a temperature which allows folk whose
- blood is not so hot as it used to be to lie for half an hour on its
- surface and play about without a sensation of chilliness. On this
- occasion, however, I preferred to let them do the exploring, and so at
- 6.15 went off to breakfast.
- </p>
- <p>
- This is the regular hour for that meal here, dinner at twelve, and tea at
- six. There is really no difference between them, except that we get
- porridge at breakfast and a great abundance of vegetables at dinner. At
- all of them we have tea and fresh water for drink, plates of beef or
- mutton, apple sauce, rice, tomatoes, peach pies or puddings, and several
- kinds of bread. As the English garden furnishes unlimited water and other
- melons, and as the settlers—young English, who come in to see us—bring
- sacks of apples and peaches with them, and as, moreover, the most solvent
- of the boys invested at Cincinnati in a great square box full of tinned
- viands of all kinds, you may see at once that in this matter we are not
- genuine objects either for admiration or pity. I must confess here to a
- slight disappointment. Having arrived at an age myself when diet has
- become a matter of indifference, I was rather chuckling as we came along
- over the coming short-commons up here, when we got fairly loose in the
- woods, and the excellent discipline it would be for the boys, especially
- the Londoners, to discover that the human animal can be kept in rude
- health on a few daily crackers and apples, or a slap-jack and tough pork.
- And now, behold, we are actually still living amongst the flesh-pots,
- which I had fondly believed we had left in your Eastern Egypt; and I am
- bound to add, “the boys” seem as provokingly indifferent to them as if
- their beards were getting grizzled. One lives and learns, but I question
- whether these states are quite the place to bring home to our Anglo-Saxon
- race the fact that we are an overfed branch of the universal brotherhood.
- Tanner, I fear, has fasted in vain.
- </p>
- <p>
- Breakfast was scarcely over, when there was a muster of cavalry. Every
- horse that could be spared or requisitioned was in demand for an exploring
- ride to the west, and soon every charger was bestrid by “a boy” in
- free-and-easy garments, and carrying a blanket for camping out. Away they
- went under the pines and oaks, a merry lot, headed by our geologist, who
- knows the forest by this time like a native, and whose shocking old straw
- blazed ahead in the morning sun like, shall we say, “the helmet of
- Navarre,” or Essex’s white hat and plumes before the Train Bands, as they
- crowned the ridge where Falkland fell and his monument now stands, at the
- battle of Newbury. Charles Kingsley’s lines came into my head, as I turned
- pensively to my table in the verandah to write to you:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- When all the world is young, lad, and all the trees are green;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And every goose a swan, lad, and every lass a queen;
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Then hey for boot and horse, lad, and round the world away;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog his day.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Our two lasses are, undoubtedly, queens out here. The thought occurs, are
- our swans—our visions, already so bright, of splendid crops, and
- simple life, to be raised and lived in this fairyland—to prove
- geese? I hope not. It would be the downfall of the last castle in Spain I
- am ever likely to build.
- </p>
- <p>
- On reaching our abode, I was aware of the Forester coming across from the
- English garden, of which he has charge, followed by a young native. He
- walked up to me, and announced that they were come across to tidy up, and
- <i>black the boots</i>. Here was another shock, that we should be followed
- by the lumber of civilisation so closely! Will boots be blacked, I wonder,
- in the New Jerusalem? I was at first inclined to protest, while they made
- a collection, and set them out on the verandah, but the sight of the
- ladies’ neat little high-lows made me pause. These, at any rate, it seemed
- to me, <i>should</i> be blacked, even in the Millennium. Next minute I was
- so tickled by a little interlude between the Forester and the native, that
- all idea of remonstrance vanished. The latter, contemplating the boots and
- blacking-pot and brushes—from under the shapeless piece of old felt,
- by way of hat, of the same mysterious colour as the ragged shirt and
- breeches, his only other garments—joined his hands behind his back,
- and said, in their slow way, “Look ’ere, Mr. Hill, ain’t this ’ere
- pay-day?” The drift was perfectly obvious. This citizen had no mind to
- turn shoe-black, and felt like discharging himself summarily. Mr. Hill,
- who was already busily sweeping the verandah, put down his broom, and
- after a short colloquy, which I did not quite catch, seized on a boot and
- brush, and began shining away with an artistic stroke worthy of one of the
- Shoeblack Brigade at the London Bridge Station. The native looked on for a
- minute, and then slowly unclasped his hands. Presently he picked up a boot
- and looked round it dubiously. I now took a hand myself. If there was one
- art which I learned to perfection at school, and still pride myself on, it
- is shining a boot. In a minute or two my boot was beginning “to soar and
- sing,” while the Forester’s was already a thing of beauty. The native,
- with a grunt, took up the spare brush, and began slowly rubbing. The
- victory was complete. He comes now and spends two hours every morning over
- his new accomplishment, evidently delighted with the opportunity it gives
- him for loafing and watching the habits of the strange occupants, for whom
- also he fetches many tin pails of water from the well, in a slow, vague
- manner. He has even volunteered to fix up the ladies’ room and fill their
- bath (an offer which has been declined, with thanks), but I doubt whether
- he will ever touch the point of a genuine “shine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They are a curious people, these natives, as the Forester (an Englishman,
- reared in Lord Denbigh’s garden at Newnham Paddocks, and thirty years out
- here) told me, as we walked off to examine the English garden, but I must
- keep his experiences and my own observation for separate treatment. The
- English garden is the most advanced, and, I think, the most important and
- interesting feature of this settlement. If young Englishmen of small means
- are to try their fortunes here, it is well that they should have
- trustworthy guidance at once as to what are the best crops to raise. With
- this view, Mr. Hill was placed, in the spring of this year, in charge of
- the only cleared space available. All the rest is beautiful, open
- forest-land. You can ride or drive almost anywhere under the trees, but
- there is no cultivated spot for many miles, except small patches here and
- there of carelessly sown maize and millet, and a rood or two of sweet
- potatoes. The Forester had a hard struggle to do anything with the garden
- at all this season. He was only put in command in May, six weeks at least
- too late. He could only obtain the occasional use of a team, and his
- duties in the forest and in grading and superintending the walks
- interfered with the garden. Manure was out of the question, except a
- little ashes, which he painfully gathered here and there from the reckless
- log-fires which abound in the woods. He calls his garden a failure for the
- year. But as half an acre which was wild forest-land in May is covered
- with water-melons and cantalupes, as the tomatoes hang in huge bunches,
- rotting on the vines for want of mouths enough to eat them, as the Lima
- beans are yielding at the rate of 250 bushels an acre, and as cabbages,
- sweet potatoes, beets, and squash are in equally prodigal abundance, the
- prospect of making a good living is beyond all question, for all who will
- set to work with a will.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the afternoon, I inspected the hotel, nearly completed, on a knoll in
- the forest, between the English garden and this frame-house. It is a
- sightly building, with deep verandahs prettily latticed, from which one
- gets glimpses through the trees of magnificent ranges of blue
- forest-covered mountains. We have named it “The Tabard,” at the suggestion
- of one of our American members, who, being in England when the old
- Southwark hostelry from which the Canterbury Pilgrims started was broken
- up, and the materials sold by auction, to make room for a hop store,
- bought some of the old banisters, which he has reverently kept till now.
- They will be put up in the hall of the new Tabard, and marked with a brass
- plate and inscription, telling, I trust, to many generations of the place
- from which they came. The Tabard, when finished, as it will be in a few
- days, will lodge some fifty guests; and, in spite of the absence of
- alcoholic drinks, has every chance, if present indications can be trusted,
- of harbouring and sending out as cheery pilgrims as followed the Miller
- and the Host, and told their world-famous stories five hundred years ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- The drink question has reared its baleful head here, as it seems to do all
- over the world. The various works had gone on in peace till the last ten
- days, when two young natives toted over some barrels of whisky, and
- broached them in a shanty, on a small lot of no-man’s land in the woods,
- some two miles from hence. Since then there has been no peace for the
- manager. Happily the feeling of the community is vigorously temperate, so
- energetic measures are on foot to root out the pest. A wise state law
- enacts that no liquor store shall be permitted under heavy penalties
- within four miles of an incorporated school; so we are pushing on our
- school-house, and organising a board to govern it. Meantime, we have
- evidence of unlawful sale (in quantities less than a pint), and of
- encouraging gambling, by these pests, and hope to make an example of them
- at the next sitting of the county court. This incident has decided the
- question for us. If we are to have influence with the poor whites and
- blacks, we must be above suspicion ourselves. So no liquor will be
- procurable at the Tabard, and those who need it will have to import for
- themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- A bridle-path leads from the hotel down to the Clear Fork, one of the
- streams at the junction of which the town site is situate. The descent is
- about 200 feet, and the stream, when you get to it, from thirty feet to
- fifty feet wide,—a mountain stream, with deep pools and big
- boulders. Your columns are not the place for descriptions of scenery, so I
- will only say that these gorges of the Clear Fork and White Oak are as
- fine as any of their size that I know in Scotland, and not unlike in
- character, with this difference, that the chief underwood here consists of
- rhododendron (called laurel here), azalea, and a kind of magnolia I have
- not seen before, and of which I cannot get the name. I passed huge faggots
- of rhododendron, twelve feet and fourteen feet long, lying by the walks,
- which had been cleared away ruthlessly while grading them. They are three
- miles long and cost under £100, a judicious outlay, I think, even before
- an acre of land has been sold. They have been named the Lovers’ Walks,
- appropriately enough, for no more well-adapted place could possibly be
- found for that time-honoured business, especially in spring, when the
- whole gorges under the tall pines and white oak are one blaze of purple,
- yellow, and white blossom.
- </p>
- <p>
- On my return to the plateau, my first day’s experiences came to an end in
- a way which no longer surprised me, after the boot-blacking and the
- Lovers’ Walks. I was hailed by one of “the boys,” who had been unable to
- obtain a mount, or had some business which kept him from exploring. He was
- in flannels, with racquet in hand, on his way to the lawn-tennis ground,
- to which he offered to pilot me. In a minute or two we came upon an open
- space, marked, I see on the plans, “Cricket Ground,” in which rose a fine,
- strong paling, enclosing a square of 150 feet, the uprights being six feet
- high, and close enough to keep, not only boys out, but tennis-balls in.
- Turf there was none, in our sense, within the enclosure, and what there
- must have once been as a substitute for turf had been carefully cleared
- off on space sufficient for one full-sized court, which was well marked
- out on the hard, sandy loam. A better ground I have rarely seen, except
- for the young sprouts of oak, and other scrub, which here and there were
- struggling up, in a last effort to assert their “ancient, solitary reign.”
- At any rate, then and there, upon that court, I saw two sets played in a
- style which would have done credit to a county match (the young lady, by
- the way, who played far from the worst game of the four, is the champion
- of her own county). This was the opening match, the racquets having only
- just arrived from England, though the court has been the object of tender
- solicitude for six weeks or more to the four Englishmen already resident
- here or near by. The Rugby Tennis Club consists to-day of seven members,
- five English and two native, and will probably reach two figures within a
- few days on the return of the boys. Meantime the effect of their first
- practice has been that they have resolved on putting a challenge in the
- Cincinnati and Chatanooga papers offering to play a match—best out
- of five sets—with any club in the United States. Such are infant
- communities, in these latitudes!
- </p>
- <p>
- You may have been startled by the address at the head of this letter. It
- was adopted unanimously on our return in twilight from the tennis-ground,
- and application at once made to the State authorities for registration of
- the name and establishment of a post-office. It was sharp practice thus to
- steal a march on the three Etonians, still far away in the forest. Had
- they been present, possibly Thames might have prevailed over Avon.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0059" id="link2H_4_0059"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A Forest Ride, Rugby, Tennessee.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here are few more
- interesting experiences than a ride through these southern forests. The
- scrub is so low and thin, that you can almost always see away for long
- distances amongst pine, white oak, and chestnut trees; and every now and
- then at ridges where the timber is thin, or where a clump of trees has
- been ruthlessly “girdled,” and the bare, gaunt skeletons only remain
- standing, you may catch glimpses of mountain ranges of different shades of
- blue and green, stretching far away to the horizon. You can’t live many
- days up here without getting to love the trees even more, I think, than we
- do in well-kempt England; and this outrage of “girdling,” as they call it—stripping
- the bark from the lower part of the trunk, so that the trees wither and
- die as they stand—strikes one as a kind of household cruelty, as if
- a man should cut off or disfigure all his wife’s hair. If he wants a tree
- for lumber or firewood, very good. He should have it. But he should cut it
- down like a man, and take it clean away for some reasonable use, not leave
- it as a scarecrow to bear witness of his recklessness and laziness.
- Happily not much mischief of this kind has been done yet in the
- neighbourhood of Rugby, and a stop will now be put to the wretched
- practice. There is another, too, almost as ghastly, but which, no doubt,
- has more to be said for it. At least half of the largest pines alongside
- of the sandy tracts which do duty for roads have a long, gaping wound in
- their sides, about a yard from the ground. This was the native way of
- collecting turpentine, which oozed down and accumulated at the bottom of
- the gash; but I rejoice to say it no longer pays, and the custom is in
- disuse. It must be suppressed altogether, but carefully and gently. It
- seems that if not persisted in too long, the poor, dear, long-suffering
- trees will close up their wounds, and not be much the worse: so I trust
- that many of the scored pines, springing forty or fifty feet into the air
- before throwing out a branch, which I passed in sorrow and anger on my
- first long ride, may yet outlive those who outraged them. Having got rid
- of my spleen, excited by these two diabolic customs, I can return to our
- ride, which had otherwise nothing but delight in it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The manager, an invaluable guest from New York, a doctor, who had served
- on the Sanitary Commission through the war, and I, formed the party. The
- manager drove the light buggy, which held one of us also, and the handbags
- 3 while the other rode by the side, where the road allowed, or before or
- behind, as the fancy seized him. We were bound for a solitary guest-house
- in the forest, some seventeen miles away, in the neighbourhood of a cave
- and waterfall which even here have a reputation, and are sometimes
- visited. We allowed three and a half hours for the journey, and it took
- all the time. About five miles an hour on wheels is all you can reckon on,
- for the country roads, sandy tracts about ten feet broad, are just left to
- take care of themselves, and wherever there is a sufficient declivity to
- give the rain a chance of washing all the surface off them, are just a
- heap of boulders of different sizes. But, after all, five miles an hour is
- as fast as you care to go, for the play of the sunlight amongst the varied
- foliage, and the new flora and fauna, keep you constantly interested and
- amused. I never regretted so much my ignorance of botany, for I counted
- some fourteen sorts of flowers in bloom, of which golden-rod and
- Michaelmas-daisy were the only ones I was quite sure I knew,—and by
- the way, the daisy of Parnassus, of which I found a single flower growing
- by a spring. The rest were like home flowers, but yet not identical with
- them—at least, I think not—and the doubt whether one had ever
- seen them before or not was provoking. The birds—few in number—were
- all strangers to me; buzzards, of which we saw five at one time, quite
- within shot, and several kinds of hawk and woodpecker, were the most
- common; but at one point, quite a number of what looked like very big
- swifts, but without the dash in their flight of our bird, and with wings
- more like curlews’, were skimming over the tree-tops..1 only heard one
- note, and that rather sweet, a cat-bird’s, the doctor thought; but he was
- almost as much a stranger in these woods as I. Happily, however, he was an
- old acquaintance of that delightful insect, the “tumble-bug,” to which he
- introduced me on a sandy bit of road. The gentleman in question took no
- notice of me, but went on rolling his lump of accumulated dirt three times
- his own size backwards with his hind legs, as if his life depended on it.
- Presently his lump came right up against a stone and stopped dead. It was
- a “caution” to see that bug strain to push it farther, but it wouldn’t
- budge, all he could do. Then he stopped for a moment or two, and evidently
- made up his small mind that something must be wrong behind, for no bug
- could have pushed harder than he. So he quitted hold with his hind legs,
- and turned round to take a good look at the situation, in order, I
- suppose, to see what must be done next. At any rate, he presently caught
- hold again on a different side, and so steered successfully past the
- obstacle. There were a number of them working about, some single and some
- in pairs, and so full of humour are their doings that I should have liked
- to watch for hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- We got to our journey’s end about dusk, a five-roomed, single-storied,
- wooden house, built on supports, so as to keep it off the ground. We went
- up four steps to the verandah, where we sat while our hostess, a small,
- thin New Englander, probably seventy or upwards, but as brisk as a bee,
- bustled about to get supper. The table was laid in the middle room, which
- opened on the kitchen at the back, where we could see the stove, and hear
- our hostess’s discourse. She boiled us two of her fine white chickens
- admirably, and served with hot bread, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, and
- several preserves, of which I can speak with special praise of the
- huckleberry, which grows, she said, in great abundance all round. <i>The
- boys</i>, we heard, had been there to breakfast, after sleeping out, and
- not having had a square meal since they started. Luckily for us, her white
- chickens are a very numerous as well as beautiful family, or we should
- have fared badly. She and her husband supped after us, and then came and
- sat with us in the balcony, and talked away on all manner of topics, as if
- the chances of discourse were few, and to be made the most of. They had
- lived at Jamestown, close by, a village of some eight or ten houses, all
- through the war, through which the Confederate cavalry had passed again
- and again. They had never molested her or hers in any way, but had a fancy
- for poultry, which might have proved fatal to her white family, but for
- her Yankee wit. She and her husband managed to fix up a false floor in one
- of their rooms in which they fed the roosters, so whenever a picket came
- in sight, her call would bring the whole family out of the woods and
- clearing into the refuge, where they remained peacefully amongst corn-cobs
- till the danger had passed. She had nothing but good to say of her native
- neighbours, except that they could make nothing of the country. The Lord
- had done all He could for it, she summed up, and Boston must take hold of
- the balance. We heard the owls all night, as well as the katydids, but
- they only seemed to emphasise the forest stillness. The old lady’s beds,
- to which we retired at ten, after our long gossip in the balcony, were
- sweet and clean, and I escaped perfectly scatheless, a rare experience, I
- was assured, in these forest shanties. I was bound, however, to admit, in
- answer to our hostess’s searching inquiries, that I had seen, and slain,
- though not felt, an insect suspiciously like a British B flat.
- </p>
- <p>
- The cave which we sought out after breakfast was well worth any trouble to
- find. We had to leave the buggy and horses hitched up and scramble down a
- glen, where presently, through a tangle of great rhododendron bushes, we
- came on a rock, with the little iron-stained stream just below us, and
- opposite, at the top of a slope of perhaps fifteen or twenty feet, was the
- cave, like a long black eye under a red eyebrow, glaring at us. I could
- detect no figure in the sandstone rock (the eyebrow), which hung over it
- for its whole length. The cave is said to run back more than 300 feet, but
- we did not test it. There would be good sitting-room for 300 or 400 people
- along the front, and so obviously fitted for a conventicle, that I could
- not help peopling it with fugitive slaves, and fancying a black Moses
- preaching to them of their coming Exodus, with the rhododendrons in bloom
- behind. Maidenhair grow in tufts about the damp floor, and a creeping
- fern, with a bright red berry, the name of which the doctor told me, but I
- have forgotten, on the damp, red walls. What the nook must be when the
- rhododendrons are all ablaze with blossom, I hope some day to see.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had heard of a fine spring somewhere in this part of the forest, and in
- aid of our search for it presently took up a boy whom we found loafing
- round a small clearing. He was bare-headed and bare-footed, and wore an
- old, brown, ragged shirt turned up to the elbows, and old, brown, ragged
- trousers turned up to the knees. I was riding, and in answer to my
- invitation he stepped on a stump and vaulted up behind me. He never
- touched me, as most boys would have done, but sat up behind with perfect
- ease and balance as we rode along, a young centaur. We soon got intimate,
- and I found he had never been out of the forest, was fourteen, and still
- at (occasional) school. He could read a little, but couldn’t write. I told
- him to tell his master, from me, that he ought to be ashamed of himself,
- which he promised to do with great glee; also, but not so readily, to
- consider a proposal I made him, that if he would write to the manager
- within six months to ask for it, he should be paid $1. I found that he
- knew nothing of the flowers or butterflies, of which some dozen different
- kinds crossed our path. He just reckoned they were all butterflies, as
- indeed they were. He knew, however, a good deal about the trees and
- shrubs, and more about the forest beasts. Had seen several deer only
- yesterday, and an old opossum with nine young, a number which took the
- doctor’s breath away. There were lots of foxes in the woods, but he did
- not see them so often. His face lighted up when he was promised $2 for the
- first opossum he would tame and bring across to Rugby. After guiding us to
- the spring, and hunting out an old wooden cup amongst the bushes, he went
- off cheerily through the bushes, with two quarter-dollar bits in his
- pocket, an interesting young wild man. Will he ever bring the opossum?
- </p>
- <p>
- We got back without further incident (except flushing quite a number of
- quail, which must be lovely shooting in these woods), and found the boys
- at home, and hard at lawn-tennis and well-digging. The hogs are becoming
- an object of their decided animosity, and having heard of a Yankee notion,
- a sort of tweezers, which ring a hog by one motion, in a second, they are
- going to get it, and then to catch and ring every grunter who shows his
- nose near the asylum. Out of this there should come some fun, shortly.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0060" id="link2H_4_0060"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Natives, Rugby, Tennessee.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen all is said
- and sung, there is nothing so interesting as the man and woman who dwell
- on any corner of the earth; so, before giving you any further details of
- our surroundings, or doings, or prospects, let me introduce you to our
- neighbours, so far as I have as yet the pleasure of their acquaintance.
- And I am glad at once to acknowledge that it <i>is</i> a pleasure,
- notwithstanding all the talk we have heard of “mean whites,” “poor, white
- trash,” and the like, in novels, travels, and newspapers. It may possibly
- be that we have been fortunate, and that our neighbours here are no fair
- specimens of the “poor whites” of the South. This, and the next three
- counties, are in the north-western corner of Tennessee, bordering on
- Kentucky. They are entirely mountain land. There are very few negroes in
- them, and they were strongly Unionist during the war. At present, they are
- Republican, almost to a man. There is not one Democratic official in this
- county, and I am told that only three votes were cast for the Democratic
- candidates at the last State elections. They are overwhelmed by the vote
- of western and central Tennessee, which carries the State with the solid
- South; but here Union men can speak their minds freely, and cover their
- walls with pictures in coloured broad-sheet of the heroes of the war,—Lincoln,
- Governor Brownlow, Grant and his captains. They are poor almost to a man,
- and live in log-huts and cabins which, at home, could scarcely be rivalled
- out of Ireland. Within ten miles of this place there are possibly half a
- dozen (I have seen two) which are equal in accommodation and comfort to
- those of good farmers in England. The best of these belongs to our nearest
- neighbour, with whom a party of us dined, at noon, the orthodox hour in
- the mountains, some weeks since. He is a wiry man, of middle height,
- probably fifty-five years of age, upright, with finely cut features, and
- an eye that looks you right in the face. He has been on his farm twenty
- years, and has cleared some fifty acres, which grow corn, millet, and
- vegetables, and he has a fine apple orchard. We should call his farming
- very slovenly, but it produces abundance for his needs. He sat at the head
- of his table like an old nobleman, very quiet and courteous, but quite
- ready to speak on any subject, and especially of the five years of the war
- through which he carried his life in his hand, but never flinched for an
- hour from his faith. His wife, a slight, elderly person, whose regular
- features showed that she must have been very good-looking, did not sit
- down with us, but stood at the bottom of the table, dispensing her good
- things. Our drink was tea and cold spring water; our viands, chickens,
- ducks, a stew, ham, with a profusion of vegetables, apple and huckleberry
- tarts, and several preserves, one of which (some kind of cherry, very
- common here) was of a lovely gold colour, and of a flavour which would
- make the fortune of a London pastry-cook; a profusion of water-melons and
- apples finished our repast; and no one need ask a better,—but I am
- bound to add that our hostess has the name for giving the best square meal
- to be had in the four counties. It would be as fair to take this as an
- average specimen of the well-to-do farmers’ fare here, as that of a
- nobleman with a French cook of the gentry at home. Our host is a keen
- sportsman, and showed us his flint-lock rifle, six feet long, and weighing
- 16 lbs.! He carries a forked stick as a rest, and, we were assured, gets
- on his game about as quickly as if it were a handy Westley-Richards, and
- seldom misses a running deer. The vast majority of these mountaineers are
- in very different circumstances. Most, but not all of them, own a log
- cabin and minute patch of corn round it, probably also a few pigs and
- chickens, but seem to have no desire to make any effort at further
- clearing, and quite content to live from hand to mouth. They cannot do
- that without hiring themselves out when they get a chance, but are most
- uncertain and exasperating labourers. In the first place, though able, to
- stand great fatigue in hunting and perfectly indifferent to weather, they
- are not physically so strong as average English or Northern men. Then they
- are never to be relied on for a job. As soon as one of them has earned
- three or four dollars, he will probably want a hunt, and go off for it
- then and there, spend a dollar on powder and shot, and these on squirrels
- and opossums, whose skins may possibly bring him in ten cents as his
- week’s earnings. It is useless to remonstrate, unless you have an
- agreement in writing. An Englishman who came here lately, to found some
- manufactures, left in sheer despair and disgust, saying he had found at
- last a place where no one seemed to care for money. I do not say that this
- is true, but they certainly seem to prefer loafing and hunting to dollars,
- and are often too lazy, or unable, to count, holding out their small
- change and telling you to take what you want. Temperate as a rule, they
- are sadly weak when wild-cat whisky or “moonshine,” as the favourite
- illicit beverage of the mountains is called, crosses their path. This is
- the great trouble on pay nights at all the works which are starting in
- this district. The inevitable booth soon appears, with the usual
- accompaniment of cards and dice, and probably a third of your men are
- thenceforth without a dime and utterly unfit for work on Mondays, if you
- are lucky enough to escape dangerous rows amongst the drinkers. The State
- laws give summary methods of suppressing the nuisance, but they are hard
- to work, and though public sentiment is vehemently hostile to whisky, the
- temptation proves in nine cases out of ten too strong. The mountaineers
- are in the main well-grown men, though slight, shockingly badly clothed,
- and sallow from chewing tobacco; suspicious in all dealings at first, but
- hospitable, making everything they have in the house, including their own
- beds, free to a stranger, and generally refusing payment for lodging or
- food. They are also very honest, crimes against property (though not
- against the person) being of very rare occurrence. The other day, a
- Northern gentleman visiting here expressed his fears to a native farmer,
- who, after inquiring whether there were any prisons and police in New
- England, what these were for, and whether his interrogator had locks to
- his doors and his safes, and bars to his window-shutters, remarked, “Wal,
- I’ve lived here man and boy for forty year, and never had a bolt to my
- house, or corn-loft, or smoke-house, and I’ll give you a dollar for every
- lock you can find in Scott county.” The cattle, sheep, and hogs wander
- perfectly unguarded through the forest, and I have not yet heard of a
- single instance of a stolen beast.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is a rough water-mill on a creek close by, called Back’s Mill, which
- was run by the owner for years—until he sold it a few months ago—on
- the following system. He put the running gear and stones up, and above the
- latter a wooden box, with the charge for grinding meal marked outside. He
- visited the mill once a fortnight, looked to the machinery, and took away
- whatever coin was in the box. Folks brought their corn down the steep bank
- if they chose, ground it at their leisure, and then, if they were honest,
- put the fee in the box; if not, they went off with their meal, and a
- consciousness that they were rogues. I presume Buck found his plan answer,
- as he pursued it up to the date of sale.
- </p>
- <p>
- In short, sir, I have been driven to the conclusion, in spite of all
- traditional leanings the other way, that the Lord has much people in these
- mountains, as I think a young English deacon, lately ordained by the
- Bishop of Tennessee, will find, who passed here yesterday on a buggy, with
- his young wife and child, and two boxes and ten dollars of the goods of
- this world, on his way to open a church mission in a neighbouring county.
- I heard yesterday a story which should give him hope as to the female
- portion, at any rate, of his possible flock. They are dreadful slatterns,
- without an inkling of the great Palmerstonian truth that dirt is matter in
- its <i>wrong</i> place. A mountain girl, however, who had, strange to say,
- taken the fancy to go as housemaid in a Knoxville family, gave out that
- she had been converted, and, upon doubts being expressed and questions
- asked as to the grounds on which she based the assurance, replied that she
- knew it was all right, because now she swept underneath the rugs.
- </p>
- <p>
- When one gets on stories of quaint and ready replies in these parts, one
- “slops over on both shoulders.” Here are a couple which are current in
- connection with the war, upon which, naturally enough, the whole mind of
- the people is still dwelling, being as much occupied with it as with their
- other paramount subject, the immediate future development of the unbounded
- resources of these States, which have been really opened for the first
- time by that terrible agency. An active Secessionist leader in a
- neighbouring county, in one of his stump speeches before the war, had
- announced that the Southerners, and especially Tennessee mountain men,
- could whip the white-livered Yanks with pop-guns. Not long since, having
- been amnestied and reconstructed again to a point when he saw his way to
- running for a State office, he was reminded of this saying at the
- beginning of his canvas. “Wal, yes,” he said, “he owned to that and stood
- by it still, only those mean cusses [the Yanks] wouldn’t fight that way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The other is of very different stamp, and will hold its own with many
- world-wide stories of graceful compliments to former enemies by kings and
- other big-wigs. General Wilder, one of the most successful and gallant of
- the Northern corps commanders in the war, has established himself in this
- State, with whose climate and resources he became so familiar in the
- campaign which ended under Look-out Mountain, and has built up a great
- iron industry at Chatanooga, in full sight of the battlefields from which
- 14,000 bodies of Union soldiers were carried to the national cemetery.
- Early in his Southern career he met one of the most famous of the Southern
- corps commanders (Forrest, I believe, but am not sure as to the name),
- who, on being introduced, said, “General, I have long wished to know you,
- because you have behaved to me in a way for which I reckon you owe me an
- apology, as between gentlemen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Wilder replied in astonishment that to his knowledge they had never met
- before, but that he was quite ready to do all that an honourable man
- ought. “Well now, General,” said the other, “you remember such and such a
- fight (naming it)? By night you had taken every gun I had, and I consider
- that quite an ungentlemanly advantage to take, anyhow.” By the way, no man
- bears more frank testimony to the gallantry of the Southern soldiers than
- General Wilder, or admits more frankly the odds which the superior
- equipment of the Federals threw against the Confederate armies. His corps,
- mounted infantry, armed with repeating rifles, were equal, he thinks, to
- at least three times their numbers of as good soldiers as themselves with
- the ordinary Southern arms. There are few pleasanter things to a hearty
- well-wisher, who has not been in America for ten years, than the change
- which has taken place in public sentiment, indicated by such frank
- admissions as the one just referred to. In 1870, any expression of
- admiration for the gallantry of the South, or of respect or appreciation
- of such men as Lee, Jackson, Longstreet, or Johnson, was received either
- silently, or with strong disapproval. How it is quite the other way, so
- far as I have seen as yet, and I cannot but hope that the last scars of
- the mighty struggle are healing up rapidly and thoroughly, and that the
- old sectional hatred and scorn lie six feet under ground, in the national
- cemeteries:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- No more shall the war-cry sever,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Or the inland rivers run red;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We have buried our anger for ever,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- In the sacred graves of the dead.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Under the sod and the dew,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Waiting the Judgment Day;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Love and tears for the blue!
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Tears and love for the gray!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- No man can live for a few weeks on these Cumberland Mountains, without
- responding with a hearty “Amen!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0061" id="link2H_4_0061"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Our Forester, Rugby, Tennessee.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>othing would
- satisfy our Forester but that some of us should ride over with him, some
- nine miles through the forest, to see Glades, the farm upon which he has
- been for the last eight years. He led the way, on his yellow mare, an
- animal who had nearly given us sore trouble here. The head stableman
- turned all the horses out one day for a short run, and she being amongst
- them, and loving her old home best, went off straight for Glades through
- the woods, with every hoof after her. Luckily, Alfred, the Forester’s son,
- was there, and guessing what was the matter, just rode her back, all the
- rest following. The ride was lovely, glorious peeps of distant blue
- ranges, and the forest just breaking out all over into golds, and
- vermilions, and purples, and russets. We only passed two small farms on
- the way, both ramshackle, and so the treat of coming suddenly on some one
- hundred acres cleared, drained, with large, though rough, farm buildings,
- and bearing the look of being cared for, was indescribably pleasant. Mrs.
- Hill and her son Alfred received us, both worthy of the head of the house;
- more I cannot say. They run the farm in his absence with scarcely any
- help, Alfred having also to attend to a grist and saw mill in the
- neighbouring creek. There were a fine mare and filly in the yard, as tame
- as pet dogs, coming and shoving their noses into your pockets and coaxing
- you for apples. The hogs are good Berkshire breed, the sheep Cotswolds.
- The cows (it is the only place where we have had cream on the mountains),
- Alderney or shorthorns. The house is a large log-cabin, one big room, with
- a deep, open fireplace, with a great pine-log smouldering at the back
- across plain iron dogs, a big hearth in front, on which pitch-pine chips
- are thrown when you feel inclined for a blaze. The room is carpeted and
- hung with photographs and prints, a rifle and shot gun, and implements of
- one kind or another. A small collection of books, mostly theological, and
- founded on two big Bibles, two rocking and half a dozen other chairs, a
- table, and two beds in the corners furthest from the fire, complete the
- furniture of the room, which opens on one side on a deep verandah, and on
- the other on a lean-to, which serves for kitchen and diningroom, and ends
- in a small, spare bedroom. A loft above, into which the family disappeared
- at night, completes the accommodation. I need not dwell on our supper,
- which included tender mutton, chickens, apple-tart, custard pudding, and
- all manner of vegetables and cakes. Mrs. Hill is as notable a cook as her
- husband is a forester. After supper we drew round the big fireplace, and
- soon prevailed on our host to give us a sketch of his life, by way of
- encouragement to his three young countrymen who sat round, and are going
- to try their fortunes in these mountains:—
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was born and bred up in one of Lord Denbigh’s cottages, at Kirby, in
- Warwickshire. My father was employed on the great place, that’s Newnham
- Paddocks, you know. He was a labourer, and brought up sixteen children,
- not one of whom, except me, has ever been summonsed before a justice, or
- got into any kind of trouble. I went to school till about nine, but I was
- always longing to be out in the fields at plough or birdkeeping; so I got
- away before I could do much reading or writing. But I kept on at Sabbath
- School, and learnt more than I did at the other. The young ladies used to
- teach us, and they’d set us pieces and things to learn for them in the
- week. My Cæsar (the only ejaculation Amos allows himself; he cannot
- remember where he picked it up), how I would work at my piece to get it
- for Lady Mary! I’ve fairly cried over it sometimes, but I always managed
- to get it, somehow. After a bit, I was taken on at the house. At first, I
- did odd jobs, like cleaning boots and carrying messages; and then I got
- into the garden, and from that into the stable, and then for a bit with
- the keepers, and then into livery, to wait on the young ladies. So you see
- I learnt something of everything, and was happy, and earning good wages.
- But I wanted to see the world, so I took service with a gentleman who was
- a big railway contractor. I used to drive him, and do anything a’most that
- he wanted. I stayed with him nine years, and ’twas while going
- about with him that I met my wife here. We got married down in Kent,
- thirty-six years ago. Yes (in answer to a laughing comment by his wife), I
- wanted some one to mind me in those days. That poaching trouble came about
- this way. I had charge for my master of a piece of railway that ran
- through Lord————‘s preserves, in Wales. There were
- very strict rules about trespassing on the lines then, because folks there
- didn’t like our line, and had been putting things on it to upset the
- trains. One day I saw two keepers coming down the line, with a labourer I
- knew between them. He was all covered with blood, from a wound in his
- head. ‘Why,’ said I, ‘what’s the matter now?’ ‘I’ve been out of work,’ he
- said, ‘this three weeks, and I was digging out a rabbit to get something
- to eat, when they came up and broke my head.’ From that time the keepers
- and I quarrelled. I summonsed them, and got them fined for trespassing on
- the line; and then they got me fined for trespassing on their covers. We
- watched one another like hawks. I’d often lie out at night for hours in
- the cold, in a ditch, where I knew they’d want to cross the line, and then
- jump up and catch them; and they’d do the same by me. Once they got me
- fined £3: 10s. for poaching. I remember it well. I was that riled, I said
- to the justices right out, ‘How long do you think it’ll take me,
- gentlemen, to pay all that money, with hares only 1d. apiece?’ Then I went
- in for it. I remembered the text, ‘What thy hand findeth to do, do it with
- thy might.’ I did it. I used to creep along at night, all up the fences,
- and feel for the places where the hares came through, and set my wires;
- and I’d often have ten great ones screaming and flopping about like mad.
- And that’s what the keepers were, too. I’ve given a whole barrowful of
- hares away to the poor folk of a morning. Well, I know (in answer to an
- interpellation of Mrs. Hill), yes, ’twas all wrong, and I was a
- wild chap in those days. Then I begun to hear talk about America, and all
- there was for a man to see and do there, so I left my master, and we came
- over, twenty-seven years ago. At first I took charge of gentlemen’s
- gardens, in New York and New Jersey. Then we went to Miscejan, where I
- could earn all I wanted. Money was of no account there for a good man in
- those days, but the climate was dreadful sickly, and we had our baby; the
- first we had in twelve years, and wanted to live on bread and water, so as
- we could save him. So we went up right amongst the Indians, to a place
- they call Grand Travers, a wonderful healthy place, on a lake in the
- pine-forest country, as it was then. I went on to a promontory, where the
- forest stood, not like it does here, but the trees that thick, you had
- scarce room to swing an axe. Well, it was a beautiful healthy place, and
- we and baby throve, and I soon made a farm; and then folk began to follow
- after us, and before I left, there were twenty-three saw-mills, cutting up
- from 80,000 to 150,000 feet a day, week in and out. They’ve stripped the
- country so now, that there’s no lumber for those mills to cut, and most of
- them have stopped. I used to have a boat, with just a small sail, and I’d
- take my stuff down in the morning, and trade it off to the lumber-men, and
- then sail back at night, for the wind always changed and blew back in the
- evenings, most part of the year. Well, then, the war came, and for two
- years I kept thinking whether I oughtn’t to do my part to help the
- Government I’d lived under so long. Besides, I hated slavery. So in the
- third year I made up my mind, and ’listed in the Michigan Cavalry.
- I took the whole matter before the Lord, and prayed I might do my duty as
- a soldier, and not hurt any man. Well, we joined the Cavalry, near 60,000
- strong down in these parts; and I was at Knoxville, and up and down. It
- was awful, the language and the ways of the men, many of them at least,
- swearing, and drinking, and stealing any kind of thing they could lay
- hands on. Many’s the plan for stealing I’ve broken up, telling them they
- were there to sustain the flag, not to rob poor folks. I spoke very plain
- all along, and got the men, many of them any way, to listen. I got on
- famously, too, because I was never away plundering, and my horse was
- always ready for any service. An officer would come in, after we had had a
- long day’s work, to say a despatch or message must go, and no horse in our
- company was fit to go but mine, so the orderly must have him; but I always
- said no, I was quite ready to go myself, but would not part company from
- my horse. The only time 1 took what was not mine was when we surprised a
- Confederate convoy, and got hold of the stores they were carrying. There
- they were lying all along the roads, greatcoats and blankets, and meal
- bags, and good boots, with English marks on them. My Cæsar, how our men
- were destroying them! I got together a lot of the poor, starving folk out
- of the woods that both sides had been living on, and loaded them up with
- meal and blankets. My Cæsar, how I loved to scatter them English boots!
- They never had seen such before. No, sir (in reply to one of us), I never
- fired a shot all that time, but I had hundreds fired at me. I’ve been in
- the rifle-pits, and now and again seen a fellow drawing a bead on me, and
- I’d duck down and hear the bullet ping into the bank close above. They got
- to employ me a good deal carrying despatches and scouting. That’s how I
- got took at last. We were at a place called Strawberry Plains, with
- Breckenridge’s division pretty near all round us. I was sent out with
- twelve other men, to try and draw them out, to show their force and
- position; and so we did, but they were too quick for us. Out they came,
- and it was a race back to our lines down a steep creek. My horse missed
- his footing, and down we rolled over and over, into the water. When I got
- up, I was up to my middle, and, first thing I knew, there was a rebel, who
- swore at me for a G—d d———Yankee, and fired his
- six shooter at me. The shot passed under my arm, and before he could fire
- again an officer ordered him on, and gave me in charge. I was taken to the
- rear, and marched off with a lot of prisoners. The rebels treated me as if
- I’d been their father, after a day or two. I spoke out to them about their
- swearing and ways, just as I had to our men; and I might have been tight
- all the time I was a prisoner, only I’m a temperance man. They put me on
- their horses on the march, and I was glad of it, for I was hurt by my roll
- with my horse, and had about the chest. After about six days I got my
- parole, with five others. They were hard pressed then and didn’t want us
- toting along. Then we started north, with nothing but just our uniforms,
- and they full of vermin. The first house we struck I asked where we could
- find a Union man about there. They didn’t know any one, didn’t think there
- was one in the county. I said that was bad, as we were paroled Union
- soldiers,—and then all was changed. They took us in and wanted us to
- use their beds, which we wouldn’t do, because of the vermin on us. They
- gave us all they had, and I saw the women, for I couldn’t sleep, covering
- us up with any spare clothes they’d got, and watching us all night long.
- They sent us on to other Union houses, and so we got north. I was too ill
- to stay north at my old work, so I sold my farm, and came south to
- Knoxville, where I had come to know many kind, good people, in the war.
- They were very kind, and I got work at the improvements on Mr. Dickenson’s
- farm (a model farm we had gone over), and in other gentlemen’s gardens.
- But I didn’t get my health again, so eight years ago I came to this place
- on the mountains, which I knew was healthy, and would suit me. Well, they
- all said I should be starved out in two years and have to quit, but before
- three years were out I was selling them corn and better bacon than they’d
- ever had before. Some of ’em begin to think I’m right now, and
- there’s a deal of improvement going on, and if they’d only, as I tell ’em,
- just put in all their time on their farms, and not go loafing round
- gunning, and contented with corn-dodgers and a bit of pork, and give up
- whisky, they might all do as well as I’ve done. I should like to go back
- once more and see the old country; but I mean to end my days here. There’s
- no such country that I ever saw. The Lord has done all for us here. And it
- seems like dreams, that I should live to see a Rugby up here on the
- mountains. I mean to take a lot in the town, or close by, and call it
- Newnham Paddocks. So I shall lay my bones, you see, in the same place, as
- it were, that I was reared in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not pretend that these were his exact words,—the whole had to
- be condensed to come within your space,—but they are not far off. It
- was now past nine, the time for retiring, when Amos told us that he always
- ended his day with family prayers. A psalm was read, and then we knelt
- down, and he prayed for some minutes. Extemporary prayers always excite my
- critical faculty, but there was no thought or expression in this I could
- have wished to alter. Then we turned in, I, after a pipe in the verandah,
- in one clean white bed, and two of the boys in the big one in the opposite
- corner. There I soon dozed off, watching the big, smouldering, white
- pine-log away in the depth of the chimney-nook, and the last flickerings
- of the knobs of pitch pine in front of it, between the iron dogs, and
- wondering in my mind over the brave story we had just been listening to,
- so simply told (of which I fear I have succeeded in giving a very poor
- reflection), and whether there are not some—there cannot, I fear, be
- many—such lives lying about in out-of-the-way corners, on mountain,
- or plain, or city. My last conscious speculation was whether the Union
- would have been saved if all Union soldiers had been Amos Hills.
- </p>
- <p>
- I waked early, just before dawn, and was watching alternately the embers
- of the big log, still aglow in the deep chimney, and the white light
- beginning to break through the honeysuckles and vines which hung over the
- verandah, and shaded the wide, open window, when the clock struck five.
- The door opened softly, and in stepped Amos Hill in his stockings. He came
- to the foot of our beds, picked up our dirty boots, and stole out again,
- as noiselessly as he had entered. The next minute I heard the blacking
- brushes going vigorously, and knew that I should appear at breakfast with
- a shine on in which I should have reason to glory, if I were preparing to
- walk in Bond Street, instead of through the scrub on the Cumberland
- Mountains. I turned over for another, hour’s sleep (breakfast being at
- 6.30 sharp), but not without first considering for some minutes which of
- us two—if things were fixed up straight in this blundering old world—ought
- to be blacking the other’s boots. The conclusion I came to was that it
- ought <i>not</i> to be Amos Hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0062" id="link2H_4_0062"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Negro “Natives”, Rugby, Tennessee, 30th October 1880.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here is one
- inconvenience in this desultory mode of correspondence,—that one is
- apt to forget what one has told already, and to repeat oneself. I have
- written something of the white native of these mountains; have I said
- anything of his dark brother? The subject is becoming a more and more
- interesting and important one every day, through all these regions. In
- these mountains, the negro, perhaps, can scarcely be called a native. Very
- few black families, I am told, were to be found here a year or two since.
- My own eyes assure me that they are multiplying rapidly. I see more and
- more black men amongst the gangs on roads and bridges, and come across
- queer little encampments in the woods, with a pile of logs smouldering in
- the midst, round which stand the mirth-provoking figures of small black
- urchins, who stare and grin at the intruder on horseback, till he rides on
- under the gold and russet and green autumnal coping of hickories,
- chestnuts, and pines.
- </p>
- <p>
- I am coming to the conclusion that wherever work is to be had, in
- Tennessee, at any rate, there will the negro be found. He seems to gather
- to a contractor like the buzzards, which one sees over the tree-tops, to
- carrion. And unless the white natives take to “putting in all their time,”
- whatever work is going will not long remain with them. The negro will loaf
- and shirk as often as not when he gets the chance, but he has not the same
- craving for knocking off altogether as soon as he has a couple of dollars
- in his pocket; has no strong hunting instinct, and has not acquired the
- art of letting his pick drop listlessly into the ground with its own
- weight, and stopping to admire the scenery after every half-dozen strokes.
- The negro is much more obedient, moreover, and manageable,—obedient
- to a fault, if one can believe the many stories one hears of his readiness
- to commit small misdemeanours and crimes, and not always small ones, at
- the bidding of his employers. There is one thing, however, which an
- equally unanimous testimony agrees in declaring that he will not do, and
- that is, sell his vote, or be dragooned into giving it for any one but his
- own choice; he may, indeed, be scared from voting, but cannot be
- “squared,” a singular testimony, surely, of his prospective value as a
- citizen. Equally strong is the evidence of his resolute determination to
- get his children educated. In some Southern States the children are, I
- believe, kept apart, but in the only school I have had the chance of
- seeing, black and white children were together. They were not in class,
- but in the front of the barn-like building, used both for church and
- school, having just come out for the dinner hour. There was a large,
- sandy, trampled place under the trees, by no means a bad play-ground, on
- which a few of the most energetic, the blacks in the majority, were
- playing at some game as we came up, the mysteries of which I should have
- liked to study. But the longer we stayed, the less chance there seemed of
- their going on, and the game remains a mystery to me still. Where these
- children, some fifty in number, came from, is a problem; but there they
- were, from somewhere. And everywhere, I hear, the blacks are forcing the
- running, with respect to education, and great numbers of them are showing
- a thrift and energy which are likely to make them formidable competitors
- in the struggle for existence in all states south of Kentucky, at any
- rate.
- </p>
- <p>
- In one department (a very small one, no doubt), they will have crowded out
- the native whites in a very short time, if I may judge by our experience
- in this house. We number two ladies and six men, and our whole service is
- done by one boy. Our first experiment was with a young native, who “reared
- up” on the first morning at the idea of having to black boots. This
- prejudice, I think I told you, was removed for the moment, and he stayed
- for a few days. Where it was he “weakened on us” I could not learn for
- certain, but incline to the belief that it was either having to carry the
- racquets and balls to the lawn-tennis ground, or to get a fire to burn in
- order to boil the water for a four-o’clock tea. Both these services were
- ordered by the ladies, and I thought I saw signs (though I am far from
- certain) that his manly soul rose against feminine command. Be that as it
- may, off he went without warning, and soon after Amos Hill arrived, with
- almost pathetic apologies and a negro boy, short of stature, huge of
- mouth, fabulous in the apparent age of his garments, named Jeff. He had no
- other name, he told us, and did not know whether it signified Jefferson or
- Geoffrey, or where or how he got it, or anything about himself, except
- that he had got our place at $5 a month,—at which he showed his
- ivory, “some!”
- </p>
- <p>
- From this time all was changed. Jeff, it is true, after the first two
- days, gave proofs that he was not converted, like the white housemaid who
- had learned to sweep under the mats. His sweeping and tidying were
- decidedly those of the sinner, and he entirely abandoned the only hard
- work we set him, as soon as it was out of sight from the Asylum. It was a
- path leading to a shallow well, which the boys had dug at the bottom of
- the garden. The last twenty yards or so are on a steeper incline than the
- part next the house, so Jeff studiously completed the few feet that were
- left to the brow, and never put pick or shovel on the remainder, which lay
- behind the friendly brow of the slope. But in all other directions, where
- the work was mainly odd jobs, a respectable kind of loafing, Jeff was
- always to the fore, acquitting himself to the best, I think, of his
- ability. We did not get full command of him till the arrival of a young
- Texan cattle-driver, who taught us the peculiar cry for the negro, by
- appending a high “Ho” to his name, or rather running them together, so
- that the whole sounded, “Hojeff!” as nearly as possible one syllable. Even
- the ladies picked up the cry, and thenceforward Jeff’s substitute for the
- “Anon, anon, sir!” of the Elizabethan waiter was instantaneous. He built a
- camp-oven, like those of the Volunteers at Wimbledon, and neater of
- construction, from which he supplied a reasonably constant provision of
- hot water between six and six, of course cutting his own logs for the
- fire. His highest achievement was ironing the ladies’ cotton dresses,
- which they declared he did not very badly. Most of us entrusted him with
- the washing of flannel shirts and socks, which at any rate were faithfully
- immersed in suds, and hung up to dry under our eyes. The laundry was an
- army tent, pitched at the back of the Asylum, where Jeff spent nearly all
- his time when not under orders, and generally eating an apple, of which
- there was always a sack, a present from some ranche-owner, or brought over
- from the garden, lying about, and open to mankind at large. I never could
- find out whether he could read. One evening he came up proudly to ask
- whether his mail had come, and sure enough when the mail arrived there was
- a post-card, which he claimed. We thought he would ask one of us to read
- it for him, but were disappointed. He had a habit of crooning over and
- over again all day some scrap of a song. One of these excited my curiosity
- exceedingly, but I never succeeded in getting more than two lines out of
- him—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Oh my! oh my! I’ve got a hundred dollars in a mine!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- One had a crave to hear what came of those 100 dollars. It seems it is so
- almost universally. The nearest approach to a complete negro ditty which I
- have been able to strike is one which the Texan gives, with a wonderful
- roll of the word “chariot,” which cannot be written. It runs:—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The Debbie he chase me round a stump,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine for to carry me home;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He catch me most at ebery jump,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine for to carry me home.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Swing low, sweet chay-o-t,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine for to carry me home.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The Debbie he make one grab at me,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine, etc.,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He missed me, and my soul goed free,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Swing low, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Oh! won’t we have a gay old time,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A eatin’ up o’ honey, and a drinkin’ up o’ wine.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Gwine, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Swing low, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This, sir, I think you will agree with me, though precious, is obviously a
- fragment only. It took our Texan many months to pick it up, even in this
- mutilated condition. But after all, Jeffs character and capacity come out
- most in the direction of boots. It. is from his attitude with regard to
- them that I incline to think that the Black race have a great future in
- these States. You may have gathered from previous letters that there is a
- clear, though not a well marked, division in this settlement as to
- blacking. Amos Hill builds on it decidedly, and would have every farmer
- appear in blacked boots, at any rate on Sunday. The opposition is led by a
- young farmer of great energy and famous temper, who, having been
- “strapped,” or left without a penny, 300 miles from the Pacific coast,
- amongst the Mexican mines, and having made his hands keep his head in the
- wildest of earthly settlements, has a strong contempt for all amenities of
- clothing, which is shared by the geologist and others. How the point will
- be settled at last, I cannot guess. It stands over while the ladies are
- still here, and I have actually seen the “strapped” one giving his
- wondrous boots a sly lick or two of blacking on Sunday morning. But,
- anyhow, the blacks will be cordially on the side of polish and the
- aristocracy. This one might, perhaps, have anticipated; but what I was not
- prepared for, was Jeffs apparent passion for boots. I own a fine, strong
- pair of shooting-boots, which he worshipped for five minutes at least
- every morning. As my last day in the Asylum drew on, I could see he was
- troubled in his mind. At last, out it came. Watching his chance, when no
- one was near, he sidled up, and pointing to them on the square chest in
- the verandah which served for blacking-board, he said, “I’d like to buy
- dem boots.” After my first astonishment was over, I explained to him that
- I couldn’t afford to sell them for less than about six weeks of his wages,
- and that, moreover, I wanted them for myself, as I could get none such
- here. He was much disappointed, and muttered frequently, “I’d like to buy
- dem boots!”—but my heart did not soften.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps I ought rather to be giving your readers more serious experiences,
- but somehow the negro is apt to run one out into chaff. However, I will
- conclude with one fact, which seems to me a very striking confirmation of
- my view. All Americans are reading the <i>Fool’s Errand</i>, a powerful
- novel, founded on the state of things after the war in the Kuklux times.
- It is written by a Southern judge, a fair and clever man, clearly, but one
- who has no more faith in the negro’s power to raise himself to anything
- above hewing wood and drawing water for the “Caucasian” than C. J. Taney
- himself. In all that book there is no single instance of the drawing of a
- mean, corrupt, or depraved negro; but the negroes are represented as full
- of patience, trustfulness, shrewdness, and power of many kinds.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0063" id="link2H_4_0063"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Opening Day, Rugby, Tennessee.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>ur opening day
- drew near, not without rousing the most serious misgivings in the minds of
- most of us whether we could possibly be ready to receive our guests.
- Invitations had been issued to our neighbours—friends, as we had
- learnt to esteem them—in Cincinnati, Knoxville, Chatanooga, whose
- hospitalities we had enjoyed, and who had expressed a cordial sympathy
- with our enterprise, and a desire to visit us. We looked also for some of
- our own old members from distant New England, in all probability seventy
- or eighty guests, to lodge and board, and convey from and back to the
- railway, seven miles over our new road,—no small undertaking, under
- our circumstances. But the hotel was still in the hands of the contractor,
- from whom, as yet, only the upper floors had been rescued. The staircase
- wanted banisters, and the hall and living-rooms were still only
- half-wainscotted, and full of carpenters’ benches and plasterers’ trays;
- while the furniture and crockery lumbered up the big barn, or stood about
- in cases on the broad verandah. As for our road, it was splendid, so far
- as it went, but some two miles were still merely a forest track, from
- which all trees and stumps had been removed, but that was all; and the
- bridge over the Clear Fork stream, by which the town site is entered, had
- only the first cross timbers laid from pier to pier, while the approaches
- seemed to lie in hopeless, weltering confusion, difficult on horseback,
- impossible on wheels. However, the manager declared that we should drive
- over the bridge on Saturday afternoon, and that the contractor should be
- out of the hotel by Monday midday. With this we were obliged to be
- content, though it was running things fine, as we looked for our guests on
- that Monday afternoon, and the opening was fixed for the next morning. And
- so it came to pass, as the manager said. Bridge and road were declared
- passable by the named time, though nervous persons might well have thought
- twice before attempting the former in the heavy omnibuses hired for the
- occasion; and we were able to get possession and move furniture and
- crockery into the hotel, though the carpenters still held the unfinished
- staircase.
- </p>
- <p>
- So far so good; but still everything, we felt, depended on the weather. If
- the glorious days we had been having held, all would be well. The promise
- was fair up to Sunday evening, but at sunset there was a change. Amos Hill
- shook his head, and the geologist’s aneroid barometer gave ominous signs.
- They proved only too correct. Early in the night the rain set in, and by
- daybreak, when we were already astir, a steady, soft, searching rain was
- coming down perpendicularly, which lasted, with scarcely a break, clear
- through the day, and till midnight. With feelings of blank despair we
- thought of the new road, softened into a Slough of Despond, and the
- hastily thrown-up approaches to the bridge giving way under the laden
- omnibuses, and waited our fate. It was, as usual, better than we looked
- for. The morning train from Chatanooga would bring our southern guests in
- time for early dinner, if no break-down happened; and sure enough, within
- half an hour of the expected time up came the omnibuses, escorted to the
- hotel door by the manager and his son on horseback; and the Bishop of
- Tennessee, with his chaplain, the Mayor of Chatanooga, and a number of the
- leading citizens of that city and of Knoxville, descended in the rain. In
- five minutes we were at our ease and happy. If they had all been
- Englishmen on a pleasure-trip, they could not have taken the down-pour
- more cheerily as a matter of course, and pleasant, rather than otherwise,
- after the long drought. They dined, chatted, and smoked in the verandah,
- and then trotted off in <i>gum</i> coats to look round at the walks,
- gardens, streets, and cots, escorted by “the boys.” The manager reported,
- with pride, that they had come up in an hour and a quarter, and without
- any kind of <i>contretemps</i>, though, no doubt, the new road <i>was</i>
- deep, in places.
- </p>
- <p>
- All anxiety was over for the moment, as the Northern train, bringing our
- Cincinnati and New England friends, was not due till after dark. We sat
- down to tea in detachments from six to eight, when, if all went well, the
- northerners would be about due. The tables were cleared, and relaid once
- more for them, and every preparation made to give them a warm welcome.
- Nine struck, and still no sign of them; then ten, by which time, in this
- early country, all but some four or five anxious souls had retired. We sat
- round the stove in the hall, and listened to the war-stories of the Mayor
- of Chatanooga, and our host of the Tabard, who had served on opposite
- sides in the terrible campaigns in the south of the State, which had ended
- at Missionary Ridge, and filled the national cemetery of Chatanooga with
- 14,000 graves of Union soldiers. But neither the interest of the stories
- themselves, nor the pleasure of seeing how completely all bitterness had
- passed out of the narrators’ minds, could keep our thoughts from dwelling
- on the pitch-dark road, sodden by this time with the rain, and the <i>mauvais
- pas</i> of the bridge. Eleven struck, and now it became too serious for
- anything but anxious peerings into the black night, and considerations as
- to what could be done. We had ordered lanterns, and were on the point of
- starting for the bridge, when faint sounds, as of men singing in chorus,
- came through the darkness. They grew in volume, and now we could hear the
- omnibuses, from which came a roll of, “John Brown’s body lies mouldering
- in the grave,” given with a swing and precision which told of old
- campaigners. That stirring melody could hardly have been more welcome to
- the first line waiting for supports, on some hard-fought battle-ground,
- than it was to us. The omnibuses drew up, a dense cloud rising from the
- drenched horses and mules, and the singers got out, still keeping up their
- chorus, which only ceased on the verandah, and must have roused every
- sleeper in the settlement. The Old Bay State, Ohio, and Kentucky had sent
- us a set of as stalwart good fellows as ever sang a chorus or ate a
- beef-steak at midnight; and while they were engaged in the latter
- operation, they told how from the break-down of a freight-train, theirs
- had been three hours late, how the darkness had kept them to a
- foot’s-pace, how the last omnibus had given out in the heavy places, and
- had to be constantly helped on by a pair of mules detached from one of the
- others. “All’s well that ends well,” and it was with a joyful sense of
- relief that we piloted such of our guests as the hotel could not hold
- across to their cots in the barracks at one in the morning. By nine, the
- glorious Southern sun had fairly vanquished rain and mist, and the whole
- plateau was ablaze with the autumn tints, and every leaf gleaming from its
- recent shower-bath. Rugby outdid herself and “leapt to music and to light”
- in a way which astonished even her oldest and most enthusiastic citizens,
- some half dozen of whom had had something like twelve months’ experience
- of her moods and tempers. Breakfast began at six, and ended at nine, and
- for three hours batches of well-fed visitors were turned out to saunter
- round the walks, the English gardens, and lawn-tennis grounds, until the
- hour of eleven, fixed by the Bishop for the opening service. The church
- being as yet only some six feet above ground, this ceremony was to be held
- in the verandah of the hotel. Meantime, Bishop and chaplain were busy
- among “the boys,” organising a choir to sing the hymns and lead the
- responses. The whole population were gathering round the hotel, some four
- or five buggies, and perhaps twenty horses, haltered to the nearest trees,
- showed the interest excited in the neighbourhood. In addition to the seats
- in the verandah, chairs and benches were placed on the ground below for
- the surplus congregation, behind whom a fringe of white and black natives
- regarded the proceedings with grave attention. Punctual to time, the
- Bishop and his chaplain, in robes, took their places at the corner of the
- verandah, and gave out the first verses of the “Old Hundredth.” There was
- a moment’s pause, while the newly-organised choir exchanged glances as to
- who should lead off, and the pause was fatal to them for the moment. For
- on the Bishop’s left stood the stalwart New Englander who had led the
- pilgrims of the previous evening in the “John Brown” chorus. He, unaware
- of the episcopal arrangements, and of the consequent vested rights of “the
- boys,” broke out with “All people that on earth do dwell,” in a voice
- which carried the whole assembly with him, and at once reduced “the boys”
- to humble followers. They had their revenge, however, when it came to the
- second hymn at the end of the service. It was “Jerusalem, the golden,”
- which is apparently sung to a different tune in Boston to that in use in
- England, so though our musical guest struggled manfully through the first
- line, and had almost discomfited “the boys” by sheer force of lungs,
- numbers prevailed, and he was brought into line. The service was a short
- one, consisting of two psalms, “Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle?”
- and “Except the Lord build the house,” the chapter of Solomon’s prayer at
- the dedication of the Temple, half a dozen of the Church collects, and a
- prayer by the Bishop that the town and settlement might be built up in
- righteousness and the fear and love of God, and ‘prove a blessing to the
- State. Then, after the blessing, the gathering resolved itself into a
- public meeting after American fashion. The Board spoke through their
- representatives, and Bishop, judge, general manager, and visitors
- exchanged friendly oratorical buffets, and wishes and prophecies for the
- prosperity of the New Jerusalem in the Southern highlands. A more genuine
- or healthier act of worship it has not been our good-fortune to attend in
- these late years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Dinner began immediately afterwards, and then the company scattered again,
- some to select town lots, some to the best views, the Bishop to organise a
- vestry, and induce two of “the boys” to become lay readers, pending the
- arrival of a parson (in which he was eminently successful); the chaplain
- to the Clear Fork with one of “the boys’” fishing-rods, after black bass;
- and a motley crowd to the lawn-tennis ground, to see some set played which
- would have done no discredit to Wimbledon, and excited much wonder and
- some enthusiasm amongst natives and visitors. A cheerful evening followed,
- in which the new piano in the hotel sitting-room did good service, and
- many war and other stories were told round the big hall stove. Early the
- next morning the omnibuses began carrying off the visitors, and by night
- Rugby had settled down again to its ordinary life, not, however, without a
- sense of strength gained for the work of building up a community which
- shall know how to comport itself in good and bad times, and shall help,
- instead of hindering, its sons and daughters in leading a brave, simple,
- and Christian life.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0064" id="link2H_4_0064"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Life in an American Liner
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is some years
- since I addressed you last over this signature—indeed I should doubt
- if five per cent of your present readers will remember the “harvests” of a
- quiet (ought I to say “lazy” rather than “quiet”?) eye, which I was wont
- in those days, by your connivance, to submit to them in vacation times.
- Somehow to-day the old instinct has come back on me, possibly because I
- happen to be on an errand which should be of no small interest to us
- English just now; possibly because the last days of an Atlantic crossing
- seem to be so naturally provocative of the instinct for gossiping, that
- one is not satisfied with the abundant opportunities one gets on board the
- vessel in which one is a luxurious prisoner for ten days.
- </p>
- <p>
- We have been going day and night since we left Queenstown harbour at an
- average rate of 18 (land) miles an hour. We are more than 1300 passengers
- (roughly 200 saloon, and the rest steerage), whose baggage, when added to
- the large cargo of dry goods we are carrying, sinks our beautiful craft
- till she draws 24 feet of water. She herself is more than 150 yards long,
- and weighs as she passes Sandy Hook,—well, I am fairly unable to
- calculate what she weighs, but as much, at any rate, as half a dozen
- luggage-trains on shore. We have had our last, or the captain’s dinner, at
- which fish, to all appearance as fresh as if the sailors had just caught
- them over the side, and lettuces, as crisp as if the steward had a nursery
- garden down below, have been served as part of a dinner which would have
- done no discredit to a first-class hotel; beginning with two sorts of
- soup, and ending with two sorts of ices. Similar dinners, with other meals
- to match—four solid ones in the twenty-four hours, besides odds and
- ends—have been served day by day, without a hitch, in a cabin kept
- as sweet as Atlantic air, constantly pumped into it by the engine, can
- make it.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the way, sir, I may remark here, in connection with our feeding, that
- if we might be taken as average specimens of our race, there is no ground
- whatever for anxiety as to the Anglo-Saxon digestion, of which some
- disagreeable philosophers have spoken with disrespect and foreboding in
- recent years. There were, perhaps, ten persons whose native tongue was not
- English, and yet we carried our four solid meals a day with resolution
- bordering on the heroic. The racks were never on the tables, and we had
- only for a few hours a swell, which thinned our ranks for two meals; and
- yet when I look round, and make such inquiry as I can, I can see or hear
- of nothing more than a very slight trace of dyspepsia here and there. The
- principal change I remarked in the manners and customs on the voyage was
- the marked increase of play and betting on board. When I first crossed,
- ten years ago, there was nothing more than an occasional game at whist in
- the saloon or smoking-room. This voyage it was not easy to get out of the
- way of hard play except on deck. The best corner of the smoking-room was
- occupied from breakfast till “Out lights” by a steady poker party, and
- other smaller and more casual groups played fitfully at the other tables.
- There were always whist and other games going on in the saloon, but of a
- soberer and (in a pecuniary sense) more innocent character. There were
- “pools” of a sovereign or a half sovereign on every event of the day, “the
- run” being the most exciting issue. The drawer of the winning number
- seldom pocketed less than £40, when it was posted on the captain’s chart
- at noon. I heard that play is rather favoured now than otherwise on all
- the lines, as a percentage is almost always paid to the funds of the
- Sailors’ Orphan Asylum, for which excellent charity a collection is also
- legitimately made during every passage. We were good supporters, and
- collected nearly £70 at our entertainment, which I attribute partly to the
- fact that we had on board a leading American actor, who most
- good-naturedly “turned himself loose” for us, and that the plates at the
- two doors were held by the daughters of an English earl, and an (late,
- alas!) American ambassador of great eminence. The countries could not have
- been more characteristically or charmingly represented, and the charity
- owes them its best thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was the usual mine of information and entertainment, to be struck
- with ease by the merest novice in conversational shaft-sinking. Why is it
- that folk are so much more ready to talk on an Atlantic steamer than
- elsewhere? I myself “struck ile,” in several directions, one of a sad kind—Scotch
- farmers of the highest type going out to select new homes, where there
- will be no factors. The most remarkable of these appeared to have made up
- his mind finally when he had been told that he would not be allowed a
- penny at the end of his lease for the addition of three rooms he was
- obliged to make to his house, as his family were growing up. Have
- landlords and factors gone mad, in face of the serious times which are on
- them?
- </p>
- <p>
- There were quite an abundance of parsons, of many denominations, and all
- of mark. Prayers on Sunday were read by a New England Episcopalian, and
- the sermon preached by a Scotch Free Kirk minister. All were men of broad
- views, in some cases verging on Latitudinarianism to a point which
- rejoiced my heretic soul, e.g. a Protestant minister in a great American
- western city, whose church had recently been rebuilt. Looking round to
- find where his flock could be best housed on Sundays, pending
- reconstruction, he found the neighbouring synagogue by far the most
- convenient, and proposed to go there. His people cordially agreed, and
- despite the furious raging of the (so-called) religious press, into the
- synagogue they went for their Sunday services, stayed there six months,
- and when they left, were only charged for the gas by the Rabbi. An
- intimacy sprung up. It appeared that the Rabbi looked upon our Lord as the
- first of the inspired men of his nation, greater than Moses or Samuel, and
- in the end the two congregations met at a service conducted partly by the
- Rabbi and partly by my informant!—a noteworthy sign of the times,
- but one at which I fear many even of your readers will shake their heads.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were some Confederate officers, ready to talk without bitterness of
- the war, and I was very glad to improve the occasion, having never had the
- chance of a look from that side the curtain. Anything more grim and
- humorous than the picture of Southern society during those awful four
- years I never hope to meet with. The entire want of regular medicines,
- especially bark, was their greatest trouble in his eyes. In his brigade
- their remedy for “the shakes” came to be a plaster of raw turpentine, just
- drawn from the pine woods, laid on down the back. Some one suggested that
- pills were very portable, and easily imported. “Pills!” he said
- scornfully; “pills, sir, were as scarce in our brigade as the grace of God
- in a grog shop at midnight.” Nothing so much brought out to me the horrors
- of civil war as his account of the perfect knowledge each side had of the
- plans and doings on the other. A Northern officer, he had since come to
- know, was leaning against a post within three yards of Jeff. Davis when he
- made his famous speech announcing the supersession of Joe Johnson as the
- general fronting Sherman. Sherman had heard it in a few hours, and was
- acting on the news before nightfall. The most terrible example was that of
- the mining of the Richmond lines. The defenders knew almost to a foot
- where the mines were, and when they were to be fired. Breckenbridge’s
- division, in which he fought, were drawn up in line to repel the attack
- when the earthworks went up in the air, and the assailants rushed into the
- great gap which had been made, and which was nearly filled, before they
- fell back, with the bodies of Northern soldiers. For the last two years,
- in almost every battle he had all he could do to hold his own against the
- front attack, knowing and feeling all the while that the enemy was
- overlapping and massing on both flanks, and that he would have to retire
- his regiment before they could close. And yet they held together to the
- last!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- I pity mothers, too, down South,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Altho’ they sat amongst the scorners.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It is a curious experience, and one well worth trying, this ten days’
- voyage. When you go on board at Liverpool, and look round at the first
- dinner, there are probably not half a dozen faces you ever saw before. By
- the time you walk out of the ship, bag in hand, on to the New York
- landing-place, there are scarcely half a dozen with» whom you have not a
- pleasant speaking acquaintance; while with a not inconsiderable number you
- feel (unless you have had singularly bad luck) as if you must have known
- them intimately for years, without having been aware of it. As you touch
- the land, the express men and hotel touts rush on you, and the spell is
- broken. The little society resolves itself at their touch into separate
- atoms, which are whirled away, without time to wish one another God-speed,
- into the turbulent ocean of New York life, never again to be gathered
- together as a society in this world, for worship, for food, or fun. “The
- present life of man, 0 king!” said a Saxon thane in Edwin’s Witenagemot,
- when they were consulting whether Augustine and his priests should be
- allowed to settle at Canterbury, “reminds me of one of your winter feasts
- where you sit with your thanes and counsellors. The hearth blazes in our
- midst, and a grateful heat is spread around, while storms of rain and snow
- are raging without. A little sparrow enters at one door and flies
- delighted around us, till it departs through the other. Such is the life
- of man, and we are as ignorant of the state which went before us as of
- that which will follow it. Things being so,” went on the thane, “I feel
- that if this new faith can give us more certainty, it deserves to be
- received,”—which last sentiment has, I allow, no bearing on the
- present subject, nor, perhaps you will say, has the rest of it. But
- somehow the old story came into my head so vividly as I was leaving the
- steamer, that I feel like tossing it on to your readers, to see what they
- can make of it; though I own, on looking at it again, I am not myself
- clear as to the interpretation, or whether I am the sparrow or the thane.
- </p>
- <p>
- New York is more overwhelming than ever,—surely the most tremendous
- human mill on this planet; but I must not begin upon it at the end of a
- letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0065" id="link2H_4_0065"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Life in Texas, Ranche on the Rio Grande, 16th September 1884.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t must be many
- years now (how they do shut up in these latter days like a telescope)
- since I confided to you in these columns the joy—not unmixed with
- reverence—of my first interview with that worthy small person (I am
- sure he must be a person) the tumble-bug of the U.S.A. I looked upon him
- in those days as on the whole the most industrious and athletic little
- creature it had ever been my privilege to encounter. I am obliged now to
- take most of that back, for to-day I have discovered that he isn’t a
- circumstance to his Mexican cousin on this side the Rio Grande. At any
- rate, the specimens I have met with here are not only bigger, but work
- half as hard again, and about twice as quick. I was sitting just now in
- the verandah in front of this ranche cabin, waiting for the horses to be
- saddled-up at the corral just below, and looking lazily, now eastward over
- the river and the wide Texan plains beyond, fading away in the haze till
- the horizon looked like the Atlantic in a calm, now westward to the jagged
- outline of the Sierra Nevada, gleaming in the sunshine sixty miles away,
- when I became aware of something moving at my feet. Looking down I found
- that it was a tumble-bug rolling a ball of dirt he had put together, till
- it was at least four times as big as himself, towards the rough stony
- descent just beyond the verandah, at a pace which fairly staggered me. In
- a few seconds he was across the floor, and in amongst the stones which lay
- thickly over the slope beyond. Here his troubles began. First he pushed
- his ball backwards over a big stone, on the further side of which it fell,
- and he with it, headlong—no, not headlong, stern foremost—some
- five inches, rolling over one another twice at the bottom. But he never
- quitted hold, and began pushing away merrily again without a moment’s
- pause. Then he ran the ball into a <i>cul-de-sac</i> between two stones,
- some inches high. After two or three dead heaves, which lifted the ball at
- least his own length up the side of the stones—and you must
- remember, to judge of the feat, that he was standing on his head to do it—he
- quitted hold, turned round, and looked at the situation. I am almost
- certain I saw him scratch his ear, or at least the side of his head, with
- his fore-claw. In a second or two he fixed on again with his hind-claws,
- pushed the ball out of the <i>cul-de-sac</i>, and continued his journey.
- If that bug didn’t put two and two together, by what process did he get
- out of that <i>cul-de-sac?</i> “Cogito, ergo sum.” Was I wrong in calling
- him a person? Well, I won’t trouble you further with particulars of his
- journey, but he ran his big ball into his hole under a mesquite-bush, 19
- 1/2 yards from the spot on the verandah where I first noticed him, in
- eleven minutes and a few seconds by my watch. I made a calculation before
- mounting that, comparing my bug with an average Mexican, five feet eight
- inches high, and weighing ten stone, the ball of dirt would be at least
- equal to a bale of cotton, eight feet in diameter, and weighing half a
- ton, which the man would have to push or carry 2 1/2 miles in eleven
- minutes, to equal the feat of his tiny fellow-citizen. In the depressed
- condition of Mexico, might not this enormous bug-power be utilised somehow
- for the benefit of the Republic?
- </p>
- <p>
- I had barely finished my ciphering when I was called to horse, and in a
- few minutes was riding across a vast plain, nearly bare of grass in this
- drought, but dotted with mesquite-bushes, prickly pear, and other scrub,
- so that the general effect was still green. The riding was rough, as much
- loose stone lay about, and badgers’, “Jack Rabbits’” and other creatures’
- holes abounded; but the small Mexican horse I rode was perfectly
- sure-footed, and I ambled along, swelling with pride at my quaint saddle,
- with pummel some eight inches high, and depending lasso, showing that for
- the time I was free of the honourable fraternity of “gentlemen
- cow-punchers.” Besides myself, our party consisted of the two ranche-men—an
- Englishman and an American, aged about thirty, old comrades on long drives
- 1000 miles away to the North, but now anchored on this glorious ranche on
- the Bio Grande—and a cowboy. The Englishman’s yellow hair was
- cropped close to his head, and his fair skin was burnt as red, I suppose,
- as skin will burn; the Marylander’s black hair was as closely cropped, and
- his skin burnt an equally deep brown. The cowboy, an English lad of about
- twenty, reconciled the two types, having managed to get his skin tanned a
- deep red, relieved by large dark brown freckles, from the midst of which
- his great blue eyes shone out in comical contrast. I fear—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- The very mother that him bare,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- She had not known her child.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- They were all attired alike, in broad felt sombreros, blue shirts, and
- trousers thrust into boots reaching to the knees. Each had his lasso at
- pummel, and between them they carried a rifle, frying-pan, coffee-pot, big
- loaf, and forequarter of a porker—for we were out for a long day. A
- more picturesque or efficient-looking group it would be hard to find. I
- must resist the temptation of telling all we did or saw, and come at once
- to our ride home shortly before sunset. The ranche-men and I were abreast,
- and the cowboy a few yards behind, when we came across a bunch of cattle,
- conspicuous amongst which strode along a stalwart yearling bull calf,
- whose shining brindle hide and jaunty air showed that he, at least, was
- not suffering from the scanty food which the drought has left for the
- herds on these wide plains. He was already as big as his poor raw-boned
- mother, who went along painfully picking at every shrub and tuft in her
- path, to provide his evening meal at her own expense. Now these dude
- calves (who insist on living on their parents, and will do nothing for
- their own livelihood) can only be cured by the insertion of a horse-ring
- in the upper lip, so that they cannot turn it up to take hold of the
- maternal udder, and it is often in bad times a matter of life or death to
- the cows to get them ringed. After a conference of a few seconds, the
- Marylander shifted the rifle to the saddle of the Englishman (already
- ornamented with the frying-pan and the coffee-pot), and calling to the
- cowboy, dashed off for the bunch of cattle. Next moment the cowboy shot
- past us at full speed, gathering up his lasso as he went; the bull-calf
- was “cut out” of the bunch as if by magic, and went straight away through
- mesquite-brush and prickly pears, at a pace which kept his pursuers at
- their utmost stretch not to lose ground. It was all they could do to hold
- it, never for a full mile getting within lasso-reach of Boliborus, the
- ranche-man following like fate, upright from shoulder to toe (they ride
- with very long stirrups), bridle hand low, and right hand swinging the
- lasso slowly round his head, awaiting his chance for a throw; the cowboy
- close on his flank; ranche-man number two clattering along, pot, kettle,
- and rifle “soaring and singing” round his knees, but availing himself of
- every turn in the chase, so as to keep within thirty or forty yards. I, a
- bad fourth, but near enough to see the whole and share the excitement (if,
- indeed, I hadn’t it all to myself, the sport being to the rest a part of
- the daily round). The crisis came just at the foot of a mound, up which
- Boliborus had gained some yards, but in the descent had slackened his pace
- and the pursuers were on him. The lasso flew from the raised hand, and was
- round his neck, a dexterous twist brought the rope across his forelegs,
- and next moment he was over on his side half, throttled. I was up in some
- five seconds, during which his lassoer had him by the horns, ranche-man
- number two was prone with all his weight upon his shoulders, and the
- cowboy on his hind quarters, catching at his tail with his left hand. That
- bull calf’s struggle to rise was as superb as Bertram Risingham’s in <i>Rokeby</i>,
- and as futile; for the cowboy had caught his tail and passed it between
- his hind legs, and by pulling hard kept one leg brandishing aimlessly in
- the air, while the weight of the ranche-men subdued his forequarters. The
- ring was passed through his upper lip, and the lasso was off his neck in a
- few seconds more, and the ranche-men turned to mount, saying to the
- cowboy, “Just hold on a minute.” The cowboy passed the tail back between
- the hind legs, grasped the end firmly, and stood expectant. Boliborus lay
- quiet for a second or two, and then bounded to his feet, glaring round in
- rage and pain to choose which, of his foes to go for, when he became aware
- of something wrong behind, and looking round, realised the state of the
- case. Down went his head, and round he went with a rush for his own tail
- end, but the tail and boy were equal to the occasion, and the latter still
- holding on tight by the former, sent back a defiant kick at the end of
- each rush, which, however, never got within two feet of the bull’s nose,
- and could be only looked upon as a proper defiance. Then Boliborus tried
- stealing round to take his tail by surprise, but all to as little purpose,
- when the ranche-men, who were now both mounted, to end the farce, rode
- round in front of the beast, caught his eye, and cried, “Let go.” Whisking
- his freed tail in the air he made a rush, but only a half-hearted one, at
- the nearest, who just wheeled his horse, and as he passed administered a
- contemptuous thwack over his loins with a lasso. Boliborus now stood
- looking down his nose at the appendant ring, revolving his next move, with
- so comic an expression that I burst into a roar of laughter, in which the
- rest joined out of courtesy. This was too much for him, as ridicule proves
- for so many two-legged calves, so he tossed his head in the air, gave a
- flirt with his heels, and trotted off after his mother, a sadder, and let
- us hope, wiser bull-calf; in any case, a ringed one, and bound in future
- to get his own living.
- </p>
- <p>
- On my ride home my mind was much occupied by that cowboy, who rode along
- by me—telling how he had been reading <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>
- again (amongst other things), found it wasn’t a mere boy’s book, and
- wanted to get a Life of Swift—in his battered old outfit, for which
- no Jew in Rag-Fair would give him five shillings. The last time I had seen
- him, two years ago, he had just left Hallebury, a bit of a dandy, with
- very tight clothes, and so stiff a white collar on, that on his arrival he
- had been nicknamed “the Parson.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At home he might by this time be just through responsions by the help of
- cribs and manuals, having contracted in the process a rooted distaste for
- classical literature. Possibly he might have pulled in his college boat,
- and won a plated cup at lawn tennis, and all this at the cost of, say,
- £250 a year. As it is, besides costing nothing, he can cook a spare-rib of
- pork to a turn on a forked stick, hold a bull-calf by the tail, and is
- voluntarily wrestling (not without certain glimmerings of light) with <i>Sartor
- Resartus</i>. Which career for choice? How say you, Mr. Editor?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0066" id="link2H_4_0066"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Crossing the Atlantic, 4th September 1885.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> mug-wump! I
- should like to ask you, sir—not as Editor, not even as English
- gentleman, but simply as vertebrate animal—what you would do if a
- stranger were all of a sudden to call your intimate friends “mug-wumps,”
- not obscurely hinting that you yourself laboured under whatever imputation
- that term may convey? I don’t know what the effect might have been in my
- own case, but that the story of O’Connell, as a boy, shutting up the
- voluble old Dublin applewoman by calling her a “parallelopiped,” rushed
- into my head, and set me off laughing. I haven’t been able to learn more
- of the etymology of the word than that it is said over here to have been
- first used in a sermon (?) by Mr. Ward Beecher, and now denotes “bolters”
- or “scratchers,” as they were called last autumn, or in other words, the
- Independents, who broke away from the party machine of Republicanism and
- carried Cleveland. More power to the “mug-wump’s” elbow, say I; and I only
- wish we may catch the “mugwumps,” “mug-wumpism,” or whatever the name for
- the disease may be, in England before long. One of the groups on the deck
- of the liner, amongst whom I first heard the phrase, was a good specimen
- of the machine-politician, a democrat of the Tammany Hall type. “You bet”
- I stuck to him till I got at his candid account of the campaign of last
- autumn, most interesting to me, but I fear not so to the general English
- reader, so I will only give you his concluding sentence:—“Well,”
- with a long suck at the big cigar he was half-eating, half-smoking, “I
- tell you it was about the thinnest ice you ever saw before we were over,—but,
- <i>I got to land!</i>” From what I heard on board and since, I believe the
- President is doing splendidly; witness his peremptory order for the great
- ranche-men to clear out of the Reserves which they had leased from the
- Indians, and fenced to the extent of some millions of acres; the
- righteousness of which presidential action is proved (were proof needed)
- by the threatened resistance of General B. Butler, one of the largest
- lessees. I can see too clearly looming up a determined opposition to the
- President’s Civil Service reform from politicians of both parties, mainly
- on the ground that he is “establishing a class” in these U.S.—a
- policy which “the Fathers” abhorred and guarded against, and which their
- only legitimate heirs, the machine politicians, will fight to the death.
- You may gauge the worth of this opposition by contrasting their two
- principal arguments—(1) Nine-tenths of the work of the Departments
- (Post Office, Customs, etc.) can be learnt just as well in three months as
- in ten years; and (2) the other tenth, requiring skilled and experienced
- officers, has never been interfered with by either side. But, if argument
- two is sound, <i>cadit quostio</i>, as there is <i>ex hypothesi</i>
- already a permanent class of civil servants, I conclude that were I an
- American I would accept “mug-wump” as a title of honour instead of
- resenting it, and help to get up a “Mug-wump” club in every great city.
- </p>
- <p>
- We had a splendid crossing, deck crowded all the way, and the company
- gloriously cosmopolitan and communicative during the short intervals
- between the orthodox four full meals a day. There is surely no place in
- the world where that universal instinct, the desire to get behind the
- scenes of one’s neighbours’ lives, is so easily and abundantly gratified.
- Here is one of my rather odd discoveries. On reaching the deck, after my
- bath on the first morning, for the tramp before breakfast, I was joined by
- a fine specimen of an old Yorkshireman. It seems we had met years ago, at
- some political or social gathering, and as he looked in superb health and
- fit to fight for his life, I congratulated. Yes, he said, it was all owing
- to his having discovered how to pass his holiday. He used to go to some
- northern seaside place, one as bad as the other, for “whenever the wind
- blew on shore you might as well be living in a sewer.” So he saved enough
- one year to buy a return-ticket on a Cunard liner, calculating that
- whatever way the wind blew he must be getting sea-air all the time. He has
- done it every year since, having found that besides sea-air he gets better
- food and company than he could ever command at home. My next “find” was a
- pleasant soldierly-looking man who called to me from the upper deck to
- come up and see a sword-fish chasing a whale. Alas! I arrived too late.
- The uncivil brutes had both disappeared by the time I got up; but I was
- much consoled by the talk which ensued with my new acquaintance. He was a
- Lieutenant of Marines in the Admiral’s flag-ship off Palermo in King
- Bomba’s last days, and was sent ashore to arrest and bring on board all
- sailors found with the Garibaldini. He seems to have found it necessary to
- be present himself at the battle of Metazzo (I think that was the name)
- and at the storming of the town afterwards, in which the Garibaldini
- suffered severely. The dead were all laid out before the gate after the
- town was taken, and he counted no less than seventy bluejackets amongst
- them! They used to drop over the sides of the ships and swim ashore, or
- smuggle themselves into the bum-boats which came off to the fleet with
- provisions. No wonder that we have been popular in Italy ever since.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, attracted by a crowd on the fore part of the deck, roped off to
- divide steerage from saloon passengers, I became one of a motley group
- assisting at a sort of moral “free-and-easy,” got up for the 300 steerage
- folk by two ecclesiastics, whom I took at first for Romish priests from
- their costume. I found I was mistaken, and that they were the Principal
- and a Brother of “the Fraternity of the Iron Cross,” an order of the
- American Episcopal Church, which, it seems, has taken root in several of
- the large cities. The Brethren are vowed to “poverty, purity, and
- temperance” (or obedience, I am not sure which); and these two were
- crossing in the steerage to comfort and help the poor folk there—no
- pleasant task, even in so airy a ship and such fine weather. One can
- imagine what power this kind of fellowship must give the Iron Cross
- Brethren with their rather sad fellow-passengers, to whom they could say—one
- of them, indeed, did say it—“We are just as poor as the poorest of
- you, for we own no property of any kind, and never can own any till our
- deaths.” This Brother (a strapping young fellow of twenty-five, who I
- found had been an athlete at Oxford) waxed eloquent to them on his
- experiences in Philadelphia, especially on the working-men Brethren there.
- One of these, a big, rough chap, with a badly broken nose, he had rather
- looked askance at, first, till he found that the broken nose had been
- earned in a rough-and-tumble fight with a fellow who was ill-using a
- woman. Now they were the closest friends, and he looked on the broken nose
- as more honourable than the Victoria Cross, and hoped none of the men
- there would fail to go in for that decoration if they ever got the same
- chance.
- </p>
- <p>
- In melancholy contrast to the Iron Cross Brethren were two other diligent
- workers in quite another kind of business. They haunted the smoking-room
- from breakfast till “lights out,” officious to help to arrange the daily
- sweepstakes on the ship’s run; gloating over, and piling caressingly as
- they rattled down on the table, the dollars and half-crowns; always on the
- watch and ready to take a hand at cards, just to accommodate gents with
- whom time hung heavily. Bagmen, they were said to be; but I doubt if they
- travel for any industry except plucking pigeons on their own account—unmistakable
- Jews of a low type, who never looked any man in the face:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In their eyes that stealthy gleam,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Was not learned of sky or stream,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But it has the hard, cold glint
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Of new dollars from the mint.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Their industry was pursued cautiously, as the fine old captain is known to
- hold strong views about gambling, and there was less on this ship than any
- other I have crossed on. No baccarat-table going all day, with excited
- youngsters punting their silver (gold, too, now and then) over the
- shoulders of the players,—only a quiet hand at euchre or poker at a
- corner table, in the afternoon and after dinner; but even with such
- straitened opportunities, youngsters may be plucked to a fairly
- satisfactory figure. From £10 to £20 was often at stake on one deal at
- poker, and, I was told, not seldom much higher sums. I saw myself one mere
- boy inveigled into blind-hookey for a minute or two while the poker party
- was gathering. He won the first cut; and two minutes later I saw “Iscariot
- Ingots, Esq., that highly respectable man,” looking abstractedly across
- the room, and dreamily gathering up a large handful of silver which the
- boy rattled down as he flung off to take his seat at the poker-table; and
- so on, and so on.
- </p>
- <p>
- It occurs to one to ask, not without some indignation, why this sort of
- thing is allowed on these Atlantic steamers. My own observation confirms
- the general belief that professionals cross on nearly every boat; and, on
- every boat, there are youngsters fresh from school or college, out of
- leading-strings for the first time, and with considerable sums in their
- pockets. It is a bad scandal, and might be stopped with the greatest ease.
- Prohibit all cards, except whist for small points in the smoking-room; and
- let it be the purser’s or some other officer’s duty to see the rule
- enforced. As things stand, I do not know of a more dangerous place for
- youngsters—American or English—than an Atlantic steamer.
- </p>
- <p>
- One never gets past Sandy Hook, I think, without some new sensation. This
- time, for me, it was the harbour buoys, each of which carried a brilliant
- electric lamp. They are lighted from the shore!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_NOTE" id="link2H_NOTE"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Notes from the West, Cincinnati, 24th September 1886.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> never come to
- this country without stumbling over some startling differences between our
- kin here and ourselves, which it puzzles me to account for. Take this
- last. Some days ago, I met a young Englishman from a Western ranche. He
- had run down some six hundred miles, from Kansas City, into which he had
- brought a “bunch” of steers from the ranche. As he would not be wanted
- again for a fortnight, he had taken the opportunity of looking in on his
- friends down South. In our talk the question of railway fares turned up.
- “Oh, yes,” he said, “the fare is $25; but I only paid $16.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, I just went to the ‘ticket-scalpers’,’ right opposite the railway
- dépôt—here is their card (handing it to me); and, you see, my ticket
- is to Chatanooga; so I might go on for another hundred and fifty miles if
- I wanted to.” There was the business card, “Moss Brothers, ticket-brokers,
- opposite central dépôt, Kansas City, members of the Ticket Brokers’
- Union.” It went on to say that every attention is paid to travellers,
- inquiries made, and information given, by these enterprising Hebrews; and
- on the back, a list of the towns to which they could issue tickets,
- including nearly every important centre in the Northern and Western
- States. Since then I have made inquiries at several towns, and find that
- the “scalper” is an institution in every one of them; and, apart from the
- saving of money, is much in favour with the travelling public, on account
- of his civility and intelligence. The ordinary railway clerk is a
- remarkably short-tempered and ill-informed person, out of whom you can
- with difficulty extract the most trifling piece of information, even as to
- his own line; while the despised “scalper” across the road (generally a
- Jew) will take any amount of trouble to find out how you can “make
- connections,” while furnishing you with a ticket, which he guarantees, at
- a third less, on the average, than his legitimate but morose rival in “the
- dépôt.” But the strangest thing of all is, that even the railway directors
- seem to think it all right; or, at any rate, that it is not worth their
- while to try to stop this traffic. One friend, a first-rate business man,
- actually said that he should have no scruple what, ever in going to the
- “scalpers” when off his own system, over which, of course, he is
- “dead-headed.” I heard several explanations of the phenomenon, the only
- plausible one being that it is impossible to control the enormous issues
- of cheap excursion tickets which are made by all the main lines. But
- surely, then, the question occurs, “Why impossible!” At any rate, the
- average Briton is inclined to think that if such establishments appeared
- opposite the Euston Square or Waterloo termini, they would soon hear
- something from Mr. Moon and Mr. Ralph Dutton not to their advantage.
- </p>
- <p>
- I gleaned other items of information from my young friend from Kansas
- which may be useful to some of your readers, now that there is scarcely a
- family in England (so it seems to me, at least) which is not sending out
- one or more of its younger members to try their fortunes in the Far West.
- This, for instance, seems worth bearing in mind: When a young fellow comes
- out from home, he shouldn’t go and hire himself out at once to a farmer.
- If he does, he’ll find they’ll make the winter jobs for an Englishman
- pretty tough. He’ll get all the hardest work laid out for him, and mighty
- poor pay at the end. Let him go and board with a farmer. Any one will be
- glad to take him for a few dollars. Then he can learn all he wants, and
- they’ll be glad of his help, because they’ll see it’s a picnic. If you
- like it, you can buy and settle down. If not, you can just pull out, and
- go on somewhere else.
- </p>
- <p>
- The administration of justice on the plains is still in a primitive
- condition. The difficulty of getting a jury of farmers together makes a
- gaol delivery a troublesome matter. Another youngster from Dakota
- illustrated this from his section. There was a turbulent member of the
- community who, after committing other minor offences, at last got lodged
- in the shanty which does office for a gaol, on the serious charge of a
- murderous attack on a girl who refused any longer to receive his
- attentions, and on her father when he came to the rescue. He had lain in
- gaol for some weeks, waiting for a judge and jury, when 4th July came
- round. The Sheriff-Constable, with all the rest of the neighbours, was
- bound for the nearest railway-station, some ten miles off, where the
- anniversary of “the glorious Fourth” was to be commemorated, with trotting
- marches and other diversions. He had one other prisoner in charge, and so,
- after weighing the matter well, and taking the length of their
- incarceration into account, came to the ingenious conclusion to let them
- out for the day, each going bail for the return of the other on the
- following day. On the morrow, however, it was found that the chief culprit
- had not turned up, and the fathers of the little community gathered in
- indignant council to consider what was to be done. After some debate the
- Sheriff-Constable gave it as his opinion that, on the whole, Dogberry’s
- advice was sound, and they should let him go, and thank God they were rid
- of a knave, “the country having spent too much already over the darned
- cuss.” To this the <i>patres conscripti</i> agreed, and went home to their
- farms. Even stranger is another well-authenticated story from one of the
- most active and important of the new cities in the North-West. Amongst the
- first settlers there was one who had dabbled in real estate, and grown
- with the growth of the city, until he had become “one of our principal
- citizens.” No one seemed to know whether he was a lawyer by profession,
- and he never conducted a case in Court. But one thing was quite clear,
- that he was intimate with all the judges, had the <i>entrée</i> to their
- private rooms, and, especially in the case of the Judges of the Supreme
- Court, scarcely ever failed to avail himself of this privilege when the
- Courts were sitting. He had a capital cook and good horses, which were
- always freely at the service of the representatives of justice. Gradually
- it began to be quietly understood, no one quite knew how, amongst suitors,
- that it was possible, and very desirable, to interest the gentleman in
- question in their cases. He was ready, it would seem, to accept a
- retaining-fee. His charge was fixed at a very moderate percentage on the
- value of the property in dispute, which nobody need pay unless they
- thought it worth while. Moreover, the system was one of “No cure, no pay.”
- He gave every one an acknowledgment in writing of the amount paid in their
- respective cases, with an undertaking to return the full sum in the event
- of their proving unsuccessful. It therefore naturally appeared to the
- average Western suitor about as profitable an investment as he could make.
- Strange to say, this queer practice seems to have gone on for years, and
- no shadow of suspicion ever fell on this “principal citizen,” whatever
- might have been the case as to his friends the judges. The strong
- individuality and secretiveness which marks the Western character may
- probably account for the fact that during his life no one would seem to
- have taken any public notice of this peculiar industry. If a suitor was
- successful, he was content; if not, he got back his money, and it was
- nobody’s affair but his own. Well, the good man died, and was buried, and
- his executors, in administering his estate, were astonished to find
- bundles of receipts from suitors of all classes and degrees, acknowledging
- the repayment to them of sums varying in amount from $5 and upwards “in
- the case of Brown v. Jones,” “in the matter of United States v. Robinson,”
- “<i>ex parte</i> White,” etc. This led to further inquiry, and the facts
- came ~ gradually to light. The sagacious testator had, in fact, taken his
- percentage <i>from both sides</i> in almost every case of any importance
- which had been heard in the Courts for years. He had never mentioned suit
- or suitor to any of the judges, his visits to them being simply for the
- purpose of asking them to dinner, offering them a drive, or a bed if they
- were on circuit away from home, or interchanging gossip as to stocks,
- railways, or public affairs. And so for years five honest men had been
- presiding in the different Courts, entirely innocent of the fact that
- almost every suitor was looking upon each of them as a person who had
- received valuable consideration for deciding in his favour. I own that my
- experience, though, of course, narrow, is decidedly favourable as to the
- ability and uprightness of the judges in out-of-the-way districts; so that
- nothing but what I could not but regard as quite unimpeachable evidence
- would have satisfied me that a whole-community of litigants should have
- gone on paying black-mail in this egregiously stupid manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was considerably astonished, and a little troubled, to find so many of
- my friends among Northern Republicans—men who had gone through and
- borne the burden of the War of Secession—not, indeed, sympathising
- with the Irish, whom they dislike and distrust more than we do, but
- saying: “Oh, you had better let them have their own way. Look at our
- experience of twenty years after the war. Until we let the Southern States
- have their own way, and withdrew the troops, and threw over the
- carpetbaggers, we had no peace; and now they are just as quiet as New
- England.” To which, of course, I made the obvious reply: “Let the seceding
- States have their own way, did you? Why, I had always understood that they
- went out because you elected a free-soil President, pledged to oppose any
- further extension of their peculiar institution, and that at the end of
- the war that institution had not only been confined within its old limits,
- but had absolutely disappeared. The parallel would have held if you had
- said to Mr. Jefferson Davis and his backers in the spring of 1861, ‘Do
- what you please as to your negroes; take them where you will; it is a
- purely domestic matter for you to settle in your own way.’ Instead of
- this, you said, ‘You shall not take your slaves where you please, and you
- shall not go out of the Union.’ In the same way, we have to say now to the
- Irish, ‘You shall not do what you please with the owners of property in
- Ireland, and you shall not go out of the Union.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- You will be glad to hear that, wherever I went, there seemed to be the
- expectation of a revival of trade in the near future. I can see no ground
- myself for the expectation, so long as all industry remains in its present
- competitive phase, and the power of production goes on increasing instead
- of diminishing. Why should men not desire as eagerly to take each other’s
- trade this next year as they did last year? But the knowing people think
- otherwise, and I suppose that is good for something.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0068" id="link2H_4_0068"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Westward Ho! 2nd April 1887.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t must be nearly
- thirty years since I first wrote to you over this signature, but never
- before except in long vacations, and from outlandish parts. Why not keep
- to a good rule? you may ask, at this crowded time of year. Well, the fact
- is I really want to say something as to this “Westward Ho!” gadfly, which
- seems to have bitten young England with a vengeance in these last months.
- I am startled, not to say alarmed, at the number of letters I get from the
- parents and guardians—generally professional men—of youngsters
- eagerly bent on cattle-ranches, horse-ranches, orange-groves in Florida,
- vineyards, peach and strawberry-raising, and I know not what other golden
- dreams of wealth quickly acquired in the open air, generally with plenty
- of wild sport thrown in. I suppose they write from some fancy that I know
- a good deal about such matters. That is not so; but I do know a very
- little about them, and may possibly do some good by publishing that little
- just now in your columns.
- </p>
- <p>
- First, then, as to cattle and horse-raising on ranches. This is
- practically a closed business on any but a small scale, and as part of
- farm work. All the best ranche-grounds are in the hands of large and rich
- companies, or millionaires, with whom no newcomer can compete. It will, no
- doubt, be a valuable experience for any young man to work for a year or
- two on a big ranch as a cowboy; but he must be thoroughly able to trust
- his temper, and to rough it in many ways, or he should not try it. At the
- end, if prudent, he will only have been able to save a few hundred
- dollars. But this is not the kind of thing, so far as I see, that our
- youngsters at all expect or want. Orange-groves are excellent and
- profitable things, no doubt, and there are parts in Florida and elsewhere
- where there is still plenty of land fit for this purpose, though the
- choice spots are probably occupied. But an orange-grove will not give any
- return till the sixth year, cautious people say the seventh.
- </p>
- <p>
- Vineyards may, with good luck, be giving some return in the third or
- fourth year; but the amount of hard work which must be put into the soil
- in breaking up, clearing out stumps, and ploughing, even if there is no
- timber to fell, is very serious; and the same may be said of
- peach-orchards and early, fruit and vegetable-rearing. Moreover, the
- choice places for such industry, such as Lookout Mountain, are for the
- most part occupied. In a word, though it is quite possible to do well in
- other industries, and in ordinary farming, nothing beyond a decent living
- can be earned, without at any rate as free an expenditure of brain and
- muscle as high farming requires at home. On the other hand, sport, except
- for rich ranche-men who can command waggons, horses, and men, and travel
- long distances for it, is not to be had generally, and apt to disappoint
- where it can be had.
- </p>
- <p>
- So much for the working side of the problem. The playing side—outside
- whisky-shops, which I will assume the young Englishman means to keep clear
- of—ought also to be looked fairly in the face before the experiment
- is tried. Perhaps the most direct way to bring it home to inquirers will
- be to quote from the letter of a young English public-school boy who has
- lately finished his first year as a cowboy on the cattle-ranche of one of
- the big companies:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Friday night</i> we had quite a time. We went to an exhibition of the
- home talent of——, and really of all shows this was the worst I
- ever saw. One man, the town barber, and our greatest “society man,” played
- a nigger, and played it so well that one could not help fancying he has at
- one time been a “profesh.” The rest were so dull and such sticks that it
- made him shine more than ever. After the home talent, there was a “social
- hop,” at which Jerry and I shone as being the “bored young men.” You can,
- of course, see why I was bored; and Jerry, he is from Ohio, and of course———
- cannot compete with Ohio. However, as Jerry was somewhat of a great man,
- the quadrilles being all called by him—i.e. he stood on the stage
- and shouted, “balance all,” “swing your partners,” “lady’s chain,” at the
- right time—we had to stay, and more or less to dance. Jerry took
- great pains to find me partners worthy of a man who had danced in a
- dress-coat. He did not succeed but once, when he introduced me to a very
- lively little school-lady, “marm,” I should say; the rest were very wooden
- in movement and conversation. The school-marm amused me very much. She had
- not long returned from the————- University, where
- all the young ladies, though they met the other sex at school, were not
- allowed to speak to them at other times. The girls were allowed to give
- dances, but she and three or four others thought that a “hen-pie” dance
- was too much of a fraud, so they contrived a plan by which they could get
- three or four dancing men in without going to the door. They fastened a
- pulley on to the beam where the bell hung, and with the aid of a
- clothes-basket and a rope they spoiled the “hen-pie” with two or three
- young men. This plan worked well several times, till one night three or
- four of them were exerting themselves to get a very heavy boy up, when
- instead of a boy they perceived the bearded face of the head-master. In
- horror they turned loose the rope and fled, leaving him twelve feet from
- the ground, hanging on by his fingers to the window-sill, from which, as
- no one would respond to his call for help, he finally dropped. The young
- lady told it much better than I have. Jerry was very popular as a
- “caller.” I noticed he understood his audience well, and whenever they got
- a figure they didn’t know, he came in with “grand chain,” which they all
- knew and performed very nicely; so you would see a whole set lost in the
- intricate feat of “visiting” (say) and all muddled up, when you would hear
- the grand voice of Jerry, “grand chain,” and all the dancers would smile
- and go to it, and Jerry was quite the boss. We however lost our reputation
- as good young men, as towards midnight we were overcome with a great
- thirst; so wicked I, a hardened sinner, persuaded the social barber to let
- me have half-a-pint of whisky; and J——— and I were
- caught in the barber’s shop, eating tinned oysters with our pocket-knives,
- and biscuits, and indulging in whisky-and-water. We were caught by three
- young men who had “got religion” last fall, and who were, of course,
- highly shocked; but I think they would have overcome all their scruples
- but for the stern mothers in the background, and they not only envied us
- our whisky-and-water, but also our mothers. Half the fight in drinking, I
- think, is to have been “raised” to look upon it as an every-day luxury,
- and not as a thing to be had as a great treat on the sly. Well, good-bye!
- I have written a lot of rubbish, but beyond that am fatter than I have
- ever been in America.
- </p>
- <p>
- This will probably give readers a pretty clear notion of the social life
- available in the West. It is, as they will see at a glance, utterly unlike
- anything they have been used to. If this kind of social life (and there is
- something to be said for it) is what they want, in the interludes of
- really hard manual labour and rough board and lodging, let them start by
- all means, and they may do very well out West. Otherwise they had better
- look the thing round twice or thrice before starting. In any case, no
- young man ought to take more ready money with him than will just keep him
- from starving for about a month.
- </p>
- <p>
- If he cannot make his hands keep him by that time, he has no business, and
- will do no good, in the West.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0069" id="link2H_4_0069"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Hermit, Rugby, Tennessee, 19th September 1887.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have always had a
- strong curiosity about hermits—remember I paid a shilling as a small
- boy, when I could ill afford it, to see one, somewhere up by Hampstead, a
- cruel disappointment—used to make shy approaches to lonely turnpike
- keepers before they were abolished, with no success; finding them always,
- like Johnson’s “hoary sage,” inclined to cut sentiment short with, “Come,
- my lad, and drink some beer,” I came to the conclusion long since that the
- genuine hermit is as extinct as the dodo in the British Isles. I was
- almost excited, therefore, the other morning, to get a note on a dirty
- scrap of paper here, asking for the loan of a book on geology, for, on
- inquiry, I found it came from “the Hermit.” He had suddenly appeared to
- the man who drives the hack, and sent it in by him. No one could tell me
- anything more except that the writer was “the Hermit,” and lived, no one
- knew how, in a shanty four miles away in the forest. I got the book out of
- the library, “loaned” a pony, and in due course found myself outside a
- dilapidated snake-fence, surrounding some three acres of half-cleared
- forest, and the rudest kind of log-hut; evidently the place I was in
- search of, but no hermit. While I was meditating my next move, a dismal
- howl, like, I should think, the “lulilooing” of Central Africa, came from
- out the neighbouring bush. I shouted myself, and in a few moments “the
- Hermit” appeared, and certainly at first glance “filled the bill”
- satisfactorily. His head was a tangled mass of long hair and beard, out of
- which shone two big, blue eyes; a long, lean figure, slightly bent, and
- clothed in a tattered shirt, and trousers which no old Jew clothesman
- would have picked off a dunghill. I explained my errand and produced the
- book.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thanked me, excused his dress; had other clothes, he said, in the
- house, which he would have put on had he expected me; was rather excited,
- so I must excuse him, as his “buck” had gone right off, in disgust, he
- believed, at the smallness of his flock, as he had only eight ewes. “Buck”
- I found to be <i>Anglice</i> “ram,” and that it was in the hope of luring
- back the insufficiently married lord of his flock that he had been howling
- when I came up. On my doubting whether such a call would not be more
- likely to speed the flight of the truant “buck,” he rushed awray in the
- other direction and uplifted it again; and in two or three minutes the
- eight ewes, with several lambs, were all round him, rubbing against his
- legs, while an Angora goat looked on with dignity from some yards off.
- From our talk I found that he was a Shrewsbury man, knew three or four
- languages, and mathematics up to the differential calculus; found England
- “too noisy,” and, moreover, could get no land there; had come out and gone
- to the agricultural class at Cornell University; had now bought this bit
- of land, on which he could live well, as he was a vegetarian (pointing
- round to some corn, turnips, etc., in his enclosure); had indigestion at
- first, but now had found out how to make bread which agreed with him. His
- trouble was the forest hogs, which were always watching to get at his
- crops, and his fence, having weak places, would not keep them out, so he
- had to be always on the watch. If he had any one to keep out the hogs, he
- could go and find his “buck,” he said, wistfully. The better man within me
- here was moved to offer to keep watch and ward against hogs while he
- sought his “buck”; but, on the whole, as the sun was already westering,
- and I had doubts as to when he might think of relieving guard, my better
- man did not prevail, and I changed the subject to the book I had brought.
- He glanced at the title-page, was pleased to find that it was of recent
- date, as his geology was rusty. Then, as he did not invite me into his
- log-hut, I rode away. Next evening, as I was strolling down our street, my
- attention was called to the noticeboard outside the chief store, kept by
- an excellent, kindly New Englander, Tucker by name, who very liberally
- allows any of his neighbours to use it. Here I found the following notice
- from “the Hermit,” which had been sent up by the hackman, to be posted. It
- opens, you will remark, in the true prophetic style. It ran: “Ho! all ye
- passers by! Strayed—like a fool!—a Ram (a male sheep,) butts
- like a nipper, and runs after! God will bless the seer if he lets Isaac
- Williams, of Sedgemoor Road, know. That is all. Please, Mr. Tucker, post
- this. Oh, I forgot,—Buy of Tucker!” I think you will agree that I
- have struck a <i>bona fide</i> hermit in my old age.
- </p>
- <p>
- But to return to my loafing idyll. Perhaps, if I had to select out of
- several the ideal loafing haunt in these parts, it would be the verandah
- of our doctor, another bright New Englander, a graduate of Harvard, and
- M.D., who, after fourteen years’ practice at Boston, was driven South by
- threatenings of chest troubles, and happily pitched on this tableland
- amongst the mountains. Not that he is a loaf-brother, except on rare
- occasions; a man diligent in his business, and prompt to answer any
- professional call; but as nobody seems ever to be ill, his leisure is
- abundant. The greater part of this he spends in the study and practice of
- grape-culture, in which he has, in the five years since he took it up,
- earned a high reputation. But in these autumn months, all the pruning,
- thinning, and tending are over in the forenoon, and in the hours which
- follow, which are delightfully hot and enjoyable to all sun-lovers, he is
- generally to be found in his verandah, well supplied with rocking-chairs.
- In front of the verandah is his principal vineyard, sloping south, and at
- the bottom of the slope, right away to the distant mountain-range (with
- Pike’s Peak soaring to the clouds, the centre of the military telegraph
- system in the war, from which messages were flashed to Look-out Mountain,
- over Chattanooga, in the critical days of battle, before Sherman started
- on his march to the sea), wave beyond wave, as it were, of many-coloured
- forest, each taking fresh tints as clouds flit over, and the triumphant
- old sun slopes to the West. There one may find the doctor in his rocker,
- his feet higher than his head on one of the verandah supports—and
- all who have learnt to appreciate the rocking-chair will agree that “heels
- up” is half the battle—his tobacco and a book on vines on a small
- table by his side, and over his head, within easy reach, a rope depending
- from the verandah roof. At first I took it for the common domestic
- bell-pull, but soon discovered its more subtle bearing on the luxury of
- loafing. The doctor had been much exercised by the visits of birds of
- outrageous appetite to his “Norton’s Virginia,” and other precious vines.
- At first he had resorted to his double-barrelled gun and small shot—indeed,
- it yet stood in a corner of the balcony, loaded—but had soon
- abandoned it. Its use was compatible neither with his love for birds nor
- the enjoyment of his rocking-chair. So, by an ingenious arrangement, he
- had hung bells at five or six points in the vineyard, connecting each and
- all with the depending-rope, so that no sooner did a bird settle with a
- view to lunch or dinner, than it was saluted by a peal from a bell close
- by, which sent it skirling back to the forest, while the doctor had
- neither to lower his heels nor take the pipe from his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Watching the entire discomfiture of the birds adds, I must own, a keener
- zest even to the delicious view and air, and to the racy stories of
- Western life poured out by one or another of the loaf-brethren. A specimen
- or two may amuse your readers. Placard over the piano in a favourite
- resort of Texan cowboys: “Don’t shoot the musician; he is doing his best.”
- Cowboy entering the cars at midnight, thermometer below zero, after
- snorting for a minute, lets down a window, is remonstrated with, and
- replies, “Wal, I’d as soon sleep with my head in a dead horse as in this
- car with the windows shut!” Another tale I repeat with hesitation, though
- it was seriously vouched for by the narrator as going on in his
- neighbourhood, and within his own cognisance. An eccentric settler, who
- played the fiddle powerfully, and lived next a man who had thrown a bridge
- over a creek, in respect of which the knotty question of “right of way”
- had arisen between them, read, or discovered somehow, that excessive
- vibration was the cause of the fall of bridges, and that a well-known
- railway iron bridge had been distinctly felt to vibrate to the notes of a
- fiddle, all that was necessary being to find the right chord and play up.
- Thereupon he set himself on the peccant bridge, and fiddled till he had
- hit on the sympathetic chord to his own satisfaction; since which he has
- put in all his spare time at the bridge, fiddling on the right chord and
- looking for the signs of a crash and the discomfiture of his neighbour. A
- mad world, my masters! And lucky for the world, say I. But for the cracked
- fellows going up and down, what a dull place it would be!
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole neighbourhood, or, at any rate, the men of hunting age, have
- suddenly been roused into unwonted excitement and activity by the presence
- of a specimen of the larger carnivora close to this town. It is either a
- large panther or what they call a Mexican lion—at any rate, as big a
- beast of this kind as are bred over here, as his footprint, seen of many
- persons, clearly proves. He has been heard to roar by numbers, and Giles,
- the saw-mill man, who, passing along wholly unarmed, saw him gliding
- through the bush close by, puts him at five feet from nose to tail (root,
- not tip) at least. Giles adds that, at the sight, his hair stood up and
- distinctly lifted his straw hat—so perhaps his evidence must be
- discounted considerably. Any way, a party, now collecting dogs to bring
- him to bay, start to-morrow at dawn to give an account of him. It is more
- than a year since one has ventured down this way. A slaughter-house which
- has lately been set up in the woods near by would seem to have drawn him.
- Let us hope that no cunning old sportsman will watch there to-night and
- bag him single-handed, and I may possibly have to tell you of a memorable
- hunt next week.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0070" id="link2H_4_0070"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- American Opinion on the Union, SS. Umbria, 5th October 1887.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat panther-hunt
- went off in a “fizzle.” Our contingent of determined sportsmen kept tryst
- at daylight, fully armed, but some neighbours who were to bring the proper
- dogs failed. The sun rose, broad and bright, and so, after a short advance
- in skirmishing order over the ground where the sawmill man had been so
- scared—just to save their credit as Nimrods—the chase was
- abandoned; wisely, I should think, for I can scarcely imagine a more
- hopeless undertaking than the pursuit of a panther in a Tennessee forest
- in broad daylight without dogs. Whether Sawyer Giles had grounds for his
- scare, and what was the length of that panther, must now remain for all
- time in that useful category of insoluble questions—like the
- identity of “Junius,” and Queen Mary’s guilt—which innocently employ
- so much of the spare time of the human race.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have been back for the last fortnight “in amongst the crowd of men,” and
- if the things they have done are but “earnest of the things that they
- shall do,” well, our grandchildren will have a high old time of it! At any
- rate, our cousins hold this faith vigorously. Take, for instance, the case
- of a leading dry-goods man who has been sitting by me in the smoking-room
- of this ship, which has been carrying us for the last four days against a
- head-wind at the average rate of twenty miles an hour. Recollect, sir,
- that this ship is about 400 feet in length, of 8800 tons register, with
- engines of 14,000 horse-power, and must at this moment be as heavy as
- (say) lour big luggage-trains. I ventured to suggest that, whatever may be
- in store for us in the way of flying, science has about said her last word
- in the direction of driving steam or any other ships on the Atlantic. I
- felt almost inclined to resent the pity tinged with scorn with which he
- said, “Why, <i>sir!</i> this is the hundred and twenty-eighth time I have
- crossed this ocean. The first time it took me twenty-two days. This vessel
- does it in six days and a half, and I shall do it in half that time yet,—yes,
- <i>sir!</i>” My friend must be at least sixty!
- </p>
- <p>
- The New York hotels were crammed as I came through with men who had come
- from all parts of the States for the yacht-race. I went out on a friend’s
- steam-yacht on the Thursday, when the second day’s race should have come
- off. There was fog and no wind off Sandy Hook, so after lying-to in a
- lopping sea for a couple of hours, we just steamed back, some hundred of
- us. But the game had been well worth the candle. Anything so beautiful as
- the movements of those two yachts in and out amongst the expectant fleet
- of sightseers, I never beheld. There were several old yachtsmen
- (Americans) on board, who seemed rather to think the <i>Thistle</i> the
- more perfect of the two, and when the second and deciding race had been
- sailed, still guessed that if their Commodore, Pain, or Malcolm Forbes had
- sailed the <i>Thistle</i>, she would not have been twelve, or any, minutes
- behind.
- </p>
- <p>
- As to more serious matters, you may be sure I lost no chance of talking on
- our crisis with every intelligent American or Canadian,—and I
- happened upon a great number of the latter. Amongst the majority of
- Americans I was much struck, and, I own, surprised, to find a sort of lazy
- fatalism prevailing, so far as they troubled their heads at all about the
- Irish question. Not a man of them believed in the tyranny of the British
- Government or the wrongs of the Irish; but they seemed to think it was
- somehow destiny. They knew the Irish—were likely to have at least as
- bad a time with them as we are having—but, unless you made up your
- minds to shoot, there was no putting them down or bringing them to reason.
- They had had to shoot—in New York during the war, and at other times—and
- might probably have to shoot again \ but then, that was over vital
- matters. We should never make up our minds to shoot over letting them have
- a Parliament at Dublin, and so they would get it by sheer insolence and
- intrigue. Such views would have depressed me had I not found, on the other
- hand, that the few men who had mastered the situation, without a single
- exception saw that it was a matter, nationally, of life or death, and
- hoped our Government would shrink from no measure necessary to restore the
- rule of law, and preserve the national life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Amongst the Canadians, on the other hand, I did not happen upon a single
- Home-ruler—in fact, was obliged to own to myself that they seemed to
- set more store by the unity of the Empire than we do in the as-yet-United
- Kingdom. Indeed, if my acquaintances are at all representative of the
- views of our Canadian fellow-subjects, I feel very sure that the slight
- bond which holds the Dominion to us would part within a few months of the
- triumph of the Home-rule agitation. This possible fiasco, however, did not
- seem to them much worth thinking about; but what was really exercising
- them was the probability of a more intimate union or federation with the
- Mother-country. For defensive purposes, I was glad to find that they saw
- no difficulty whatever; believed, indeed, that that question was already
- solved. But all felt that the really difficult problem was a commercial
- union, which, nevertheless, must be managed somehow, if the Empire is to
- hold together. On this there were wide differences of opinion, but, on the
- whole, a decided inclination to a plan which I will endeavour to put in a
- few words. It is, that every portion of the Empire shall be free, as at
- present, to impose whatever tariff of customs it might think best for
- raising its own revenue; but an agreed discount (say, ten per cent) should
- be allowed on all goods the manufacture or product of the Mother-country,
- or any of its possessions. Inasmuch, it was argued, as such à plan would
- allow the free admission of all food and raw material, it ought not to
- hurt the Free-trade susceptibilities of England, while leaving the
- self-governing Colonies and India free to raise their own revenue as might
- suit their own views or circumstances. On the other hand, it would give an
- equal and moderate advantage to all subjects of the Empire. A similar
- advantage might also, under this plan, be given to importations made in
- ships belonging to any portion of the Empire.
- </p>
- <p>
- You, sir, may very probably have heard of and considered this plan, as I
- have been told that it, or one almost identical, has been submitted both
- to the London Chamber of Commerce, and to the Colonial Office, by Sir
- Alexander Galt. I do not remember, however, to have ever seen it discussed
- in your columns, as I think it might be with advantage. One’s brain
- possibly is not so fit for the examination of political problems on even
- such a magnificent ship as the <i>Umbria</i> as on shore; but “after the
- best consideration I can give it,” it does seem to me to be a solution
- which might go far to satisfy the scruples of all but fanatics of the “buy
- in the cheapest and sell in the dearest market” gospel.
- </p>
- <p>
- We have run 435 miles in the teeth of the wind, in the last twenty-four
- hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0071" id="link2H_4_0071"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- EUROPE—1876 to 1895
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0072" id="link2H_4_0072"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A Winter Morning’s Ride
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he proverb that
- “The early bird gets most worms” has no truer application than in
- travelling, considered as a fine art. Of course to him who uses locomotion
- as a mere method of getting from one place to another, it matters nothing
- whether he starts at 3 A.M. or at noon. But to the man who likes to get
- the most he can out of his life, and looks upon a journey as an
- opportunity for getting some new insight into the ways and habits and
- notions of his fellowmen, there is no comparison between their value. The
- noonday travelling mood, like noonday light, is commonplace and uniform;
- while the early morning mood, like the light when it first comes, is full
- of colour and surprise. Such, at any rate, has been my experience, and I
- never made an out-of-the-way early start without coming upon one or more
- companions who gave me a new glimpse into some corner of life, and whose
- experience I should have been the poorer for having missed. My last
- experience in this matter is very recent. In the midst of the wild days of
- last December I received an unexpected summons on business to the north.
- My appointment was for eleven o’clock on the morrow, 200 miles from
- London. It was too late to make arrangements for leaving home at once, so
- I resolved to start by the first morning train, which leaves Euston Square
- at 5.15 A.M. Accordingly, soon after four next morning I closed the house
- door gently behind me, and set out on my walk, not without a sense of the
- self-approval and satisfaction which is apt to creep over early risers,
- and others who pride themselves on keeping ahead of their neighbours.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a fine wild morning, with half a gale of wind blowing from the
- north-west, and driving the low rain-clouds at headlong speed across the
- deep clear sky and bright stars. The great town felt as fresh and sweet as
- a country hillside. Not a soul in the streets but an occasional solitary
- policeman, and here and there a scavenger or two, plying their much-needed
- trade, for the wet mud lay inches deep. I was early at the station, where
- a sleepy clerk was just preparing to open the booking-offices, and a
- couple of porters were watering and sweeping the floor of the big hall.
- Soon my fellow-passengers began to arrive, labouring men for the most
- part, with here and there a clerk, or commercial traveller, muffled to the
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Amongst them, as they gathered round the fire, or took short restless
- walks up and down the platform, was one who puzzled me not a little. He
- had arrived on foot just before me, indeed I had followed him for the last
- quarter of a mile through Euston Square, and had already begun to
- speculate as to who he could be, and on what errand. But now that I could
- get a deliberate look at him under the lights in the hall, my curiosity
- was at once raised and baffled. He was a strongly built, well-set young
- fellow of five feet ten or eleven, with clear gray eyes, deep set under
- very straight brows. His hair was dark, and would have curled but that it
- was cropped too short. He was clean shaved, so that one saw all the lower
- lines of his face, which a thick nose, slightly turned up, just hindered
- from being handsome. He wore a high sealskin cap, a striped flannel shirt
- with turn down collars, and a slipknot tie with a rather handsome pin. His
- clothes were good enough, but had a somewhat dissipated look, owing
- perhaps to the fact that only one button of his waistcoat was fastened,
- and that his boots, good broad double-soled ones, were covered with dry
- mud. His whole luggage consisted of the travelling-bag he carried in his
- hand, one of those elaborate affairs which generally involve a portmanteau
- or two to follow, but swelled out of all gentility and stuffed to bursting
- point.
- </p>
- <p>
- An Englishman? I asked myself. Well, yes,—at any rate more like an
- Englishman than anything else. A gentleman? Well, yes again, on the whole;
- though not of our conventional type—at any rate a man of some
- education, and apparently a little less like the common run of us than
- most one meets.
- </p>
- <p>
- Here my speculations were cut short by the opening of the ticket-window by
- the sleepy clerk, and the object of them marched up and took a third-class
- ticket for Liverpool. I followed his example. My natural aversion to
- eating money raw in railway travelling inclining me to such economy, apart
- from the interest which my problem was exciting in my mind. I am bound to
- add that nothing could be more comfortable than the carriages provided on
- the occasion for the third-class passengers of the N.W.K. I followed the
- sealskin cap and got into the same carriage with its owner. As good luck
- would have it, no one followed us. He put his bag down in a corner, and
- stretched himself along his side of the carriage with his head on it. I
- had time to look him well over again, and to set him down in my own mind
- as a young English engineer, who had been working on some continental
- railway so long as to have lost his English identity somewhat, when he
- started up, rubbed his eyes, took a good straight look at me, and asked if
- any one coming from abroad could cut us off in the steamer that met this
- train. I found at once that I was mistaken as to nationality.
- </p>
- <p>
- I answered that no one could cut us off, as there was no straighter or
- quicker way of getting to Liverpool than this; but that he was mistaken in
- thinking that any steamer met the train.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, he didn’t know about meeting it, but anyway there was a steamer
- which went right away from Liverpool about noon, for he had got his
- passage by her, which he had bought at the tobacco-store near the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- He handed his ticket for the boat to me, as if wishing my opinion upon it,
- which I gave to the effect that it seemed all right, adding that I did not
- know that tickets could be bought about the streets as they could be in
- America.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, he had thought it would save him time, perhaps save the packet, as
- she might have sailed while he was after his ticket in Liverpool, which
- town he didn’t know his way about. But now, couldn’t any one from the
- Continent cut her off? He had heard there was a route by Chester and
- Holyhead, which would bring any one who took it aboard of her at
- Queenstown.
- </p>
- <p>
- I answered that this was probably so, beginning to doubt in my mind
- whether my companion might not, for all his straightforward looks and
- ways, have come by the bag feloniously. Could it be another great jewel
- robbery?
- </p>
- <p>
- I don’t know whether he noticed any doubtful look in my eyes, but he added
- at once that he was on the straight run from Heidelberg. He had come from
- there to London in twenty-six hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- I made some remark as to the beauty of Heidelberg, and asked if he knew it
- well.
- </p>
- <p>
- Why, yes, he said he ought to, for he had been a student at the University
- there for the last nine months.
- </p>
- <p>
- Why then was he on the straight run home? I ventured to ask. Term wasn’t
- over?
- </p>
- <p>
- No; term wasn’t over; but he had been arrested, and didn’t want to go to
- prison at Strasburg, where one American student was in for about two years
- already.
- </p>
- <p>
- But how did he manage to get off? I asked, now thoroughly interested in
- his story.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, he had just run his bail. When he was arrested he had sent for the
- doctor at whose house he lodged to bail him out. That was what troubled
- him most. He wouldn’t have the Herr Doctor slipped up anyway. He was going
- to send the money directly he got home, and there were things enough left
- of his to cover the money.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was he arrested for?
- </p>
- <p>
- For calling out a German student.
- </p>
- <p>
- But I thought the German students were always fighting duels.
- </p>
- <p>
- So they were, but only with swords, which they were always practising.
- They were so padded when they fought that they could not be hurt except
- just in the face, and the sword arm was so bandaged that there was no play
- at all except from the wrist. You would see the German students even when
- out walking, miles away from the town, keeping playing away with their
- walking-sticks all the time, so as to train their wrists.
- </p>
- <p>
- What was his quarrel about?
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, it was just this. The American students, of whom there were a large
- number there, kept pretty much to themselves, and no love was lost between
- them and the Germans. They had an American Club to which they all
- belonged, just to keep them together and see any fellow through who was in
- a scrape. He and some of the American students were sitting in the beer
- garden, close to a table of Germans. Forgetting the neighbourhood, he had
- tilted his chair and leant back in it, and so come against a German head.
- The owner jumped up, and a sharp altercation followed, ending in the
- German’s calling him out with swords. This he refused, but sent a
- challenge to fight with pistols by the President of the Club, a real fine
- man, who had shot his two men down South before he went to Heidelberg. The
- answer to this was his arrest, and arrest was a very serious thing now.
- For some little time since, a German and an American fought, with swords
- first and then with pistols. The American had his face cut open from the
- eye right down across the mouth, but when it came to pistols he shot the
- German, who died in an hour. So he was in jail, and challenging with
- pistols had been made an offence punishable by imprisonment, and that was
- no joke in a German military prison.
- </p>
- <p>
- Did he expect the University authorities would send after him then?
- </p>
- <p>
- No; but his folk were all in Germany for the winter. He had a younger
- brother at Heidelberg who had taken his bag down to the station for him,
- and would have let his father know, as he had told him to do. If he had
- telegraphed the old gentleman might come straight off and stop him yet,
- but he rather guessed he would he so mad he wouldn’t come. No; he didn’t
- expect to see his folk again for three or four years.
- </p>
- <p>
- But why? After all, sending a challenge of which nothing came was not so
- very heinous an offence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yes, but it was the second time. He had run from an American university to
- escape expulsion for having set fire to an outhouse. Then he went straight
- to New York, which he wanted to see, and stopped till his money was all
- gone. His father was mad enough about that.
- </p>
- <p>
- I said plainly that I didn’t wonder, and was going to add something by way
- of improving the occasion, but for a look of such deep sorrow which passed
- over the boy’s face that I thought his conscience might well do the work
- better than I could.
- </p>
- <p>
- He opened his bag and took out a photograph, and then his six-shooter—a
- self-cocking German one, he said, which was quicker and carried a heavier
- ball than any he had seen in America; and then his pipes and cigar tubes;
- and then he rolled a cigarette and lighted it; and, as the dawn was now
- come, began to ask questions about the country. But all in vain; back the
- scene he was running from came, do what he would. His youngest brother, a
- little fellow of ten, was down with fever. He had spoilt Christmas for the
- whole family. It would cut them up awfully. But to a suggestion that he
- should go straight back he could not listen. No, he was going straight
- through to California, the best place for him. He had never done any good
- yet, but he was going to do it now. He had got a letter or two to
- Californians from some of his fellow-students, which would give him some
- opening. He wouldn’t see his people for four or five years, till he got
- something to show them. He would have to pitch right in, or else starve.
- He would go right into the first thing that came along out there, and make
- something.
- </p>
- <p>
- As we got further down the line the morning cleared, and we had many
- fellow-passengers; but my young friend, as I might almost call him by this
- time, stuck to me, and seemed to get some relief by talking of his past
- doings and future prospect. I found that he had been at Würzburg for a
- short time before going to Heidelberg, so had had a student’s experience
- of two of the most celebrated German Universities. My own ideas of those
- seats of learning, being for the most part derived from the writings of
- Mr. Matthew Arnold, received, I am bound to own, rather severe shocks from
- the evidently truthful experience of one medical student.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had simply paid his necessary florins (about £1 worth) for his
- matriculation fee, and double that sum for two sets of lectures for which
- he entered. He had passed no matriculation examination, or indeed any
- other; had attended lectures or not, just he pleased—about one in
- three he put as his average—but there was no roll-call or register,
- and no one that he knew of seemed to care the least whether he was there
- or not. However, he seemed to think that but for his unlucky little
- difficulty he could easily at this rate have passed the examination for
- the degree of doctor of medicines. The doctor’s degree was a mighty fine
- thing, and much sought after, but didn’t amount to much professionally, at
- least not in Germany, where the doctor has a State examination to pass
- after he has got his degree. But in America, or anywhere else, he believed
- they could just practise on a German M.D. degree, and he knew of one Herr
- Doctor out West who was about as fit to take hold of any sick fellow as he
- was himself. Oh, Matthew, Matthew, my mentor! When I got home I had to
- take down thy volume on Universities in Germany, and restore my failing
- faith by a glance at the Appendix, giving a list of the courses of
- lectures by Professors, Privabdocenten, and readers of the University of
- Berlin during one winter, in which the Medical Faculty’s subjects occupy
- seven pages; and to remind myself, that the characteristics of the German
- Universities are “<i>Lehrfreiheit und Lernfreiheit</i>,” “Liberty for the
- teacher, and liberty for the learner”; also that “the French University
- has no liberty, and the English Universities have no sciences; the German
- Universities have both.” Too much liberty of one kind this student at any
- rate bore witness to, and in one of his serious moments was eloquent on
- the danger and mischief of the system, so far as his outlook had gone.
- </p>
- <p>
- By the time our roads diverged, the young runaway had quite won me over to
- forget his escapades, by his frank disclosures of all that was passing in
- his mind of regret and tenderness, hopefulness and audacity; and I
- sorrowed for a few moments on the platform as the sealskin cap disappeared
- at the window of the Liverpool carriage, from which he waved a cheery
- adieu.
- </p>
- <p>
- As I walked towards the carriage to go on my own way, I found myself
- regretting that I should see his ruddy face no more, and wishing him all
- success “in that new world which is the old,” for which he was bound, with
- no possessions but his hand-bag and self-reliance to make his way with. I
- might have sat alone for thrice as long with an English youngster, in like
- case, without knowing a word of his history; but then, such history could
- never have happened to an Englishman, for he never would have run his
- bail, and would have gone to prison and served his time as a matter of
- course.
- </p>
- <p>
- How much each nation has to learn of the other! But I trust that by this
- time my young friend has seen to it that the good-natured Herr Doctor who
- went bail for him hasn’t “slipped up anyway.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0073" id="link2H_4_0073"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Southport, 22nd March.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> wonder if you
- will care to take a seaside letter, at this busiest time of the year? Folk
- have no business to be “on the loaf” before Easter, I readily admit.
- Still, there is much force and good-sense, I have always held, in that
- tough, old regicide Major-General Ludlow’s action, when he found England
- under Cromwell too narrow to hold him. He migrated to Switzerland, and
- characteristically changed his family motto to “<i>Ubi libertas, ibi
- patria</i>” (“Where I can have my own way, there is my country”) or (if I
- may be allowed a free rendering to fit the occasion), “Whenever man can
- loaf, then is long vacation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But my motive for writing is really of another kind. In these later years,
- a large and growing minority of my personal friends and acquaintances seem
- to be afflicted with that demon called Neuralgia,—some kind of
- painful affection connected with the nerves of the head and face, which
- makes the burden of life indefinitely heavier to carry than it has any
- right to be. To all such I feel bound to say, Give this place a trial in
- your first leisure. In one case, at any rate, and that an apparently
- chronic one, in which every east wind, and almost every sudden change of
- temperature, brought with it acute suffering, I have seen with my own eyes
- a complete cure effected by a few days in this air. The experiment was
- tried three months since, and from that time the demon seems to have been
- exorcised, and has been quite unable to return, though we have had a full
- average in these parts of sudden changes of temperature,—east winds,
- cold rains, and the other amenities of early spring in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- Can I account for this? Well, so far as I can judge, the peculiar
- conformation of the shore must have much to say to it. From the open
- window where I am sitting, there lies between me and the sea (it being low
- water) an almost level stretch of sand of more than half a mile in depth.
- Beyond that there is a narrow strip of sea, on which a fleet of tiny
- fishermen’s craft, with their ruddy-brown sails, are plying their trade;
- and again, beyond that, between channel and open sea, is another long
- sand-bank. Now I am told, and see no reason to doubt, that the evaporation
- from this great expanse of wet sand is charged with double the amount of
- ozone which would rise from the like area of salt-water. But whatever the
- cause, the fact stands as I have stated above. In another hour or two the
- sea will be close up to these windows, lapping against the sea-wall, and
- spoiling the view for the time, but, happily, only for a short time. For
- while it is up, there is nothing but very shallow, muddy water to be seen,
- on which the faithful old sun, try as he will, can paint no pictures.
- Whereas at low tide, the colours of these sandy wastes—the steely
- gleam of the wet parts, the bright yellow of the dry, and the warm and
- rich tints of brown of the intermediate, and the quaint, black line of the
- pier, running out across them all till it reaches the pale blue of the
- channel, where the fishing-boats all lie at anchor round the pier-head at
- sunset—are one perpetual feast, even to the untrained eye. What the
- delight must be to a painter, when the level sun turns the blacks into
- deep purples, and glorifies all the yellows and browns, and gives the
- steely gleams a baleful and cruel glint, I can only guess, unless, indeed,
- it should make him hang himself, in despair of reproducing them on mortal
- canvas. That long, black pier is our favourite place of resort. Probably
- the ozone is stronger there than elsewhere. It is three-quarters of a mile
- long, and at the end, at noon, a most attractive, daily performance comes
- off gratis. At that hour the gulls are fed by an official of the pier
- company, and afterwards, at intervals, by children, who bring scraps of
- viands in their pockets for this purpose.
- </p>
- <p>
- I am not defending the practice, which tends, no doubt, to pauperise a
- number of these delightful birds. I have watched them carefully, and never
- seen one of them go off to earn his honest, daily fish. There they sit
- lightly on the water, with heads turned to the pier-head, and float past
- with the tide, rising for a short flight back again, as it carries them
- too far past to see when the doles are beginning to be served. When these
- begin, they are all in the air, wheeling and crossing each other in
- perfect flight to get the proper swooping-point. It seems to be a rule of
- the game that they pick up the fragments in their swoop, for when this is
- neatly done by any one, the rest leave him alone, though he may carry off
- a larger prize than he is able to swallow on the wing. But in a high wind
- there is trouble. Not one in a dozen of them can then be sure of his prey
- in his swoop, and after one or two attempts the greedy ones alight and
- attack the viands on the water. But this seems to be against the rules of
- the game, and instantly others alight by the side of the transgressor, and
- strive eagerly for whatever of the desired morsel is still outside his
- yellow beak. I noted with pleasure that there are generally a few who will
- take no part in these squabbles, but if they failed in their swoop, soared
- up again with dignity, to wait for another chance. These must, I take it,
- be undemoralised gulls, from a distance. Always play your game fair, or
- there will be trouble, whether amongst birds or men.
- </p>
- <p>
- At other seaside places the shallowness of the sand limits the pure
- delight of children in their castle-building. Here it seems boundless. I
- saw one sturdy urchin yesterday throwing out stoneless sand from a hole
- some four feet deep. The castles and engineering works are therefore on a
- splendid scale, several of them from five to ten yards across, inside
- which bits of old spars (portions, I fear, of wrecks) are utilised for
- causeways and bridges. The infant builders are ambitious, for I have seen
- frequent attempts, not wholly unsuccessful, at putting sand steeples on
- the churches. These higher efforts were all made by girls, who, indeed, I
- regret to say, seemed to do not only the decorative, but the substantial
- work. The boys employed themselves mainly in creeping through the holes
- which the girls had dug under the spars, to represent bridges, and in
- knocking down the boundary walls. Is this a sign of our topsy-turvy times?
- In my day, we boys did all the building and engineering, and the girls
- used to come and sit on our walls, and destroy our castles. On this
- highest part of the sands, the children’s playground, there stand also
- certain skeletons of booths, to be covered with canvas, I presume, in the
- summer, for the sale of ginger-beer and cakes. These, the largest
- especially, some nine feet high, attracted the boys, several of whom
- essayed to reach the highest cross-bar. Only one succeeded while I
- watched, a born sailor-boy, who was not to be foiled, and succeeded in
- getting on to it. There he sat, and looked scornfully down on the
- sand-diggers, in the temper, no doubt, of the chorus of the old sea song—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We jolly sailor boys a-sitting up aloft,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And the land-lubbers funking down below.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- After a time he descended, and, looking for a few moments at the diggers,
- went straight away across the sands towards the sea. I saw that he had
- only a wooden spade, while most of theirs had iron heads.
- </p>
- <p>
- There is another kind of amusement which is strange to me, being
- necessarily confined to great expanses of sand. A boat on wheels, called
- the <i>Flying Dutchman</i>, careers along at a splendid pace when there is
- wind enough, and I am told can tack handily, and never runs into the sea.
- If it did, it would not matter, as it must at once upset in such case in
- very shoal water. When the Royal Society was here, several eminent
- philosophers were reported to be disporting themselves in the <i>Flying
- Dutchman</i>, when the President, Professor Cayley, called on them to read
- papers, or make promised speeches.
- </p>
- <p>
- This flat sandy coast is far from being so innocent as it looks. There are
- the wrecks of two vessels in sight even now. One of these, I hear, it took
- the lifeboat fourteen hours’ <i>continuous hard work</i> to reach, and
- they brought off every man of the crew, twenty-five in number—a feat
- deserving wider fame than it has attained. They must be glorious
- sea-worthies, these Lancashire fishermen! Of the fine public buildings,
- the four-miles tramway, the Free Library, Botanic Gardens, and the rest, I
- need not speak. Lord Derby’s <i>mot</i> on opening the Botanic Gardens is
- enough,—that the Southport folk can skate on real ice in July, and
- sit under palm-trees at Christmas. But I may say that the esplanade is a
- grand course for tricyclers and bicyclers, who seem fond of challenging
- and running races with tradesmen’s carts—a somewhat risky operation
- for other vehicles and passengers.
- </p>
- <p>
- One word, however, before I close, about the most striking of the
- churches, St. Andrew’s. I was attracted to it by its good proportions, and
- the stone tracery of several of the windows, reminding one of the patterns
- of the early decorated period of Gothic art. It can seat some 1500 people
- on the floor, there being no galleries. I am sorry to say, however, that
- appearances are deceitful. It is of no use to have fine proportions and
- good decoration if they won’t stand; and unhappily, although the church is
- only twelve years old, the cleristory walls have been blown out of the
- perpendicular, so that the whole nave roof has to come off that they may
- be solidly rebuilt. What would an old monkish architect have said to such
- a catastrophe? The more’s the pity, inasmuch as the necessary closing of
- the church is going to shelve, probably for months, the most striking
- preacher I have heard this month of Sundays. I first learnt, sir, in your
- columns the golden rule, that during prayers the worshipper is responsible
- for keeping up his own attention, while at sermon-time it is the parson’s
- business. Well, I have been to St. Andrew’s for the last three Sundays,
- and during sermons, none of which have lasted less than half an hour, have
- neither gone to sleep, nor thought about anything but what the preacher
- was saying. I suspect it is (as Apollo says of Theodore Parker, in the
- “Fable for Critics”) that—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- This is what makes him the crowd-drawing preacher,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There’s a background of God to each hard-working feature,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Every word that he speaks has been fierily furnaced
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In the blast of a life that has struggled in earnest.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Whatever be the cause, however, there is the fact; and I own I am somewhat
- surprised, being rather curious about such matters, that I had never heard
- the name of Prebendary Cross before I happened to come to this place.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0074" id="link2H_4_0074"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A Village Festival
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>an is dead! So, at
- least, those who claim to be teachers of us English on such subjects have
- told us; and if our poets cannot be trusted about them, who can? The
- present writer, at any rate, does not pretend to an opinion whether Pan is
- dead, or, indeed, whether he was ever alive. But if so, he ought to have
- kept alive, for never surely was his special business so flourishing in
- our country as in these last days. All round the Welsh border on both
- sides there is not a hamlet which is not indulging in its “Lupercalia” in
- these summer days, in spite of the cold and wet which have inopportunely
- come upon us. For the most part, these “feasts of Pan” are almost
- monotonously like one another; but I have just returned from one which had
- characteristics of its own—a pleasing variety, and creditable, I
- think, to gallant little Wales, for the scene of it was over the border.
- My attention was called to it by a large red bill at our station,
- announcing that, on the 9th inst. the annual festival of the Gresford
- Ladies’ Club would be held, for which return tickets might be had at
- tempting rates; and further, that “no rifle-galleries, or stalls used for
- the sale of nuts and oranges, will be allowed to be put up in the village
- or highways on the day.” Why should a ladies’ club invite me, and all men,
- by large red bill, to be present at their festival, and at the same time
- deprive me of the chance of indulging in the favourite feast pastime of
- these parts? I resolved to satisfy myself; and reaching the pretty
- station, in due course found myself on the platform with perhaps a dozen
- women of all ranks and ages—evidently members of the club, for each
- of them wore a white scarf over the right shoulder, and carried a blue
- wand with a nosegay at the top. Following admiringly up the steep hill
- with other spectators, I saw them enter a wicket-gate under an arch of
- flowers, and remained outside, where the brass band of the county yeomanry
- were making most energetic music. Presently the gate opened, and a
- procession of the members emerged two-and-two, and, headed by the band in
- full blast, marched, a dainty procession, each one white-scarfed and
- carrying a nosegay-topped wand, to the parish church hard by on the
- hill-top. It was a unique procession, so far as my experience goes. First
- came the squire’s wife, the club President, with the senior member,
- followed by another lady, I believe from the rectory, with the member next
- in seniority. These two, both past eighty, I remarked, instead of the
- white scarf crossing the shoulder and looped at the waist with blue, wore
- large white handkerchiefs, trimmed with blue, over both shoulders,
- shawl-wise. This I found was the old custom, the regular members formerly
- wearing the shawl, the honorary members the scarf, for distinction’s sake.
- Now, all members, regular and honorary alike, wear the scarf. We are
- levelling up fast, and I own I regret it, in this matter of dress. As a
- boy, I was in this part of Wales, and almost every woman on holidays wore
- the red cloak and high black hat, and looked far better, I think, than
- their descendants at this Gresford Club fête, though several of these were
- as well dressed as the squire’s wife and daughters. I followed the
- procession into church, as did most of the crowd through which they
- passed, one man only refusing to join in my hearing, on the ground that he
- had been already to one service too many. He had got married there, his
- neighbour explained, and his wife was in the procession. The service was
- short and well chosen, with a good, sound ten-minutes sermon at the end,
- and then the procession re-formed, the band still leading, and marched to
- tea in the big schoolroom facing the churchyard. “Scholæ elymosynæ Dominæ
- Margarettæ Strode, fundatæ 1725, ad pauperes ejus sumptibus erudiendos,” I
- read over the door. I notice that the Welsh are rather given to Latin
- inscriptions can it be in token of defiance to vernacular English?
- </p>
- <p>
- During the tea-hour I had the pleasure of exploring church and churchyard,
- the former a large and fine specimen of the later perpendicular, but
- containing relics of painted glass of a much earlier date, probably
- thirteenth century. Portions of this, of a fine straw-colour, the Rector
- says, are invaluable, the art being lost. I wonder what Mr. Powell would
- say to that? The churchyard is glorious with its yews, more than twenty
- grand trees, and the grandfather of them the largest but one, if not the
- largest, in the Kingdom. He measures 29 feet 6 inches round 6 feet from
- the ground, and is confidently affirmed by Welsh experts (who have duly
- noted it in the parish register) to be 1400 years old. Without supposing
- that Merlin reposed in his shade, one cannot look at him in his glorious
- old age and doubt that he must have been a stout tree in Plantagenet
- times, and furnished bow-staves for Welshmen who marched behind Fluellen
- to the French wars.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently the band struck up again, and the procession returned to the
- wicket-gate, through which I now gained an entrance on payment of 1s.
- towards the club funds, one of the best investments of the kind I have
- ever made, for inside is the most perfect miniature village green I should
- think in the world, take it all in all. It is a natural terrace about one
- hundred yards long, by (perhaps) forty broad, on the side of the steep,
- finely wooded hill, with the station down below, and the church and
- village above. The valley, which runs up into the Welsh hills to the west,
- is here narrow, with a bright trout-stream dancing along between emerald
- meadows out into the great Cheshire plain, over which, in the distance,
- rise the cathedral towers and the castle and spires of Chester. One can
- fancy the hungry eyes with which many a Welshman has looked over that
- splendid countryside from this perch on the hillside when Hugh Lupus and
- his successors were keeping the border, with short shrift for
- cattle-lifters. It is well worth the while of any of your readers who may
- be passing Gresford Station this autumn, to stop over a train, and go up
- and spend an hour there. But I must get back to the ladies’ club, who now,
- at 6 P.M., opened the three hours’ dance on the green, the great feature
- of the gathering. It began with a country-dance, at which we males could
- only gaze and admire. As before, the squire’s wife and the senior member
- led off, and went down the thirty or forty couples. What wonderful women
- are these Welsh! I was fascinated by the next senior, a dear old soul, who
- had only missed this dance twice in more than sixty years, and was in such
- a hurry to get under way, that she started before the leading couple had
- got properly ahead, rather thereby confusing the subsequent saltations.
- When the music at last stopped, she sat herself on a bench, a picture of
- joyous old age, and declared that if she had been a rich woman, she should
- have spent all her substance in keeping a band. After the country-dance
- came polkas, in which I noted that for some time the men, by way of
- reprisals, I suppose, danced together; but this did not last long, and
- presently the couples were sorted in the usual manner, and when the
- station-bell warned me to speed down the hill, I left them all as busy on
- the green as the elves (perhaps) may be in the moonlight, or Pan’s troop
- in the days before his lamented decease. On my way home I mused on the
- cheering evidence the day had afforded of the healthy progress of the
- great task which has been laid on this generation, and’ which it seems to
- be taking hold of so strenuously and hopefully. I do not know that I ever
- saw so entirely satisfactory a blending of all classes in common
- enjoyment, which to some extent I attribute to the custom of the
- procession, and the sorting of honorary and regular members above noticed.
- During the whole afternoon I never heard a word which might not have been
- spoken in a drawing-room, and in spite of the rigorous exclusion of
- tobacco, there was no lack of young men. I question whether it would be
- possible to see the like in any exclusive gathering, either of the classes
- or the masses. The club is as prosperous financially, I am glad to hear,
- as it is socially, having a reserve fund of some £600, while the
- subscriptions are very moderate. No doubt the political and industrial
- atmosphere is dark with heavy clouds both’ at home and abroad; but I do
- begin to think that this white lining of a truer and fuller blending of
- our people than has ever been known before in England, or anywhere else,
- is going to do more than compensate for whatever troubles may be in store
- for us from wars or other convulsions, and that we shall be in time to
- meet them as a united people.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Then let us pray that come it may—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- As come it will for a’ that—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That man to man, the warld o’er,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Shall brithers be for a’ that.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0075" id="link2H_4_0075"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The “Victoria,” New Cut.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>f all the healthy
- signs of real social progress in this remarkable age, I know of none more
- striking, or, I will add, more thankworthy in a small way, than the
- contrast of the present condition of the big People’s Theatre in Southwark
- with that which middle-aged men can remember. Probably many of my readers
- who in the fifties and sixties held it to be part of the whole duty of man
- to attend the University boat-race at Putney, or the Oxford and Cambridge
- match at Lord’s, will be able to call up in their memories the “Vic.” of
- those days. For my own part, I always felt that the big costermonger’s
- theatre suffered unfairly in reputation—as many folk and places
- before it have done—for the casual notice of a man of genius. “Give
- us the Charter,” Charles Kingsley makes his tailor-hero exclaim in 1848,
- “and we’ll send workmen into Parliament who shall find out whether
- something better can’t be put in the way of the boys and girls in London
- who live by theft and prostitution, than the tender mercies of the
- Victoria.” I do not pretend to anything more than a casual acquaintance
- with the “Vic.” in those days; but my memory would not bear out Parson Lot
- in denouncing it as “a licensed pit of darkness.”, That description would
- far better designate the Cider Cellars, the Coal Hole, and other
- fashionable resorts on the north side of the Thames, in which a working
- man’s fustian jacket and corduroys were never seen. I should say that one
- evening spent at Evans’s in those days, or at the mock Court (the judge
- and jury) presided over by Baron Nicholson, as that rotund old cynic was
- called, would have done any youngster far more harm than half a dozen at
- the “Vic.” At the one you might sit smoking cigars and drinking champagne,
- if you were fool enough, and hear everything that was sacred and decent
- slily or openly ridiculed and travestied, in the company of M.P.‘s,
- barristers, and others, all well-dressed people. At the “Vic.” you could
- rub shoulders with costers and longshoremen, noisy, rowdy, and prone to
- fight on the slightest provocation, while the entertainment was more than
- coarse enough, but quite free from the subtle poison of a crim.-con. trial
- presided over by Baron Nicholson. With this saving, however, I am bound to
- admit that the old “Vic.” was not a place which could have been looked on
- without serious misgivings by any one in the remotest degree responsible
- for peace or decency in South London. The influence which it exercised, to
- put it mildly, though undoubtedly powerful, could by no possibility have
- had any elevating effect on the intellect or morals of any human being;
- but for all that, it was always a favourite place of resort, and had a
- strong hold on the dense population who earn a scanty and precarious
- living in the New Cut and the Old Kent Road. How it was that the lease of
- the old “Vic.,” with seventeen years still to run, came into the market
- some eight years back, I am not aware; but so it happened, and it was
- purchased by a financial Company, who, with the best intentions, embarked
- on the risky experiment of running the “Royal Victoria Hall,” as it was
- now called, as a coffee-tavern and place of entertainment, against the
- neighbouring music-halls in which drink was sold. In eight months the
- Company lost £2800, and the Victoria was closed, with every chance of
- drifting back, on the next change of ownership, into the old ruts. Happily
- for South London, a better fate was in store for the “Vic.,” for there
- were those who had eyes to see its value if properly handled, not, indeed,
- as a commercial speculation, but as a power for lifting the social life of
- the neighbourhood on to a higher level. A committee was formed, with the
- late Mr. Samuel Morley as chairman, and Miss Cons as honorary secretary
- and manager, a guarantee fund was raised, and the Hall reopened. It has
- been a hard fight; but with a chairman whose speech in the darkest hour
- rang, “We don’t mean to let this thing fall to the ground,” and a lady of
- unsurpassed experience and devotion amongst the poor, whose whole life was
- from the first freely and loyally given to the work, the field has been
- won. I say deliberately “won,” and if any one doubts my word, let him walk
- over Waterloo Bridge any evening (for the “Vic.” is always open), and look
- at this thing fairly; let him go into the coffee-tavern, the theatre, the
- big billiard and smoking-rooms, the reading and class-rooms at the top,
- and the gymnasium in the basement, and keep his ears and eyes wide open
- all the time,—and then go home and thank God that such work is going
- on in the very quarter of our huge city in which the need is sorest. I
- say, let him go any evening, but for choice I would advise a Tuesday, for
- on Tuesdays the “Penny Science Lectures” are given, which are, of course,
- less popular than the variety entertainments and the ballad concerts which
- occur whenever the funds allow, or some first-rate artist, such as Sims
- Beeves, volunteers to come and sing to the Hew Cut. To return to the
- “Penny Science Lectures,” the wonder is, not that eminent men should be
- ready to go over to Southwark and give them without payment—that
- note of our day has become too common to surprise—but that an
- average of over five hundred, mostly of the <i>gamin</i> age, from the Hew
- Cut, should be ready to pay their penny and come, and listen, and
- appreciate.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on May Day that I visited the old “Vic.,” almost by chance, and
- without a notion of what I was likely to see or hear. The lecture was on
- “The Foundation-Stones of London,” and proved to be a geological, not an
- archæological one. Mr. H. Kimber, M.P. for the neighbouring division of
- South London, was in the chair, and the lecturer was Professor Judd,
- F.R.S., who, in a clear, terse address, aided by excellent dissolving
- views projected by limelight on the huge drop-scene of the stage, showed
- the gravel, clay, chalk, and lower strata, with the fossils found in each,
- with admirable clearness. The big theatre was not, of course, full, but
- there was a large audience, quite up to the average of upwards of five
- hundred, and any one at all used to such scenes could see how keenly
- interested they were, and how quick to seize the lecturer’s points. Most
- of the men were in their working clothes, but clean and brushed up, and no
- lecturer could have wished for a better audience. The only thing that
- brought back to my mind the slightest remembrance of the old “Vic.” was,
- that by a coster in the centre of the front row of the pit sat a big
- brindled bull-terrier of the true fighting type. Strange to say, he
- remained looking at the views with perfect gravity till the lecturer made
- his bow, when he jumped quietly down at once, and trotted about the pit to
- find friends, as though he had learned all he could, and wanted to talk it
- over with pals, but was not interested in the formal vote-of-thanks
- business. On the three following Tuesdays, as the bills informed me, “The
- Moon,” “The Circulation of the Blood,” and “The Backbone of England,” were
- the subjects, all, again, illustrated by dissolving views. And these
- lectures are kept up on every Tuesday, such speakers as the Dean of
- Westminster, Sir John Lubbock, Professor Seeley, taking their turn with
- the purely scientific men, and drawing as good attendances.
- </p>
- <p>
- You must find room for one specimen of the quick humour of this New Cut
- audience. Dr. Carpenter, in one of his experiments, dispensed with a
- prism, explaining to his audience that the objects would now appear
- inverted, and they must “put them right way up” in their minds,—“or
- stand on yer ’eds,” came the prompt suggestion from the gallery.
- Out of these lectures science-classes have grown in the last three years,
- encouraged by a committee, selected from the Council, of some hundred
- ladies and gentlemen. Of these I have no space to speak; but one fact will
- indicate the thoroughness of the work done at them. Dr. Fleming’s report
- for 1887 tells us that out of forty students who went in for examination
- in the several classes, seven obtained first-class, and eighteen
- second-class certificates. I have only touched on what, after all, is an
- outgrowth, which has developed naturally from the original scheme, but was
- no part of it. This was rational and hearty and clean amusement. The
- Council were determined to test whether an answer could not be found to
- the straight question of “Poor Potlover” in Punch:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Where’s this cheap and respectable fun
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To be spotted by me? There’s the kink!
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Don’t drink? All serene, if you’ll p’int me to summat that’s better
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- than drink.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- To that “summat” the Victoria Hall Council, all honour to them, have
- pointed with quite encouraging success. There is no department of the Hall
- which is not in a healthy condition, and the fact that £1800 was taken in
- pennies and twopences for admissions during 1887, though the Hall was
- closed in the summer for repairs, may well encourage the Council and their
- devoted manager to take courage and persevere in their present effort to
- purchase the freehold as a fitting memorial to Mr. Samuel Morley. There
- was no part of his wide work of philanthropy which that fine old English
- merchant valued more than this. He supported it lavishly during his life,
- and had he lived till the freehold came into the market, there would have
- been little difficulty in raising the necessary sum, £17,000. Of this,
- £3500 has already been promised by members of the Council, and I cannot
- believe that the opportunity will be allowed to slip, and the
- deposit-money of £500 already paid to be forfeited. It seems that the
- Charity Commissioners have let it be known that the old “Vic.” will be
- accepted by them as one of the People’s Palaces for South London, if the
- freehold can only be obtained; and I cannot for a moment doubt that this
- will be done if the facts are only fairly known. The teetotalers ought to
- do all that remains to be done, in gratitude for the best story in their
- quiver, which they owe to the “Vic.” A short meeting is held, called the
- “Temperance Hour,” <i>outside</i> the house on Friday nights, at which
- working men are the speakers. One of them, a carter, stuck fast at the
- bottom of a hill in the suburbs one day. Another man who was passing,
- unhitched his own team and helped him up. On an offer to pay being made,
- the good Samaritan declared he had been paid beforehand. “Why, I never saw
- you before in my life, did I?” “I’ve seen you, though,” said the other; “I
- heard you speak one night outside the ‘Vic.’ and I went in and took the
- pledge—me and my family has been happy ever since!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0076" id="link2H_4_0076"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Whitby and the Herring Trade, 30th August 1888.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>ny fresh herrings
- for breakfast, sir? Four a penny this morning, sir!” Such was my greeting
- this day, as I turned out of my lodgings for an early lungs’-full of this
- inspiring air. I had almost broken out on that fish-wife with, “Why, you
- abominable old woman, you asked me twopence for three yesterday”; but
- restraining my natural, if not righteous indignation, I replied meekly,
- “Four a penny! Why, what makes them so cheap, ma’am?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “T’ boats all full—ha’n’t had sech a catch this summer,” which news
- gladdened me almost as much as if the catch had been my own. No one can
- watch these grand fellows, the Dogger Bank fishermen, and not feel, a sort
- of blood-relationship to them, and the keenest sympathy with their heroic
- business on the great waters. So, thinks I, I’ll go down to the quay
- directly after breakfast, and see them all at their best, those
- hard-handed, big-bearded, soft-hearted sea-kings from all the East and
- South Coast towns of England, from Sunderland to Penzance. When they are
- such grand, silent, kindly creatures on every day in the week, even when
- the catch has been poor and light, what will they be to-day?
- </p>
- <p>
- I had spent most of my mornings for some days on the quay, watching the
- fish-market there with much interest. It goes on nearly all the forenoon
- on the pavement, just above that part of the harbour-wall to which the
- herring-boats run when they come in from their night’s work on the Dogger
- Bank. A simple, hand-to-mouth kind of business, the auction; but well
- adapted, at any rate, to clear the boats, and get their daily contents to
- market in the quickest and cheapest way. As soon as a boat comes to the
- quay, one of the crew (generally numbering five men, or four men and a
- boy) comes on shore with a basket half-full of herrings, and turns them
- out on the pavement. The fish-broker who acts for that boat comes up,
- looks at the sample, and makes an offer for the ship’s take by “the lash”
- or ten thousand. If this is accepted, the unloading begins at once; but if
- not, as is oftenest the case, the take is put up to auction. The broker
- rings a bell, which soon brings round him the seven or eight other brokers
- like himself, and other buyers (if any) who are within hearing. Up goes
- the first last of ten thousand at once, and no time is lost or talk thrown
- away. In very few minutes the whole is sold, and a cart or lorry from the
- railway is standing by to carry off the barrels in which the herrings are
- packed then and there. Now, on the previous day I had heard the prices
- ranging from £7: 10s. to £8 for “the last,” and had not remarked that only
- some six boats of the whole fleet had come back from the fishing-grounds,
- and that none of these had made anything like a big catch. Consequently, I
- came down prepared to hear something like the same prices ruling, and to
- see most of the crews drawing at least from £15 to £20 for their night’s
- work.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, in a long life I don’t remember ever to have been more hopelessly
- wrong or unpleasantly surprised. I could see at once that all was not
- right by the faces of the men and women in the small groups scattered
- about the market, which now drew together as the broker’s bell rang for
- the sale of the herrings, which lay, a lovely, gleaming mass, at least
- three feet deep in the uncovered hold of the <i>Mary Jane</i>, as she
- rocked gently on the harbour swell, some twenty feet down below us. I
- could scarcely believe my ears as I heard the bids slowly rising by 5 s.
- at a time till they reached 30s. the last, and there stopped dead. The
- hammer fell, and the whole catch of the <i>Mary Jane</i> passed to the
- purchaser in about two minutes at that figure. The next boat, and next but
- one, did no better. Broker after broker knocked his client’s catch down at
- 30s. Once only I heard an advance on that figure, and this was by private
- contract. The handsome Hercules, in long leather boots and blue jersey,
- who represented one of the Whitby boats, appealed in my hearing to the
- broker, who relented with no very good grace, and agreed to give £2 per
- last of ten thousand of the catch of Hercules’s boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a depressing sight, I must own, even in the bright sunshine of this
- most picturesque of English harbours, and Sam Weller’s earnest inquiry to
- his master, “Ain’t somebody to be wopped for this?” rose vividly in my
- mind as the fittest comment on the whole business. Just then a tug which
- had been getting up steam was ready to leave the harbour, and two
- Hartlepool smacks, whose freights of herrings were still unsold, hitched
- on, to be towed out to sea and then run home, in the hope of finding a
- better market in the Durham port. An old salt stood next me, whose fishing
- days were well over, and who had just taken a good bite of the blackest
- kind of pigtail to comfort himself. I looked inquiringly at him as the tug
- steamed out between the two lighthouses, with the smacks in tow; but he
- shook his head sorrowfully. “Well, but they can’t do worse than here,” I
- remonstrated; “herrings maybe scarcer in the colliery district.” He jerked
- his head towards the little group of brokers and buyers,—“They’d
- know the prices at Hartlepool in five minutes,” he said. This telegraphing
- was to his mind the worst thing that had happened for fishermen in his
- time. “Did prices often go up and down like this?” I asked. “Yes,” and
- worse than this. He had known them as low as 15s. and as high as £15
- within a few days. No, he couldn’t see what was “to odds it” much for the
- better. Last time he was across at Liverpool he had stopped at a big
- fish-shop where he saw barrels standing which he recognised. “What’s the
- price of those herrings?” he asked. “Eight for 6d.” the man answered. “So
- I told him I saw they was from Whitby, and that he got them at Whitby for
- 6d. a hundred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0077" id="link2H_4_0077"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Whitby and the Herring Trade, 31st August 1888.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> had got thus far
- last night, and posted down again early this morning to the market, which
- has a sombre kind of attraction for me. Only two boats in, with light
- catches of from one and a half to two lasts each. The first sold at £5:
- 5s., which price the second boat refused. Theirs were a first-rate lot,
- and they shouldn’t go under £6, for which they were holding out when I had
- to leave, and there seemed to be a general belief that they would get it.
- This was puzzle enough for any man, to see under his own eyes the same
- fish sold on three consecutive summer days for £7:10s., £1:10s., and
- £5:5s.!—a sort of thing no fellow can understand. To add to my
- bewilderment, I learnt that at Great Grimsby yesterday (the £1:10s. day
- here) the last had sold for upwards of £15! So that my old salt’s view as
- to the telegraph doesn’t quite hold water, and the two smacks which shook
- the water off their bows and sailed for Hartlepool, may have made a good
- day’s work of it, after all. Indeed, a sailor on the quay declared that
- they had sold at £5, so that, after paying £2 apiece for the tug, which
- had towed them all the way, they still got £3 a last, or double the price
- they would have realised at Whitby. “So it comes to this, that the more
- fish you catch, the less pay you get,” I said to my informant. “Yes,” he
- seemed to think that was mostly the case, adding that to his mind it was
- the railways that made all the money out of fish—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Sic vos non vobis mellificatis apes.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It is an old story enough, but scarcely less true or sad in 1888 than when
- most of the world’s hardest work was done by slaves. However there are,
- happily, signs in the air that, here in England at any rate, we are waking
- up to the truth, that if we can find no better way of organising industry
- than competition run mad, we are going to have real bad times. Royal
- Commissions on the sweating system; Toynbee Hall interventions in great
- strikes; co-operative effort springing up all over the country, and
- finding its most zealous and devoted advocates at least as much amongst
- those who don’t work with their hands as those who do,—all go to
- prove that the reign of king <i>laissez faire</i>, with his golden rule of
- “cash payment the sole <i>nexus</i> between man and man,” is over. Indeed,
- our danger may soon be from too much meddling with and mothering industry.
- Nevertheless, no one can spend a few hours on the quay here in the herring
- season and not long for some one—scholar, philanthropist, political
- economist (new style), co-operator—to come along and teach these
- fine fellows to read their sphinx riddle. It would not be, surely, such a
- difficult task as it looks at first sight. There is no need to begin with
- the vast herring-fishing industry, with its distant markets at
- Billingsgate, Liverpool, and Manchester. The reform might begin at once on
- a modest scale. Beside the herrings, one sees every morning other fish
- lying on the quay—skate, cod, ling, whiting, rock-salmon—brought
- in by the smaller and less venturesome boats by dozens, not by lasts of
- ten thousand. Take the cod as the most valuable of these fish. I saw four
- fine cod-fish sold by auction yesterday on the quay for 5s. 3d. Within a
- few hundred yards, and all over the town, cod was selling at the shops at
- 6d. the pound. Surely a very moderate amount of organising ability would
- enable those who catch these fish to get the retail prices prevailing on
- the same day in the home market, and then the experience gained might
- assist materially in the solution of the larger problem.
- </p>
- <p>
- Meantime, besides the almost unique interest and beauty of its
- surroundings,—the steep cliffs, on which the quaint old red-roofed
- houses, with their wooden balconies, are piled in most picturesque and
- unaccountable groups; the grand old abbey ruin looking down from the
- highest point; the swing-bridge between the two harbours, and the estuary
- beyond, running up into a fine amphitheatre of green meadow and dark wood,
- dotted with village churches and old windmills, and backed by the high
- moors,—there is a joyous side to Whitby harbour, even on days when
- the market goes most against the Dogger Bank fishermen. If the fathers
- have too often to eat sour grapes, their children’s teeth are not set on
- edge,—such merry, well-fed, bare-footed urchins of both sexes I
- never remember to have seen elsewhere. They swarm, out of school hours,
- along the quays; skim up and down the water-worn harbour-walls wherever
- there is a rope hanging; run over the herring boats lying side by side, as
- soon as the freights are cleared; and toboggan down the boat slides at the
- gangways, dragging themselves along on their stomachs when these are not
- slippery enough for the usual method of descent. There seems, too, to be a
- large supply of old rickety tubs kept for their special use; for all day
- long you see two or three of them scrambling into one of these, and
- sculling about the harbour, no man hindering or apparently noticing them.
- Finer training for their future life would be hard to find, and one cannot
- help doubting as one sees their straight toes, as handy almost as fingers
- in their climbing feats, whether the last word has been spoken as to
- clothing the human foot, at any rate up to the age of ten or twelve. It is
- not often, I think, that one comes on early surroundings and heroes
- entirely suited to each other; but Whitby’s hero—patron saint I had
- nearly called him—could have found no such suitable place to have
- been raised in all the world round. James Cook was born in a neighbouring
- village, but first apprenticed on board a Whitby collier, and to the last
- days of his life retained a most loving remembrance of the old town. Every
- one of his famous ships, the <i>Endeavour</i>, the <i>Resolution</i>, and
- the <i>Discovery</i>, were built at Whitby. The house, of his master, Mr.
- Walker, with whom he lived during his apprenticeship as a sailor lad, and
- to whom most of his letters were written after he had mapped the Quebec
- reaches of the St. Lawrence under the fire of the French guns, and was a
- gold-medallist of the Royal Society and the most famous of eighteenth
- century navigators, is still fondly pointed out in a narrow street running
- down to the inner harbour.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0078" id="link2H_4_0078"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Sunday by the Sea, Whitby, 7th September 1888.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e saw something of
- the industrial life of Whitby last week. The spiritual is quite as
- interesting, and certainly, so far as my observation goes, has a character
- of its own, distinct from that of any other of our popular seaside
- resorts. It may be the presence of so large a seagoing element; at any
- rate, unless appearances are quite misleading, there is an earnest and
- deep though quiet religious impulse working amongst the harbour-folk and
- townspeople, not without its influence in the new quarter which has grown
- on to the old town, and with its casino and large cricket and lawn tennis
- grounds, is becoming a popular—though, happily, not a fashionable—summer
- resort. This is, of course, most apparent on Sundays, on which the absence
- of anything like the annoyances, both religious and secular, which spoil
- the day of rest at so many health-resorts, is very noteworthy. Not that
- Whitby is without its open-air services. On the contrary, they are at
- least as frequent as elsewhere, on quays, shore, cliffs; but after
- watching them with some care I do not remember anything fanatical or
- startling, or in the bad taste of coarse familiarity with mysteries which
- so often revolts one in street and field preaching elsewhere. One of these
- I had never seen the like of before, and am inclined to think it may
- interest your readers. On my first Sunday afternoon I was watching a
- crowded service on the quay, at the foot of the West Cliff, from above. As
- it ended, and began to disperse, a man in sailor’s Sunday suit of thick
- blue cloth severed himself from the crowd, and came leisurely up the stone
- steps, with a Bible and hymn-book in his hand. At the top of the steps is
- a public grass-plot, some thirty by twenty yards in size, the only part of
- the sea-front which has escaped enclosure on this cliff. Round it are some
- fifteen or sixteen benches, very popular with those who will not pay to go
- into the casino enclosure. They were all occupied by people chatting,
- smoking, courting, looking at the view, when the newcomer walked into the
- middle of the plot, took off his fur-trimmed sailor’s cap, opened his
- Bible, and looked round. He was good to look at, with his strong,
- weather-beaten, bronzed features, short-cropped, grizzled hair, and kindly
- blue eye, part-owner and best man in one of the Penzance boats, I heard.
- On looking at him, passages in the lives of Drake and Hawkins, and Wesley
- and Whitfield, and Charles Kingsley’s loving enthusiasm for the Cornish
- sailor-folk, became clearer to me. Not a soul noticed him or moved from
- their seats, and the talking, smoking, courting went on just as though he
- were not there, standing alone on the grass, Bible in hand. I quite
- expected to see him shut his book and depart. Not a bit of it. Clearly he
- had come up there to deliver his testimony. That was his business; whether
- any one chose to listen to it or not, was theirs. So he read out two or
- three verses from the Epistle to the Romans, and began to preach. His
- subject was Paul’s conversion, which he described almost entirely in St.
- Luke’s and the Apostle’s own words, which he quoted without referring to
- his Bible, and then urged roughly, but with an earnestness which made his
- speech really eloquent, that the same chance was open to every one. He
- himself had heard the call thirty years ago, and had been happy ever
- since. He had been in peril of death again and again since then, had seen
- boats founder with all hands, but had no fear, nor need any man have, by
- sea or land, who would just hear and follow that call. Then he stopped,
- wiped his brow, and looked round. The sitters had all become silent, but
- not a soul of them moved or spoke. I was standing, with one or two others,
- behind the high rails of the enclosure, or I think we should have gone and
- stood by him as he gave out a hymn; but we knew neither words nor tune, so
- were helpless. He sang it through by himself, made a short prayer “that
- the word that day might not have been spoken in vain,” and then put on his
- cap, and went down the steps into the crowd below. One voice from the
- benches said “Thank you!” as he left the plot.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next service I came across was a strange contrast. Under the cliff, in
- front of the Union Jack planted in the sands, was a large gathering,
- composed mostly of children sitting in rows, with mothers and nurses
- interspersed, and a number of men and women standing round the circle. As
- I came up, I was handed a leaflet of hymns, which explained that it was a
- gathering of the “Children’s Special Service Mission,” which has its
- head-quarters, it seems, in London, and is presided over by Mr. Stuart,
- the vicar of St. James’s, Holloway. The service was conducted by a young
- man not in orders, with a strong choir to help him. He, too, did his
- preaching earnestly and well; and though it seemed to me above the younger
- children’s heads, who for the most part made sand-castles or mud-pies
- furtively, was evidently listened to sympathetically by the elder part of
- the audience who stood round. But if the teaching scarcely touched the
- children, they all left their mud-pies and enjoyed the singing. The
- Mission, I was told, holds these services on the sands through the seaside
- season, at all the chief resorts on the coast. The leaders and organisers
- are mostly young men and women, and all, I believe, volunteers. A
- noteworthy sign of our time the Mission seemed to me, and I was glad to
- hear that it is countenanced, if not actively supported, by the resident
- Church clergy.
- </p>
- <p>
- If we turn from the volunteer to the regular side of Church work, Whitby
- still has an almost unique attraction for the student of the religious
- movement in England. The late Dean Stanley, who loved every phase of the
- historical development of the life of the National Church, and mourned
- over the thoroughness of recent restorations, which, as he thought,
- threaten the entire disappearance of the surroundings and forms of the
- worship of the Georgian era, would have thanked God and taken courage if
- he could have visited Whitby Parish Church in 1888, for church and service
- are a perfect survival. The wave of Victorian ecclesiastical reform,
- without destroying anything, seems to have gently removed all that was
- really objectionable, and breathed new life into the dry bones of Georgian
- worship. I am not sure that I should say “everything objectionable,” for
- probably the vast majority of even truly Catholic church-goers would not
- agree as to the big shield with the national arms which hangs over the
- centre of the chancel arch, dividing the two tables of the Ten
- Commandments. I am prepared to admit that this particular lion and unicorn
- are not good specimens of discreet beasts of their respective kinds. But
- even as they stand they are national symbols, and no reminder that Church
- and nation are still one can be spared nowadays; and they are not half so
- grotesqile as most of the gurgoyles you will see in the noblest Gothic
- cathedrals. And then they vividly remind my generation of the days when
- they first toddled to church in the family procession. The church itself
- is a gem, though with no orthodox architectural beauty, for it retains
- traces of the handiwork of thirty generations in its walls, pillars,
- galleries, and stunted square tower,—from the round arches (there
- are still two, though the best, a fine Norman window, has been bricked up)
- of its earliest builders in the twelfth, to the white-washed walls and
- ceilings and square-paned windows of eighteenth century churchwardens. I
- should think the three-decker (I am obliged to use the profane name,
- having forgotten the correct one), the clerk’s desk, reading-desk, and
- pulpit rising one above the other in front of the chancel, must be unique,
- the last of its race. The clerk has, indeed, retired into the choir; but
- the rector still reads the prayers and lessons admirably from his desk,
- and ascends the pulpit, where he is on a level with the faculty pew of the
- squire, and the low galleries, to deliver his excellent short discourses.
- Long may he and his successors do so. One is only inclined to regret that
- he does not take off his surplice in the reading-desk, and ascend to
- preach in his black gown. Curious it is to remember that less than thirty
- years ago Bryan King and others excited riots in many parishes by
- preaching in the surplice. The pews on the floor are all high oaken boxes
- with doors, though the great majority of them are now free. The visitor in
- broadcloth is put into one of the larger ones, lined with venerable baize,
- once green. These are somewhat narrow parallelograms with seats round the
- three sides, so that it requires caution in kneeling to avoid collision
- with your opposite neighbour. And the body of the church being nearly
- square by reason of the addition of side aisles at different periods, and
- the “three-decker” well out on the floor, the pews have been planned so
- that they all face towards it, and consequently all the congregation can
- see each other. This is supposed to be a drawback to worship; probably is—must
- be, where people have been always used to looking all one way. That it
- really hinders a hearty service, no one would maintain who has attended
- one in Whitby Parish Church. It was quite full, when I was there, of a
- congregation largely composed of men, and the majority of these sailors
- and other working folk. Let any reader who still goes to church make a
- point of ascending the 190 stone steps which lead up to it from the old
- town, and looking at the matter with his own eyes, if ever he should be
- within reach. The rector is a sort of successor to the old abbots of St.
- Hilda, with ecclesiastical jurisdiction over the whole town, wherein are
- five or six churches worked by curates, all in the modern style, seats
- facing eastward, no three-deckers, surpliced choirs, and chanted psalms,
- and canticles. Indeed, in one place of worship, those who have a taste for
- gabbled prayers, bowings and posturings, lighted candles, and the rest of
- the most modern ritual, can find it, but in a proprietary chapel not under
- the jurisdiction of the rector.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0079" id="link2H_4_0079"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Singing-Matches in Wessex, 28th September 1888.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> remember, sir,
- that some quarter of a century ago, you were interested in the popular
- songs of our English country-folk, and so may possibly think gleanings in
- this field still worthy of notice. In that belief, I send this note of
- some “singing-matches,” which, by a lucky chance, I was able to attend
- last week in West Berks. The matches in question were for both men and
- women, a prize of half a crown being offered in each case. The occasion
- was the village “veast,” or annual commemoration of the dedication of the
- parish church, still the immemorial day of gathering and social reunion in
- every hamlet of this out-of-the-way district. I was glad to find the old
- word still in use, for as a Wessex man it would have been an unpleasant
- shock to me to find the “veast” superseded by a “festival,” habitation, or
- other modern gathering. In some respects, however, I must own that the
- character of the “veast” has changed; these singing-matches, for instance,
- being a complete novelty to me. There used to be singing enough after the
- sports, as the sun went down, and choruses, rollicking and sentimental,
- came rolling out of the publicans’ booths—for the most part of
- dubious character—but singing-matches for prizes I never remember. I
- suppose the craze for competitive examination in every department of life
- may account for this new development; anyhow, there were the matches to
- come off—so the bills assured us—in the village schoolroom, of
- all places, which was thrown open for this purpose, and for dancing, at
- sunset. Hither, then, I repaired from the vicar’s fields, where the sports
- had been held, in the wake of a number of rustic couples and
- toffee-sucking children. The school is a lofty room, fifty feet long, with
- a smaller class-room as transept at the upper end, along which ran a
- temporary platform. Upon this the Farringdon Blue-Ribbon Band, in neat
- uniforms, were already playing a vigorous polka. Presently this first
- dance ended, the band stood back, and the three judges coming to the
- front, announced the terms of the competition, the men to begin, and a
- dance to be interpolated after every two songs, every singer, one at a
- time, to come up on the platform. There was no hesitation amongst the
- singers, the first of whom stepped up at once, and so the matches went on,
- two songs and a dance alternately, until all who cared to compete had
- sung. Then, at about 9 P.M., the prizes were awarded, and I left, the
- dancing going on merrily for another two hours.
- </p>
- <p>
- I was amused by the award of the men’s prize to the singer of a
- vociferously applauded ditty, entitled “The Time o’ Day,” for it showed
- that the keenest zest of the Wessex rustic is still, as it was thirty
- years ago, to get a rise out of—or, in modern slang, to score off—“thaay
- varmers.” It began:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A straanger wunst in Worcestershèer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- A gen’lman he professed,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He lived by takin’ o’ people in,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- He wuz so nicely dressed.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Wi’ my tol-de-rol, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- This stranger, having a gold chain round his neck, swaggers in the
- farmers’ room on market-day, till—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He zets un in a big arm-cheer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And, bein’ precious deep,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Sticks out his legs, drows back his arms,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And “gammots” off to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The farmers canvas him, and doubt if he has any watch to his chain. His
- friend, “by them not understood,” pulls out the chain, shows a piece of
- wood at the end, and puts it back. The stranger wakes; the farmers ask him
- “the time o’ day”; he excuses himself, on the plea that last night, having
- taken a glass too much, he did not wind up his watch. At this—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The varmers said, and did protest,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Ez sure ez we’re alive,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thet thee dost not possess a watch
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Of pounds we’ll bet thee vive.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger covers the bets, pulls out a piece of wood, touches a spring,
- and shows a watch inside:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ‘Bout vifty pounds thaay varmers lost,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Which in course thaay hed to paay,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And the bwoys run arter’em down the street,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Wi’ “Gee us the time O’ daay.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Wi’ my tol-de-rol, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I did not, however, concur in the award myself. I should have given the
- prize for a love-song, a sort of rustic rendering of “Phyllis is my only
- Joy,” the chorus of which ran:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For ef you would, I’m sure you could
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Jest let a feller know;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Ef it strikes you as it likes you,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Answer yes or no.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The judges, however, followed, if (two being “varmers”) they did not
- thoroughly sympathise with, the obvious feeling of the crowded room. The
- patriotic songs, I noticed, had quite changed their character. They never
- were of the vulgar jingo kind in Wessex, but there used to be much of the
- old Dibdin and tow-row,-row ring about them. “The Poor Little Soldier Boy”
- may be taken as a specimen of the new style. His father dies of wounds; he
- ’lists; comes home; is discharged; wanders starving, till, opposite
- a fine gate, he sinks down, asking the unknown inmates how they will like
- to find him, “dead at their door in the morn.” At this crisis a lady
- appears, who takes him in and provides for him for life. The only lines I
- carried away were from a song even more pacific in tone than “The Poor
- Little Soldier Boy.” They ran:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Ef I wur King o’ France,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Or, better, Pope o’ Rome,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I’d hev no fightin’ men abroad,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Nor weepin’ maids at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But there was an approach to “waving the flag” amongst the women, one of
- whom, a strapping damsel, sang:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- We’ve got the strength of will,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And old England’s England still,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And every other nation knows it—“rather”!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- which word “rather” ended every verse of a somewhat vulgar ditty. She did
- not get the prize, nor did the matron whom I fixed on as the winner, who
- sang without a hitch a monotonous and, I began to think, never-ending
- ballad on the rivalries of “young Samuèl” and one “Barnewell” for the
- graces of an undecided young woman. The attention with which this somewhat
- dreary narrative was listened to deceived me, for the prize went, without
- public protest, to a young woman of whose song I could not catch a line,
- though I could just gather that it was feebly sentimental. My impression
- is that it was her bright eyes, and pretty face and figure, that carried
- it with the judges, rather than her singing. If I am right, it will
- neither be the first nor last time that the prizes in this world fall to
- <i>tes beaux yeux</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- The school faces the upper end of the village green, and I left it so
- crowded that it was a wonder how the dancers could get along at all with
- their polkas and handkerchief dances, the latter a kind of country dance,
- which were the only ones in vogue. When I got out, I saw lighted booths at
- the other end of the green, and went down to inspect. It was a melancholy
- sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was the publican’s dancing-booth without a soul in it. One swing
- only was occupied in the neighbouring acrobatic apparatus, and the
- round-about was motionless. The gipsies were there, ready and eager to
- tell fortunes, and with a well-lighted alley for throwing at cocoa-nuts
- with bowls rather larger than cricket-balls—the most modern and
- popular substitute, I am told, for skittles. There they were, but not a
- customer in sight, the only human being but myself being the solitary
- county policeman, who patrolled the green with most conscientious
- regularity, only slackening his pace for a moment or two as he passed
- under the bright open windows of the schoolroom, from which the merry
- dance-music came streaming out into the moonlight. I could almost find it
- in my heart to pity the publican and gipsies, so overwhelming did their
- defeat seem, for not a glass of beer had been allowed all day in the
- vicar’s fields, where the cricket-match had been played and all the races
- run, on milk, tea, or aerated waters. The whole stock of these last
- beverages, supplied from the “Hope Coffee Room,” which has faced the
- public-house on the village green now for about three years, was drunk out
- before the dancing ended and the school closed on “veast” night, to the
- exceeding joy of the vicar’s niece and her lieutenants, two bright Cornish
- damsels, handy, devoted, and ardent teetotalers. These three have been
- fighting the publicans since 1886, when they started the “Hope Coffee
- Room,” supplied with bread, butter, and cakes from the vicarage, and
- aerated drinks and light literature, all, I take it, at something under
- cost price, though this the three ardent damsels will by no means admit.
- The vicar, who is no teetotaler himself, shrugs his shoulders laughingly,
- plays his fiddle, pays the bills, and lets them have their own way, with
- an occasional protest that some night he shall have his barn and ricks
- burnt. There is, however, no real danger of this, as he has lived with and
- for his poor for more than thirty years with scarcely one Sunday’s break,
- and gipsy or publican would get short shrift who damaged him or anything
- that is his. I found him quite ready to admit the great improvement which
- is apparent in the “veast,” as in many other phases of rustic life, though
- he cannot get over, or look with anything but dislike and distrust at, the
- cramming and examining system, which, as he mourns, embitters the only
- time in the lives of his poor children which used to be really happy, when
- they could play about on the village green and in the lanes regardless of
- Inspector and Government grant. Nor am I sure that he does not look with
- regret at the disappearance of cudgel-playing and wrestling out of the
- programme of the yearly “Veast-Sports.” Cricket, fine game as it is, does
- hot bring out quite the same qualities. No doubt there were now and then
- bad hurts in those sports, and fights afterwards; but these came from
- beer, and might happen just as easily over cricket. So he muses, and I
- rather sympathise. As has been well sung by the ould gamester:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Who’s vor a bout O’ vrendly plaay,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- As never should to anger move,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Sech spworts be only meant for thaay
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- As likes their mazzards broke for love.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But I should be sorry to believe that there are fewer youngsters to-day in
- the West country who “likes their mazzards broke for love” than there used
- to be half a century ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0080" id="link2H_4_0080"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- The Divining-Rod, 21st September 1889.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>bout a quarter of
- a century ago, I had the chance of seeing some experiments in the search
- for water by the use of “the divining rod” on a thirsty stretch of the
- Berkshire chalk range. Oddly enough (what a lot of odd things there are
- lying all round us!) at the highest points of this very range you might
- come on “dew-ponds,” which never seemed to run dry, though how the white
- chalky water got there, or kept there, no one, I believe, has ever been
- able to explain from that day to this. But these “dew-ponds” were of no
- use, of course, to the cottages scattered along the hillside, and whoever
- wanted spring-water, had to go down about 400 feet for it. Well, I
- neglected that chance, and ever since have been regretting it.
- </p>
- <p>
- My notion of the water-diviner was gathered from Sir Walter’s famous
- portrait of Dousterswivel in the <i>Antiquary</i>; a fellow “who amongst
- fools and womankind talks of the Cabala, the divining-rod, and all the
- trumpery with which the Rosicrucians cheated a darker age, and which, to
- our eternal disgrace, has in some degree revived in our own.” I was
- resolved that the revival should in no case be forwarded by me, and so
- lost my opportunity, and have been ever since tantalised by reports of
- marvels wrought by the hazel-wand, as to which I was quite at a loss to
- form any reasonable opinion. It was with no little satisfaction,
- therefore, that I received, and accepted, an invitation to assist at a
- water-search about to be undertaken by a diviner of considerable
- reputation in the outskirts of Deer Leap Wood, in the parish of Wootton,
- Surrey.
- </p>
- <p>
- This wood, notable even amongst the loveliest of that favoured county,
- belongs to the worthy representative of the author of <i>Sylva</i> and the
- <i>Memoirs</i>, who, having built some excellent cottages on its confines,
- desires to find the occupants a good supply of spring-water <i>in situ</i>.
- Accordingly a group of us, men and women of all ages, and of all degrees
- of scepticism—for I doubt if there was a single believer in the
- efficacy of the rod, though the squire himself and a friend preserved a
- judicious silence—gathered last Friday after breakfast on the lawn
- before Wootton House, to await the arrival of the water-doctor, whom the
- agent had gone to meet at the station. It was agreed on all hands that a
- preliminary test should be applied, and that the lawn on which we stood
- offered quite admirable facilities for this purpose. For, more than two
- hundred years ago, John Evelyn had diverted a portion of the stream, which
- runs down the valley in which the house stands, for the purpose of making
- a fountain on the terraces. (Let it be noted in passing, that the
- lead-work of that fountain has needed no repair from that day to this!
- There <i>were</i> plumbers in those days!) From this fountain two pipes
- carry the water into the house, under the lawn on which we stood. Now the
- lawn turf is as smooth as a billiard-table, without the slightest
- indication of the whereabouts of these pipes, which indeed was only known
- vaguely to the squire, and not at all to any one else of those present. If
- the divining-rod could discover these, the experiment at “Deer Leap Wood”
- might be undertaken with good hope.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, the doctor, conducted by the steward, arrived in due course, a stout
- middle-aged man, of the stamp of a high-class mechanic; plain and
- straightforward in speech, and with no pretence whatever to mystery. In
- answer to our questions, he said: “He couldn’t tell how it came about; but
- of this he was sure, that he could find springs and running water. Thirty
- years ago he was working as a mason at Chippenham, with a Cornish miner
- amongst others. He saw this man find water with the rod; had then tried it
- himself, and found he could do it. That was all he knew. Any one*of us
- might have the same power. Why, two young gentlemen who saw him working at
- Warleigh, near Bath, had copied him, and found a spring right under their
- father’s library.” We listened, and then proposed that he should just try
- about the lawn. He produced a hazel twig shaped like a Y, the arms, each
- some eighteen inches long; the point, perhaps, six inches. I may note,
- however, that the dimensions can be of no consequence, for he used at
- least half a dozen in his trials, cutting them at random out of the
- hazel-bush as we walked along, and taking no measure of any of them.
- Taking an arm of the Y between the middle fingers of each hand, he walked
- across the lawn slowly, stooping slightly forward, so as to keep the point
- downwards, about a foot from the ground. He had not gone a dozen yards
- before the rod quivered, and then the point rose at once straight up into
- the air. “There’s running water here,” he said, “and close to the
- surface.” We marked the spot and followed him, and some twenty-five yards
- further the point of the Y again sprang up into the air. The steward, who
- knew the plans accurately, was appealed to, and admitted that these were
- the precise spots under which the pipes ran. In answer to the suggestion
- that the point sprang up by pressure of his fingers, voluntary or
- involuntary, he asked two of us to hold the arms beyond his fingers, and
- see if we could prevent the point rising. We did so (I being one), and did
- all we could to keep it pointed downwards, but it rose in spite of us, and
- I watched his hands carefully at the same time and could detect no
- movement whatever of the muscles. Then he broke one of the arms, all but
- the bark, and still the point rose as briskly as ever. Lastly, he proposed
- that each of us should try if we had the power. We did so, but without
- success, except that in the case of Mrs. Evelyn and another lady the point
- trembled, and seemed inclined, though unable, to rise. He then took hold
- of their wrists, and at once it rose, nearly as promptly as it had done
- with him. This was enough; and we started in procession, on ponies, in
- carriage^, or walking, to Deer Leap Wood, where in the course of an hour
- he marked with pegs some half dozen spots, under which running water will
- be found at from 70 feet to 100 feet. He did not pretend to be able to
- give the exact depth, but only undertook to give the outside limits. And
- so we all went back to lunch, and Mullins took his fee and departed. I
- know, sir, that you have many scientific readers, and can picture to
- myself the smile tinged with scorn with which they will turn to your next
- page when they get thus far. Well, I own that the boring remains to be
- done, the results of which I hope to send you in due course. Meantime, let
- me remind them of a well-known adventure of one of the most famous of
- their predecessors towards the end of last century. Sir Joseph Banks,
- botanising on the downs on a cloudless June day, came across a shepherd
- whom he greeted with the customary “Fine day,”—“Ees,” was the reply,
- “but there’ll be heavy rain yet, afore night.” Sir Joseph passed on
- unheeding, and got a thorough drenching before he reached his inn. Next
- morning he went back, found the shepherd, and put a guinea in his hand,
- with “Now, my man, tell me how you knew there was going to be rain
- yesterday afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whoy,” said Hodge, with a grin, “I zeed my ould ram a shovin’ hisself
- back’ards in under thuck girt thornin bush; and wenever a doos that
- there’ll sartin sure be heavy rainfall afore sundown.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Note.—Water was found where it was expected by the Diviner, and this
- well is now used by the tenants of the Deer Leap Cottages.—October
- 1895.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0081" id="link2H_4_0081"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Sequah’s “Flower of the Prairie,” Chester, 26th March 1890.
- </h2>
- <p>
- “Why, what on earth can this be?” I asked of the man who stood next me in
- the Foregate some ten days ago, as we paused at a crossing to allow the
- strange object which had drawn from me the above ejaculation to pass on,
- with its attendant crowd. It was a mighty gilded waggon, certainly
- fourteen feet long by six feet or seven feet broad. It was drawn by four
- handsome bays. On two raised seats at the front sat eight men, English, I
- fancy, every man of them, but clad over their ordinary garments in long
- leather coats with fringes, such as our familiar Indians wear in
- melodrama, and in the broad-brimmed, soft felts of the Western cowboy.
- They were all armed with brass instruments and made the old streets
- resound with popular airs. Behind these raised seats, in the body of the
- waggon, rode some half dozen, including three strapping brown men,
- Indians, I fancy they pose for, but they looked to me more like the
- half-castes whom one sees on the Texan and Mexican ranches on the Bio
- Grande. They also were clad in fringed leather coats, and wore sombreros
- over their long black locks. The sides of the waggon, where not gilt, were
- panelled with mirrors, on which were emblazoned the Stars and Stripes and
- other coloured devices. Altogether, the thing seemed to me well done in
- its way, whatever it might mean; and I turned inquiringly to my neighbour
- and repeated my question, as the huge gilded van and its jubilant
- followers passed away down the station road. “Oh! ’tis the ‘Merikin chap,
- as cures folks’s rheumatics and draws their teeth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He must draw something more than their teeth,” I said, “to keep up all
- that show.” My neighbour grinned assent. “He’ve drawed pretty nigh all the
- loose money as is going hereabouts already,” he said as we parted. “One
- more quack to fleece the poor,” I thought, as I walked on. “Well, anyhow,
- they get a show for their shillings; that van beats Barnum!”
- </p>
- <p>
- In this mind I reached the vicarage of one of our biggest city parishes to
- which I was bound. “I don’t know about quack,” said the vicar, when I had
- detailed my adventure on the way, using that disparaging phrase; “but this
- I do know, that I have given over writing certificates for my poor from
- downright shame, the demand is so great.” And then he explained that the
- “medicineman,” whose stage name was Sequah, made no charge to any patient
- who brought a clergyman’s certificate of poverty; that the van had now
- been in the town above a week; and at first he, the vicar, had given such
- certificates freely, both for treatment (tooth-drawing) and for the
- medicines, but now refused except in the case of the very poorest. No! not
- because Sequah was an impostor; on the contrary, he had done several
- noteworthy cures—at any rate temporary cures—on some of the
- vicar’s own parishioners: notably in the case of one old man who had been
- drawn up to the van in a wheel-chair. He had had rheumatism for two years,
- which had quite disabled him, and was in great pain when he got on the
- platform. After he had been treated he walked down the steps without help,
- and wheeled his chair home himself. Unluckily, Sequah had advised him to
- get warm woollen underclothing, and on his pleading that he had not the
- money to buy it, had given him a sovereign. This so elated him that he
- felt quite a new man, and could not help breaking his sovereign on the way
- home to give the new man a congratulatory glass at a favourite pot-house.
- This had thrown him back, and his knees were a little stiff again, but the
- pain had not returned even in this case.
- </p>
- <p>
- After such testimony from a thoroughly trustworthy and matter-of-fact
- witness, I resolved to see this strange thing with my own eyes, and went
- off straight from the vicarage to the scene of action, to which the vicar
- directed me. This was an old tan-yard about half an acre in extent, and
- was full of people when I arrived, the space immediately round the waggon
- being densely crowded. It was drawn up in the middle of the plot. The
- eight brass-bandsmen had wheeled round so as to look down from their
- raised benches on the floor of the waggon, on which was a large leather
- chair. In front of the chair, speaking to the crowd from the end of the
- waggon, stood a tall figure, in a finer kind of leather-fringed coat,
- ornamented with rows of blue, red, and white beads. At first glance I
- thought it was a woman from the fineness of the features, and masses of
- long, light hair falling on the shoulders. A second glance, however,
- showed me that it was a man, and a vigorous and muscular one too. He was
- explaining that the medicines he was going to sell presently were not
- “scientific,” but “natural” medicines, “compounded of the water of a
- Californian spring and certain botanic ingredients”! I will not trouble
- you with a list of all the ailments they will cure if taken steadily and
- in sufficient doses, but get on at once to the performance. Having
- finished his speech, he put on his sombrero, took up a pair of forceps
- from a table on which a row of them were displayed, and stood by the
- chair. Upon this, advanced an apparently endless line of men, women, and
- children, marshalled by the Indians who stood at the foot of the steps.
- One by one they came up, sat down in the chair, passed under Sequah’s
- hands, and descended the steps on the other side of the waggon into the
- wondering crowd, while the band discoursed vigorous and continuous music.
- I watched him draw at least fifty teeth in less than as many minutes. The
- patient just sat down, opened his mouth, pointed to the peccant tooth, and
- it was out in most cases before he could wink. There were perhaps three or
- four cases (of adults) in which things did not go quite so smoothly, and
- one—that of a young woman, who seized her bonnet and rushed down the
- steps in evident pain and rage—after which he stopped the band, and
- explained to us that her tooth was so decayed that he had had to break the
- stump in the jaw. This he had done, and should have taken the pieces out
- without causing any further pain, if she had just waited a few more
- seconds. There are rumours flying round that the infirmary is crowded
- daily with patients in agonies from broken fangs which have been left in
- by Sequah. On the other hand, two of our doctors whom I have met admit
- that he is a very remarkable “extractor,” and has first-rate instruments.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were still crowds waiting their turn when he finished his
- tooth-drawing for the day, and announced that he would now treat a case of
- rheumatism. Thereupon, an elderly man—who gave his name and address,
- and stated that he had been rheumatic for twelve years, unable to walk for
- two, and was now in great pain—was carried up the steps and put in
- the chair. Then buffalo-robes were brought by the Indians, two of whom
- held them up so as to conceal Sequah and the third, a rubber, who remained
- inside with the patient. Then the brass band struck up boisterously, the
- buffalo-robe screen was agitated here and there, and a strong and very
- pungent smell (not unlike hartshorn) spread all round. I timed them, and
- at the end of eighteen minutes the buffalo-robes were lowered, and there
- was the old man dressed again and seated in the chair. The band stopped.
- Sequah asked the old man if he felt any pain now. He replied, “No,” and
- then was told to walk to the front of the platform, which he did; then to
- get down the ladder, walk round the waggon amongst the crowd, and come up
- on the other side, which he did, looking, I must say, as astonished as I
- was, at his own performance. Then six or seven men, mostly elderly, came
- up and declared that they had been similarly treated, and were wonderfully
- better, some of them quite cured and at work again. Then Sequah invited
- any person who had been treated by him or taken his medicines and were
- none the better, to come up into the waggon and tell us about it, as that
- was their proper place and not below. This offer seemed quite <i>bona fide</i>,
- but it did not impress me, as I doubt whether any protesting patient would
- have had much chance of ascending the steps, which were kept by the
- Indians and their able-bodied confederates. No one answering, two big
- portmanteaus were brought up, out of which he began to sell his medicines
- at a dollar (4s.) the set—two bottles and two small packets. The
- rush to be served began, people crushing and struggling to get near enough
- to hand up their hats or caps with 4s. in them, which were returned with
- the medicines in them. I watched for at least ten minutes, when, there
- being apparently no end to the purchases, I strolled away, musing on the
- strange scene, and wondering what the attraction can be in the Bohemian
- life which could induce a man of this evident power to wander about the
- world in a gilded waggon, in a ridiculous costume, and talking transparent
- clap-trap, to sell goods which apparently want no lies telling about them.
- </p>
- <p>
- I may add that I went again last Saturday, when there was even a greater
- crowd, and an older and more severe case of rheumatism was treated with
- quite as great (apparent) success.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0082" id="link2H_4_0082"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- French Popular Feeling, 15th August 1890.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> doubt if any of
- your readers has less sympathy than I with the yearning to go back twenty,
- thirty, or forty years (as the case may be), which seems to be a note of
- contemporary literature, and therefore, I take it, of the average mind of
- the men and women of our day, who have passed out of their first youth.
- “The Elixir of Life,” which Bulwer dreamed and wrote of, which should
- restore youth, with its bounding pulses and golden locks, its capacity for
- physical enjoyment, and for building castles in Spain, I think I may say
- with confidence I would not drink four times a day, with twenty minutes’
- promenade between the glasses (as I am just now drinking of the <i>source
- Cosar</i> here), even if an <i>elixir vito source</i> were to come
- bubbling up to-morrow in this enchanting Auvergne valley, and our English
- doctor here at Royat—known to all readers of Mr. <i>Punch’s</i>
- “Water Course”—were to put it peremptorily on my treatment-paper
- to-morrow morning. It is not surely the “<i>good fellows</i> whose beards
- are gray,” who sigh over the departure of muscular force, and sure
- quickness of eye and nerve, which enabled them in years gone by to jump
- five-barred gates or get down to leg-shooters. They are glad to see the
- boys doing these things, and rejoicing in them; but, for themselves, do
- not desire any more to jump five-barred gates or get down to leg-shooters.
- They have learned the wise man’s lesson, that there is a time for all
- things, and that those who linger on life’s journey and fancy they can
- still occupy the pleasant roadside places after their part of the column
- has passed on ahead, will surely find themselves in the way of, and be
- shouldered out by, the next division, without a chance of being able to
- regain their place in the line, side by side with old comrades and
- contemporaries.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it is one thing to fall out of the line of march of one’s own accord,
- from an unwise hankering after roadside pleasures, and quite another to
- have to fall out because one can no longer keep one’s old place in the
- column by reason of failing wind, or muscle, or nerve; and the man of
- sense who feels his back stiffening, or his feet getting tender, will do
- well to listen to such hints betimes, and betake himself at once to
- whatever place or regimen holds out the best hope of enabling him to keep
- step once more, till the day is fairly over and the march done. It is for
- this reason, at any rate, that I find myself at Royat, from which I have
- been assured by more than one trustworthy friend who has tested the
- waters, that I shall return after three weeks “with new tissues,” and “fit
- to fight for my life.” I don’t see any prospect of having to fight for my
- life in my old age, though one can’t be too confident with the new
- Radicalism looming up so menacingly, and am very well content with my old
- tissues, if they can’ only be got into fair working order again, of which
- I already begin to think there is good prospect here, though my experience
- of the <i>sources</i> “Eugénie” and “Cæsar” is as yet not a week old.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is more than twenty years since I have written to you from France over
- this signature, and since that time I have only been once in Paris, for
- two days on business. The gay city is much less changed than I expected to
- find it, so far as one can judge from a drive across it from the Gare de
- l’Ouest to the Gare de Lyon, and a stroll (after depositing luggage at the
- latter station) along the Rue de Rivoli and the Quais, and through the
- streets of the old city. The clearance which has left an open space in
- front of Notre Dame, so that one can get a good view of the western front,
- seemed to me the most noteworthy improvement. The great range of public
- buildings and offices which have been added to the Louvre are stately and
- impressive, but cannot make up for the disappearance of the Tuileries. The
- Eiffel Tower is a great disappointment. All buildings should be either
- beautiful or useful; but it is neither, and only seems to dwarf all the
- other buildings. But one change impressed me grievously. Where are all the
- daintily dressed women and children gone to? Perhaps the world of fashion
- may be out of town; but there must be some two millions of people left in
- Paris, a quarter of them at least well-to-do citizens, and able to give as
- much care as of old to their toilets. Nevertheless, I assure you, I sought
- in vain for one really dainty figure such as one used to meet by the score
- in every street. Can twenty years of the true Republic have made La Belle
- France dowdy? It is grievous to think of it, and I hope to be undeceived
- before I get back amongst the certainly better got-up women of my native
- land.
- </p>
- <p>
- For my nine hours’ journey south, I bought a handful of the cheap
- illustrated papers—<i>Le Grelot, Le Troupier</i>, and others—which
- seem to be as much the daily intellectual fare of the French travelling
- public as (I regret to say) <i>Tit-Bits</i> and its congeners are, at any
- rate in my part of England. Of course it is always difficult to know what
- “the people” are thinking or caring about; but to get at what they read
- must be not a bad test. A perusal of these certainly surprised me
- favourably, especially in this respect, that they were almost entirely
- free from the pruriency which is so generally supposed to be the
- characteristic of modern French literature.
- </p>
- <p>
- I wish I could speak half as favourably of the attitude of France, so far
- as these journals disclose it, towards her neighbours; but this is about
- as bad as it can be, touchy, jealous, and unfair, all round. Take, for
- instance, the <i>Troupier</i>, which is specially addressed to the Army.
- The cartoon represents the “Grand Jeu de Massacre,” at which all
- passers-by are invited to join free of charge. The <i>jeu</i> consists of
- throwing at a row of puppets, citizens of Alsace-Lorraine, in which a
- brutal German soldier is indulging, while the French “Ministre des
- Affaires (qui lui sont) Etrangères” slumbers peacefully on a neighbouring
- seat. But we come off at least as badly as Germany. In a vigorous leader,
- entitled “Une Reculade,” on the Zanzibar Question, after a very bitter
- opening against England—“il n’y a guère de pays qui n’ait été roulé
- dupé et volé par elle,”—the <i>Troupier</i> breaks into a song of
- triumph over the backing-down of England, “flanquée d’Allemagne et de ses
- alliés,” before the resolute attitude of France. “Cette reculade,” it
- ends, “de nos ennemis indique suffisamment que La France a repris la place
- et le rang qui lui conviennent, et qu’elle est de taille à se faire
- respecter partout et par tous. C’est tout ce que nous desirions.” In all
- commercial and industrial matters we are equally grasping and
- unscrupulous. There seems to be just now a great stir in the sardine
- industry, and, so far as I can make out, English and American Companies
- seem to be competing for a monopoly of that savoury little fish. It is,
- however, upon the English “Sardine Union Company, Limited”—“qui
- s’appelle en France, Société Générale de l’Industrie Sardinière de France”—that
- the vials of journalistic wrath are being emptied. “Sept polichinelles,”
- it would seem, have subscribed for one share each, and the whole scheme is
- utterly rotten. Nevertheless, this bogus Company threatens to buy up all
- the sardine manufactories in France at fancy prices, and, the control
- being in England, will manufacture there all the metal boxes, and will
- build all the fishing-boats over there, “au détriment de nos constructeurs
- Français,” and so on, and so on. I was getting quite melancholy over all
- these onslaughts on my native country, when I came upon a topic which
- alone seems to excite the petit-journaliste more than the sins of the
- long-toothed Englishman—viz. those of priests and their followers
- and surroundings. Here is a comic example, over which the Grelot foams in
- trenchant and sarcastic but incredibly angry sentences. A Belgian Council
- has decided to divide the 500 fr. which it has voted to the “Institut
- Pasteur,” the vote being “pour M. Pasteur et pour St. Hubert.” This
- remarkable vote was carried on the pleading of a Deputy, who, after paying
- homage to M. Pasteur, added: “C’est un grand homme qui a opéré des cures
- merveilleuses; seulement il y a un autre grand homme, qui depuis onze cent
- soixante-trois années a opéré des miracles, c’est St. Hubert—M.
- Pasteur devra travailler longtemps avant d’en arriver là.” I am afraid you
- will have no room for more than one of the scathing sentences in which the
- writer tosses this unlucky vote backwards and forwards: “M. Pasteur
- acceptera-t-il de partager les 500 fr. avec St. Hubert (adresse inconnue),
- ou St. Hubert refusera-t-il de partager avec M. Pasteur (adresse connue)?—‘That
- is the question/ comme disait le nommé Shakespeare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was in the midst of such instructive if not entirely pleasant reading,
- that I arrived at Clermont, the old capital of Auvergne, by far the most
- interesting town I have been in this quarter of a century, not excepting
- Chester. From thence, one comes up to Roy at, about three miles, in an
- electric tramway, or by ’bus or cab.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0083" id="link2H_4_0083"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Royat les Bains, 23rd August 1890.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ome thirty years
- ago, more or less, I remember reading with much incredulous amusement Sir
- Francis Head’s “Bubbles of the Brunnen.” It was in the early days of the
- Saturday Review, when the infidel Talleyrand gospel of surtout jooint de
- zèle was being preached to young England week by week in those able but
- depressing columns. I, like the rest of my contemporaries, was more or
- less affected by the cold water virus, and was certainly inclined to look
- from the superior person standpoint on what I could not but regard as the
- outpourings of the second childhood of an eccentric septuagenarian, who
- was really asking us to believe that the Schwalbach waters were as
- miraculously potent as the thigh-bone of St. Glengulphus, of which is it
- not written in <i>The In-goldsby Legends</i>:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And cripples, on touching his fractured <i>os femoris</i>,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Threw down their crutches and danced a quadrille.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I need scarcely say to you, sir, that it is many years since I have been
- thoroughly disabused of this depressing heresy; but perhaps one never
- quite recovers from such early demoralisation. At any rate, now that I
- find myself approaching Sir Francis’s age, and much in his frame of mind
- when he blew his exhilarating bubbles, I can’t quite make up my mind to
- turn myself loose, as he did, and in Lowell’s words, “pour out my hope, my
- fear, my love, my wonder,” upon you and your readers. The real fact,
- however, stated in plain (Yankee) prose is, that Schwalbach (I have been
- there) “is not a circumstance” to this refuge for the victim of gout,
- rheumatism, eczema, dyspepsia, and I know not how many more kindred
- maladies, amongst the burnt-out volcanoes of the Department Puy-de-Dome.
- Nevertheless, you may fairly say, and I should agree, that my ten days’
- experience of the effect of the waters is scarcely sufficient to make me a
- trustworthy witness as to the healing properties of these springs.
- Twenty-one days is the prescribed course, and as I am as yet but half
- through, I will not “holloa till I am out of the wood,” but will try in
- the first place to give you some idea of this Royat les Bains and its
- surroundings.
- </p>
- <p>
- Let us look out from this third-floor window at which I am writing, on the
- highest guest-floor of the topmost hotel in Royat, to which a happy chance
- (or my good angel, if I have one) led me on my arrival. I look out across
- a narrow valley, from three to four hundred yards wide, upon a steep hill
- which forms its opposite side. They say this hill is a burnt-out volcano.
- However that may be, it is now clothed with vineyards on all but the
- almost precipitous places where the rock peeps out. On the highest point,
- against the sky-line, stands out a small white house, calling itself the
- Hôtel de l’Observatoire, from which there must be a magnificent view; but
- how it is to be reached I have not yet learned, for there is no visible
- road or footpath, and the peasants object to one’s attempting the ascent
- through the vineyards. The valley winds up round this hill, taking a turn
- to the north, our side widening out and sweeping back behind Royat Church
- and village, to which the retreating hill behind forms a most picturesque
- background. For, on the lower slope, just above the houses, are stretches
- of bright green meadow, interspersed amongst irregular clumps of oak;
- above this comes a brown-red belt of rough ground, growing heather and
- wild strawberries; and, again above that, all along the brow, are dense
- pine woods. The constant changes of colour which this southern sun brings
- out all day long on this hillside make it difficult to break away from
- one’s window and descend to the <i>établissement</i> to drink waters and
- take baths. This institution lies down at the bottom of the valley I have
- been describing, some 200 feet below this window, and 150 feet below the
- broad terrace which is thrown out from the ground-floor of this hotel.
- From the terrace a rough zigzag path leads down to the brook, which rushes
- down from Royat village in a succession of tiny waterfalls, sending up to
- us all day the murmur of running water. On reaching the brook’s bank, we
- have about one hundred yards to walk by its side, when, crossing a good
- road which runs round it, we reach the low wall of the park, in which lies
- the bathing establishment. From this point the electric tram-cars run to
- Clermont, carrying backwards and forwards for two sous baigneurs and
- holiday-folk enough, I should say, to pay handsome dividends. This park
- occupies the whole breadth of the valley, pushing back the houses on
- either side against the hillsides. Its main building, a handsome
- structure, built of lava, with red-tiled roof, contains all the separate
- baths and a <i>piscine</i>, or swimming bath, besides a good-sized hall
- for sanitary gymnastics, and a <i>salle d’escrime</i>, in which a
- professor instructs pupils daily in fencing and <i>le boxe</i>. The broad
- path runs from top to bottom of this park, having this <i>établissement</i>
- building on its left or northern side, and on its right two parallel
- terraces, one above the other. On the lower of these is the great <i>source</i>,
- the “Eugénie,” which bubbles up here in magnificent style, sending up some
- millions of gallons daily. Over the Eugénie <i>source</i> is a pavilion,
- with open sides and striped red and white curtains. A second pavilion on
- the same terrace, a little lower down, is devoted to the band, which plays
- every afternoon for two or three hours; and below that again, the casino.
- On the second or upper terrace are a few favoured <i>châlet</i> shops, for
- the sale of books, pictures, photographs, and the pottery and <i>bijouterie</i>
- of Auvergne. Then, above again, comes the road which encloses the park, on
- the opposite side of which are the row of large hotels built against the
- rocky side of the valley, and communicating at the back from their upper
- stories with the road which runs up to Royat village. The rest of the park
- is laid out in lawns and garden-beds, full of bright flowers and walks,
- amongst which are found three other sources—the Cæsar, the St. Mart,
- and the St. Victor, each of which has its small drinking-pavilion. In
- front of these several pavilions and along the terraces are a plentiful
- supply of seats, and chairs which you can carry about to any spot you may
- select under the shade of the plane-trees and acacias which line the
- terraces and walks, with weeping-willows, chestnuts, and poplars happily
- interspersed here and there. The abundant water-supply which the brook
- brings down is well utilised, so that the whole park, some six acres in
- extent, is kept as fresh and green, and the flower-beds as luxuriant and
- bright with colour, as if it were in dear, damp England. At the bottom of
- the park, a handsome viaduct of arches, built of lava, spans the valley,
- seeming to shut Royat in from the outer world, and beyond, the valley
- broadens out into a wide plain, with Clermont, the capital of Auvergne, in
- the foreground, and beyond the city, stretching right away to Switzerland,
- a splendid sea (as it were) of corn and maize and vines and olives, the
- richest, it is said, in the whole of <i>la belle</i> France. It is stated
- in all the guidebooks, and by trustworthy residents, that on a clear day
- you may see Mont Blanc from Royat, but as yet I have not been lucky
- enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- Unless I have failed altogether in describing the view which lies
- constantly before me—from the pine-clad hillside over Royat village,
- with its gray church and white red-roofed houses to the west, away down
- over the park and surrounding hotels and shops, and viaduct and city and
- plain to the far east—you can now fancy what it must be in the early
- morning, when the light mist is lying along the hillsides until the sun
- has had time to dispose of the clouds in the upper air, or at night, when
- the clear sky is thick with stars, and the Northern Lights flame up behind
- the silent volcano opposite this Hôtel de Lyon. There is no place on
- earth, from the back-slums of great cities to the mountain-peak or
- mid-ocean, to which early morns and evening twilights do not bring daily,
- or almost daily, some touch of the beauty of light-pictures which sun and
- moon and stars paint for us so patiently, whether we heed them or no; but
- to get them in their full perfection, one should be able to look at them
- in the light, dry, warm air of such places as these volcanic highlands of
- Auvergne.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now for the life we lead in this air and scenery. Every morning at six
- I arrive at the Cæsar spring and drink two glasses, with twenty minutes’
- interval between them. Then I climb the hill to <i>café au lait</i> and
- two small rolls and butter on the terrace, which comes off about 7 A.M.,
- as soon as the last of our party of four has come up from the park. Rest
- till eleven follows, when we have <i>déjeûner à la fourchette</i>, which,
- as we sit down about a hundred, lasts for an hour. In the afternoon I
- drink two glasses at the St. Mart spring, and between them have twenty
- minutes in the <i>piscine</i>, which is my great treat of the day. Going
- punctually at two, when the ladies surrender this swimming-bath to the
- men, I almost always get it to myself, and enjoy it as I used to do years
- ago, when my blood was warm enough, lying about amongst the waves on the
- English coast, and letting them just tumble and toss me about as they
- would. This water comes warm from the Eugénie spring daily, and is so
- buoyant that one can lie perfectly still on the top of it with one’s hands
- behind one’s head; and if there were no roof to the <i>piscine</i>, and
- one could only look straight up all the time into the deep-blue sky, twice
- as high, so it looks, as ours in England, the physical enjoyment would be
- perfect. It is not far from that as it is, and I thoroughly sympathise
- with Browning’s Amphibian:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- From worldly noise and dust,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- In the sphere which overbrims
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With passion and thought—why, just
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Unable to fly, one swims.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0084" id="link2H_4_0084"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Royat les Bains, 30th August 1890.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> suppose there
- never was a garden since Eden (unless, perhaps, in the early days of the
- Jesuit settlements in the Paraguay) in which the devil has not had a tree
- or a corner somewhere; and it would be well for us all if he were no more
- in evidence in other health and holiday resorts than he is here in the <i>parc</i>.
- His booth is at the end of the middle terrace, a small pavilion, well
- shaded by tall acacias, in which in the afternoons you can risk a franc,
- occasionally two, every minute on the <i>course des petits chevaux</i>.
- The <i>course</i> is a round table, with eight or ten concentric grooves,
- in each of which a small horse and jockey runs. Outside this <i>course</i>,
- with room for a page-boy to move round between the two, there is a slight
- railing with a flat top, at which the players sit round and post their
- stakes. These are collected by the page, who lets each player draw a
- number in exchange for the francs. As soon as he has made his circuit, the
- croupier gives a turn to a handle which works the machinery. The first
- turn brings all the horses into line, and the next starts them round the
- course, each in his own groove. After another turn or two, the croupier
- lets go the handle, and the puppets begin to scatter, the winner being the
- one which passes the post last before the machine stops, and they all come
- to a standstill.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the croupier calls out the winning number, and the owner gets all the
- stakes, except one, which goes to the table. Beyond this, the Company has
- no interest whatever, so it is said. Of course one looks with jealousy at
- every such game of chance, and I was inclined to think at first that the
- croupier was in league with two women, one spectacled, who sat steadily at
- one end of the players, playing in partnership, and seeming to win oftener
- than any of the others; but the longer I watched, the weaker grew my
- suspicions. Most of the players, by the way, are women, though there are a
- few men who come and sit for hours, playing and smoking cigarettes.
- Besides the sitters many strollers come up, stake their francs for a
- course or two, and then move on, not unfrequently with a handful of
- silver. On the whole, if play is to be allowed at all, it can scarcely
- take a more harmless form, if only the good-natured French papa could be
- kept from letting his children play for him. He comes up with a child of
- ten or twelve years, lets them sit down, and supplies them from behind
- with the necessary francs, and after a round or two the little faces flush
- and hands shake, especially if they be girls, in a way which is painful to
- see. A child gambling is as sad a sight, for every one but the devil and
- his elect, as this old world can show.
- </p>
- <p>
- Next to the <i>courses des petits chevaux</i>, at some thirty yards’
- distance, comes the large pavilion in which the excellent band sit and
- play for an hour in the forenoon and afternoon, and again at 8 P.M. Round
- the pavilion is a broad space, gravelled and well shaded, and furnished
- with chairs which are occupied all the afternoon by <i>baigneurs</i> and
- visitors, mostly in family groups, the women knitting or sewing, and the
- children playing about in the intervals of the music, and before and after
- the regular concerts. Occasionally they have a <i>bal d’enfants</i> in
- this space, controlled by a master of the ceremonies, a dancing-, master,
- I am told. Under him the children, boys and girls of thirteen or fourteen,
- down to little trots who can scarcely toddle, may enjoy polkas, galops,
- and the <i>taran-tole des postilions</i>, as well as the gravel allows;
- and now and again comes a <i>défilé</i>, in which, in couples carefully
- graduated according to size and age, the children march round the walks,
- and in and out amongst the approving sitters. A very pretty, and to me
- rather a curious sight, as I much doubt if the English boy could be
- induced to perform such a march, even in the hope of small packets of
- bonbons at the end, which are distributed to the best performers.
- </p>
- <p>
- The big orchestral platform in this pavilion is often occupied, when the
- band is not playing, by itinerant performers, who (I suppose) hire it from
- the Company in the hope of getting a few francs out of the sitting and
- circulating crowd. The performances are poor, so far as I have seen,
- though one conjurer certainly played a trick which entirely beat me at the
- time, and for which I am still quite unable to account. He produced what
- he called a <i>garotte</i>, made of two stout planks which shut one upon
- another (like our old stocks), and in which was a central hole for the
- neck, and two smaller ones for the wrists. This garotte he handed round,
- and though I did not get hold of it, I inspected it in the hands of a
- youth who was standing just in front of me, and satisfied myself that the
- planks were solid wood. Then he placed it on a stand, and called up a
- stout damsel in the flesh-coloured tights which seem to be <i>de rigueur</i>
- for all female performers, who knelt down and laid her neck in the big
- hole, and a wrist in each of the smaller ones. The conjurer then let down
- the upper plank upon her, and having borrowed a signet ring from an
- elderly <i>décoré</i> Frenchman who was sitting near the platform,
- proceeded to encircle the two planks with strips of stout paper or tape,
- which he sealed with the ring. Then he held up a screen for the space of
- twenty seconds, and on lowering it the damsel was posturing in her tights,
- while the <i>garotte</i> remained <i>in situ</i>, with the tapes still
- there and the seals unbroken. By what trick she got her head and hands out
- I was utterly unable to guess, and strolled away with the rather provoking
- sense of having been fooled through my eyes. I hope a green parrot who
- flew down and sat on the railing close to the <i>garotte</i>, with his
- head wisely on one side, flew off better satisfied.
- </p>
- <p>
- Below, on the lowest terrace, at the end of the <i>établissement</i>
- buildings, is the <i>salle d’escrime</i>, which is open daily in the
- afternoons, when you may see through the big windows the “Maître
- d’Escrime, Professeur de S.A.R. le Prince des Galles,” sitting ready to
- instruct pupils, or, so it seemed, to try a friendly bout with all comers.
- The former were generally too much of mere beginners to make any show
- worth seeing, but on one day an awkward customer turned up who ran the
- professor, so far as I could judge, very hard. Indeed, I am by no means
- sure that he acknowledged several shrewd hits, but my knowledge of fencing
- is too small to make my judgment worth much. Le boxe is also announced to
- go on here, but I have never seen the gloves put on yet. Indeed, I much
- doubt whether young Frenchmen really like having their heads punched for
- love. It is an eccentricity which does not seem to spread out of the
- British Isles. There was a tempting <i>assaut d’armes</i> last Sunday,
- presided over by General Paquette, at which eleven <i>maîtres d’escrime</i>
- of regiments in this department, and one professor from Paris were to
- fence. I was sorely tempted to go, but as the thermometer stood at 80° in
- the shade, and so reinforced my insular prejudices as to the day,
- abstained.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again, beyond the Casino, on the upper terrace, is a good croquet-ground
- on the broad gravel space at the lower end of the <i>parc</i>. I should
- think it a difficult ground to play on, but as a rule the French boys are
- decidedly good players, and seem to enjoy the game thoroughly, and to get
- round the hoops quicker than any of ours could do on a lawn like a
- billiard-table. The Casino, besides a restaurant and reading-room,
- contains a theatre, at which there are performances five nights in the
- week, and generally a ball on the off-nights. These are often fancy-balls,
- and always, I hear, very lively; but I cannot speak from experience, never
- having as yet descended either to them or to the plays and operettas. When
- one can sit out on a terrace and see the lights coming out in the valley,
- and the Milky Way and all the stars in the heaven shining as they only do
- down South, even the artists of the Théâtre Français, and the other
- theatrical stars who visit the Casino in the season, cannot get me indoors
- o’ nights, even at Casino prices. These are very reasonable, the <i>abonnement</i>
- for a seat being only 1 franc a night, or 2 francs for a <i>fauteuil</i>.
- Your readers may perhaps be able to judge of the kind of entertainment
- given by a specimen. To-night there are two operettas,—<i>Violonnaux</i>,
- music by Offenbach; and <i>Les Charbonneurs</i>, music by G. Coste. I own
- I never heard of either of the pieces.
- </p>
- <p>
- I think, sir, you will allow that there are attractions enough of all
- kinds provided by the Compagnie Anonyme des Eaux Minérales de Royat, who
- own the <i>parc</i> and run the business. They can well afford it, as
- every visitor pays 10 francs as an <i>abonnement</i> for drinking the
- waters, and the charges for baths are high, e.g. 2.50 francs for a
- separate bath, and 2 francs for the swimming-bath, decidedly more than any
- of our English watering-places, not excepting Bath; but one has so much
- more fun, if one wants it, for the money. And then there is this immense
- thing to be said for this Royat Company,—their park is entirely free
- and open to any one who cares to walk through it. I have seen scores of
- peasants in blouses, and their wives, sitting about during the concerts,
- not on the same terrace with the band, where a sou is charged for chairs,
- but near enough to hear the music perfectly; and one meets them all about
- the garden, walking and chatting amongst the—I was going to write
- “well dressed,” but that they are not, but eminently respectable, if
- rather dowdy—crowds of bathers and visitors. I do not, of course,
- mean that there are no exceptions, either in the case of dowdiness or
- respectability, but they are rare enough to prove the rule. On the other
- hand, the number of religious of both sexes is remarkable who come to use
- the waters, principally for throat ailments. Sisters of several kinds,
- some wearing black hoods with white breastplates, others in large white
- head-dresses, with long flaps, like a bird’s wings, which flap as they
- walk, are frequent in the early mornings and other quiet times; and
- besides the regular clergy, there are three monkish orders represented. Of
- these the most striking are two Franciscans, I believe, clad in rough,
- ruddy-brown flannel gowns, reaching to the ground, with large rosaries
- hanging before and cowls behind, and girt with knotted ropes. Peter the
- Hermit preached the First Crusade in the neighbouring Church of St. Mary
- of the port at Clermont, assisted doubtless by many a friar clad precisely
- as these are, except that the modern monk or friar (as I was disappointed
- to note, at any rate in one case) does not go bare-footed, or even in
- sandals, but in substantial shoes and trousers! I was much struck by the
- quiet, patient, and reverent expression on all the faces, very different
- from what I remember in past years. Persecution may very well account,
- however, for this. There is no branch, I take it, of the Church Universal
- which does not thrive under it, in the best sense.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0085" id="link2H_4_0085"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Auvergne en Fête, 6th September 1890.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hese good folk of
- Auvergne seem to get much more fun, or at least much more play, out of
- life than we do; at any rate, they have been twice <i>en fête</i> in the
- three weeks we have been here. I suppose it is because we have in this
- business cut down our saints till we have only St. Lubbock left, with his
- quarterly holiday, while they, more wisely, have stuck to the old
- calendar. But it seems all wrong that they, who get five times as much sun
- as we, should also get three or four times as many holidays; for sunshine
- is surely of itself a sort of equivalent for a holiday. Perhaps, however,
- if we had lots of it, the national “doggedness as does it” might wear out.
- That valuable, but unpleasant characteristic could scarcely have leavened
- a nation living in a genial climate; but, with about half Africa on our
- hands, in addition to Ireland and other trifles all round the world, the
- coming generation will need the “dogged as does it” even more than their
- fathers. So let us sing with Charles Kingsley, “Hail to thee,
- North-Easter,” or with the old Wiltshire shepherd, claim that the weather
- in England must be, anyhow, “sech as plaazes God A’mighty, and wut plaazes
- He plaazes I.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Determined to see all the fun of the fair, a friend and I started for
- Clermont from Royat by the electric tramway, and reached the Place de
- Jaude in a few minutes—the “Forum Clermontois,” as it is called in
- the local guidebooks—the largest open space in the ancient capital
- of Auvergne. It is a famous place for a fair, being nearly the size and
- shape of Eaton Square, with two rows of plane-trees running round it, but
- otherwise unenclosed. As we alighted from the tram-car, we could see a
- long line of booths, with prodigious pictures in front of them, and
- platforms on which bands were playing and actors gesticulating; but before
- starting on our tour, we were attracted by a crowd close to the
- stopping-place of the cars. It proved to be a ring, four or five deep,
- round the carpet of athletes. They were two, a man and a woman, both in
- the usual flesh-coloured tights, the latter without any pretence of a
- skirt. The man was walking round, changing the places of the weights and
- clubs, until sufficient sous had been thrown on to the carpet, the woman
- screening her face from the sun with a big fan, and talking with her
- nearest neighbours in the ring. She was a remarkably fine young woman,
- with well-cut features, and a snake-head on a neck like a column; and,
- strange to say, her expression was as modest and quiet as though pink
- tights were the ordinary walking-dress on the Place de Jaude. The
- necessary sous were soon carpeted, and the performance began. It was just
- the usual thing, lifting and catching heavy weights, wielding clubs, etc.,
- the only novelty being that a woman should be one of the performers. She
- followed the man, doing several feats with heavy weights which were
- painful to witness, and we passed on to the row of booths. The average
- price for entrance was 2 1/2 sous, but after experimenting on the two
- first, we agreed that in such a temperature the outside was decidedly the
- best part of the show. These two were some Indian dancers, male and
- female, who stood up one after another and postured from the hips, and
- waved scarfs, the rest beating time on banjos; and a “<i>Miss</i> Flora,
- <i>dompteuse</i>,” a snake-tamer. From this announcement over the booth
- entrance we rather expected to find a countrywoman, but the performer was
- a squat little Frenchwoman, in the same skirtless tights, who took some
- sleepy snakes out of a box, put them round her neck, and then wanted to
- make us pay a second time, which we declined to do. The next booth ought
- to have been amusing, but no boys came to play while we stopped. It was
- announced as “Le Massacre d’Innocents.” A number of these “Innocent”
- puppets looked out of a row of holes in a large wooden frame, not more
- than eight feet from the rail in front of it. Standing behind this rail
- the player, on paying 5 centimes, is handed a soft ball, which he can
- discharge at any one of the Innocents he may select, and “chaque bonhomme
- renversé gagne une demi-douzaine de biscuits.” I suppose the biscuits were
- bad, as otherwise the absence of boys seemed incredible. Any English
- lower-school boy would have brought down a <i>bonhomme</i> at that
- distance with every ball, unless the balls were somehow doctored. But no
- boy turned up; so we passed on to the biggest booth in the fair, with
- pictures of wondrous beasts and heroic men and women over the platform, on
- which a big drum and clarionet invited entrance, in strains which drowned
- those of all the neighbouring booths. We read that inside a “Musée
- historique, destructive, et amusant” was on show, but contented ourselves
- with the pictures outside.
- </p>
- <p>
- Facing the other side of the place, with their backs to the larger booths
- along which we had come, were a row of humbler stalls and booths, most of
- the latter being devoted to some kind of gambling. There were three or
- four <i>courses des petits chevaux</i>, not so well appointed as the
- permanent one in the Royat Park, but on the same lines, and a number of
- hazard-boards-and other tables, about the size of those which the
- thimble-riggers used to carry about at English fairs. These last were new
- to me. They have a hollow rim round them, into which the player puts a
- large marble, which runs out on to the face of the table, which is marked
- all over with numbers, six or eight towards the centre being red, and the
- rest black. If the marble stops on one of these red numbers, the player
- wins; if on a black one, the table wins. The odds seemed to be more than
- twenty to one against the player; but if so, the tables would surely be
- less crowded. As it was, they did a merry trade, never for a moment
- wanting a player while we looked on. Most of these were soldiers of the
- garrison, interspersed with peasants in blouses, who dragged out their
- sous with every token of disgust and resentment, but seemed quite unable
- to get away from the tables. On the whole, after watching for some time, I
- was confirmed in the belief that we are right in putting down gambling in
- all public places. Nothing, I suppose, can stop it; but there is no good
- in thrusting the temptation under the noses of boys and fools.
- </p>
- <p>
- After making the round of the fair, we strolled up the hill to the
- Cathedral, which dominates the city, and looks out over as fair and rich a
- prospect as the world has to show. Brassey, when he was building one of
- the railways across La Limagne, the plain which stretches away east of
- Clermont, is reported to have said that if France were utterly bankrupt,
- the surface value of her soil would set her on her legs again in two
- years; and one can quite believe him. The streets of the old town, which
- surrounds the Cathedral, are narrow and steep, but full of old houses of
- rare architectural interest. Many of them must have belonged to great
- folk, whose arms are still to be seen over the doors, inside the quiet
- courts through which you enter from the streets. In these one could see,
- as we passed, little groups of gossips, knitting, smoking, “<i>causer</i>-ing.”
- The <i>petit bourgeois</i> has succeeded to the noble, and now enjoys
- those grand, broad staircases and stone balconies. They form an excellent
- setting to the Cathedral, itself a grand specimen of Norman Gothic, begun
- by Hugues de la Tour, the sixty-sixth bishop, before his departure for the
- Crusades, and finished by Viollet-le-Duc, who only completed the twin
- spires in 1877. But interesting as the Cathedral is, it is eclipsed by the
- Church of Notre Dame du Port, the oldest building in Clermont. It dates
- from the sixth century, when the first church was built on the site by St.
- Avitus, eighteenth bishop. This was burnt 853 A.D., and rebuilt by St.
- Sigon, forty-third bishop, in 870. Burnt again, it was again rebuilt as it
- stands to-day, in the eleventh century. In it Peter the Hermit is said to
- have preached the First Crusade, when the Council called by Pope Urban II.
- was sitting at Clermont. Whether this be so or not, it is by far the most
- perfect and interesting specimen of the earliest Gothic known to me; and
- the crypt underneath the chancel is unique. It is specially dedicated to
- St. Mary du Port, and over the altar is the small statue of the Virgin and
- Child, around and before which votive offerings of all kinds—crosses
- and military decorations, bracelets, jewels, trinkets, many of them, I
- should think, of large value—hang and lie. The small image has no
- beauty whatever—in fact, is just a plain black doll—but of
- untold value to many generations of Auvernois, who regard it as a talisman
- which has, again and again, preserved their city from sword and
- pestilence. I am not sure whether, amongst the small marble tablets which
- literally cover the walls, one may not be found in memory of the great
- fight of Gergovia, in which Vercingétorix, if he did not actually defeat
- Cæsar, turned the great captain and his Roman legions away from this part
- of Gaul. At any rate, amongst the most prominent, is one inscribed with
- the names “Coulmiers,” “Patay,” “Le Mans,” the battles which in 1870-71
- stayed the German advance on Clermont, and saved the capital of Auvergne.
- The rest are, for the most part, private tablets, thanksgivings for the
- cure of all manner of sickness and disease to which flesh is heir. To this
- shrine all sufferers have come in the faith which finds a voice all round
- these old walls,—“Qu’on est heureux d’avoir Marie pour mère”! That
- human instinct which longs for a female protectrix and mediator “behind
- the veil,” speaks here, too, as it did 2000 years ago, when the [Greek
- phrase] guarded the shrines of Athens and her colonies.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0086" id="link2H_4_0086"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Scoppio Del Carro, Florence, Easter Eve, 1891.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have just come
- back from witnessing an extraordinary, and, I should think, a unique
- ceremony, which is enacted here on Easter Eve; and, on sitting down
- quietly to think it over, can scarcely say whether I am most inclined to
- laugh, or to cry, or to swear. In truth, the “Scoppio del Carro”—or
- “explosion of the fireworks”—as it is called, is a curious comment
- on, or illustration of, your last week’s remarks on Superstitions. “The
- carefully preserved dry husk of outward observance” in this case
- undoubtedly speaks, to those who have ears to hear, of a heroic time, and
- the spectator rubs his eyes, and feels somehow—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- As though he looked upon the sheath
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Which once had clasped Excalibur.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- At any rate, that is rather how I felt, as, standing at noon in the dense
- crowd in the nave of the Duomo, I saw the procession pass within a few
- feet of me, on their way from the great entrance up to the high altar,
- which was ablaze already with many tall candles. Although within a few
- feet, the intervening crowd was so thick that I could only see the heads
- and shoulders of the taller choristers and priests as they passed; but I
- saw plainly enough, though the wearer was low of stature, the tall mitre—it
- looked like gold—which the Archbishop wore as he walked in the
- procession. Our bishops, I am told, are wearing or going to wear them
- (Heaven save the mark!), which made me curious. They threaded their way
- slowly up to the high altar; and presently we heard in the distance
- intoning and chants; and then, after brief pause, the dove (so called)
- started from the crucifix, I think, at any rate from a high point on the
- altar, for the open door. But in order to be clear as to what the dove
- carries and is supposed to do, we must go back to the Second Crusade.
- </p>
- <p>
- I give the story as I make it out by comparing the accounts in various
- guide-books with those of residents interested in such matters. These
- differ much in detail, but not as to the main facts. These are, that in
- 1147 A.D. a Florentine noble of the Pazzi family, Raniero by name, joined,
- some say led, the 2500 Tuscans who went on the Crusade. In any case, he
- greatly distinguished himself by his courage, and is said to have planted
- the first standard of the Cross on the walls of Jerusalem. For this he was
- allowed to take a light from the sacred fire on the Holy Sepulchre, which
- he desired to carry back to his much-loved F’orence. An absurd part of the
- legend now comes in. Finding the wind troublesome as he rode with the
- light, he turned round, with his face to his horse’s tail (as if the wind
- always blew in Crusaders’ faces), and so at last brought it safely home,
- where his ungrateful fellow-citizens, when they saw him come riding in
- this fashion, called out, “Pazzo!” “Pazzo!” or “Mad!” which his family
- forthwith wisely adopted as their patronymic.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sacred fire was housed in a shrine in St. Biagio, built by Raniero,
- and has never been allowed to go out since that day—so it is said—and
- from it yearly are relighted all the candles used in Florentine churches
- at the Easter festival. It is a striking custom. Gradually, during the
- Good Friday services, the lights are extinguished in the Duomo, and all
- the churches, till at midnight they are in darkness, and are only relit
- next day by fire brought even yet by a Pazzi, a descendant of Raniero,
- from St. Biagio. This is, however, doubtful, some authorities asserting
- that the family is extinct, others that it not only exists, but still
- spends 2000 lire a year in preserving the sacred fire. A stranger has no
- means that I know of, of sifting out the fact. Anyhow, I can testify that
- somehow the fire is in the Duomo before noon, as any number of candles
- were alight on the high altar when I got there at 11.30, half an hour
- before the procession. Anything more orderly than the great crowd I have
- never seen. It was of all nations, languages, and ranks, though the great
- majority were Tuscan peasants with their families from all the surrounding
- country, waiting in eager expectation for the flight of the dove from the
- high altar, through the doors to the great car which stands waiting
- outside at the bottom of the broad steps in front of the Duomo. If the
- dove makes a successful flight, and lights the fireworks which are hung
- round the car, there will be a good harvest and abundance of wine and oil,
- and of oranges and lemons. This year the faces of the peasants and their
- wives and children—and most attractive brown faces they were—were
- anxious, for it had been raining hard in the morning, and still drops were
- falling. However, all went well. At about 12.10 the chanting ceased, and
- the dove—a small firework of the rocket genus—rushed down the
- nave, some ten feet over our heads, along a thin wire which I had not
- noticed before, and set light promptly to the fireworks on the car, which
- began to turn and explode, not without considerable fizzing and
- spluttering, but on the whole successfully. Then the dove turned and came
- back, still alight, and leaving a trail of sparks as it sped along, to the
- high altar. How it was received there, and what became of it, I cannot
- say, as I was swept along in the rush to the doors which immediately
- followed, and had enough to do to pilot my companion, a lady, to the new
- centre of interest. This was the car to which the sacred fire had now been
- transferred, and which was about to start on its round to the other
- churches. It is chocolate-coloured, and spangled with stars, some twenty
- feet high, surmounted by a large crown and Catherine-wheel. As our crowd
- swept out of the Duomo and down the steps, to mingle with the still larger
- crowd outside, men were rehanging the car with fresh fireworks, and
- putting-to four mighty white oxen, gaily garlanded. I remarked that the
- conductor, a tall, six-foot man, could not look over the shoulder of one
- of these shaft-oxen as he was harnessing him in the shafts!
- </p>
- <p>
- There could be no question as to the very best place for spectators. It
- was the centre of the top step leading up to the Duomo façade; and,
- finding ourselves there, we stopped and let the crowd surge past us.
- Almost at once I became aware that this favoured spot was occupied by the
- English-speaking race almost exclusively, the accent of cousin Jonathan, I
- think, on the whole predominating. Two Italian boys looked up at us with
- large, lustrous brown eyes; otherwise the natives were absent. It seems
- like a sort of law of social gravitation, that in these latter days the
- speakers of our language should get into all the world’s best places, and
- having got there should stop. One cannot much wonder that the speakers in
- other tongues should feel now and then as if they were being rather
- crowded out. We did not pursue the car as it lumbered away under the
- glorious campanile, surrounded by the rejoicing multitude, for the sun had
- now got the upper hand, and the whole city and plain right away to the
- lower hills, and the snow-capped Apennines in the background, were aglow
- with the sort of subdued purple or amethyst light which seems to me to
- differentiate Tuscany from all other countries known to me. Now, gradually
- to put out all the lights in the churches on Good Friday, and to relight
- them from fire from the Holy Sepulchre next day, seems to me a worthy and
- pathetic custom; but this mixing it up with the firework business, and
- having the Bishop and all the strength of the Cathedral out to help in
- this dove trick, spoils the whole thing, and makes one wish one had not
- gone to see it, recalling too forcibly, as it does to an Englishman, the
- Crystal Palace on a fireworks’ night, and the similar “dove” which travels
- from the Royal Gallery, where too-well-fed citizens and others sit
- smoking, to light the great “concerted piece” in the grounds below. It was
- like inserting “Abracadabra!” in the middle of the “Miserere.” P.S.—Since
- writing the ‘above, we have had an arrival in Florence which will interest
- your readers,—to wit, fifty young persons of both sexes from Toynbee
- Hall, with Mr. Bolton King as conductor; and the English community are
- doing all they can to make their stay pleasant. On the morrow of their
- arrival Lady Hobart entertained them at her villa of Montauto, the one in
- which Hawthorne wrote <i>Transformation</i>. It is a thirteenth-century
- house, or, I should rather say, that the villa, with its large, airy suite
- of rooms, with vaulted ceilings, has grown round a machicolated tower* of
- that date, the highest building on the Bellosquardo Hill, to the
- south-west of the city. From the top of it, reached by rather rickety and
- casual old stairs, there is, I should think, as glorious a view as the
- world can show,—a perfect panorama, with Florence lying right below,
- and beyond, Fiesole and Vallombrosa, and the village of stone-cutters on
- the slope of the Apennines, which reared the greatest of stonecutters,
- Michael Angelo, and beyond, the highest Apennines, still snow-covered; and
- to the north, the rich plain of vineyards, and olive-groves, and orange
- and lemon gardens, thickly sprinkled with the bright white houses of the
- peasant cultivators and the graceful campaniles of village churches,
- beyond which one could see clearly on this “white-stone” day the snow-clad
- peaks of the Carrara Mountains in the far north. I can hardly say whether
- the Toynbee visitors, or those who were gathered to welcome them by the
- hospitable hostess, enjoyed the unrivalled view most; but this we soon
- discovered, that the visitors were about as well acquainted with the story
- of each point of interest, as it was pointed out to them, as the oldest
- resident. Surely the schoolmaster is at last abroad with us in England in
- many ways of which we have good right to feel proud, and for which we may
- well be thankful.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0087" id="link2H_4_0087"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- A Scamper at Easter, 8th April 1893.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>o one can dislike
- more than I the habit which has become so common of late years amongst us—thanks,
- or rather no thanks, to Mr. Gladstone—of running down our own
- English ways of dealing with all creation, from Irishmen to black-beetles.
- I believe, on the contrary, that on the whole there is not, nor ever was,
- a nation that kept a more active conscience, or tried more honestly to do
- the right thing all round according to its lights. Nevertheless, I am
- bound to admit that our methods don’t always succeed, as, for instance,
- with our treatment of our “submerged tenth,” if that is the accepted name
- for the section of our people which Mr. G. Booth, in his excellent <i>Life
- and Labour in London</i>, places in his A and B classes (and which, by the
- way, are only 8.2, and not 10 per cent), or with our seagulls. Some years
- ago I called your readers’ attention to the rapid demoralisation of these
- beautiful birds at one of our northern watering-places; how they just
- floated past the pier-heads hour after hour, waiting for the doles which
- the holiday folk and their children brought down for them in paper-bags.
- Our sea-going gulls, I regret to note, are now similarly affected. At any
- rate, some forty of them diligently followed the steamer in which I sailed
- for my Easter holiday, from the Liverpool docks till we dropped our pilot
- and, turned due south off Holyhead. By that time our last meal had been
- eaten and the remains cast into the sea. The gulls seemed to be quite
- aware of this; and we left them squabbling over the last scraps of fish
- and potatoes, or loafing slowly back to Liverpool. Thirty-six hours later
- we entered the Garonne, and steamed sixty miles up it to Bordeaux. For all
- that distance there were plenty of French gulls on the water or in the
- air, but, so far from following us, not one of them seemed to take the
- least notice of us, but all went on quietly with their fishing or
- courting; and yet our cook’s mate must have thrown out as much broken
- victuals after breakfast in the Garonne as he did after luncheon or dinner
- on the Welsh coast. It cannot be because the French gulls are Republicans,
- for the Republic has, if anything, increased the national appetite for
- unearned loaves and fishes. It is certainly very odd; but, anyhow, I hope
- our gulls will not take to more self-respecting ways of life, for it is a
- real treat to watch them in the ship’s wake, without effort, often without
- perceptible motion of the wings, keeping up the fourteen knots an hour.
- The Captain and I fraternised over the gulls, whom he loves, and will not
- allow to be shot at from his ship. “I’ll shoot whether you like it or
- not,” insisted a sporting gent on a recent voyage. “If you do, I’ll put
- you in irons,” retorted the Captain; whereupon the sporting gent collapsed—a
- pity, I think, for an action for false imprisonment would have been
- interesting under the circumstances. I fancy the Captain is right, but
- must look up the law after Easter.
- </p>
- <p>
- I am surprised that this route is not more popular with the increasing
- numbers of our people who like a short run to the south of France in our
- hard spring weather. You can get by this way to Bordeaux quicker than you
- can by Dover or Folkestone from any place north of Trent, unless you
- travel day and night, and sleep on the trains, and for about half the
- money. The packets are cargo-boats, but with excellent cabins and sleeping
- accommodation for twelve or fourteen passengers, including as good a bath
- as on a Cunard or White Star liner. And yet I was the only passenger last
- week. There can scarcely be a more interesting short voyage for any one
- who is a decent sailor; but I suppose the fourteen or sixteen hours “in
- the Bay of Biscay, oh!” scares people. As far as my experience goes, the
- Atlantic roars like a sucking-dove in the Channel and the Bay at
- Easter-time. There was not wind enough to dimple the ocean surface, and
- until we passed Milford Haven, no perceptible motion on the ship. Then, as
- we crossed the opening of the Bristol Channel, she began to roll—quite
- unaccountably, as it seemed at first; but on watching carefully, one
- became aware that, though the surface was motionless, the great deep
- beneath was heaving with long pulsations from the west, which lifted us in
- regular cadence every thirty or forty seconds. I have often crossed the
- Atlantic, but never seen the like, as always before there has been a
- ripple on the calmest day, which gave the effect, at any rate, of surface
- motion. The best idea I can give of it is, if on a long stretch of our
- South Downs the successive turf slopes took to rising and falling
- perpendicularly every minute. The Captain said there must have been wild
- weather out west, and these were the rollers. It was a grand sight to
- watch the great heave pass on till it reached the Land’s End, and ran up
- the cliffs there. We passed near enough to see the mining works, close to
- the level of high-tide, and the villages on the cliff-tops above, or
- clinging on to the slopes wherever these were not too precipitous. One can
- realise what manner of men and sailors this Ear West has bred of old, and,
- I hope, still breeds. I pity the Englishman whose pulse does not quicken
- as he sails by the Land’s End, and can see with a glass some of the small
- harbours out of which Drake and Frobisher and Hawkins sailed, and drew the
- crews that followed and fought the Armada right away to the Straits of
- Dover.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the Land’s End light receded, we became aware of another light away
- some twenty miles to the south-west. It is on a rock not fifty yards
- across, the Captain says, at high tide, and often unapproachable for weeks
- together—“The Hawk,” by name, on which are kept four lighthouse-men,
- who spend there alternate months, weather permitting. I was glad to hear
- that there are four at a time, as the sight of “The Hawk” brought vividly
- to my mind the gruesome story of fifty years back, when there were only
- two men, who were known not to be good friends. One died, and his
- companion had to wait with the dead body for weeks before his relief came.
- </p>
- <p>
- I noticed, before we were two hours out, that there was something
- unusually smart about the crew, quite what one would look for on the <i>Umbria</i>
- or <i>Germanic</i>, but scarcely on a 700-tons cargo-boat plying to
- Bordeaux. Several of the young hands were fine British tars, with the
- splendid throats and great muscular hands and wrists which stand out so
- well from the blue woollen jerseys; but the one who struck me most was the
- ship’s carpenter, a gray, weather-beaten old salt, who was going round
- quietly, but all the time with his broad-headed hammer, setting little
- things straight, helping to straighten the tarpaulins over the hatches and
- deck-cargo, and sounding the well. I caught him now and then for a few
- words, as he passed my deck-chair, and got the clue. Most of the crew were
- Naval Reserve men, and followed the Captain, a lieutenant in the R.N.R.,
- who could fly the blue ensign in foreign ports, which they liked. Besides,
- he was a skipper who cared for his men, looked after their mess and
- berths, and never wanted to make anything out of them; charged them only a
- shilling a pound for their baccy, the price at which he could get it out
- of bond, while most skippers charged 2s. 6d., the shop price. He had come
- to this boat while his big ship was laid up in dock, to oblige the owners,
- so they had followed him. Besides, he never put them to any work he
- wouldn’t bear a hand in; had stood for hours up to his waist last year in
- the hold when they were bringing five hundred cattle and seven hundred
- hogs from Canada, running before a heavy gale. The water they shipped was
- putting out the engine fires, and the pumps wouldn’t work till they had
- bailed for ten hours. However, they got in all right, and never lost a
- beast. Of course I was keen to hear the Captain on this subject, and so
- broached it at his table. Yes, it was quite true; they had run before a
- heavy gale from off Newfoundland, and the pumps gave out off the Irish
- coast. They got the sludge bailed out enough for all the fires to get to
- work just about in time, or would have drifted on the rocks and gone all
- to pieces in a few minutes. Yes, it was about the nastiest piece of work
- he had ever had to do; the sludge, for it was only half water, was above
- his waist, and had quite spoiled his uniform. The deck engineer—a
- light-haired man, all big bones and muscle, whom he pointed out to me—was
- in the deepest part of the hold up to his arm-pits, and had worked there
- for ten hours without coming up! He was a R.N.R. man, like the old
- carpenter and most of the rest. The old fellow was one of the staunchest
- and best followers, probably because he was tired of going aground. He had
- been aground seventeen times! for the Captain in his last ship had a way
- of charging shoals, merely saying, “Oh, she’ll jump it!” which she
- generally declined to do. The Captain is a strong Churchman, but shares
- the prejudice against carrying ministers. “The devil always has a show”
- when you’re carrying a minister. The first time he tried it, he was taking
- out his own brother, and they were twenty-two days late at Montreal. It
- was an awful crossing, a gale in their teeth all the way; most of the
- ships that started with them had to put back. I suggested that if he
- hadn’t had his brother on board, he mightn’t have got over at all; but he
- wouldn’t see it. Next time, a man fell from the mast-head and was killed;
- and the next, a man jumped overboard. He would never carry a minister
- again if he could help it.
- </p>
- <p>
- One pilot took us out to Holyhead, but it took three French ones to take
- us up to Bordeaux. The Garonne banks are only picturesque here and there;
- but the flat banks have their own interest, for do we not see the choicest
- vineyards of the claret country as we run up? There was the Chateau
- Lafitte and the Chateau Margaux. I suppose one ought within one’s heart,
- or rather, within one’s palate perhaps, “to have felt a stir”—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As though one looked upon the sheath
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Which once had clasped Excalibur.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But I could not tell the difference between Margaux and any decent claret
- with my eyes shut, so I did not feel any stir—unless, perhaps, as a
- patriot, when we passed much the most imposing establishment, and the
- Captain said, “That is Chateau Gilbey”! I looked with silent wonder, for
- did I not remember years ago, when the Gladstone Grocers’ Licences Bill
- was young, and the Christie Minstrels sung scoffingly—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Ten little niggers going out to dine,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- One drank Gilbey, and then there were nine?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- And here was Gilbey with the finest “caves” and the choicest vineyard in
- the Bordelaise! Who can measure the competitive energy of the British
- business-man?
- </p>
- <p>
- I must end as I set out, with the birds. As we neared the mouth of the
- Garonne, sixteen miles from land, the Captain said, two little
- water-wagtails flitted into the rigging. There they rested a few minutes,
- and then, to my grief, started off out to sea, but again and again came
- hack to the ship. At last a sailor caught one, and the Captain secured it
- and took it to his cabin, but thought it would be sure to die. It was the
- hen-bird. She did not die, but flitted away cheerfully when he brought her
- out and let her fly on the quay of Bordeaux. But I fear she will never
- find her mate.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0088" id="link2H_4_0088"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Lourdes, 15th April 1893.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he farthest point
- south in our Easter scamper was Lourdes, to which I found that my
- companions were more bent on going than to any other possible place within
- our range. The attractions even of the Pass of Ronces-valles, of St.
- Sebastian, and the Pyrenean battle-fields of 1814, faded with them before
- those of the nineteenth-century Port Royal. At first I said I would not
- go. The fact is, I am one of the old-fashioned folk who hold that some day
- the kingdoms of this world are to become the kingdoms of Christ, and that
- all peoples are to be gathered “in one fold under one Shepherd.” It has
- always seemed to me that one of the surest ways of postponing that good
- time is to be suspicious of other faiths than our own; to accuse them of
- blind superstition and deliberate imposture; even to walk round their
- churches as if they were museums or picture-galleries, while people are
- kneeling in prayer. So I said “No”; I would stop on the terrace at Pau,
- with one of the most glorious views in the world to look at, and carefully
- examine Henry IV.‘s château, or go and get a round of golf with my
- hibernating fellow-countrymen. I thought that the probable result of
- visiting Lourdes might be to make me more inclined to think a large
- section of my fellow-mortals dupes, and their priests humbugs—conclusions
- I was anxious to avoid. However, I changed my mind at the last moment, and
- am heartily glad I did. It is an easy twenty miles (about) from Pau, from
- which you run straight to the Pyrenees, and pull up in a green nook of the
- outlying lower mountains, where two valleys meet, which run back towards
- the higher snow-capped range. They looked so tempting to explore, as did
- also the grim old keep on the high rock which divides them and completely
- dominates the little town, that twenty years ago I couldn’t have resisted,
- and should have gone for an afternoon’s climb. But I am grown less lissom,
- if not wiser, and so took my place meekly in the fly which my companions
- had chartered for the grotto. We were through the little town in a few
- minutes, the only noteworthy thing being the number of women who offered
- us candles of all sizes to burn before the Madonna’s statue in the grotto,
- and the number of relic-shops. Emerging from the street, we found
- ourselves in front of a green lawn, at the other end of which was a fine
- white marble church, almost square, with a dome—more like a mosque,
- I thought, than a Western church; and up above this another tall Gothic
- church, with a fine spire, to which the pilgrims ascend by two splendid
- semi-circular flights of easy, broad steps, one on each side of the lower
- church, and holding it, as it were, in their arms. We, however, drove up
- the steep ascent outside the left or southern staircase, and got down at
- the door of the higher church, which is built on the rock at the bottom of
- which is the famous spring and grotto. We entered by a spacious porch,
- where my attention was at once arrested by the mural tablets of white
- marble, each of which commemorated the cure of some sufferer:
- “Reconnaissance pour la guérison de mon fils,” “de ma fille,” etc., being
- at least as frequent as those for the cure of the person who put up the
- tablet. I thought at first I would count them, but soon gave it up, as not
- only this big vestibule, but the walls of all the chapels, and of the big
- church below (built, I was told, and hope, by the Duke of Norfolk at his
- own cost), are just covered with them. This upper church was a perfect
- blaze of light and colour, much too gorgeous for my taste; but what the
- decorations were which gave this effect I cannot say, as I was entirely
- absorbed in noting the votive offerings of all kinds which were hung round
- each of the shrines, both here and in the lower church. The most
- noteworthy of these, to my mind, are the number of swords, epaulettes, and
- military decorations, which their owners have hung up as thank offerings.
- I do not suppose that French officers and privates differ much from ours,
- and I am bold to assert that Tommy Atkins would not part with his cross or
- medal, or his captain, for that matter, with his epaulettes or sword, if
- they had gone away from Lourdes no better in body than when they went
- there hobbling from wounds, or tottering from fever or ague.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we had seen the upper church we went down a long flight of circular
- stairs, and came out in the lower (Duke of Norfolk’s) church,—much
- more interesting, I think, architecturally, and decorated in better,
- because quieter, taste than the upper one. From this we went round to the
- grotto in the rock, on which the upper church stands, and in which the
- famous spring rises, and over it a not unpleasant (I cannot say more)
- statue of the Madonna; and all round candles alight of all sizes, from
- farthing-dips to colossal moulds, many of which had been burning, they
- said, for a week. A single, quiet old priest sat near the entrance reading
- his Missal, but only speaking when spoken to. In front were ranged long
- rows of chairs, on which sat or knelt some dozen pilgrims with wistful
- faces, waiting, perhaps for the troubling of the waters. These are carried
- from the grotto to a series of basins along the rock outside, at one of
- which two poor old crones with sore eyes were bathing them, and talking
- Basque (I believe)—at any rate some unknown tongue to me. I should
- have liked to hear their experiences, but they couldn’t understand a word
- of my Anglican French. Here, again, the most striking object is the mass
- of crutches of all shapes and sizes, and fearsome-looking bandages, which
- literally cover the rock on each side of the entrance to the grotto, for
- the space (I should guess) of fourteen or fifteen feet on one side, and
- ten or twelve on the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- And so we finished our inspection, and went back to our fly, which we had
- ordered to meet us at the end of the lawn above mentioned, which lies
- between the churches and the town; and so to the railway station, and back
- to Biarritz by Pau. I daresay that people who go there at the times when
- the great bodies of pilgrims come, may carry away a very different
- impression from mine. All I can say is, that I never was in a place where
- there was less concealment of any kind; and there was no attempt whatever
- to influence you in any way by priest or attendant. There were all the
- buildings and the grotto open, and you could examine them and their
- contents undisturbed for any time you chose to give to them, and draw from
- your examination whatever conclusions you pleased. So I, for one, can only
- repeat that I am heartily glad that I went; and shall think better of my
- Roman Catholic brethren as the result of my visit for the rest of my life.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, the main interest of Lourdes lies in the world-old controversy
- between the men of science and the men of faith, as to the reality of the
- alleged facts—miracles, as many folk call them—of the healing
- properties which the waters of this famous spring, or the air of Lourdes,
- or the Madonna, or some other unknown influence, are alleged to possess,
- and to be freely available for invalid pilgrims who care to make trial of
- them. Every one in those parts that I met, at Lourdes itself, at Pau,
- Biarritz, Bayonne, is interested in the question and ready to discuss it.
- Perhaps I can best indicate the points of the debate by formulating the
- arguments on each side which I heard, putting them into the mouths of
- representative men—a doctor and a priest. I was lucky enough to fall
- in with an excellent representative of the scientific side, an able and
- open-minded M.D. on his travels. I had no opportunity of speaking to one
- of the priests; but their side of the argument is stoutly upheld by at
- least half of the people one meets.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dr.</i>—They are nothing but what are called faith-cures, akin to
- those which the Yankee Sequah effects when he goes round our northern
- towns in his huge car, with his brass band and attendant Indian Sachems in
- the costume of the prairie. Of course, here the surroundings are far more
- impressive and serious; but the cures are the same for all that—some
- action of the nerves which makes patients believe they are cured, when
- they are not really. Probably nine-tenths are just as bad again in a few
- months.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Priest</i>.—Well, don’t we say they are faith-cures? We don’t
- pretend that we can do them, as this Sequah you talk about does. You allow
- that great numbers <i>think</i> they are cured, and walk about without
- crutches or bandages, or pains in their bodies, and enjoy life again for a
- time at any rate; which is more than you can do for them, or they wouldn’t
- come here to be healed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dr</i>.—How long do they walk about without crutches or pains in
- their limbs? Why don’t you take us behind the scenes, and let us test and
- follow up some of these cures?
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Priest</i>.—We can’t take you behind the scenes, for there are no
- scenes to go behind. We tell you <i>we</i> don’t do the cures, or know
- precisely how they are done. We can’t hinder your inquiries, and don’t
- want to hinder them if we could. There are the tablets of
- “reconnaissance,” with names and addresses; you can go to these, if you
- like, or talk to the patients whom you see at the spring or in the
- chapels.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dr</i>.—Come, now! You don’t really mean to say you believe that
- our Lord’s Mother appeared to this girl on 23rd March 1858, and told her
- that this Lourdes was a specially favourite place with her; and that she
- has since that time given these special healing qualities to the water or
- air of Lourdes, or whatever it is that causes these effects at this place?
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Priest</i>.—We mean to say that the girl thoroughly believed it,
- and we hold that her impression—her certainty—didn’t come from
- the devil, as it must if it was a lie; that it wasn’t the mere dream of a
- hysterical girl, and was not given her for nothing. Else, how can one
- account for these buildings, costing, perhaps, as much as one of your
- finest cathedrals, all put up in thirty-five years?
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dr</i>.—Yes; but that doesn’t answer my question. Did the Mother
- of our Lord appear to this girl, and is it she who works the cures.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Priest</i>.—If you mean by “appear,” “come visibly,” we don’t
- know. But you should remember always that the French have a very different
- feeling about the Madonna from you English. Perhaps you can’t help
- connecting her with another French girl, Joan of Arc, who believed the
- Madonna had appeared to her and told her she should turn you English out
- of France, which she did—a more difficult and costly job even than
- building these churches.
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>Dr</i>.—Well, we won’t argue about the Madonna, and I am quite
- ready to admit that the evidence you have here, in the tablets and votive
- offerings, the crutches and bandages, are <i>primâ-facie</i> proof that
- numbers of pilgrims have gone away from Lourdes under the impression that
- they were cured. What I maintain is, that you have not shown, and cannot
- show, that your cures are not merely due to the absorption of diseased
- tissue as the result of strong excitement—an effect not at all
- common, but quite recognised as not unfrequent by some of the highest
- authorities in medical science.
- </p>
- <p>
- There the controversy rests, I think; at any rate, so far as I heard it
- debated; and I must own that the scientific explanation does not seem to
- me to hold water. To take one instance, would the absorption of diseased
- tissue drive a piece of cloth out of a soldier’s leg or body? Perhaps yes,
- for what I know; but would the excitement of a mother cure the disease of
- her child? These two classes of cures (of which there are a great number)
- struck me, perhaps, more than any of the rest. But I must not take up more
- of your space, and can only advise all your readers who are really
- interested in this problem to take the first opportunity they can of going
- to Lourdes, and, if possible, as we did, at a time when the great bodies
- of pilgrims are not there, and they can quietly examine the facts there,
- for—<i>pace</i> the doctors and men of science—these tablets,
- swords, crutches, etc., are facts which they are bound to acknowledge and
- investigate. I shall be surprised if they do not come away, as I did, with
- a feeling that they have seen a deeply interesting sight for which it is
- well worth while to come from England, and that there are two sides to
- this question of the Lourdes miracles (so-called), either of which any
- reverent student of the world in which he is living may conscientiously
- hold.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0089" id="link2H_4_0089"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Fontarabia, 22nd April 1893.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">E</span>very year the
- truth of Burns’s “the best-laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft a-gley,”
- comes more home to me. From the time I was ten the Pass of Roncesvalles
- has had a fascination for me. Then the habit of ballad-singing was
- popular, and a relative of mine had a well-deserved repute in that line.
- Amongst her old-world favourites were “Boland the Brave” and “Durandarté.”
- The first told how Boland left his castle on the Rhine, where he used to
- listen to the chanting in the opposite convent, in which his lady-love had
- taken the veil on the false report of his death, and “think she blessed
- him in her prayer when the hallelujah rose”; and followed Charlemagne in
- his Spanish raid, till “he fell and wished to fall” at Boncesvalles. The
- second, how Durandarté, dying in the fatal pass, sent his last message to
- his mistress by his cousin Montesinos. In those days I never could hear
- the last lines without feeling gulpy in the throat:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Kind in manners, fair in favour,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Mild in temper, fierce in fight,—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Warrior purer, gentler, braver,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Never shall behold the light.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- They may not be good poetry, but Monk Lewis, the author, never wrote any
- others as good. Then Lockhart’s <i>Spanish Ballads</i> were given me, and
- in one of the best of those stirring rhymes, Bernardo del Carpio’s
- bearding of his King, I read—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Your word, Lord King, was recompense abundant for it all;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Your horse was down, your hope was flown; I saw the falchion
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- shine
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That soon had drunk thy royal blood had I not ventured mine, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, a little later, a family friend who had been an ensign in the Light
- Division in July 1813, used to make our boyish pulses dance with his tales
- of the week’s fighting in and round Roncesvalles, when Soult was driven
- over the Pyrenees and Spain was freed. And again, later, came the tale of
- Taillefer, the Conqueror’s minstrel, riding before the line at the battle
- of Hastings, tossing his sword in the air, and chanting the “Song of
- Roland,” and of the “Peers who fell at Roncesvalles.” So you will believe,
- sir, that my first thought when I got to Biarritz, with the Pyrenees in
- full view less than twenty miles off, was, “Now I shall see the pass where
- Charlemagne’s peers, and five hundred British soldiers as brave as any
- paladin of them all, had fought and died.” The holidays galloped, and one
- day only was left, when at our morning conference I found that my
- companions were bent on Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and assured me we
- could combine the three, as Roncesvalles, they heard, was close to
- Fontarabia. Then my faith in Sir Walter—combined, I fear, with my
- defective training in geography—led me astray, for had he not
- written in the battle-canto of Marmion:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Oh, for one blast of that dread horn,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- On Fontarabian echoes borne,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- That to King Charles did come,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- When Roland brave, and Oliver,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And every Paladin and Peer,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- At Roncesvalles died, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, of course, if Charlemagne could hear the horn of Roland on the top of
- the pass where he turned back, “borne on Fontarabian echoes,” then
- Fontarabia must be at the foot of the pass, where Roland and the
- rear-guard were surrounded and fighting for their lives. In a weak moment
- I agreed to Fontarabia and San Sebastian, and so shall most likely never
- see Roncesvalles. It is fourteen miles distant as the crow flies, or
- thereabouts; and I warn your readers that the three can’t be done in one
- long day from Biarritz.
- </p>
- <p>
- However, I am bound to admit that Fontarabia and San Sebastian make a most
- interesting day’s work. I had never been in Spain before, and so was well
- on the alert when a fellow-passenger, as we slowed on approaching the
- station, pointed across the sands below us and said, “There’s Fontarabia!”
- There, perhaps two miles off, lay a small gray town on a low hill with
- castle and church at the top, and gateway and dilapidated walls on the
- side towards*us, looking as though it might have gone off to sleep in the
- seventeenth century—a really curious contrast to bustling Biarritz
- from which we had just come. We went down to the ferry and took a punt to
- cross the river, which threaded the broad sands left by the tide. It was
- full ebb; so our man had to take us a long round, giving us welcome time
- for the view, which, when the tide is up, must be glorious. Our
- bare-footed boatman, though Basque or Spaniard, was quite “up to date,”
- and handled his punt pole in a style which would make him a formidable
- rival of the Oxford watermen in the punt race by Christ Church meadow,
- which, I suppose, is still held at the end of the summer term. A narrow,
- rough causeway led us from the landing-place to the town-gate in the old
- wall, where an artist who had joined the party was so taken with the view
- up the main street that he sat down at once to about as difficult a sketch
- as he will meet in a year’s rambles. For from the gateway the main street
- runs straight up the hill to the ruined castle and church at the top. It
- is narrow, steep, and there are not two houses alike all the way up. They
- vary from what must have been palaces of the grandees—with dim
- coats-of-arms still visible over the doorways, and elaborately carved,
- deep eaves, almost meeting those of their opposite neighbours across the
- street—to poor, almost squalid houses, reaching to the second story
- of their aristocratic neighbours’, but all with deep, overhanging, though
- uncarved eaves, showing, I take it, how the Spaniard values his shade. Up
- we went to the church and castle, the ladies looking wistfully into such
- shops as there were, to find something to buy; but I fancy in vain. Not a
- tout appeared to offer his services; or a shopkeeper, male or female, to
- sell us anything. Such of the Fontarabians as we saw looked at us with
- friendly enough brown eyes, which, however, seemed to say, “Silly souls!
- Why can’t you stop at home and mind your own business?” Even at the end of
- our inspection, when we spread our lunch on a broad stone slab near the
- gate—the tombstone once, I should think, of a paladin—there
- being no houses of entertainment visible to us, we had almost a difficulty
- in attracting three or four children and a stray dog to share our relics.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old castle is of no special interest, though there were a few rusty
- old iron tubes lying about, said to have once been guns, which I should
- doubt; and Charles V. is said to have often lived there during his French
- wars. The church is very interesting, from its strong contrast with those
- over the border—square, massive, sombre, with no attempt at
- decoration or ornament round the high brass altars, except here and there
- a picture, and small square windows quite high up in the walls, through
- which the quiet, subdued light comes. The pictures, with one exception,
- were of no interest; but that one exception startled and fascinated me.
- The subject is the “Mater Dolorosa,” a full-length figure standing, the
- breast bare, and seven knives plunged in the heart,—a coarse and
- repulsive painting, but entirely redeemed by the intense expression of the
- love, the agony, grid the sorely shaken faith which are contending for
- mastery in the face. The painter must have been suddenly inspired, or some
- great master must have stepped in to finish the work. San Sebastian does
- not do after Fontarabia; a fine modern town, with some large churches and
- a big new bull-ring, but of little interest except for the fort which
- dominates the town on the sea-front. How that fort was stormed, after one
- repulse and a long siege of sixty-three days; how, in the two assaults and
- siege, more than four thousand gallant soldiers of the British and allied
- army fell; and the fearful story of the sack and burning of the old town
- by the maddened soldiers, is to me almost the saddest episode in our
- military history. I was glad when we had made our cursory inspection and
- got back to the station on our return to Biarritz. That brightest and most
- bustling of health resorts was our head-quarters, and I should think for
- young English folk must be about the most enjoyable above ground. I knew
- that it was becoming a formidable rival of the Riviera for spring
- quarters, but was not at all prepared for the facts. Almost the first
- thing I saw was a group of young Englishmen in faultless breeches and
- gaiters, just come back from a meet of the pack of hounds; next came along
- some fine strapping girls in walking costume, bent, I should think, on
- exploring the neighbouring battlegrounds; next, men and youths in
- flannels, bound for the golf links, where a handicap is going on (I wonder
- what a French caddie is like?); then I heard of, but did not see, the
- start of the English coach for Pau (it runs daily); and then youths on
- bicycles, unmistakable Britons,—though the French youth have taken
- kindly, I hear, to this pastime. There are four gigantic hotels at which
- friends told me that nothing is heard but English at their <i>tables
- d’hôte</i>; and in the quiet and excellent small “Hôtel de Bayonne,” at
- which we stayed, having heard that it was a favourite with the French, out
- of the forty guests or thereabouts, certainly three-fourths were English,
- and the other one-fourth mostly Americans. On Easter Monday there was a
- procession of cars, with children in fancy dresses representing the local
- industries; but the biggest was that over which the Union Jack waved, and
- a small and dainty damsel sat on the throne surrounded by boys in the
- orthodox rig of a man-of-war’s-man and Tommy Atkins. In fact, a vast
- stream of very solvent English seem to have fairly stormed and occupied
- the place, to the great delight of the native car-drivers and shopkeepers;
- and so grotesque was it that Byron’s cynical doggerel kept sounding in my
- head as, at any rate, appropriate to Biarritz:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The world is a bundle of hay,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Mankind are the asses that pull;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Each tugs in a different way,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And the greatest of all is John Bull.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- But, apart from all the high jinks and festive goings-on, there is one
- spot in Biarritz which may well prove a magnet to us, and before which we
- should stand with uncovered heads and sorrowfully proud hearts; and that
- is the fine porch of the English church. One whole side of it is filled by
- a tablet, at the head of which one reads: “<i>Pristinæ virtutis memor</i>.
- This porch, dedicated to the memory of the officers, non-commissioned
- officers, and men of the British army, who fell in the south-west of
- France from 7th October 1813 to 14th April 1814, was erected by their
- fellow-soldiers and compatriots, 1882.” Then come the names of forty-eight
- Line regiments, and the German Legion, followed in each case by the
- death-roll, the officers’ names given in full. Let me end with a few
- examples. The 42nd lost ten officers—two at Nive, one at Orthez, and
- seven at Toulouse; the 43rd—five at Nivelle and Bayonne; the 57th—six
- at Nivelle and Nive; the 79th—five at Toulouse, of whom three bore
- the name of Cameron; the 95th—six at the Bidassoa, Nivelle, and
- Nive. Such a record, I think, brings home to one even more vividly than
- Napier’s pages the cost to England of her share in the uprising of Europe
- against Napoleon; and it only covers six months of a seven years’ struggle
- in the Peninsula! At the bottom of the tablet are the simple words:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Give peace in our time, oh Lord!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /> <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0090" id="link2H_4_0090"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Echoes from Auvergne, La Bourboule, 2nd July 1893.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e had heard
- through telegrams and short paragraphs in the French papers of the sinking
- of the <i>Victoria</i> before the <i>Spectator</i> of 1st July came to us
- here, in these far-away highlands of Auvergne; but yours was the first
- trustworthy account in any detail which reached us. I am sure that others
- must have felt as thankful to you as I did, for your word was worthy the
- occasion, and told as it should be told, one of the stories which ennoble
- a nation, and remain a [Greek phrase] for all time. The lonely figure on
- the bridge is truly, as you say, a subject for a great pictorial artist,
- and belongs “rather to the poet than the journalist”; and one trusts that
- Sir George Tryon’s may stand out hereafter in worthy verse as one of “the
- few clarion names” in our annals. But it was surely the noble
- steadfastness of all, from admiral to stoker, which has once more given us
- all “that leap of heart whereby a people rise” to a keener consciousness
- of the meaning of national life. I think one feels it even more out here
- amongst strangers than one would have felt it at home, and can give God
- thanks that the old ideal has come out again in the sinking of the <i>Victoria</i>
- as it did in that of the <i>Birkenhead</i> forty years ago, when the
- ship’s boats took off all the women and children, and the big ship went
- down at last “still under steadfast men.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Those are, as you know, the words of Sir Francis Doyle, who gave voice to
- the mixed anguish and triumph of the nation in worthy verse. I heard the
- great story from the lips of one of the simplest of men, Colonel Wright,
- who as a subaltern had formed the men up on the deck of the <i>Birkenhead</i>
- under Colonel Seton, and stood at his place on the right of the line when
- she broke in two. He was entangled for some moments in the sinking wreck,
- but managed to free himself, and, being a famous swimmer, rose to the
- surface, and struck out for the shore amongst a number of the men. It must
- have been one of the most trying half hours that men ever went through;
- for, as they swam and cheered one another, now and again a comrade would
- suddenly disappear, and they knew that one of the huge sharks they had
- seen from the deck, passing backwards and forwards under the doomed ship,
- was amongst them. When they had all but reached the shore the man who swam
- by Wright’s side was taken. When I heard the tale he was
- Assistant-Inspector of Volunteers under Colonel M’Murdo, and going
- faithfully through his daily work. Strange to say, neither Horse Guards
- nor War Office had taken any note of that unique deck-parade and swim for
- life, and Ensign Wright had risen slowly to be Major and Sub-Inspector of
- Volunteers. Stranger still, he seemed to think it all right, and there was
- no trace of resentment or jealousy in his plain statement of the facts—which,
- indeed, I had to draw out by cross-questioning on our march from the
- Regent’s Park to our headquarters in Bloomsbury. I was so moved by the
- story that I wrote it all to Mr. Cardwell, then at the War Office, and had
- the pleasure of seeing Major Wright’s name in the next <i>Gazette</i>
- amongst the new C.B.‘s.
- </p>
- <p>
- Well, well! It does one good now and then to breathe for a little in a
- rarer and nobler atmosphere than that of everyday, into which we must
- after all sink, and live there for nine-tenths of our time,—like the
- old fish-wife, Mucklebackit, going back to mending the old nets and
- chaffering over the price of herrings which have been bought by men’s
- lives. And here we have great placards just out, announcing “Fêtes de jour
- et de nuit,” with donkey-races and all manner of games, and fireworks,
- including an “embrasement général,” whatever that may forebode. “This life
- would be quite endurable but for its amusements,” said Sir G. Cornewall
- Lewis, a wise man and excellent Minister of the Crown.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our first Sunday at La Bourboule has been edifying from the Sabbatarian
- point of view, and I shouldn’t wonder if the good little parson who is
- taking the duty here during the bathing-season holds it up to us for
- instruction next Sunday, if he can get a room for service, and a
- congregation. There is no English church, and from what I hear not much
- prospect of an arrangement for joint worship in the French Protestant
- church, which was almost concluded, being carried out. Unfortunately, a
- succession of young Ritualists have managed to alarm the French Protestant
- pastor and his small flock, by treating them as Dissenters, and making
- friends ostentatiously with the Roman Catholic priests. However, happily
- the present incumbent (or whatever he should be called) is a sensible
- moderately broad Churchman, who it may be hoped will bring things straight
- again. But to return to my Sabbatarian story. An English lady fond of
- equestrian exercise hired horses for herself and a friend, and invited the
- able and pleasant young Irishman who doctors us all, and is also
- churchwarden, to accompany them for a ride in these lovely mountains. They
- started from this hotel, and, as it happened, just as the parson was
- coming by; so, not being quite easy in their consciences (I suppose),
- asked him if he saw any harm in it. To this he replied, sensibly enough,
- that it was their fight, not his; and if they saw none, he had nothing to
- say. So off they rode, meaning certainly to be back by 8 P.M. for supper.
- I was about till nearly nine, when they had not turned up; and next
- morning I heard the conclusion of the whole matter. The doctor’s horse
- cast a shoe, and had to be led home, limping slightly; while the lady’s
- horse came back dead-lame, and her companion’s steed with both knees
- broken! Judging by the unmistakable talent of these good Bourboulais for
- appreciating the value to their guests of their water and other
- possessions, I should say that this Sunday ride will prove a costly
- indulgence to the excursionists.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0091" id="link2H_4_0091"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- La Bourboule, 10th July 1893.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">C</span>urrency questions
- are surely amongst the things “which no fellow can understand,”—a
- truth for which. I think, sir, I may even claim you as a witness, after
- reading your cautious handling of the silver question in recent numbers.
- But so far as my experience goes, there are no questions as to which it is
- more difficult to shake convictions than those which have been arrived at
- by unscientific persons. For instance, in this very charming
- health-resort, the authorities at the Établissement des Bains, where one
- buys bath-tickets, are under the delusion that 20 fr. (French money) are
- the proper equivalent for the English sovereign. On my first purchase of
- six tickets, amounting to 15 fr. (each bath costs 2 fr. 50 c., or 50 c.
- more than at Royat), the otherwise intelligent person who presided at the
- <i>caisse d’établissement</i>, tendered me a single 5 fr. piece; and on my
- calling his attention to the mistake, as I supposed it to be, and
- demanding a second 5 fr., calmly informed me that 20 fr. was the change
- they always gave, and he could give no other. Whereupon, I carried off my
- sovereign in high dudgeon, and—there being neither bank nor
- money-changer’s office in this place, though more than twenty large
- hotels!—applied to two of the larger shops only to find the same
- delusion in force. In short, I only succeeded in getting 25 fr. in
- exchange for my sovereign as a favour from our kind hostess at this hotel.
- Wherefore, as I hear that a great crowd of English are looked for next
- month, I should like to warn them to bring French money with them. This
- experience reminded me of a good story which I heard Thackeray tell thirty
- years ago. (If it is in <i>The Kicklebury’s on the Rhine</i>, or printed
- elsewhere, you will suppress it). Either he himself or a friend, I forget
- which, changed a sovereign on landing in Holland, put the change in one
- particular pocket, and on crossing each frontier on his way to the South
- of Italy, before that country or Germany had been consolidated, again
- exchanged the contents of that pocket for the current coin of the Kingdom,
- Duchy, or Republic he was entering. On turning out the contents at Naples
- he found them equivalent to something under 5s. of English money.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before I forget it, let me modify what I said last week as to the
- ecclesiastical position of the Protestants here.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Anglicans are now represented by the “Colonial and Continental
- Society.” They sent a clergyman, who has managed so well that we are now
- on excellent terms with our French Protestant brethren, though we have as
- yet no joint place of worship. This, however, both congregations hope to
- secure shortly,—indeed, as soon as they can collect £400, half of
- which is already in hand. Then the municipality, or the “Compagnie
- d’Établissement des Bains,” I am not sure which, give a site, and another
- £400, which will be enough to pay for a small church sufficient for the
- present congregations. These will hold the building in common, and, let us
- hope, will adjust the hours for the services amicably. At present, the
- French Protestants worship in the <i>buvette</i>, where we all drink our
- waters; and we Anglicans in an annex of the establishment—a large
- room devoted during the week to Punch and Judy and the marionettes. This
- rather scandalises some of our compatriots; I cannot for the life of me
- see why. Indeed, it seems to me a very healthy lesson to most of us, who
- are accustomed to the ritual which prevails in so many of our restored, or
- recently built, English churches,—the lesson which Jacob learnt on
- his flight from his father’s tents, when he slept in the desert with a
- stone for pillow, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not.”
- Our congregation yesterday was something over thirty. I believe it rises
- to one hundred, or more, next month. The service was thoroughly hearty,
- and I really think every one must have come meaning to say their prayers.
- I felt a slight qualm as to how we should get on with the singing, and
- could not think why the parson should choose about the longest hymn in the
- book, for there was no organ, harmonium, or other musical instrument, and
- no apparent singing-men or singing-women. However, my qualms vanished when
- our pastor led off with a well-trained tenor voice which put us all at our
- ease.
- </p>
- <p>
- The rest of our Sunday was by no means so successful, for the <i>fête du
- jour et du soir</i> began soon after our 11 A.M. <i>déjeûner</i>, and
- lasted till about 10 P.M., when the lights in most of the paper-lanterns
- had burnt out, and people had gone home from the Casino and the promenade
- to their hotels or lodgings. I am old-fashioned enough to like a quiet
- Sunday; but here, when the place is <i>en fête</i>, that is out of the
- question,—at any rate, if you are a guest at one of the hotels
- which, as they almost all do, faces on the “Avenue Gueneau de Mussy.” That
- name will probably remind some of your readers of the able and popular
- doctor of the Orleans family, who accompanied their exile, lived in
- England during the Empire in Mortimer Street, Cavendish Square, and was
- popular in London society. After 1870 he returned to France, and, it
- seems, rediscovered these waters, or, at any rate, made them the
- fashionable resort of patients in need of arsenical treatment. In
- gratitude, his name has been given to this main avenue of La Bourboule,
- which runs the whole length of the town, parallel to the River Dordogne,
- which comes rushing down the valley from Mont Dore at a pace which I have
- never seen water attain except in the rapids below Niagara, in which that
- strongest and rashest of swimmers, Captain Webb, lost his life. The
- Avenue, though parallel with, is some fifty yards from the river, and the
- intervening space is planted with rows of trees, under which many donkeys
- and hacks stand for the convenience of visitors. The opposite bank of the
- Dordogne, which is crossed by two bridges, rises abruptly, and is crowned
- by the two rival casinos, with the most imposing hotel of the place
- between them, where (I am told) you pay 5 fr. a day extra for the
- convenience of the only lift in La Bourboule! The fête of last Sunday was
- given by the old Casino, and commenced directly after <i>déjeûner</i> with
- a gathering in the rooms and in front of the Casino on the terrace, where
- the guests sat at small tables consuming black coffee, absinthe, and other
- drinks, and strolling now and then into the billiard-room, or the room in
- which the <i>jeu aux petits chevaux</i>, and some other game of chance
- which I did not recognise, were in full swing. There is an inner room
- where baccarat and roulette are going on, supposed to be only open to
- tickets bought from the^ authorities, but which a young Englishman, my
- neighbour at the <i>table d’hôte</i>, tells me he found no difficulty in
- entering without a ticket. The rest of the fête, consisting chiefly of
- donkey-races, climbing greasy poles, and fishing half-francs out of meal
- tubs with the mouth, came off in a small park and plateau on the hillside
- above the Casino.
- </p>
- <p>
- I used to enjoy donkey-races as a boy, when at our country feasts each boy
- rode his neighbour’s donkey, and the last past the post was the winner,
- and should probably have gone up the hill to witness a French race, but
- that I found that here each boy rides his own donkey, and the first past
- the post wins. This takes all the fun out of the race, so I abstained.
- There were a few second-rate fireworks after dark, and the Casino and most
- of the hotels were prettily lighted, and the trees hung with yellow paper
- lanterns which looked like big oranges, but to the Englishman, more or
- less accustomed to the great Brock’s performances, the illumination
- business was very flat.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0092" id="link2H_4_0092"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Comité des Fêtes. 17th July 1893.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>n Englishman can
- scarcely avoid the danger of having his national vanity fed in this La
- Bourboule. A new hotel is being built on a fine site above the Dordogne,
- just beyond the new Casino, and I hear on the best authority that the
- proprietor means to have it furnished from top to bottom by Messrs. Maple.
- As this will involve paying a duty of from 30 to 50 per cent on the
- articles imported, it is not easy to see where the profit can come in, as
- the most prejudiced John Bull will scarcely deny that native French
- furniture is about as good, and not very much dearer than English. I can
- only account for it by the desire of all purveyors here—from the
- chief hotel-keepers to the dealers in the pretty Auvergne jewellery and
- the donkey-women—to get us as customers,—not, perhaps, so much
- from love or admiration for us, as because we have so much less power of
- remonstrance or resistance to their charges. Unless he sees some flagrant
- overcharge in his hotel bill, the Briton does not care to air his
- colloquial French in discussing items with the former, who only meet him
- with polite shrugs; and as for the others, they at once fall back upon an
- Auvergnese <i>patois</i>, at least as different from ordinary French as a
- Durham miner’s vernacular is from a West countryman’s. What satisfaction
- can come of remonstrating about 2 fr., even in faultless grammatical
- French, when it only brings on you a torrent of explanation of which you
- cannot understand one word in ten?
- </p>
- <p>
- But the desire to make us feel at home has another—I may almost say
- a pathetic—side. Thus the <i>Comité des fêtes</i> spares no effort
- to meet our supposed necessities, and has not only provided tennis-grounds
- and other conveniences for <i>le sport</i>, but for the last ten days has
- been preparing for a grand <i>chasse au renard</i>, as a special
- compliment, I am told, to the English visitors. The grand feature of the
- hunt is a <i>recherché</i> luncheon in an attractive spot in the forest,
- at the end of the run, at which the Mayor presides, and to which the other
- civic dignitaries go in full costume, accompanied by a chief huntsman and
- two <i>chasseurs</i> with <i>tridents</i>—of all strange equipments
- for a fox-hunt! For this luncheon the charge is 5 fr.; but, so far as I
- can learn, you may join the chase without partaking. The question
- naturally occurs: “How if Renard will not run that way, or consent to die
- within easy distance of the luncheon?” and the answer of the Mayor would,
- I suppose, be Dogberry’s: “Let him go, and thank God you are rid of a
- knave.” But, in any case, the <i>Comité des fêtes</i> are prepared for
- such a mishap, for they have had four foxes ready for some days, <i>in a
- large oven</i>—of all places in the world! and one of these will
- surely be induced to take the proper course, which is carefully marked
- out. As two of them have come from Switzerland, and there cannot be much
- to occupy or amuse Swiss foxes in an oven, except quarrelling with their
- French cousins, I should doubt as to the condition of the lot on the day
- of the hunt, even if all survive to that date. This, I am sorry to say,
- cannot be fixed as yet, for it seems that no English visitor has been
- found who will take a ticket; so I fear my “course” may be over before the
- <i>chasse</i> comes off. In that case I shall always bear a grudge against
- your lively contemporary, the <i>Daily Graphic</i>, who, it seems, printed
- an illustrated account of the <i>chasse</i> of last summer, to which the
- present abstinence of the British sportsman to-day is generally
- attributed. Can we wonder at the want of understanding between the two
- peoples when one comes across such strange pieces of farce as this, meant,
- I believe, for a genuine compliment and advance towards good-fellowship?
- </p>
- <p>
- I wish I could speak hopefully upon more serious things than the <i>chasse
- au renard</i>; but in more than one direction things seem to me to be
- drifting, or going back, under the Republic. E.g. a friend of mine, who
- prefers smoking the cigars he is used to, ordered a box from his
- tobacconist in Manchester, who entrusted them to the Continental Parcels
- Delivery Company on 15th June. Next day, though notice had been given of
- payment of all charges on delivery, they were stopped at the Gare du Nord,
- at Paris, where the station-master refused to forward them until he got an
- undertaking in writing from my friend to pay all charges. This was sent at
- once, but produced no effect for three days, when another letter arrived—not
- now from the station-master, but from a person signing himself
- “Contributions Agent”—saying that undertaking No. 1 was not in
- proper form. Thereupon, undertaking No. 2 is sent; but still nothing
- happens, and my friend had almost given up hope of getting his cigars when
- he bethought him of advising with a deputy, who was luckily staying here
- in the same hotel. That gentleman seemed not at all surprised, but offered
- to write to his secretary in Paris to go to the Gare du Nord and look
- after the box. The offer was, of course, thankfully accepted, with the
- result that the cigars were sent on at once, with the following bill:
- “Droit d’entrée, 38 fr. 77 c.; timbre d’acquit à caution, 7 c.; toile
- d’emballage—consignation, 40 fr. 27 c.: total, 79 fr. 11 c.”—which
- about doubled the original cost. This instance of the slovenliness (if not
- worse) of a railway company and the Customs has been quite eclipsed,
- however, by the Post Office. Another friend posted a letter here to his
- sister in England, but unluckily in the forenoon, when the next departure
- was for Bordeaux. To that town, accordingly, his letter went, and thence
- to America, whence in due course—i.e. at the end of three weeks—it
- reached its destination in England. Again, a lady here received several
- dividends more than a week ago, which she forwarded to her husband in
- England in a registered letter. This has never reached him; and the
- Post-Office officials here are making inquiries (very leisurely ones) as
- to what has become of it. Then the clergyman of the church here, having a
- payment to make in his parish in England, sent the money, and got the
- official receipt several posts before he received a reminder from the same
- official (dated a week earlier than the receipt) that the payment was due;
- and lastly, <i>pour comble</i>, as they say here, a county J.P. has never
- received at all the formal summons from his High Sheriff, sent some weeks
- since, to serve on the grand jury at the coming Assizes! Whatever the
- consequences may be of utterly ignoring such summons, he has thus incurred
- them, which, for all I know, may be equal to the penalties of præmunire.
- But seriously, I fear the incubus of the Republican superstition, as you
- have defined it, is spreading fast and far in this splendid land. The
- centralisation fostered by the Second Empire, and favoured by the Republic
- for the last twenty years, seems to have demoralised the national
- nerve-centre at Paris under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower—which,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Like a tall bully, lifts its head and lies,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- —and to be spreading its baleful influence through the Departments.
- At any rate, that is the only explanation I can suggest for the marked
- deterioration and present flabbiness of all Government departments with
- which the foreign visitor comes in contact. I am glad to be able, however,
- to record, before closing this, that the registered letter containing
- dividend warrants mentioned above has reached its destination in England.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0093" id="link2H_4_0093"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Dogs and Flowers, La Bourboule, 24th July.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">D</span>uring the greater
- part of our stay, the theatre here was devoted to comic and other operatic
- performances, which I did not care for, and so scarcely glanced at the
- play-bills, posted up daily in our hotel; and was not even tempted by the
- announcement of “une seule représentation extraordinaire” of Le Songe
- d’une Nuit d’Eté, as I did not like to have my idea of A Midsummer Night’s
- Dream disordered by a French metrical version. When too late, I sorely
- regretted it, as, had I even read the caste, I should have gone, and been
- able to give you a trustworthy report,—for the three principal
- characters were William Shakespeare—by M. Dereims, of the opera (who
- would sing his great song of <i>La Reine de Saba</i>)—Falstaff, and
- Queen Elizabeth! Next morning I catechised a young Englishman, whose
- report was, as near as I can recollect, as follows: “Well, there wasn’t
- much of our <i>Midsummer Night’s Dream</i> in it, no Oberon and Titania,
- or Bottom, or all that fairy business. Queen Elizabeth and one of her
- ladies went out at night disguised, to a sort of Casino or Cremorne
- Gardens” [what would Secretary Cecil have said to such an escapade?], “and
- coming away they met Shakespeare and Falstaff, and had a good time; and
- Falstaff sang a song which brought the house down. Then, as the Queen
- falls in love with Shakespeare, they get some girl to marry him right
- away.” One more lost opportunity, and to think that I shall probably never
- get another chance!—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There is a flower that shines so bright,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- They call it marigold-a:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And he that wold not when he might,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- He shall not’ when he wold-a.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- As you are fond of dog-lore, here is a sample from Auvergne. Just opposite
- our hotel lives the young Scotch (not Irish, as I think I called him last
- week) doctor. His wife owns a clever pug, whose friendship any
- self-respecting dog would be anxious, I should say, to cultivate. One of
- the rather scratch-pack gathered for the coming fox-chase, who wandered as
- they pleased about the town, seems to have shared my view, for every
- morning, between <i>café</i> and <i>déjeûner</i>, he came and paid a visit
- of about five minutes to Mrs. Gilchrist’s pug, in the doctor’s vestibule,
- always open to man and dog. At the end of his call, he trotted off down
- the avenue to whatever other business he might have in hand. Now, his
- visits could not have been amatory, as both are of the masculine sex, nor
- could they have been gastronomic, for he invariably refused the food which
- Mrs. Gilchrist offered him. What other conclusion is possible than that he
- came to talk over the gossip afloat in the dog-world of La Bourboule?
- </p>
- <p>
- Lastly, as to the excursions. These are numerous, and very interesting in
- all ways, for you drive through great, sad pine-forests (in which I was
- astonished to see many of the trees gray with the weeping moss which makes
- the Louisiana and Texas forests so melancholy) and breezy heaths all aglow
- with wild flowers, getting every now and then indescribably glorious
- glimpses of the rich plain which stretches away from this backbone of
- Central France to the Alps. The flora is quite beyond me, but I recognised
- many varieties of heart’s-ease, fox-gloves, gentians, amongst them an
- exquisite blue variety, and the air was often scented with meadow-sweet or
- wild-thyme. Then almost every mountain-top is crowned by a peculiarly
- shaped block of dark rock, which looks as if some huge saurian, disgusted
- with a changing world, had crawled up there to die and get petrified. They
- must, however, have been even bigger than the <i>Atlanlosaurus immanis</i>,
- the biggest of the family yet found, I believe. I well remember the
- delight of Dr. Agnew, of New York, when the American geologists came upon
- its thigh bone, two feet longer than that of any European monster. It had
- become agate, and I have a scarf-pin made of a polished fragment, and
- presented to me by the triumphant doctor. I cannot tell you what these
- rocks really are, as I made no ascent, preferring nowadays, like dear
- Lowell, “to make my ascents by telescope.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the human interest of the excursions, as usual, far exceeds the
- botanical or geological. The chief of these is the “Tour d’Auvergne,” the
- seat of the Count who enlisted to repel invasion, but never would take a
- commission from Republic or Napoleon, and died in battle, the “premier
- grenadier de la France.” There is nothing left of his tower except the
- foundations, and a dungeon on the high rock, on which a native woman sells
- photographs and relics, quite as genuine, I should say, as most such.
- Opposite, across a deep valley, rises another rock crowned by a chapel,
- which is approached by a steep path, up which once a year goes a
- procession, past the seven stations, at each of which there is a crucifix,
- and on the lowest a figure the size of life. Christianity, they say, has
- died down very low in Auvergne. I should doubt it, as I saw no sign of
- defacement, either here or on any of the roadside crosses, which are
- everywhere. I fear we could hardly say as much if we had them—as I
- wish we had—on every English high-road. On the walls of the village
- which clusters round the side of the keep, a placard (of which I enclose a
- copy) interested me much. The three Municipal Councillors there give their
- reasons for resigning their seats on the Council. On the whole, I think
- they were wrong, and should have stayed and “toughed it out.” I should
- like to know how it strikes you. You will see that the poster bears a
- stamp. Might not our Chancellor of the Exchequer raise a tidy sum that
- way? What a lump Pears, Hudson, Epps, or Van Houten and Co. would have to
- pay, and earn the thanks of a grateful country too! But I must not try
- your patience or space further, so will only note the Roman remains at
- Mont Dore, another health-resort of the Dordogne Valley, four miles above
- La Bourboule, which are worth going all the way to see, as I would advise
- any of your readers to do who are looking out for an interesting
- countryside, with as fine air as any in the world, in which to spend their
- coming holidays.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0094" id="link2H_4_0094"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Dutch Boys, The Hague, 1st May 1894.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>uch may be said
- both for and against breaking one’s good resolutions, but no one, I should
- think, will deny the merit of making them. Well, sir, before starting for
- my Whitsuntide jaunt this year, I resolved firmly that nothing should
- induce me to send you any more letters over this signature. Have I not
- been trying your patience, and the long-suffering of your readers any time
- these thirty years, with my crude first impressions of cities and their
- inhabitants, from Constantinople to the Upper Missouri? “Surely,” I said
- to myself, “sat prata biberunt.” What can young England in the last decade
- of the century—who enjoy, or at any rate read, <i>Dodo, and The
- Fabian Essays, and The Heavenly Twins</i>—care or want to know about
- the notions of an old fogey, whose faiths—or fads, as they would
- call them—on social and political problems were formed, if not
- stereotyped, in the first half? What, then, has shaken this wise resolve?
- You might guess for a week and never come within miles of the answer. It
- was the sight of a group of Dutch boys playing leap-frog in front of this
- hotel, and the contrast which came unbidden into my head between the
- chances of Dutch and English boys in this matter, and the different use
- they make of them.
- </p>
- <p>
- In front of this hotel lies the large open space, now planted with trees,
- and about the size of Grosvenor Square, which is called “Tournooiveld,”
- and was in the Middle Ages the tilt-yard of the doughty young Dutch
- candidates for knighthood. The portion of this square immediately in front
- of the hotel, about 40 yards deep and 150 broad, is marked off from the
- rest by a semicircular row of granite posts, rather over three feet in
- height, and three to four yards apart, two of them being close to
- lampposts, but the line otherwise unbroken. No chain connects these posts,
- and they have no spike on the top of them. As I stood at the door the
- morning after my arrival, admiring the fine linden-trees in full foliage,
- enter four Dutch boys from the left, who, without a word, broke at once
- into single file, and did “follow my leader” over all the posts till they
- got to the end on the extreme right, and disappeared quietly down a side
- street. Well, you will say, wouldn’t four English boys have done just the
- same % and I answer, Yes, certainly, so far as playing leap-frog over the
- posts goes; but they would have to come out here to find such a row of
- posts in the middle of a city. At any rate, in the city with which I am
- best acquainted in England, the few posts there fit for leap-frog are
- connected with chains and have spikes on their tops. Moreover, do I not
- pass daily up a flight of steps, fenced on either side by a broad iron
- banister, which was obviously intended by Providence for passing boys to
- get a delicious slide down 1 But, sir, no English boy on his way to school
- or on an errand has ever slid down those banisters, for the British Bumble
- has had prohibitory knobs placed on them at short intervals for no
- possible reason except to prevent boys sliding down. The faith that all
- material things should be made to serve the greatest good of the greatest
- number is surely as widely held in England as in Holland, and yet, here
- are the tops of these Dutch posts <i>culotté</i>, if I may say so, worn
- smooth and polished by the many generations of boys who have enjoyed
- leap-frog over them, while the British posts and banisters have given
- pleasure to no human being but Bumble from the day they were put up.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was not of the Dutch posts but the Dutch boys that I intended to
- write, for they certainly struck me as differing in two particulars from
- our boys, thus. Two of the posts, as I have said, are so close to the
- lamp-posts that you can’t vault over them without coming full butt against
- the lamp-post on the other side. When the leader came to the first of them
- he did not pass it, as I expected, but just vaulted on to the top, and sat
- there while he passed his leg between the-post and the lamp-post, and then
- jumped down and went on to the next. Every one of the rest followed his
- example gravely and without a word; whereas, had they been English boys,
- there would have been a bolt past the leader as soon as he was seated, and
- a race with much shouting for the lead over the remaining pillars. I have
- been studying the Dutch boy ever since, and am convinced that he is the
- most silent and most “thorough” of any of his species I have ever come
- across; and the boy is father to the man in both qualities. On Whit-Monday
- this city was crowded, all the citizens and country-folk from the suburbs
- being in the streets and gardens; the galleries and museums, oddly enough,
- being closed for the day. Walking about amongst them the silence was
- really rather provoking. At last I took to counting the couples we met who
- were obviously just married, or courting, and ought at any rate to have
- had something to say to each other. Out of eleven couples in one street,
- only one were talking, though all looked quite happy and content. It is
- the same everywhere. As we neared the landing-place at the Hook of
- Holland, our steamer’s bows were too far out, and a rope had to be thrown
- from the shore. There were at least twenty licensed porters waiting for
- us, in clean white jackets,—one of these, without a word, just
- coiled a rope and flung it. It was missed twice by the sailor in our bows,
- and fell into the water, out of which the thrower drew it, and just coiled
- and threw it again without a word of objurgation or remonstrance, and the
- third time successfully. Not one of the white-jacketed men who stood round
- had uttered a syllable of advice or comment; but what a Babel would have
- arisen in like case at the pier-heads of Calais or Dieppe, or for that
- matter at Dover or Liverpool. No wonder that William the Silent is the
- typical hero of Dutchmen; there are two statues of him in the best sites
- in this city, and half a dozen portraits in the best places in the
- galleries. Hosea Biglow’s—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Talk, if you keep it, pays its keep,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But gabble’s the short road to ruin.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ’Tis gratis (gals half price), but cheap
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- At no price when it hinders doing,—
- </p>
- <p>
- ought to be put into Dutch as the national motto. Then as to thoroughness.
- Take the most notable example of it first. We have been driving all round
- for some days, and have only once come to a slope up which our horse had
- to walk. When we got to the top, there was the sea on the other side,
- obviously even to the untrained eye at a considerably higher level than
- the green fields through which we had just been driving. Of course it is
- an old story, the Dutchman’s long war with the German Ocean, but one never
- realises it till one comes to drive uphill to the sea, and then it fairly
- takes one’s breath away. I was deeply impressed, and took advantage of a
- chance that offered of talking the subject over with an expert, who, like
- most Dutchmen, happily speaks English fluently. Far from expressing any
- anxiety as to the land already won, he informed me that they are seriously
- contemplating operations against the Zuider Zee, and driving him
- permanently out of Holland! And I declare I believe they will do it, and
- so win the right, alone, so far as I know, amongst the nations, of saying
- to the sea: “Hitherto shalt thou come and no further, and here shall thy
- proud waves be stayed.” One more example,—their thoroughness as to
- cleanliness. Not only the pavements of the main thoroughfares, but all the
- side-streets are thoroughly well washed and cleansed daily. When you walk
- out in the early morning you might eat your breakfast anywhere with
- perfect comfort on the sidewalks. We had to look for more than a quarter
- of an hour to find a bit of paper in the streets, and the windows in the
- back streets, even of houses to let, are rubbed bright and polished to a
- point which must be the despair of the passing English housewife. Why are
- Dutch house-maidens so incomparably more diligent and clean than English?
- Can it be their Puritan bringing-up? In short, ten days’ residence here—I
- have never before done anything but rush through the country on my way
- east—seems likely to make me review old prejudices, and to exclaim,
- “If I were not an Englishman, I would be a Dutchman!” One may read and
- enjoy Motley without really appreciating this silent and “thorough”
- people, or understanding how it came to pass that by them, in this tiny
- and precarious corner of Europe, “the great deliverance was wrought out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0095" id="link2H_4_0095"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- “Poor Paddy-Land!”—I—6th Oct. 1894.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ix weeks ago, when
- I was considering where I should go for my autumn holiday, some remarks of
- yours decided me “to give poor Paddy-land a turn” (the phrase is not mine,
- but that of the first housemaid I came across in Dublin). When one has
- been talking and thinking for the last eight years of little else than
- that “distressful country,” it certainly seemed a fair suggestion that one
- might as well go and look at it when one got the chance. So I have
- scrambled round from Dublin to Kerry, and from Cork to the Giant’s
- Causeway, and can bear hearty witness to the soundness of your advice. For
- a flying visit of a few weeks, though insufficient for any serious study
- of a people or country, may greatly help one in judging both of them from
- one’s ordinary standpoint at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, the first object of an Englishman who has not lost his head
- must be to ascertain whether the Irish people really long for a separate
- Parliament, and a severance of all connection with the rest of the Empire.
- Well, sir, I was prepared to find that the men in the street—car-drivers,
- boatmen, waiters, and fellow-travellers on the railways—would, to a
- great extent, adapt their opinions to whatever they might think would
- please their questioner, but certainly was quite unprepared for the
- absolute unanimity with which I was assured that Home Rule is dead. It is
- only the American-Irish, and especially the “Biddys of New York,” so my
- informants protested, “who want to break up the Union.” I was warned,
- however, as to the man in the street. “You must remember that our people
- are full of imagination, and you must take off a large discount from all
- they tell you; but you’ll always find a groundwork of fact at the bottom
- of their stories.” A good piece of advice, which a professional friend in
- Dublin started me with, and which I found to be true enough, except that
- where local politics or the land came in, the groundwork of fact was apt
- to be too minute to be easily discerned. Take, as an example, a story
- which was told me on the spot by a thoroughly trustworthy witness. Towards
- the end of Mr. Forster’s Chief-Secretaryship a sensation message was
- flashed to New York that a Government stronghold had been taken by the
- Invincibles, the garrison having surrendered with all the guns and stores.
- This announcement produced a liberal response in dollars from the other
- side, particularly from “the Biddys of New York.” Now for the “groundwork
- of fact” underlying this superstructure. The Government have, it seems, on
- their hands a number of Martello towers on the southern coast which are
- useless for military purposes. A band of some dozen “bhoys,” headed by a
- notorious Invincible, came out of Cork one summer evening and summoned the
- garrison of one of these Martello towers. The garrison (an elderly
- pensioner), who was at tea with his wife and children, wisely surrendered
- at discretion; whereupon the patriots took possession of the single cannon
- and some old muskets and ammunition, which latter they carried off next
- morning, when they abandoned the tower and cannon on the approach of the
- police. But though the groundwork of fact as to the condition of the Home
- Rule agitation may be infinitesimal, there is very serious apprehension
- still on the Land Question, upon which I found it difficult to draw the
- man in the street. I was fortunate enough, however, to come across several
- resident landlords and professional men, both Catholic and Protestant,
- who, one and all, look with the gravest distrust at the operation of
- recent land legislation. The Commissioners who administer these Acts have,
- unfortunately, the strongest interest in prolonging the present state of
- uncertainty. Their appointments will end with the cessation of appeals by
- tenants for further reductions of rent, which, under the circumstances,
- does not seem likely to come about before the landlords’ interest has been
- pared down bit by bit till it touches prairie-value. The present utter
- confusion and uncertainty is at any rate a striking object-lesson as to
- the dangers of meddling with freedom of contract by Acts of Parliament.
- </p>
- <p>
- When I landed in Ireland, I was under the impression—for which I
- think you, sir, and perhaps the late Lord Beaconsfield, with his dictum
- about the “melancholy ocean,” were responsible—that there is a note
- of sadness underlying the superficial gaiety of the Irish character, as is
- the case with most Celts. Well, whether it be from natural incapacity, and
- that each observer only brings with him a limited power of seeing below
- the surface in such matters, in any case I wholly failed to discern any
- such characteristic in Central or South Ireland, though there may be a
- trace of it perhaps in the North, where, by the way, they are not Celts.
- On the contrary, the remark of a friendly and communicative Killarney
- carman, “Shure, sir, we always try to get on the sunny side of the bush,
- like the little birds,” seemed to me transparently true. And next to this
- desire for the sunny side of the bush, a happy-go-lucky, hand-to-mouth
- temper struck me as the prevailing characteristic, as Sir Walter saw it
- when he wrote “Sultan Solomon’s Search after Happiness.” Look at the
- national vehicle, the outside car—far more national and popular than
- our hansom. Did any race ever invent a conveyance so easy to mount and
- dismount from, or which offers the same chances of being shot off at every
- street corner or turn in the road? If any reader doubts, let him go over
- to the next horse-show at Dublin, and watch the crowd breaking up at the
- end of the show. The roads into the city are certainly unusually broad,
- but the sight of a dozen jaunting-cars coming along, two or three abreast,
- as hard as their horses can trot, the driver lolling carelessly, with a
- loose rein, on one side, and a couple of Irishmen on the other, is a sight
- to make the Saxon “sit up,” though he may be accustomed to the fastest and
- most reckless West End hansoms. Like one of your recent correspondents, I
- could distinguish natives from visitors, as each of the latter had a tight
- hold of the bar—a precaution which the native scorned. I managed to
- extract from an enthusiastic admirer—a young Irish subaltern who had
- ridden on them all his life—the confession that he had left a car
- involuntarily (or, <i>Anglid</i>, had been shot out) three times in the
- last eighteen months; but then, as he explained, he always fell on his
- feet! I was touched again and again by the almost pathetic craving for
- English appreciation,—quite as strong, I think, as, and certainly
- much pleasanter than, that of our American cousins. I was exploring the
- Killarney Lakes, in the first-rate four-oared boat of a cadet of the
- MacGrillicuddy family, who, with his English wife, exercises a very
- delightful hospitality almost under the shadow of “The Reeks,” which bear
- his name. It was a perfect day, the changing lights and tints on mountains
- and woods and lakes being more delicately lovely than any I could recall,
- except, perhaps, at the head of the Lake of Geneva. We had been talking of
- the Scotch lakes, and I could not help saying, “Why, this beats Loch
- Katrine and Ellen’s Isle out of the field.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ah,” said our host, with a sigh, “if only Sir Walter Scott had been an
- Irishman!” and then he went on to speak of the neglect of Ireland by the
- Royal Family and English governing people—e.g. Lord Beaconsfield had
- never set foot in her, and Mr. Gladstone only once, for an hour or two, to
- receive the freedom of Dublin. But why had the Queen made her favourite
- home in Scotland, and left poor Ireland out in the cold? Why did the
- English flock to Scotch rivers and moors and golf-links in crowds every
- autumn when only a stray sportsman or tourist found his way to Killarney
- or Connemara or Donegal? It was all owing to the Wizard of the North, who
- had made Scotland enchanted ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- Without ignoring other and deeper causes, I think one cannot but feel what
- a difference it would have made if Sir Walter had been Irish. The Siege of
- Derry is a more heroic and pathetic story than any in Scotch annals of the
- struggle for the Stuarts, and the genius which has made us intimate
- friends of the Baron of Bradwardine and Dugald Dalgetty, of Dandie
- Dinmont, Edie Ochiltree, Jeanie Deans, Cuddie and Mause Headrigg, and a
- dozen other Scotch men and women, would surely have found as good
- materials for character-painting among the Irish peasantry. But the
- speculation, though interesting, is too big to deal with at the end of a
- paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0096" id="link2H_4_0096"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- “Poor Paddy-Land!”—II
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> suppose every one
- expects to find Ireland the land of the unlooked-for. I did, at any rate,
- but was by no means prepared for several of the surprises which greeted
- me. For instance, the best arranged, and for its size and scope the most
- interesting, National Gallery I have ever seen. It is only forty years old
- (incorporated in 1854), a date since which one would have thought it
- scarcely possible to get together genuine specimens of all the great
- schools of art, from the well “picked-over” marts of England and the
- Continent. But the feat has been accomplished, mainly, I believe, by the
- entire devotion and fine taste and judgment of the late director, Mr.
- Henry E. Doyle. His untimely death in the spring of this year has left a
- blank, social and artistic, which it will be hard to fill; but happily his
- great work for Irish art was done, and all that his successors will have
- to do will be to follow his lead faithfully. Irish Art owes much to his
- family, for he was the son of H. B., and the younger brother of the
- immortal “Dicky,” while, I believe, Mr. Conan Doyle is his nephew.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it is not the general collection of pictures, remarkable as that is,
- which differentiates the Irish from other national galleries known to me.
- It is the happy arrangement which has set apart a fourth of the whole
- space for a collection of portraits, and authentic historical pictorial
- records, comprising not only the portraits of eminent Irishmen and
- Irishwomen, but also of statesmen and others who were politically or
- socially connected with Ireland, or whose lives serve in any way to
- illustrate her history, or throw light on her social or literary or
- artistic records. I think I may safely venture the assertion—for I
- spent the greater part of two afternoons in this historical and portrait
- department—that there is Scarcely a man or woman, from the time of
- Elizabeth to that of O’Connell and Lord Melbourne, of whom one would be
- glad to know more, with whom one does not leave it, feeling far better
- acquainted. And then they are so admirably and often pathetically grouped,
- e.g. Charles I., Cromwell, and R. Cromwell, on a line, all full of
- character, and Strafford hard by, with the look of “thorough” on his brow
- and mouth as no other portrait I have ever seen has given. Then there are
- “Erin’s High Ormonde,” Sir Walter Raleigh, by Zuccaro, painted between his
- two imprisonments, and coming down later, Lords Wellesley and Hastings,
- and groups of great nobles and Lords-Lieutenant. For fighting men, William
- III. as a boy; Walker, the defender of Derry; the Duke, the Lawrences,
- Lord Gough, and a score of other gallant Irishmen. The terrible Dean
- stands out amongst the literary men, and near him Sir R. Steele and
- Sterne, and (<i>longo intervallo</i>, except on shelves) Tom Moore,
- Croker, Lever, etc. Then come the “patriots” of all schools: Lord E.
- Fitzgerald, and Grattan, and E. Hudson, Secretary of the United Irishmen
- in 1784; Wolfe Tone, and Daniel O’Connell; half a dozen Ponsonbys of
- different ranks, and several pictures of Burke, one of which especially
- (said to be by Angelica Kauffmann) is, to my mind, quite invaluable. Burke
- stands upright, his side-face towards you, sublime, as he looked, I am
- sure, when he was making his immortal speech at Bristol. By his side, at
- right angles, so that you get his full face, is Charles Fox, one hand on
- Burke’s shoulder, the other on a table on which he is leaning. You can
- hear him saying as plainly as if you were there one hundred years ago,
- “Now, my dear Edmund, if you say that in the House, you’ll upset the
- coach.” Fox has evidently dined well, and Burke is fasting from all but
- indignation. The portraits of women are as interesting, such as Miss
- Farren, afterwards Lady Derby; Mrs. Norton, by Watts, which is worth a
- visit to Dublin to see, etc. But I must not run on, and will only note one
- lesson I carried away. There are two portraits, and three engravings from
- portraits, by N. Hone, R.A., an Irishman, but one of our original Royal
- Academicians. You will remember what Peter Pindar says of that painter in
- his <i>Odes to the Royal Academicians</i>”:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And as for Mr. Nathan Hone,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- In portraits he’s as much alone
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- As in his landscape stands the unrivalled Claude.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Of pictures I have seen enough,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Vile, tawdry, execrable stuff,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But none so bad as thine, I vow to God.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- I have always till now maintained that Peter, with all his cynicism, was
- the best art critic, the Ruskin, shall we say, of his time. Now I give him
- up. N. Hone was no doubt quarrelsome and disagreeable, but he was a very
- considerable portrait-painter.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had noted Derry as one of the places to be seen on account of the siege,
- and accordingly went there, to get another startling sensation. Like most
- other folk, I suppose, I had always looked on the story as interesting and
- heroic, and had wondered in a vague way how some 30,000 men, commanded by
- a distinguished French soldier, and a considerable part of them at any
- rate well-equipped regular troops, could have been kept at bay for ten
- months by a mere handful of regulars, backed by the ’prentice boys
- of the town and neighbourhood. Religious zeal was no doubt a strong factor
- on the side of the town, and Parson Walker, a born leader of men, “with a
- bugle in his throat,” like “Bobs.” But when one remembers that no
- provision had been made for a siege, that many of the leading men were for
- opening the gates, and indeed that the French officers and James’s deputy
- were actually within 300 yards in their boats, to accept the surrender,
- when the ’prentices rushed down and shut and manned the gates, and
- then looks at the scene on the spot, one is really dumbfounded, and
- wanders back in thought to King Hezekiah and Jerusalem. From the
- Cathedral, which dominates the city, you can trace distinctly the line of
- the old walls, and can hardly believe your eyes. The space enclosed cannot
- be more than a quarter of a mile in length, by some 300 yards in breadth
- (I could not get exact measurements), and in it, including garrison and
- the country folk who had flocked in, were more than 30,000 people. It was
- bombarded for eight months, during at least the last four of which famine
- and pestilence were raging. No wonder that the parish registers tell of
- more than 9000 burials in consecrated ground, while “the practice of
- burial in the backyards became unavoidable!” Where can such another story
- be found in authentic history? Parson Walker, let us say, fairly earned
- his monument.
- </p>
- <p>
- I must own to grievous disappointment as to the farming in Ulster. All
- through the South and Centre I had seen the hay in the fields in small
- cocks in September, and the splendid ripe crops of oats and barley uncut,
- or, if cut, left in sheaf, or being carried in a leisurely fashion, which
- was quite provoking, while tall, yellow ragweed was growing in most of the
- pastures in ominous abundance. That will all be altered, I thought, when I
- cross “Boyne Water.” Not a bit of it! Here and there, indeed, I saw a good
- rick-yard and clean fields, but scarcely oftener than about Cork or
- Killarney, and no one seemed to mind any more than the pure southern
- Celts. One man said, when I mourned over the ragweed three feet or four
- feet high, that he did not mind it, as it showed the land was good! As to
- leaving hay in cock, well that was the custom—they would get it into
- stack after harvest, any way before Christmas; as to dawdling over cutting
- and carrying, well, with prices at present rates, what use in hurrying?
- There was a comic song called “Clear the Kitchen,” popular half a century
- ago, which ran—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I saw an old man come riding by.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Says I, “Old man, your horse will die”;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Says he, “If he dies I’ll tan his skin,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And if he lives I’ll ride him agin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It fits the Irish temper, North and South, pleasant enough to travel
- amongst, but bad, I should think, to live with.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0097" id="link2H_4_0097"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- “Panem et Circenses”, Rome, 21 st April 1895.
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> have been asking
- myself at least a dozen times a day during the last fortnight, why Rome
- should be (to me, at any rate) the city of surprises, far more than Athens
- or Constantine, for instance, or any other city or scene of world-wide
- interest in Europe or America. Jerusalem and the Nile cities I have never
- seen (and fear I never shall now). Surely, to what I take to be the
- majority of your readers, who have gone through, as I have, the orthodox
- educational mill—public school and college—precisely the
- contrary should be true. We spent no small part of from six to ten years
- of the most impressionable time of our lives in studying the story of the
- Mistress of the Old World, from Romulus and Remus to the Anto-nines. Even
- the idlest and most careless of us could scarcely have passed his “greats”
- without knowing his geography well enough to point out on the map the
- position of each of the seven hills, the Forum, the Janiculum, the Appian
- Way, the Arch of Titus, the Colosseum, etc., and must have formed some
- kind of notion in his own mind of what each of them looked like. At any
- rate, I had no excuse for not knowing my ancient Rome better than I knew
- any modern city, both as to its geography and the politics, beliefs, and
- habits of its citizens; for I was for two years in the pupil-room of a
- teacher (Bishop Cotton) who spared no pains, not only on the texts of
- Livy, Horace, Sallust, and Juvenal, and the geography, but in making the
- Rome of the last years of the Republic and the first Caesars live again
- for us. For instance, he would collect for us all the best engravings then
- to be had (it was before the days of photographs) of Rome, and show us
- what remained of the old buildings and monuments, and where the Papal city
- had encroached and superseded them; and again, would take infinite pains
- to explain the changes in the ordinary life of the Roman citizen, which
- had been creeping on since the end of the third Punic war, when her last
- formidable rival went down, and the struggle between patrician and
- plebeian had time and opportunity to develop and work itself out, till it
- ended in the Augustan age, when the will of the Cæsar remained the sole
- ultimate law, in Rome, and over the whole Empire. Of course the
- explanation of the phrase “Panem et circenses,” and the growth of the
- system, in the shape of public feastings, shows, baths, and other
- entertainments, with which each successful Tribune or General, as he came
- to the front, and the Cæsars after them, tried to bribe and sway the mob
- of the Forum, formed no small part of this instruction. One item of the
- list will best illustrate my text—that of public baths—which
- came most directly home to me, as I was devoted to swimming in those days,
- and so had great sympathy with the poor citizen of Imperial Rome who
- desired to have baths in the best form and without payment.
- </p>
- <p>
- I do not know that there is any trustworthy evidence as to the public
- baths of Rome before Imperial times, but we can estimate pretty accurately
- how the case stood for the poor Roman in the first and second centuries
- A.D. The best preserved of these are the Baths of Caracalla, in which
- sixteen hundred bathers could be accommodated at once. The enclosed area
- was 360 yards square, or considerably larger than Lincoln’s Inn Fields;
- but this included a course for foot-races, in which, I suppose, the
- younger bathers contended when fresh from the delights of hot and cold
- baths, while their elders looked on from the porticoes adjoining. The
- bathing establishment proper, however, was 240 yards in length, by 124
- yards in width, in which the divisions of the “tepidaria,” “calidaria,”
- and “frigidaria,” are still confidently pointed out in Baedeker, and
- attested by guides if you like to hire them. But the part which interested
- me most, apart from the huge masses of wall still standing, was the
- depression in the floor, which is said to have been the swimming-bath, and
- which is at least twice as large as those of the Holborn and Lambeth
- baths, the two largest in London in my time, put together.
- </p>
- <p>
- The remains of the walls are just astounding, eight feet and ten feet
- thick, and (I should say) in several places fifty feet high; the thin
- Roman bricks, and the mortar in which they are built, as hard as they were
- in the second century. I wish I could feel any confidence that any of our
- London brickwork would show as well even a century hence. When the floors
- were all covered with mosaic pavement, of which small pieces now carefully
- preserved still remain, and the brickwork of the walls was faced with
- marble, and the statues which have been found here and removed to museums,
- still stood round the central fountain and in the courts, my imagination
- quite fails to picture what the baths must have looked like. But the Baths
- of Caracalla, though best preserved, are not by any means the largest.
- Those of Diocletian, on the Quirinal and partly facing the railway
- station, were almost twice as big, for the circumference of the bath
- buildings was about 2000 yards, or half as large again as the Baths of
- Caracalla, while they would accommodate (it is said) three thousand
- bathers at once. It is even more impossible, however, to reconstruct these
- baths in one’s fancy than those of Caracalla, for the church of St.
- Bernardo occupies one domed corner of the area, and a prison another
- corner; while a convent, with the Church of St. Maria degli Angeli
- attached—built by Michael Angelo by order of Pius IV.—stands
- over what was the “tepidarium.” There is still, however, space enough left
- for the large square, as big as Bedford Square, and surrounded by
- cloisters said to be also the work of Michael Angelo, in which stand a
- number of the most interesting statues and busts, and architectural
- fragments lately exhumed.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have by no means exhausted the opportunities enjoyed by the Roman
- citizen under the Antonines for getting a satisfactory, not to say a
- luxurious, wash in the Roman summer, but must turn aside for a minute to
- tell you of an interesting little scene which I saw outside on leaving the
- Baths of Diocletian. Along the bottom of the old ruined wall still
- standing, and looking as firm as that of Caracalla, for about fifty yards,
- earth and rubbish has been allowed to accumulate to the height of twelve
- or fourteen feet. This dirt-heap covers some twenty feet of the open space
- between the old wall and the footway, and, the face of it having been
- trampled hard, forms a steep slope, of which the Roman urchin of to-day
- seems to have taken possession, and thereon thoroughly to enjoy himself
- after his own fashion. This is a very different way from that of our
- street-boys, if I may judge by what I saw in passing. A group of some
- dozen little ragged urchins—four with bare feet—were at high
- jinks as I came up; and this was their pastime. The biggest of them, a
- sturdy boy of (perhaps) eleven or twelve, stood at the bottom of the steep
- slope, facing the wall, with his feet firmly set, and his arms wide open.
- The rest, who were at the top of the slope, against the wall, ran down one
- after another and threw themselves into his arms, clasping him round the
- neck, and getting a good hug before he dropped them. The object seemed to
- be (so far as I could see) to throw him over backwards, but he stood his
- ground firmly, only staggering a little once or twice during the two
- rounds which I was able to watch. I was obliged then to leave, wondering,
- and debating in my mind what would be the result of such a game if tried
- by our street boys in a London suburb.
- </p>
- <p>
- To go back to the Baths, there are remains of three more which must have
- been no unworthy rivals of Caracalla’s and Diocletian’s—viz. those
- of Constantine, Agrippa, and Titus. The first were also on the Quirinal,
- and are said to have occupied the greater part of the present Piazza del
- Quirinale, including the site of the Royal Palace. But as all that is left
- of them is a fragment of the old boundary-wall here and there, one can
- form no notion of their size or shape. One may, however, judge of their
- character by magnificent colossal marble statues of the “Horse-tamers,”
- which are known to have stood one on each side of the principal entrance,
- and are believed to remain almost in the place where they stand to-day.
- The Baths of Agrippa lay behind the Pantheon, but a fluted column and
- ruined dome are all that remain of them in the neighbouring streets,
- “Pumbella” and “Cumbella.” Lastly, there were the Baths of Titus, begun by
- him in A.D. 80, on the Esquiline, which included the sites of Mæcenas’
- Villa and the Golden Palace of Nero, which (I suppose) he must have
- demolished to make room for them; but the tradition as to these ruins
- seems even more vague than that of any of the other baths. I think you
- must allow that so far I have proved my case, that Rome is the city of
- surprises.
- </p>
- <p>
- Ever since my “Roman baths’ round,” the contrast of Imperial Rome and our
- London has been popping up. Why have not we, at any rate, one or two
- public baths on something like the old Roman scale? Did they really let
- any Roman citizen bathe free of charge? Could we possibly do that? and
- how? Well, after all, it only wants a Cæsar to work the “panem et
- circenses” trick astutely. And have not we got at last our equivalent for
- Nero or Titus in our County Council? True, our many-headed Cæsar has not
- the tribute of a conquered world to draw on, or an unlimited supply of
- prisoners of war, slaves, and poor Christians to set to the work. But has
- not he the rates of London at his mercy—not a bad equivalent—and
- the Collectivist Trade-Unionist, who may possibly be relied on to do as
- fair a day’s work at the scale-wages as the unpaid slave or Christian did
- for Titus? Well, I do not know that I should protest vigorously—only
- I am no longer a London ratepayer.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0098" id="link2H_4_0098"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- Rome—Easter Day
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e get our London
- papers here as regularly as you do, only forty-eight hours later, and I
- see that readers at home have been able to follow the course of the
- services in St. Peter’s and the Roman Churches during Passion Week about
- as well as we who are on the spot, and so to appreciate the thoroughness
- which the priesthood, from cardinals downwards, for I am sorry to say the
- Pope is still unable to take his usual part, throw into the attempt to
- reproduce the supreme drama of our race, so far as this can be done, day
- by day, almost hour by hour. I have not, however, noticed any mention of
- the “Tenebræ” at St. John Lateran, a service of rather more than an hour,
- from 4.30 to 5.30, on the afternoon of Good Friday, when the last words
- have fallen from the cross, and Joseph of Arimathæa, with the faithful
- women, has borne away the scarred and bleeding body of the Lord of Life to
- his own grave, in which no man has yet lain—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- All the toil, the sorrow done,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- All the battle fought and won,
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- as Arthur Stanley says, in one of the noblest hymns in the English
- language. We had the good fortune the day before to meet one of the
- Monsignori, an old friend, formerly a hard-working and successful London
- incumbent, who suggested that we should go, and to whom I shall always
- feel grateful for the advice. We accordingly were at the door of that
- splendid, but to my mind too sumptuously decorated church, punctually at
- 4.30. The procession had already reached the chancel, and were taking
- their allotted places. Most of your readers will probably be familiar with
- the church, but for those who are not, I may say that the chancel is
- wider, I think, than that in any of our cathedrals, and that the whole
- space from the high altar to the solid marble rails—about three and
- a half feet high, which divide the chancel from the rest of the church—is
- open, with the sole exception of the row of stalls which run along each
- sidewall, and which are reserved for, and were now filled by, priests. For
- this particular service, however (and for this only, as I was told), a row
- of chairs was placed just within the chancel-rails, for the Monsignori and
- other priests of the Pope’s household, who were already seated, all in
- deep black, with their faces to the altar and their backs to the
- congregation. They remained seated during the whole service (though
- several of the priests from the side-stalls stepped down at intervals and
- took part in the service), thus, it seemed to me, emphasising the division
- between priests and people, and impressing on us beyond chancel-rails, the
- fact that we were there rather as sightseers, spectators of a solemn
- ceremony, than joint-sharers in an act of worship.
- </p>
- <p>
- When we arrived the service had scarcely commenced, though the organ was
- pealing solemnly through the vast church; but the whole of the space in
- front of the chancel-rails was already filled by a dense crowd. Many of
- those who were in front, close to the chancel-rails, knelt, leaning on the
- rails, but by no means all, and the rest stood—a noteworthy
- assembly. For there were at least as many men as women, and of all
- classes. It is not easy nowadays to recognise rank by dress or bearing;
- but there were certainly a considerable minority of well-dressed,
- well-to-do people, mixed with soldiers in half a dozen different uniforms
- (as I was glad to see), artisans, peasants, men and women in force, the
- latter generally leading a child or two by the hand, with a sprinkling of
- young men, preparing, I suppose by their dress, for priests’ orders, who
- for the most part had books in which they followed the service
- attentively,—no easy task under the surrounding conditions. For
- though the front ranks, two or three deep next the chancel-rails, were for
- the most part stationary, the great mass behind was constantly moving
- about and talking in low tones,—not irreverently, but rather as they
- would be in England at any large gathering where they could take no part
- themselves in the performance, but felt that it was the right thing to be
- there, and that they must not interfere with the minority, who seemed to
- understand and appreciate what was going on. I was not one of these
- latter, as I do not understand music, and had no book of the words; though
- I was quite sensible that the pathos, chequered with occasional bursts of
- triumph, and rendered by exquisite tenors and boys’ voices, was equal to
- any music I had ever heard. Moreover, the sight of the splendidly dressed
- priests, moving frequently about before the altar, without any reason so
- far as I could see, and the swinging of censers, the clouds of incense,
- and gestures to which I could attach no meaning, inclined me to get out of
- the crowd. With this view I looked about for my companion, who, I found,
- had managed to reach the altar-rails. So in order that we might be sure to
- meet at the end of the service, I got quietly back to the door by which we
- had entered, where I could hear the music and voices perfectly, though out
- of sight of the chancel. Here I resolved to wait, and at once became much
- interested in the people who were constantly passing in or leaving the
- church. Soon I remarked that almost all of the former, especially the
- peasant men and women with children, turned to the right and disappeared
- for a minute or two before going on to join the crowd in front of the
- chancel. So I followed, and can scarcely say how much I was impressed by
- what I saw. In a small side-chapel, near the entrance, which was their
- destination, dimly lighted, a crucifix with a life-sized figure of our
- Lord upon it was lying on a stone couch raised some two feet from the
- floor. There was no priest in charge, only two bright little choristers (I
- suppose) in their white gowns; and perfect silence reigned in the chapel
- by the entrance of which I stood and saw several men and women kneeling.
- They got up one by one, and approaching the figure dropped again on their
- knees, and, stooping, kissed, some the nail-prints in the hands or feet,
- some the spear-wound in the side, but none the face. The most touching
- sight was the fathers or mothers when they rose from their knees lifting
- the children and teaching them to kiss the wounds. I stood there for at
- least twenty minutes, until the end of the service in fact, and must have
- seen at least a hundred men, women, and children enter. Of these, three
- only failed to kneel and kiss the cross, the first, a well-dressed,
- middle-aged woman, leading a restless small lap-dog, which pulled and
- whined whenever his mistress was not attending to him; the others, two
- young girls—but quite old enough to have known better—who
- marched in amongst the kneeling figures, open guide-book in hand, noticed
- something in the chapel to which it referred, and then marched out. They
- passed close enough for me to catch a word or two of their talk, which I
- am glad to say was not English.
- </p>
- <p>
- As I stood there and watched and listened, the distant voices seemed to be
- chanting that grand old monk’s-Latin hymn, the “Dies Iræ,” and I fancied
- (I am afraid it was pure fancy) I could hear:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Quærens me sedisti lassus,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Redeinisti crucem passas,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Tantus labor non sit cassus!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- More than once I was haunted by the wish to enter and kneel and kiss the
- cross, by the side of some poor Italian woman and her child. I wish now
- that I had, but hope it was a genuine Protestant instinct which hindered
- me. At any rate I shall never have another chance. This crucifix is only
- brought out once a year—on Good Friday—and I shall never again
- be in St. John’s Lateran on that day for the “Tenebræ” service.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0099" id="link2H_4_0099"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- JOHN TO JONATHAN
- </h2>
- <p>
- An Address delivered in the Music Hall, Boston, on the 11th of October
- 1870
- </p>
- <p>
- <i>This Address is printed precisely as it was spoken, at the request of
- friends who had read extracts in our newspapers. I am quite aware how
- superficial it must seem to English readers, and would only remind them
- that I had no Parliamentary debates, or other documents, to which to
- refer. I am thankful myself to find that, while there are startling gaps
- in it, there are no gross blunders as to facts or dates. The kindliness
- with which it was listened to by the audience, and discussed in the
- American press, allows me to hope that the time has come when any effort
- to put an end to the unhappy differences between the two countries will be
- looked upon favourably in the United States. The true men and women on
- both sides of the Atlantic feel, with Mr. Forster, that a war between
- America and England would be a civil war, and believe with him that we
- have seen the last of civil war between English-speaking men. Both nations
- are, I hope and believe, for a hearty reconciliation, and it only remains
- for the Governments to do their part.</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- Thomas Hughes.
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t is with a heavy
- sense of responsibility, my friends, and no little anxiety, that I am here
- to-night to address you on this subject. I have been in this country now
- some two months, and from the day I crossed your frontier I have received,
- from one end of the land to the other, from men and women whom I had never
- seen in my life, and on whom I had no shadow of a claim that I could
- discover, nothing but the most generous, graceful, and unobtrusive
- hospitality. I am not referring to this city and its neighbourhood, in
- which all Englishmen are supposed to feel very like home, and in which
- most of us have some old and dear friend or two. I speak of your States
- from New York to Iowa and Missouri, from the Canadian border to
- Washington. Everywhere I have been carried about to places of interest in
- the neighbourhood, lodged, boarded, and cared for as if I had been a dear
- relative returning from long absence. However demoralised an Englishman
- may become in his own country, there is always one plank in his social
- morals which he clings to with the utmost tenacity, and that is paying his
- own postage stamps. My hold even on this last straw is sadly relaxed. I am
- obliged to keep vigilant watch on my letters to hinder their being stamped
- and posted for me by invisible hands. I never before have so fully
- realised the truth of those remarks of your learned and pious
- fellow-citizen, Rev. Homer Wilbur, whose lucubrations have been a source
- of much delight to me for many years, when he says somewhere, “I think I
- could go near to be a perfect Christian if I were always a visitor at the
- house of some hospitable friend. I can show a great deal of self-denial
- where the best of everything is urged upon me with friendly importunity.
- It is not so very hard to turn the other cheek for a kiss.” I should be
- simply a brute if I were not equally touched and abashed by the kindness I
- have received while amongst you. I can never hope to repay it, but the
- memory of it will always be amongst my most precious possessions, and I
- can, at least, publicly acknowledge it, as I do here this evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, my friends, I must turn to the other side of the picture. There is
- nothing—at any rate, no kind of pleasure, I suppose—which is
- unmixed. From the deepest and purest fountains some bitter thing is sure
- to rise, and I have not been able, even in the New World, to escape the
- common lot of mankind in the Old. Everywhere I have found, when I have
- sounded the reason for all this kindness, that it was offered to me
- personally, because, to use the words of some whom I hope I may now look
- on as dear friends, “We feel that you are one of us.” The moment the name
- of my country was mentioned a shade came over the kindest faces. I cannot
- conceal from myself that the feeling towards England in this country is
- one which must be deeply painful to every Englishman.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was for this reason that I chose the subject of this lecture. I cannot
- bear to remain amongst you under any false pretences, or to leave you with
- any false impressions. I am not “one of you,” in the sense of preferring
- your institutions to those of my own country. I am before all things an
- Englishman—a John Bull, if you will—loving old England and
- feeling proud of her. I am jealous of her fair fame, and pained more than
- I can say to find what I honestly believe to be a very serious
- misunderstanding here, as to the events which more than anything else have
- caused this alienation. You, who have proved your readiness as a people to
- pour out ease, wealth, life itself, as water, that no shame or harm should
- come to your country’s flag or name, should be the last to wish the
- citizen of any other country to be false to his own. My respect and love
- for your nation and your institutions should be worth nothing to you, if I
- were not true to those of my own country, and did not love them better.
- For this reason, then, and in the hope of proving to you that you have
- misjudged the England of to-day—that she is no longer, at any rate,
- if she ever was, the haughty, imperious power her enemies have loved to
- paint her, interfering in every quarrel, subsidising and hectoring over
- friends, and holding down foes with a brutal and heavy hand, careless of
- all law except that of her own making, and bent above all things on
- heaping up wealth—I have consented to appear here tonight. I had
- hoped to be allowed to be amongst you simply as a listener and a learner.
- Since my destiny and your kindness have ordered it otherwise, I can only
- speak to you of that which is uppermost in my thoughts, of which my heart
- is full. If I say things which are hard for you to hear, I am sure you
- will pardon me as you would a spoilt child. You are responsible for having
- taught me to open my heart and to speak my mind to you, and will take it
- in good part if you do not find that heart and mind just what you had
- assumed them to be.
- </p>
- <p>
- I propose then, to-night, to state the case of my country so far as
- regards her conduct while your great rebellion was raging. In a fight for
- life, and for principles dearer than life, no men can be fair to those who
- are outside. The time comes when they can weigh both sides of the case
- impartially. I trust that that time has now arrived, and that I can safely
- appeal to the calm judgment of a great people.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is absolutely necessary, in order to appreciate what took place in
- England during your great struggle, to bear in mind, in the first place,
- that it agitated our social and political life almost as deeply as it did
- yours. I am scarcely old enough to remember the fierce collisions of party
- during the first Reform agitation, but I have taken a deep interest, and
- during the last twenty years an active part, in every great struggle since
- that time; and I say without hesitation, that not even in the crisis of
- the Free-trade movement were English people more deeply stirred than by
- that grapple between freedom and law on the one hand, and slavery and
- privilege on the other, which was so sternly battled through, and brought
- to so glorious and triumphant a decision, in your great rebellion. There
- can be, I repeat, no greater mistake than to suppose that there was
- anything like indifference on our side of the water, and no one can
- understand the question who makes it. There was plenty of ignorance,
- plenty of fierce partisanship, plenty of bewildered hesitation and
- vacillation amongst great masses of honest, well-meaning people, who could
- find no steady ground on the shifting sand of statement and
- counter-statement with which they were deluged by those who <i>did</i>
- know their own minds, and felt by instinct from the first that here was a
- battle for life or death; but there was, I repeat again, no indifference.
- Our political struggles do not, as a rule, affect our social life, but
- during your war the antagonism between your friends and the friends of the
- rebel States often grew into personal hostility. I know old friendships
- which were sorely tried by it, to put it no higher. I heard, over and over
- again, men refuse to meet those who were conspicuous on the other side.
- Any of you who had time to glance at our papers will not need to be told
- how fiercely the battle was fought in our press.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is a mistake, also, to suppose that any section of our people were on
- one side or the other. Let me say a few words in explanation of this part
- of the subject. And first, of our aristocracy. I do not mean for a moment
- to deny that a great majority of them took sides with the Confederates,
- and desired to see them successful, and the great Republic broken up into
- two jealous and hostile nations. What else could you expect? Could you
- fairly look for sympathy in that quarter? Your whole history has been a
- determined protest against privilege, and in favour of equal rights for
- all men; and you have never been careful, in speech or conduct, to
- conciliate your adversaries. For years your papers and the speeches of
- your public men had rung with denunciations (many of them very unfair) of
- them and their caste. They are not much in the habit of allowing their
- sentiments to find public expression, but they know what is going on in
- the world, and have long memories. It would be well if many of us Liberals
- at home, as well as you on this side, would remember that in this matter
- they cannot help themselves. A man in England may be born a Howard, or a
- Cavendish, or a Cecil, without any fault of his own, and is apt to “rear
- up,” as you say, when this accident is spoken of as though it were an act
- of voluntary malignity on his part, and to resent the doctrine that his
- class is a nuisance that should be summarily abated. So, as a rule, they
- sided with the rebellion; but that rule has notable exceptions.
- </p>
- <p>
- There were no warmer or wiser friends of the Union than the Duke of
- Argyll, Lord Carlisle, and others; and it should be remembered that
- although the class made no secret of their leanings, and many of them, I
- believe, subscribed largely to the Confederate loan, no motion hostile to
- the Union was ever even discussed in the House of Lords. They have lost
- their money and seen the defeat of the cause which they favoured—a
- defeat so thorough, I trust, that that cause will never again be able to
- raise its head on this continent. I believe they have learnt much from the
- lesson, and that partly from the teaching of your war, partly from other
- causes to which I have no time to refer, they are far more in sympathy at
- this time with the nation than they have ever yet been.
- </p>
- <p>
- Of course, those who hang round and depend upon the aristocracy went with
- them—far too large a class, I am sorry to say, in our country, and
- one whose voice is too apt to be heard in clubs and society. But Pall Mall
- and Mayfair, and the journals and periodicals which echo the voices of
- Pall Mall, do not mean much in England, though they are apt to talk as
- though they did, and are sometimes taken at their word.
- </p>
- <p>
- The great mercantile world comes next in order, and here, too, there was a
- decided preponderance against you. The natural hatred of disturbances,
- which dominates those whose main object in life is making money, probably
- swayed the better men amongst them, who forgot altogether that for that
- disturbance you were not responsible. The worse were carried away by the
- hopes of gain, to be made out of the sore need of the States in rebellion,
- and in defiance of the laws of their own country. But amongst the most
- eminent, as well as in the rank and file of this class, you had many warm
- friends, such as T. Baring and Kirkman Hodgson; and the Union and
- Emancipation Societies, of which I shall speak presently, found a number
- of their staunch supporters in their ranks. The manufacturers of England
- were far more generous in their sympathies, as my friend Mr. Mundella, who
- is present here to-night and was himself a staunch friend, can witness.
- Cobden, Bright, and Forster were their representatives, as well as the
- representatives of the great bulk of our nation. I have no need to speak
- of them, for their names are honoured here as they are at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, before I speak of your friends, let me first remind you that it is
- precisely with that portion of the English nation of which I have been
- speaking that your people come in contact when they are in our country. An
- American generally has introductions which bring him into relations more
- or less intimate with some sections of that society to which our
- aristocracy gives its tone; or he is amongst us for business purposes, and
- comes chiefly across our mercantile classes. I cannot but believe that
- this fact goes far to explain the (to me) extraordinary prevalence of the
- belief here, that the English nation was on the side of the rebellion.
- That belief has, I hope and believe, changed considerably since the waves
- of your mighty storm have begun to calm down, and I am not without hopes
- that I may be able to change it yet somewhat more, with some at least of
- those who have the patience and kindness to listen to me this evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- And now let me turn to those who were the staunch friends of the North
- from the very outset. They were gathered from all ranks and all parts of
- the kingdom. They were brought in by all sorts of motives. Some few had
- studied your history, and knew that these Southern men had been the only
- real enemies of their country on American soil since the War of
- Independence. Many followed their old anti-slavery traditions faithfully,
- and cast their lot at once against the slave-owners, careless of the
- reiterated assertions, both on your side of the Atlantic and ours, that
- the Union and not abolition was the issue. Many came because they had
- learned to look upon your land as the great home for the poor of all
- nations, and to love her institutions and rejoice in her greatness as
- though they in some sort belonged to themselves. All felt the tremendous
- significance of the struggle, and that the future of their own country was
- almost as deeply involved as the future of America. To all of them the
- noble words of one of your greatest poets and staunchest patriots, which
- rang out in the darkest moments of the first year of the war, struck a
- chord very deep in their hearts, and expressed in undying words that which
- they were trying to utter:—
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- O strange New World, thet yit wast never young,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whose youth from thee by gripin’ need was wrung,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Brown foundlin’ o’ the woods, whose baby-bed
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Was prowled roun’ by the Injun’s cracklin’ tread,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- An’ who grew’st strong thru shifts an’ wants an’ pains,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Nussed by stern men with empires in their brains,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With each hard hand a vassal ocean’s mane,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thou, skilled by Freedom an’ by gret events
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To pitch new States ez Old-World men pitch tents,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah’s plan
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Thet man’s devices can’t unmake a man,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- An’ whose free latch-string never was drawed in
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Against the poorest child of Adam’s kin,—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The grave’s not dug where traitor hands shall lay
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In fearful haste thy murdered corse away!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- It was in this faith that we took our stand, with a firm resolution that
- no effort of ours should be spared to help your people shake themselves
- clear of the dead weight of slavery, and to preserve that vast inheritance
- of which God has made you the guardians and trustees for all the nations
- of the earth, unbroken, and free from the standing armies, disputed
- boundaries, and wretched heart-burnings and dissensions of the Old World.
- It was little enough that we could do in any case, but that little was
- done with all our hearts, and on looking back I cannot but think was well
- done.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no need at first for any organisation. Until after the battle of
- Manassas Junction in 1861, there was scarcely any public expression of
- sympathy with the rebellion. The <i>Times</i> and that portion of the
- press which follows its lead, and is always ready to go in for the side
- they think will win, were lecturing on the wickedness of the war and the
- absurdity of the rebel States in supposing that they could resist for a
- month the strength of the North. The news of that first defeat arrived,
- and this portion of our press swung round, and the strong feeling in
- favour of the rebellion which leavened society and the commercial world
- began to manifest itself. The unlucky <i>Trent</i> business, and your
- continued want of success in the field, made matters worse. We were
- silenced for the moment; for though, putting ourselves in your places, we
- could feel how bitter the surrender of the two archrebels must have been,
- we could not but admit that our Government was bound to insist upon it,
- and that the demand had not been made in an arrogant or offensive manner.
- If you will re-read the official documents now, I think that you too will
- acknowledge that this was so. Then came Mr. Mason’s residence in London,
- where his house became the familiar resort of all the leading sympathisers
- with the rebellion. The newspaper which he started, <i>The Index</i>, was
- full, week after week, of false and malignant attacks on your Government.
- The most bitter of them to us was the constant insistance, backed by
- quotations from Mr. Lincoln and Mr. Seward, that the war had nothing to do
- with slavery, that emancipation was far more likely to come from the
- rebels than from you.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The lie that is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies,” and we felt
- the truth of that wonderful saying. This had been our great difficulty
- from the first. Our generation had been reared on anti-slavery principles.
- We remembered as children how the great battle was won in England, how
- even in our nurseries we gave up sugar lest we might be tasting the
- accursed thing, and subscribed our pennies that the chains might be struck
- from all human limbs. Emancipation had been the crowning glory of England
- in our eyes. But we found that this great force was not with us, was even
- slipping away and drifting to the other side. It was not only Mr. Mason’s
- paper, and the backing he got in our press, which was undermining it. The
- vehement protests of those who had been for years looked on by us as the
- foremost soldiers in the great cause on your side told in the same
- direction. I well remember the consternation and almost despair with which
- I read in Mr. Phillips’ speech in this hall on 20th June 1861, “The
- Republicans, led by Seward, offer to surrender anything to save the Union.
- Their gospel is the constitution, and the slave clause their sermon on the
- mount. They think that at the judgment day the blacker the sins they have
- committed to save the Union the clearer will be their title to heaven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Something must be done to counteract this, to put the case clearly before
- our people. Mr. Mason and his friends were already establishing a
- Confederate States Aid Association; it must be met by something similar on
- the right side. So in 1862 the Emancipation and the Union and Emancipation
- Societies were started in London and in Manchester, and in good time came
- Mr. Lincoln’s proclamation of emancipation to strengthen our hands. The
- original manifesto of the Emancipation Society said—“To make it
- clear by the force of indisputable testimony that the South is fighting
- for slavery, while the North is fully committed to the destruction of
- slavery, is the principal object for which this society is organised. Its
- promoters do not believe that English anti-slavery sentiment is dead or
- enfeebled. They are confident that when the demands and designs of the
- South are made clear, there will be no danger of England being enticed
- into complicity with them.” We pledged ourselves to test the opinion of
- the country everywhere by public meetings, and challenged the Confederate
- States Aid Association to accept that test. They did so; but I never could
- hear of any even quasi public meeting but one which they held in England.
- That meeting was at Mr. Mason’s house, and was, I believe, attended by
- some fifty persons.
- </p>
- <p>
- The first step of our societies was to hold meetings for passing an
- address of congratulation to your President on the publication of the
- Emancipation proclamation. It was New Year’s Eve 1862. Our address said:
- “We have watched with the warmest interest the steady advance of your
- policy along the path of emancipation; and on this eve of the day on which
- your proclamation takes effect we pray God to strengthen your hands, to
- confirm your noble purpose, and to hasten the restoration of that lawful
- authority which engages, in peace or war, by compensation or by force of
- arms, to realise the glorious principle on which your constitution is
- founded—the brotherhood, freedom, and equality of all men.” The
- address was enthusiastically adopted by a large meeting, chiefly composed
- of working men. It was clear at once that there was a grand force behind
- us, for we became objects of furious attack. The <i>Times</i> called us
- impostors, and said we got our funds for the agitation from American
- sources—the fact being that we always refused contributions from
- this side. The <i>Saturday Review</i> declared, in one of its bitterest
- articles, that if anything could be calculated upon as likely to defer
- indefinitely the gradual extinction of slavery, it would be Mr. Lincoln’s
- fictitious abolition of it. We were meddlesome fanatics, insignificant
- nobodies, mischievous agitators. This was satisfactory and encouraging. We
- felt sure that we had taken the right course, and not a moment too soon.
- Then came the test of public meetings, which you at least are surely bound
- to accept as a fair gauge of what a people thinks and wills.
- </p>
- <p>
- Our first was held on the 29th of January 1863. We took Exeter Hall, the
- largest and most central hall in London. We did nothing but simply
- advertise widely that such a meeting would be held, inviting all who cared
- to come, foes as well as friends. Prudent and timid people shook their
- heads and looked grave. The cotton famine was at its worst, and tens of
- thousands of our workpeople were “clemming” as they call it, starving as
- you might say. Your prospects looked as black as they had ever done; it
- was almost the darkest moment of the whole war. Even friends warned us
- that we should fail in our object, and only do harm by showing our
- weakness; that the Confederate States Aid Association would spare no pains
- or money to break up the meeting, and a hundred roughs sent there by them
- might turn it into a triumph for the rebellion. However, on we went,—we
- knew our own people too well to fear the result. The night came, and
- familiar as I am with this kind of thing, I have never seen in my time
- anything approaching this scene. Remember, there was nothing to attract
- people; no well-known orators, for we always thought it best to keep our
- Parliament men to their own ground; no great success to rejoice in, for
- you were just reeling under the recoil of your gallant army from the
- blood-stained heights of Fredericksburg; no attack on our own Government;
- no appeal to political or social hates or prejudices; only doors thrown
- wide open, with the invitation, “Now let Englishmen come forward and show
- on which side their sympathies really are in this war.” Notwithstanding
- all these disadvantages the great hall was densely crowded, so that there
- was no standing room, and the Strand and the neighbouring streets blocked
- with a crowd of thousands who could find no place, long before the doors
- were open. We were obliged to organise a number of meetings on the spur of
- the moment in the lower halls, and even in the open streets. In the great
- hall—where two clergymen, the Hon. Baptist Noel and Mr. Newman Hall,
- and I myself, were the chief speakers—as well as in every one of the
- other meetings, we carried, not only without opposition, but, so far as I
- remember, without a single hand being held up on the other side,
- resolutions in favour of your Government, of the Union, and of
- emancipation. The success was so complete that in London our work was
- done.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then followed similar meetings at Manchester, Sheffield, Bristol, Leeds,
- in all the great centres of population, with precisely the same result. I
- don’t remember that the enemy ever even attempted to divide a meeting. The
- country was carried by acclamation. Our friends in Liverpool wrote with
- some anxiety as to the state of feeling there, and asked me to go down and
- deliver an address. I went, and the meeting carried the same resolutions
- by a very large majority; and those who, it was supposed, came to disturb
- the proceedings, thought better of it when they saw the temper of the
- audience, and were quiet. Without troubling you with any further details
- of our work, I may just add, as a proof of how those who profess to be the
- most astute worshippers of public opinion changed their minds in
- consequence of the answer of the country to our appeals, that in August
- 1863 the <i>Times</i> supported our demand on the Government for the
- stoppage of the steam-rams.
- </p>
- <p>
- In addition to this political movement, we instituted also a number of
- freedmen’s aid associations, in order that those abolitionists in England
- who were still unable to put faith in your Government might have an
- opportunity of helping in their own way. These associations entered into
- correspondence with those on your side, and sent over a good many thousand
- pounds’ worth of clothing and other supplies, besides money. I forget the
- exact amount. It was a mere drop in the ocean of your magnificent war
- charities, but it came from thousands who had little enough to spare in
- those hard times, and I trust has had the effect of a peace-offering with
- those of your people who are conversant with the facts, and are ready to
- judge by their actual doings even those against whom they think they have
- fair cause of complaint.
- </p>
- <p>
- So much for what I may call the unofficial, or extraparliamentary,
- struggle in England during your war. And now let me turn to the action of
- our Government and of Parliament. I might fairly have rested my case
- entirely upon this ground. In the case of nations blessed as America and
- England are with perfect freedom of speech and action within the limits of
- law—where men may say the thing they will freely, and without any
- check but the civil courts—no one in my judgment has a right to make
- the nation responsible for anything except what its Government says and
- does. But I know how deeply the conduct and speech of English society has
- outraged your people, and still rankles in their minds, and I wished by
- some rough analysis, and by the statement of facts within my own
- knowledge, and of doings in which I personally took an active part, to
- show you that you have done us very scant justice. The dress suit, and the
- stomach and digestive apparatus, of England were hostile to you, and you
- have taken them for the nation: the brain and heart and muscle of England
- were on your side, and these you have ignored and forgotten.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, for our Government and Parliament. I will admit at once, if you
- please, that Lord Palmerston and the principal members of his Cabinet were
- not friendly to you, and would have been glad to have seen your Republic
- broken up. I am by no means sure that it was so; but let that pass. I was
- not in their counsels, and have no more means of judging of them than are
- open to all of you. Your first accusation against us is, that the Queen’s
- proclamation of neutrality, which was signed and published on the 13th of
- May 1861, was premature, and an act of discourtesy to your Government,
- inasmuch as your new Minister, Mr. Adams, only arrived in England on that
- very day. Well, looking back from this distance of time, I quite admit
- that it would have been far better to have delayed the publication of the
- proclamation till after he had arrived in London. But at the time the case
- was very different. You must remember that news of the President’s
- proclamation of the blockade reached London on 3rd May. Of course, from
- that moment the danger of collision between our vessels and yours, and of
- the fitting out of privateers in our harbours, arose at once. In fact,
- your first capture of a British vessel, the <i>General Parkhill</i> of
- Liverpool, was made on 12th May. But if the publication of the
- proclamation of neutrality was a mistake, it was made by our Government at
- the earnest solicitation of Mr. Forster and other warm friends of yours,
- who pressed it forward entirely, as they supposed, in your interest. They
- wanted to stop letters of marque and to legitimise the captures made by
- your blockading squadron. The Government acted at their instance; so,
- whether a blunder or not, the proclamation was not an unfriendly act.
- Besides, remember what it amounted to. Simply and solely to a recognition
- of the fact that you had a serious war on hand. Mr. Seward had already
- admitted this in an official paper of the 4th of May, and your Supreme
- Court decided, in the case of the <i>Amy Warwick</i>, that the
- proclamation of blockade was in itself conclusive evidence that a state of
- war existed at the time. If we had ever gone a step further—if we
- had recognised the independence of the rebel States, as our Government was
- strongly urged to do by their envoys, by members of our Parliament, and
- lastly by the Emperor of the French—you would have had good ground
- of offence. But this was precisely what we never would do; and when they
- found this out, the Confederate Government cut off all intercourse with
- England, and expelled our consuls from their towns. So one side blamed us
- for doing too much, and the other for doing too little—the frequent
- fate of neutrals, as you yourselves are finding at this moment in the case
- of the war between Prussia and France.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the first public effort of the sympathisers with the rebellion.
- After several preliminary skirmishes, which were defeated by Mr. Forster
- (who had what we lawyers should call the watching brief, with Cobden and
- Bright behind him as leading counsel, and who used to go round the lobbies
- in those anxious days with his pockets bulging out with documents to prove
- how effective the blockade was, and how many ships of our merchants you
- were capturing every day), Mr. Gregory put a motion on the paper. He was
- well chosen for the purpose, as a member of great experience and ability,
- sitting on our side of the House, so that weak-kneed Liberals would have
- an excuse for following him, and though not himself in office, supposed to
- be on intimate terms with the Premier and other members of the Cabinet.
- His motion was simply “to call the attention of the House to the
- expediency of prompt recognition of the Southern Confederacy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was set down for 7th June 1861, and I tell you we were all pretty
- nervous about the result. The <i>Spectator, Daily News, Star</i>, and
- other staunch papers opened fire, and we all did what we could in the way
- of canvassing; but until the Government had declared itself no Union man
- could feel safe. Well, Lord John Russell, as the Foreign Minister, got up,
- snubbed the motion altogether, said that the Government had no intention
- whatever of agreeing to it, and recommended its withdrawal. So Mr. Gregory
- and his friends took their motion off the paper without a debate, and did
- not venture to try any other during the session of 1861. In the late
- autumn came the unlucky <i>Trent</i> affair, to which I have already
- sufficiently alluded. Belying on the feeling which had been roused by it,
- and cheered on by the Mason club in Piccadilly and the <i>Index</i>
- newspaper fulminations, and by the severe checks of the Union armies, they
- took the field again in 1862. This time their tactics were bolder. They no
- longer confined themselves to asking the opinion of the House
- deferentially. Mr. Lindsay, the great shipowner, who it was said had a
- small fleet of blockade-runners, was chosen as the spokesman. He gave
- notice of motion, “That in the opinion of this House, the States which
- have seceded from the Union have so long maintained themselves, and given
- such proofs of determination and ability to support independence, that the
- propriety of offering mediation with a view to terminating hostilities is
- worthy of the serious and immediate attention of Her Majesty’s
- Government.” Again we trembled for the result, and again the Government
- came out with a square refusal on the 18th of July, and this motion shared
- the fate of its predecessor, and was withdrawn by its own promoters.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came the escape of the <i>Alabama</i>. Upon this I have no word to
- say. My private opinion has been expressed over and over again in
- Parliament (where in my first year, 1866, I think I was the first man to
- urge open arbitration on our Government) as well as on the platform and in
- the press. But I stand here to-night as an Englishman, and say that at
- this moment I have no cause to be ashamed of the attitude of my country.
- Two Governments in succession, Tory and Liberal, through Lords Stanley and
- Clarendon, have admitted (as Mr. Fish states himself in his last despatch
- on the subject) the principle of comprehensive arbitration on all
- questions between Governments. This is all that a nation can do. England
- is ready to have the case in all its bearings referred to impartial
- arbitration, and to pay whatever damages may be assessed against her
- without a murmur. She has also agreed (and again I use the language of Mr.
- Fish) “to discuss the important changes in the rules of public law, the
- desirableness of which has been demonstrated by the incidents of the last
- few years, and which, in view of the maritime prominence of Great Britain
- and the United States, it would befit them to mature and propose to the
- other states of Christendom.” She has, in fact, surrendered her old
- position as untenable, and agreed to the terms proposed by your own
- Government. What more can you ask of a nation of your own blood, as proud
- and sensitive as yourselves on all points where national honour is in
- question?
- </p>
- <p>
- But here I must remind you of one fact which you seem never to have
- realised. The <i>Alabama</i> was the only one of the rebel cruisers of
- whose character our Government had any notice, which escaped from our
- harbours. The <i>Shenandoah</i> was a merchant vessel, employed in the
- Indian trade as the <i>Sea King</i>. Her conversion into a rebel cruiser
- was never heard of till long after she had left England. The <i>Georgia</i>
- was actually reported by the surveyor of the Board of Trade as a merchant
- ship, and to be “rather crank.” She was fitted out on the French coast,
- and left the port of Cherbourg for her first cruise. The <i>Florida</i>
- was fitted out in Mobile. She was actually detained at Nassau on
- suspicion, and only discharged by the Admiralty Court there on failure of
- evidence. On the other hand, our Government stopped the <i>Rappahannock,</i>
- the <i>Alexandra,</i> and the <i>Pampero</i>, and seized Mr. Laird’s
- celebrated rams at Liverpool, and Captain Osborne’s Chinese flotilla, for
- which last exercise of vigilance the nation had to pay £100,000.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such is our case as to the cruisers which did you so much damage. I
- believe it to be true. If we are mistaken, however, you will get such
- damages for each and all of these vessels as the arbitrator may award. We
- reserve nothing. I as an Englishman am deeply grieved that any of my
- countrymen, for base love of gain or any other motive, should have dared
- to defy the proclamation of my Sovereign, speaking in the nation’s name. I
- earnestly long for the time when by wise consultation between our nations,
- and the modification of the public law bearing on such cases, not only
- such acts as these, but all war at sea, shall be rendered impossible. The
- United States and England have only to agree in this matter, and there is
- an end of naval war through the whole world.
- </p>
- <p>
- In 1863 the horizon was still dark. Splendid as your efforts had been, and
- magnificent as was the attitude of your nation, tried in the fire as few
- nations have been in all history, those efforts had not yet been crowned
- with any marked success. With us it was the darkest in the whole long
- agony, for in it came the crisis of that attempt of the Emperor of the
- French to inveigle us in a joint recognition of the Confederacy, on the
- success of which his Mexican adventure was supposed to hang. The details
- of those negotiations have never been made public. All we know is, that
- Mr. Lindsay and Mr. Roebuck went to Paris and had long conferences with
- Napoleon, the result of which was the effort of Mr. Roebuck (now in turn
- the representative of the rebels in our Parliament) to force or persuade
- our Government into this alliance. Then came the final crisis. On the 30th
- of June 1863, a day memorable in our history as in yours, at the very time
- that your army of the Potomac was hurrying through the streets of
- Gettysburg to meet the swoop of those terrible Southern legions, John
- Bright stood on the floor of our House of Commons, on fire with that
- righteous wrath which has so often lifted him above the heads of other
- English orators.
- </p>
- <p>
- He dragged the whole plot to light, quoted the former attacks of Mr.
- Roebuck on his Imperial host, and then turning to the Speaker, went on,
- “And now, sir, the honourable and learned gentleman has been to Paris,
- introduced there by the honourable member for Sunderland, and he has
- sought to become, as it were, a co-conspirator with the French Emperor, to
- drag this country into a policy which I maintain is as hostile to its
- interests as it would be degrading to its honour.” From that moment the
- cause of the rebellion was lost in England; for by the next mails came the
- news of the three days’ fight, and the melting away of Longstreet’s corps
- in the final and desperate efforts to break the Federal line on the slopes
- of little Round Top. A few weeks more and we heard of the surrender of
- Vicksburg, and no more was heard in our Parliament of recognition or
- mediation.
- </p>
- <p>
- I have now, my friends, stated the case between our countries from an
- Englishman’s point of view, of course, but I hope fairly and temperately.
- At any rate, I have only spoken of matters within my own personal
- knowledge, and have only quoted from public records which are as open to
- every one of you as they are to me. Search them, I beseech you, and see
- whether I am right or not. If wrong, it is from no insular prejudices or
- national conceit, and you will at any rate think kindly and bear with the
- errors of one who has always loved your nation well, through good report
- and evil report, and is now bound to it by a hundred new and precious
- ties. If right, all I beg of you is, to use your influences that old
- hatreds and prejudices may disappear, and America and England may march
- together, as nations redeemed by a common Saviour, toward the goal which
- is set for them in a brighter future.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Shall it be love, or hate, John?
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- It’s you thet’s to decide;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Ain’t your bonds held by Fate, John,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Like all the world’s beside?
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- So runs the end of the solemn appeal in “Jonathan to John,” the poem which
- suggested the title of this lecture. It comes from one who never deals in
- wild words. I am proud to be able to call him a very dear and old friend.
- He is the American writer who did more than any other to teach such of us
- in the old country as ever learned them at all, the rights and wrongs of
- this great struggle of yours. Questions asked by such men can never be
- safely left on one side. Well, then, I say we <i>have</i> answered them.
- We know—no nation, I believe, knows better, or confesses daily with
- more of awe—that our bonds are held by fate; that a strict account
- of all the mighty talents which have been committed to us will be required
- of us English, though we do live in a sea fortress, in which the gleam of
- steel drawn in anger has not been seen for more than a century. We know
- that we are very far from being what we ought to be; we know that we have
- great social problems to work out, and, believe me, we have set manfully
- to work to solve them,—problems which go right down amongst the
- roots of things, and the wrong solution of which may shake the very
- foundations of society. We have to face them manfully, after the manner of
- our race, within the four corners of an island not bigger than one of your
- large States; while you have the vast elbow-room of this wonderful
- continent, with all its million outlets and opportunities for every human
- being who is ready to work. Yes, our bonds are indeed held by fate, but we
- are taking strict account of the number and amount of them, and mean, by
- God’s help, to dishonour none of them when the time comes for taking them
- up. We reckon, too, some of us, that as years roll on, and you get to
- understand us better, we may yet hear the words “Well done, brother,” from
- this side of the Atlantic; and if the strong old islander, who, after all,
- is your father, should happen some day to want a name on the back of one
- of his bills, I, for one, should not wonder to hear that at the time of
- presentation the name Jonathan is found scrawled across there in very
- decided characters. For we have answered that second question, too, so far
- as it lies in our power.
- </p>
- <p>
- It will be love and not hate between the two freest of the great nations
- of the earth, if our decision can so settle it. There will never be
- anything but love again, if England has the casting vote. For remember
- that the force of the decision of your great struggle has not been spent
- on this continent. Your victory has strengthened the hands and hearts of
- those who are striving in the cause of government, for the people by the
- people, in every corner of the Old World. In England the dam that had for
- so many years held back the free waters burst in the same year that you
- sheathed your sword, and now your friends there are triumphant and
- honoured; and if those who were your foes ever return to power you will
- find that the lesson of your war has not been lost on them. In another six
- years you will have finished the first century of your national life. By
- that time you will have grown to fifty millions, and will have subdued and
- settled those vast western regions, which now in the richness of their
- solitudes, broken only by the panting of the engine as it passes once a
- day over some new prairie line, startles the traveller from the Old World.
- I am only echoing the thoughts and prayers of my nation in wishing you
- God-speed in your great mission. When that centenary comes round, I hope,
- if I live, to see the great family of English-speaking nations girdling
- the earth with a circle of free and happy communities, in which the
- angels’ message of peace on earth and good-will amongst men may not be
- still a mockery and delusion. It rests with you to determine whether this
- shall be so or not. May the God of all the nations of the earth, who has
- so marvellously prospered you hitherto, and brought you through so great
- trials, guide you in your decision!
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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